#maybe I'll return to second hand games

[inkprovised]

Of course, I jump on it!💚

[invinciblerodent]

btw since I'm Verbenaposting, nice as your LI's smile is at the end as it is, and how I like how it kind of echoes the way they gaze up at the Inquisitor and their advisors after the final fight of that game (which, really nice, here they're beside you and in no way below, driving home the way Rook in the story is part of the group while the Inquisitor is always above in some way), I kinda wanna rewrite it for myself the same way I did then, and hc that the immediate aftermath of the final fight is far less dignified.

Like you can't give me sweet, passionate men like Davrin and Dorian, and just have them SMILE at their beloved after they return from what, to everyone reasonable, looks like absolute mortal peril.

It's not just a nice, fond smile, but a fucking bone-squeezing, leg-swinging, drunk on victory kind of hug that's still dripping all sorts of grime and blood, but nobody really cares because (to live with Davrin's turn of phrase) bleeding thorns, you're here, we won, you're alive, you're here, you're mine, I love you.

... So I think that following the endgame, Ver holds it together just until they manage to descend from the Thing (the one that I keep wanting to call the brainstem even though it's not), and Davrin was left down there to help defend the people so he's there to catch her as she basically leaps into his arms and crumples- just like he's always been there to catch her, to lend his strength, and wherever you are, that's where I am, god bless

in my mind, the bottom of that thing being just. a big heap. a cuddlepile.

Ver first crumples into Davrin's arms from like a foot up that thing still. then Taash and Bellara, who came up with her, silently embrace the both of them (Bel on shaky fawn-legs and looking like she's unsure of whether she's about to burst out laughing or into tears; Taash with their head dropped and stock still save for the tremble in their hands- processing still but about five minutes from a "WHOOOO!!!! YEAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"), all three (now four) covered in Elgar'nan's weirdly sticky, tarlike blood that smells like death and clings like a shadow (but it no longer sings with Blight, so Davrin honestly doesn't give half a shit).

Assan is circling their legs like they're slalom poles, overjoyed that his other favorite person is back again. There's all the couples embracing (with most of Neve's weight probably being supported by Lucanis tbqh, poor woman must be so terminally exhausted), but honestly, few people really care whose hand they're shaking or whose arms are circling around their waist, because they fucking won and survived, and there's the fucking Sun, and the overwhelming joy ripples out from the epicenter of it all until the soldiers and citizens in Minrathous are all crying and laughing and embracing one another.

(Dorian is off to the side fussing over his amatus for climbing down a fucking Blight-wall with essentially one hand because for some reason he didn't think that he shouldn't wear his everyday, carved wood prosthetic hand this morning instead of one that moves in any way, and honestly, what is he to do with this man, Maker he's going to be the death of him, they'll have to find another Archon, and then he'll be sorry.)

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

text message. l Joel Miller

a/n : a while ago i got a message from anon asking me to write something for joel. i managed to do it today. sorry you had to wait so long. i hope you like it.

warnings : pre-outbreak Joel, some angst, misunderstanding, age difference (about 10 years), suspected pregnancy, argument, Sarah and Tommy mentioned, lots of uncertainty and fear

[Joel Miller masterlist] [my masterlist]

He shouldn't have done that. It was crossing all boundaries, violating your privacy and trust, but he couldn't help himself. When your phone made a series of strange noises that indicated a message had been received and you were in the bathroom at a gas station, Joel reached for it and looked at the screen. A cold chill ran down his spine a second later.

"Two weeks late? Did you take a test? You should see a doctor. What did Joel say?"

A heavy stone landed squarely in his stomach, and he felt his head spin. “Fuck!” he groaned almost silently, shaking his hand as he placed the phone back where you’d left it.

He immediately guessed what you and your friend could have been talking about, he had no doubts. If you were pregnant, that complicated everything.

Joel Miller wasn't entirely sure if he should do it, but when he met you on one of his bar crawls with his younger brother Tommy, he felt like fate had finally favored him. He was almost thirty-six, had a teenage daughter, worked hard, and couldn't remember the last time he'd met a woman. You, on the other hand, were simply beautiful, talkative, with a charming smile on your lips. You were also almost ten years younger than him.

It didn't bother him as much on your first date, or your second, or when you kissed on the couch, or after the first time you had sex. Joel felt younger and happier with you, and everyone around him noticed the change in him.

He fell in love like a stupid teenager, and you didn't make it any easier for him. It was only after a few months that he started to wonder. Maybe dating you wasn't so wise? Maybe you were really too young for him?

When you would visit him at work, bringing him lunch or something, guys would often make fun of him. Joel wasn't as immune to this as he thought. His insecurities grew, and worries about whether he was doing the right thing also grew in his mind too.

And now this. Pregnancy. When Sarah was born, he was too young, and now he felt too old to be playing in diapers. What if you, too, disappeared, like Sarah's mother? Would he be able to cope? What if no woman saw the possibility of a permanent relationship with him, and when the baby came, she simply ran away?

"Hey. Is everything okay?"

He didn't even notice that you had returned and were already sitting next to him. He nodded uncertainly and cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Tommy called, something at the construction site." he lied, quickly starting the engine.

"Do you want to go there?"

"What? No, I don't have to." Joel replied, "Sarah has a game today."

He didn't say anything else the entire ride home, and then to the game you went to with them. He seemed strangely distant, but you were certain he was constantly thinking about work. Even when you suggested ice cream afterward, Joel showed almost no interest.

You dropped Sarah off at a friend's for a sleepover and you were sure that you and Joel would go to his place, but when he suddenly said, "I'll drop you home." You already knew something was wrong.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked as he pulled the truck up in front of your apartment. Once again, you spent the entire ride in silence, which wasn’t normal.

He shook his head. "No, everything's fine."

“Joel? Look at me, please.” He did it reluctantly, but eventually your eyes met. “You’ve been out of sorts all day. What’s wrong?”

"I've had a lot on my mind lately and..."

"Please, don't lie to me." You interrupted him. You weren't mad, he saw concern on your face. "Did something happen?"

“I…” he began, but the words were hard to get out of his throat. He felt your warm hand on his forearm and it broke him. “Are you pregnant?”

"W-What?" you blurted out, completely surprised.

"I saw, quite by accident, a message from your friend. You're two weeks late. Something about a test and a doctor. I need to know."

You looked at him with slightly parted lips, a small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows. You couldn't gather your thoughts in your head, but Joel clearly couldn't stop himself from talking.

“I think about it all the time. You’re still young, you have plans,” he said, and you felt every word hit you harder. “I know we should be more careful. This whole thing between us is still new and uncertain. You’re so young, I shouldn’t have… Fuck. I fucked it up.”

"What the hell are you talking about, Miller?" you gasped, completely stunned by his words "What do you mean - too young? I..."

"Look at us. I have a teenage daughter, and you're at the beginning of your career. You can leave this town anytime you want, because there's nothing keeping you here. But what if you're pregnant? That complicates things like hell and..."

"Stop it!" you raised your hand in warning "You're talking nonsense! I knew how old you were from the beginning, I knew about Sarah and it didn't bother me."

Joel rolled his eyes. "Now you say that."

“Oh! And you’re a know-it-all!” you snorted angrily. “So I think it’s safe to say you took advantage of a young and fresh pussy.”

Joel gave you a stern look, but you didn't even blink. You were ready to fight him if he wanted to. You were aware of his fears and insecurities, but you thought that by this point you had already shown him how much you cared about him. Age was just a number to you, and ten years didn't make much difference when you weren't a teenager anymore.

"I never thought of you that way." he replied, clenching his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning slightly white.

"I feel different now." you replied, shrugging. "Because you're acting like you're just looking for an excuse to break up with me. Because you read some message on my phone? Please! That's pathetic!"

“Pathetic?!” Joel raised his voice. How could you be so indifferent to how your life might change? No one in their right mind would decide to have a child so soon. But of course, you were still young, the romantic vision of a family still lingered in your mind, and you didn’t realize how much it would affect you.

Joel wanted to say something else, but you suddenly grabbed your things and got out of the car slamming the door. He quickly got out after you.

"Did you take the test? When are you seeing the doctor?" he asked, catching you before the door.

"Leave me alone." you hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think I do."

You looked at him in a way Joel had never experienced before. Your warm gaze turned hard and angry, your mouth a thin line, and your entire body took on a defensive stance. You had never argued like this before.

"Fine." you finally said. "I'll tell you. I have an appointment on Monday. Are you happy?"

"I'll go with you."

“Don’t be ridiculous, this doesn’t concern you at all,” you laughed nervously. “And it definitely doesn’t concern you now.”

Joel looked at you in surprise. So he's already screwed everything up? He's already erased those few really good months?

“I’m not pregnant,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “My last checkup showed I had ovarian cysts. They caused my periods to be irregular, and now my period is a few weeks late. The doctor said I should see him if that happens.”

"Cysts?" Joel repeated.

"Yes! I didn't tell you anything because I didn't see the need." you replied "I'm not pregnant, Joel. And you... You, fucked up."

You turned around and disappeared through the door before he had a chance to say anything.

Joel had all night to think about what had happened. All night without sleep, when he kept seeing your angry face in his mind, when he kept repeating your words and feeling worse by the moment. He picked up the phone several times to call you, but he kept giving up, terrified you wouldn't pick up.

What would he have done if you hadn't picked up? Would that have meant the end for both of you? He couldn't believe that his own fears and insecurities had led him to attack you so suddenly. He could have done it differently, he could have waited for you to say something. Instead, he had cornered you and forced you to admit to something that was clearly your own personal issue, one that you wanted to resolve on your own.

He knew nothing about women's health issues. When Sarah got her first period, he managed with the help of a nice store employee, and then his daughter took over. For Joel, a missed period meant pregnancy, and that meant panic and everything he had experienced before.

No, he didn't want to make excuses for his behavior. He had screwed up. He felt like you were disappointed in him and he had no idea what to do about it.

It was still early when he showed up at your place. You opened the door, sleepy, with ruffled hair, in one of those oversized t-shirts you slept in.

"Joel?" you mumbled hoarsely, rubbing your face, "Did something happen? Something with Sarah?"

He shook his head. "No. I had to see you. I had to... Fuck." He scratched the back of his neck, nervously shifting from foot to foot, "Can we talk? I, I need to know that I didn't completely fuck this up."

You looked at him for a moment in silence, as if you were considering his words in your head. It was a really long few seconds, but you finally pulled away, allowing Joel to step inside. The apartment was bathed in morning sunlight, and Joel's eyes immediately went to the few framed photos of him and Sarah that you had at your place. Another needle stabbed him in the heart.

"So?" you asked, folding your arms over your chest. "I'm listening."

"I don't know where to start." he mumbled completely sincerely.

"I suggest you start from the beginning."

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry for everything I said. I'm a fucking idiot."

You tilted your head. "Good start."

Joel took a deep breath. He wanted to do it right, he wanted to take advantage of the chance he was given. Maybe it was the last one he had.

"I know now that I should have been honest with you from the beginning. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I still can't believe you chose me. I kept thinking we weren't right for each other, that we were too different."

“Are you still thinking about age?”

He nodded. "Yeah. See, you're young, and I..."

You rolled your eyes and cursed loudly. “If you’re going to give me this age difference bullshit, maybe just leave. Jesus! That’s not twenty or fifty. Joel, I’m an adult, I work, I pay taxes. I get to decide who I’m with?”

“You think so now.”

“I thought so from the beginning! When I met you, the first thing I thought was that you have gorgeous eyes and really broad shoulders. I felt good with you, I liked you, and I think you’re really sexy. It has nothing to do with your age.” You took a deep breath and put your hands on your hips, like you were trying to explain something really obvious. “Sarah is amazing, I love spending time with her. I love you, even though sometimes you drive me crazy, and yesterday you really pissed me off. I didn’t tell you about the doctor because there was nothing to talk about. But if you had any suspicions, you should have come to me instead of getting even more upset. I felt like you were just looking for a reason to break up with me.”

“It’s not like that.” Joel took a step toward you. “When Sarah’s mother left us, I was left to fend for myself. Yes, there was Tommy and my mother to help us, but single parenting is no easy feat. I was certain you would disappear, too. Not only would you leave me with a child, but you would simply conclude that I was somehow flawed, that I wasn’t cut out to be with you. I guess I preferred sabotaging us rather than simply facing my fears.”

You looked at him, trying to understand his words. His face, eyes, and body language told you he wasn't lying. Joel was full of uncertainty and doubt, but you thought you were past that stage. You told him many times that you loved him, you didn't belittle his needs, and you always helped him with Sarah or around the house. And yet he felt all of this?

“I’m trying to understand you, Joel, I really am.” You finally said, sighing softly. “But I can’t be the only one in this relationship fighting for us. I feel like no matter what I say or do, you’ll find a reason why we can’t be together. Do you even love me?”

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, moving closer and taking your face in his hands. “You have no idea how much I love you. And that scares me. I’m always afraid you’ll find all my flaws.”

"You have a lot of them. I do too. But does it matter when we're happy together?"

No, it didn't matter. The fear of losing you showed Joel what really mattered to him. He cared about you more than he could admit. He saw how perfectly you fit into his family, always trying to help everyone and make everyone happy. He didn't think he'd ever feel the same way about anyone again. 

"I'm sorry, baby. I don't know what I could do to fix this." He whispered, you felt tears welling up in your eyes at how much he was going through. "But I don't want to end what we have. I love you, I'm sure of that."

"You think so now." You replied, parroting his words.

He smiled slightly. “I’ve known this for a long time, and I think the knowledge scared me. The fear that you’d disappear and I’d be left alone with this feeling. I don’t want you to disappear. I want to stay, permanently.”

"I want to stay too, Joel. Don't push me away ever again."

"Never again, baby."

He kissed you, softly and tenderly, as if he was afraid he still might. But when you kissed him back, Joel felt an unimaginable sense of relief. He had you in his arms again, all the dark thoughts swirling in his head dissipated and he felt happiness fill him. Your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you, letting him kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

You could get through this, together. By being more honest, by giving each other a chance at happiness and love, by supporting each other. Joel knew he would do anything to deserve you, and you couldn't imagine not giving him another chance.

“I’ll go to the doctor with you on Monday if you want,” he said as you poured him a fresh cup of coffee and sat down next to him at the table.

“If you want. I could use some support,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

He kissed the top of your head and smiled. He would give you anything, and you never asked for much. You just wanted him to love you, and Joel wanted that too.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[darkmatilda]

𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: each of you—especially spencer—knew that the words let's split up never ended well. yet, they still escaped his lips, something he would regret for the rest of his days. now, held captive, you must decide whether to place your hope in being rescued by the team or to start a psychological game with the unsub and escape on your own.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x bau!female reader, kidnapping, psychological and physical torture, captivity, bloodletting, reader attempting to commit s (to end their suffering), split narrative, performing a ritual, mention of sexual abuse, everything being broadcasted live by the unsub, incestous relationship, sad but not tragic ending

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

𝐚/𝐧: i admit, there’s not much romance in this, and yep, probably the freakiest shit i've written so far. a slightly modified request from an anon—really hope you like it. i hate how i described this investigation. please overlook the absolute lack of logic at times (especially in the beginning) (in my defense i've never kidnapped anyone lol). oh, almost forgot, happy valentine's day (to those who celebrate) <

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

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/ˌmetəˈmɔːfəsɪs/ a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one

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You took a step back when your friend threw herself at you with a joyful squeal, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"Happy, happy birthday, my dearest!" Penelope exclaimed.

"My dearest?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. A wide smile stretched across your face as you remained in her firm embrace, breathing in the pleasant scent of her sweet perfume. "Wait till Morgan hears that..."

"I heard," a deep voice sounded behind you. "But just for today, I'll let it slide. Happy birthday, kid."

Turning around, you spotted Morgan and Prentiss stepping out of the office elevator, each holding an identical cup of coffee. Both had smiles on their faces, and both pulled you into tight hugs while Garcia and Rossi were providing a cappella, completely off-key performance of Happy Birthday 

In seconds your hands were full—two gift bags and a box, and you hadn’t even managed to take off your coat yet. You thanked everyone with genuine warmth and gratitude but didn’t want to drag out the moment too long. It was still morning before work officially started, and you were already running later than usual. JJ had practically begged you to stop by first thing because your godson, Henry, simply couldn’t wait to give you his gift and wish you a happy birthday.

Either way, you had already been hugged by everyone—except…

“Come back in five minutes,” Hotch instructed the two of you, nodding at the rest of the team. “We need to get started on the case.”

And just like that, you and Reid were left alone—a surprisingly thoughtful decision from your boss. You were just friends, of course. Just like the rest of the team…okay, maybe a little closer than that.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, watching with a soft smile as Garcia’s massive gift nearly slipped from your grasp. True to his word, he carefully took it from you and placed it on your desk with the kind of caution usually reserved for handling evidence.

“Are you doing this because you’re an altruist,” you teased, “or because you’re afraid Pen would murder you if her present got damaged on your watch?”

“Why do you assume she’d only murder me?”

“Because I have a birthday,” you said matter-of-factly. “It’s weird to hurt someone on their birthday, don’t you think? Pretty sure even savoir vivre has something to say about that.”

Reid let out a short laugh, but whatever he was about to say next seemed to get caught in his throat. Under different circumstances, he probably would have kept talking, but time wasn’t on your side. In five minutes, you’d both have to return to a world filled with kidnappings, murders, and violence.

“So…” he started, briefly glancing down at his shoes before slowly reaching into the pocket of his blazer. “Oh—first and foremost, happy birthday. I know you’ve already heard that about a hundred times today, but…”

“But not from you.”

“Happy birthday,” he exhaled, almost nervously.

You frowned slightly, wondering why he seemed so worked up over this.

“Sorry, I just…I spent a lot of time trying to figure out if you’d like this gift, and I really wanted to see your reaction. So much so that I kind of forgot to actually say happy birthday.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Anyway, I hope that…”

He stopped short at the look on your face.

For a moment, you just stared at what he was holding, lips slightly parted, completely silent. Then, slowly, a delighted smile spread across your face.

“You hope I’ll like it?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “Tickets to Heathers? Spence, of course I love it! You know how much I love musicals, and oh my god, I wanted to see this so badly…”

You opened your arms to hug him—but then hesitated.

You knew he was one of those people who tended to avoid physical contact, and his comfort had always been your priority. Even after all these years of friendship, you had only truly hugged a handful of times. And by truly, you meant something more than the brief, passing embraces that came with birthdays or other celebrations.

Spencer caught your gaze, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something. But instead, he simply gave a small nod—and wrapped his arms around you. The corners of your lips lifted again—though, honestly, you weren’t sure they’d ever really dropped. Not that he could see it, not with your hands resting against the fabric of his sweater and his chin lightly hovering over your shoulder.

You let out a soft sigh as you pulled away, reluctant but aware that time was chasing you both. Besides, you had something to show him.

There was a quiet tension in the air as you slowly stepped back, just barely out of his arms. Spencer watched intently as you reached into your coat pocket.

“Henry gave me this this morning,” you said, handing him the homemade card your godson had made. A small, knowing smile tugged at Spencer’s lips even before he took it, his gaze dropping to the stick figure that was supposed to be you. “He said I’m his favorite aunt in the whole world,” you added, a playful lilt in your voice. “But I’m not supposed to tell Uncle Spence because it might make him sad.”

He placed a dramatic hand on his chest, his eyes flickering between the card and you, back and forth.

"That would have really hurt my feelings," he began, "if he hadn't told me the exact same thing on my birthday."

You burst into laughter. With a small nod, you gestured that you should head back to the rest of the team. Walking side by side, you made your way in the right direction.

"Should we tell JJ that there's a little liar growing up under her roof?" you asked along the way.

"Well, the lying phase is actually a natural stage of child development," he mused. "A lack of distinction between fantasy and reality, a desire to please adults—there are various reasons. So I think we can spare her that particular worry. At least he's empathetic."

You had already reached the door to the briefing room, but before either of you could grab the handle, Spencer stepped forward slightly, stopping you in your tracks. You looked at him, a bit surprised by the gesture.

"And by the way..." he began, his tone drastically different from the one you'd been using just moments ago. You saw him swallow, carefully choosing his words. "Are...are you okay? The case we're working on...it seems to be affecting you a lot. You have dark circles under your eyes."

You had the urge to scoff defensively and sarcastically thank him for the compliment. You probably would have with anyone else—but with him, you never felt the need to hide your worries. It was easier to admit to them. Easier, but not easy.

You took a deep breath, lowering your gaze as you nodded.

"I just really want to catch these people," you admitted quietly, truthfully. "It's been going on for too long. They've hurt too many girls..." You clenched your eyes shut, avoiding his gaze, which was filled with concern. You nodded toward the door in front of you. "Come on."

He watched you for a brief moment before sighing and stepping aside to let you go first.

Soon all of you were seated around the long table, noses buried in the case files. Penelope was briefing you on a new discovery related to the case you were working on—the one that, as Reid had noted, had been keeping you up at night. She kept her gaze averted from the image on the screen, never able to handle such sights well. And the body of a young woman, drained of every last drop of blood, was particularly disturbing.

"Just like in the previous cases, abandoned seven days after the abduction," she announced, clasping her hands at stomach level. "I’ve been tracking them—I mean, really staring at my screen for hours, even more than usual—but our twins haven’t streamed a single broadcast since then."

"We've entered the transition phase," Hotch said quietly, though his rough voice, as always, carried enough weight to reach even you and Reid, seated farthest from him. "Their ritual failed. They disposed of the body and now need time to prepare for the next one. Restocking supplies, medications, medical equipment."

"This is when we should strike," Prentiss said, leaning both elbows on the table. "They're out of their hideout, likely making transactions, meeting with suppliers. It's all illegal, of course, but the underground market, or at least part of it is under our surveillance…"

This case was difficult.

Usually, you followed a certain pattern. First, there was the crime. Then, piece by piece, you uncovered the missing fragments of a complex puzzle, eventually identifying the unsub. Or unsubs, as in this case. When dealing with an abduction, the final step was typically locating the victim’s holding site.

And that was exactly where you were stuck—on this fucking last step—for yet another week.

In the meantime, one of the unsubs had launched a career as a streamer, broadcasting their actions—at least fragments of them—on the dark web. The streams started at irregular hours, lasted for inconsistent amounts of time, and seemed almost spontaneous. He had to believe that he would attract psychos like himself and his sister—people who would be fascinated by the process.

As strange as it sounded, moving the crime online had actually filled you with a twisted sense of hope.

You thought it would make everything simple. Garcia would trace their location, or maybe, by watching the streams, you’d catch some clue that would lead you right to them.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

He only ever showed you that one room—a space resembling a hospital ward that could have been anywhere. It could have been hidden in the basement of any house in the country, inside some abandoned warehouse, on a remote farm miles away from civilization. Anywhere.

The only thing that had changed was that now you could see the victims' faces. You could watch the hope drain from their eyes as they realized no one was coming to save them.

And that thought drove you to madness.

How you even uncovered their identities and names was an even more complicated story. It all started with an offhand theory Reid had muttered under his breath—one that no one had paid much attention to at first, but which later escalated into the truth.

You had already known there were two unsubs. Their names were Lavinia and Leon Schuyler—thirty-three-year-old twins. Well, technically, triplets.

Piecing together fragments of their lives, you discovered they had another sister, Lydia. The three of them had spent their childhood deeply bonded, drifting from one dysfunctional foster home to another. Since the third sibling wasn’t involved in their crimes, you concluded she had recently died. That theory was reinforced by the fact that their victims all resembled her—and that during the streams, Leon addressed them by one name Lydia.

And, once again, through analysis, you realized what all of this was leading to.

The twins believed they could bring their sister back to life.

You had all of this. But until you had their location, it was as if you had nothing at all.

"Prentiss is right," Derek announced, his hand tightening around his coffee cup. "Our best chance is to track them now, while they’re searching for their next victim. Because we all agree there will be another, right?"

He wasn’t looking for confirmation—everyone knew cases like this didn’t just end.

Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "That’s our job for today," he began. "Not just today—we keep looking until we find them. We need to reach out to our informants, track down their supplier for drugs and medical equipment. And we need to pinpoint the location where the transaction might take place."

With a quiet sigh, you rubbed your forehead, fully aware that the next few hours would be pure informational chaos. But you were completely prepared to dive into it—anything to finally bring this case, the one that had been keeping you up at night, to an end.

In a perfect scenario, that would happen before another victim was taken.

♊︎

"Guess this isn’t how you planned to spend your birthday evening?" Reid asked.

With your hands resting on the steering wheel, you gave a small shrug. He might not have even seen the gesture in the dimly lit car, the empty road ahead reflecting the brief flashes of headlights cutting through the night.

"I wasn't in the mood to celebrate anyway," you admitted.

Under different circumstances, you might have let your teammates drag you to a bar or invited them over, picking up a cheap cake from the first bakery you passed on the way home. But from the moment you came across the information about a human blood sale taking place that night in an abandoned ruin—once a shopping mall—you all knew there would be no chance to catch your breath anytime soon.

You were almost certain that the twins would be one of the parties involved in the transaction.

At first, it filled you with doubt. Human blood? Why would they need to buy it when they were kidnapping all these women for that very purpose? Every body had been drained of it—whatever ritual they believed they were performing revolved entirely around blood.

"Maybe it's a form of experimentation," Reid had tried to explain a few hours earlier at the office, his furrowed gaze fixed on the board cluttered with all the data you'd been compiling. He paused, thinking. "Our unsubs are deeply delusional. They believe their actions will bring their sister back to life. So far, they've tried twice and failed. But instead of admitting that what they're doing is utterly irrational and illogical—because, of course, a blood transfusion into a dead body won't resurrect it—they'd rather blame the process itself, look for errors in their methods. Buying blood allows them to practice, to refine their approach without wasting what they truly desire—the blood of their victims."

"Actually, the fact that I'll finally get to see Heathers soon totally makes up for having to do... this on my birthday," you added after a moment of silence, gesturing toward your bulletproof vest.

Spencer didn’t respond—he was listening intently to Hotch’s voice coming through the car radio. A brief summary of what was unfolding at the ambush site.

You had your doubts about it, ones you kept to yourself. This was your best shot; you had to believe it would work. There hadn’t been enough time to prepare. You didn’t even have up-to-date blueprints of the place.

The abandoned building was in such a state of decay that most people driving past probably had no idea it had once been a shopping mall. The floor was coated in dust and shards of shattered storefront glass. Water from a leaking roof had seeped into the walls, leaving behind dark stains. Plastic tables from the long-defunct food court lay overturned and filthy. From what you’d managed to gather, a lot of people from the local underworld—mostly dealers—had passed through here at least once in their careers.

You didn’t feel that you were properly prepared, nor did you like your role in all of this. Your job was to circle the area in an unmarked car, providing backup in case your unsub somehow managed to slip away. That meant you had no direct view of the ambush and had to rely entirely on the descriptions and updates from your teammates. So far, though, no one had shown up.

"Hm, Spence?" you suddenly said into the space between you, a little uncertain. You kept your eyes on the road as you drove, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head questioningly. You fell silent for a moment, trying to keep your tone casual. "I got two tickets from you…and, you know, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to, well…see it with me?"

You had no idea why you suddenly felt so tense. After all, you were friends, and friends went places together sometimes. Just the two of them.

"Are you sure?" Reid asked, making you shift in surprise. Was he going to say no? He quickly added, "I mean, I don’t want you to think I expected you to invite me just because I gave you the tickets…It’s a gift, and if you’d rather take someone else, a friend or…"

"I want to take you," you interrupted, shifting your gaze to him.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the glint of your eyes visible in the dark car. Spencer gave a small, gentle smile.

"She's here. Alone. We're waiting in position until she goes inside," Morgan's voice informed you.

You both straightened up, as if brought back down to earth. The sense of satisfaction, even excitement, that had grown within you after he agreed suddenly took a backseat. You remained silent, listening for further instructions. Sitting there in the car, you felt utterly useless. She’s here. Just Lavinia? What about her brother? Did she come alone? Had they suspected something was off and decided not to risk being caught together? Your breath caught in your chest for several long minutes, stretching into a quarter of an hour.

“Fuck” 

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Fuck! She got away. She was alone, and she still managed to slip through…there must be a hidden exit in the warehouse…”

Reid brought the radio to his lips.

“We’re nearby—we might be able to catch her. Did she come on foot? If so, her car could be parked somewhere close, maybe with her brother waiting. She’s probably heading straight there.” A faint crease formed between his brows, the mark of complete focus. “Garcia, you got me? Check the maps. Find anywhere they might have stopped…”

“How the fuck did she slip through?” you hissed under your breath, your heart hammering against your bulletproof vest.

You weren’t there—you had no right to judge. But for god’s sake, it was one woman against a trained FBI team!

“Guys, I think I’ve got something!” Penelope’s tense whisper crackled through the radio. “An abandoned parking lot, I’ll guide you there…”

You shoved your anger and confusion aside for the moment, yanking the wheel sharply as you turned toward the location Garcia had given. Cracks in the concrete had been overtaken by tufts of grass, something you noticed the moment you stepped out of the car, the door slamming shut behind you. It was nighttime, and darkness sprawled between the trees ahead, swallowing up what little visibility you had. The entire area was unlit, making it hard to see much—except for the single parked car standing out in the gloom.

You and Reid didn’t need to discuss your next move. A brief exchange of glances was enough—a silent reminder to stay cautious. Weapons drawn, you approached the vehicle from opposite sides, moving in sync without a word. You expected to see the face of the man you had been staring at endlessly over the past few days of the investigation. You hoped to find him in the driver’s seat, to yank him out with a firm pull, slam him against the hood, and cuff his wrists as his face met the cold metal.

But the car’s interior was empty.

“Damn it,” you muttered, lowering your gun. “Is this even their car? Maybe we came here for nothing…”

“Let’s find out,” Reid murmured, scanning the area cautiously before tugging on the surprisingly unlocked front door. His brows lifted—he seemed just as surprised as you.

You circled around the vehicle to join him on the same side, resting a hand on the open door as you watched him pull on a pair of gloves. He reached for the glove compartment, likely expecting to find some documents inside.

“Nothing,” he sighed after a long moment, disappointment lacing his voice.

He turned his face toward you, his tense jaw easing as he parted his lips to say something else. 

Then everything was drowned out by the sharp crack of gunfire. One shot. Then another. Bullets slammed into the hood of the car with a metallic clang.

It all happened too fast.

You spun around, your flashlight beam cutting through the darkness—and landing on her. Blonde hair wild around her face, cheeks flushed from a desperate sprint.

Her gun was raised. Her finger tight on the trigger.

And you.

Most of your body shielded behind the open car door.

Most of it.

But not your head.

Then—Reid’s hands gripping your waist. Yanking you down.

The bullet shattered the window, glass exploding around you. Instinctively, you both ducked, heads low as sharp fragments rained down.

Curled up together, arms tangled, you locked eyes—both of you breathing hard, lips parted in shock. It had only been seconds, but in his gaze, that raw flash of fear stretched endlessly.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his vest, gripping onto the solid warmth of his body as the world tilted. The ringing in your ears was deafening, the gunshot echoing in your skull, stretching time unbearably—like a warning of the next shot to come.

But it didn’t.

And when another second passed. Then another—

You moved.

Ignoring Reid’s sharp inhale, his hand reaching to hold you back, you pushed up onto your feet. The flashlight beam managed to catch Lavinia for a brief moment before she disappeared entirely into the stretch of trees between you. You couldn't let her escape and make it back to their hideout, the one you had been struggling to locate for so long.

Following her trail, you shot across the parking lot like an arrow. Reid was a fraction slower to react, but he wasn’t about to let you go after her alone. You could hear his footsteps behind you as you ran forward with determination, nearly tripping more than once over scattered rocks and branches along the forest path. You knew the flashlight was giving away your position, but you kept it on, scanning the surroundings for one of the unsubs.

It was as if she had vanished into thin air. As if the trees had swallowed her whole, even though the narrow, mostly overgrown path led only forward. You stopped, desperately looking around. You had no idea how far you had run, but your breath had become uneven, despite your excellent physical condition as an FBI agent.  You couldn't accept the fact that she had slipped away from you twice, that she would soon meet up with her brother and together start planning the abduction of another victim…

Reid's hands reached for yours to turn off the flashlight you were clutching. In one moment, his face was right in front of yours, perfectly lit with squinted eyes, and in the next, it disappeared. You could still sense his presence just in front of you, his heavy breathing when he spoke.

"We have to..." he started in a slightly hoarse, quiet voice.

"We have to catch her," you interrupted through clenched teeth. You pulled away, moving forward again, but then he grabbed your wrist tightly.

"This is pointless," he replied, to which you immediately snorted in response. You wanted to argue, but then his finger landed on your lips, stopping you from speaking. "It's pointless for both of us to chase her like this," he explained, finally calming his breath. "Give me the flashlight, I'll go on alone. You head back to the car and take the other route. The forest is small; she'll have to come out on the other side soon. And above all, notify the team about everything."

His hand pulled back only after he finished explaining the plan. At that point, you no longer had the desire to protest. Everything he said made sense, even though something deep inside you screamed that you shouldn’t split up. You ignored it and forced yourself to nod. You handed him your flashlight and, after a last exchange of glances, you jogged back.

“Spence,” you turned suddenly after taking only a couple of steps. He also looked at you, clearly surprised. “Be careful.”

 Reid nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured you. “Be careful too. We’ll meet up in a bit.”

It was only when you were running back to the car that you realized just how far your pursuit had gone. Anxiety clung to your back and didn’t let go, even as you emerged from between the gnarly trees. You gripped your gun tightly and tucked it back into your waistband as you sat behind the wheel of your car, not even pausing to catch your breath. Without hesitation, you leaned over to the radio, but before you could get a word out, something flashed in the corner of your eye.

You froze at the sight of the gun aimed at the driver’s side window.

You didn’t even fully turn to the side, you didn’t wait. You knew what was expected of you. With slow, almost rigid movements, you opened the door and stepped outside. You dragged out the process, analyzing the stance of the man, the second of your unsub suspects. He wasn’t a tall man, and after reviewing his history, you knew he had no significant experience with weapons or combat skills you had mastered long ago.

You almost smiled when you managed to use the element of surprise, grabbing his hand and redirecting the gun to the side. The shot rang out.

Leon Schuyler hissed with satisfaction, as if he had expected it all along. Then, before you could slam your knee into his groin, another sound escaped his lips. It was possible you had misheard it, but it sounded very much like a goodnight.

And after that, a sharp needle of a syringe pierced your neck with precision.

♊︎

It wasn’t until morning that Spencer began to grasp what had actually happened.

And even then, not fully. He felt as if he were blankly staring at the script of a play—one whose plot and themes filled him with such deep discomfort that he wanted nothing more than to leave the theater without so much as murmuring an apology to the people he passed. Yet at the same time, his entire body was nailed to that rough seat, his head immobilized, unable to look away. He wanted to run onto the stage and shout, enough, to put an end to it all—but he had no such power.

Who did?

The ambush for the twins had been set around midnight. About an hour later, they had both taken off after the fleeing woman. Then they had split up.

He didn’t remember much after that—not until five in the morning, when the entire team finally stopped scouring the area, clinging to the desperate hope that they might stumble upon the unsub by sheer accident. For the first time, Spencer felt so detached from the passage of time that even when he looked at his watch, the position of the hands made no real sense to him.

Hotch had announced that they needed to return to the office. To regroup. To think carefully about their next move.

They were the first to arrive—Spencer trailing behind Hotch more like a shadow than an actual participant in events. Others followed, one by one. Shaken. Furious. Devastated. But most of all, still bewildered, still unable to accept what had happened.

The sun had begun to rise, but even that seemed slower than usual, reluctant to banish the wretched darkness still clinging to these walls.

Spencer realized he was staring blankly out the window instead of using his so-called genius to find a solution. His mind felt empty, and the shame of it hit him like a physical blow, followed by something even more tangible.

A pair of hands shoved against his chest, forcing him backward.

“JJ…”

Derek was between them in an instant, stepping in to hold her back.

She froze, staring at her own hands as if surprised by what they had just done. Then she clenched them tightly across her chest, her gaze locked onto Spencer, raw and overflowing with emotion.

“How could you…how could you even suggest splitting up?” Her voice trembled, her head shaking in disbelief. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. She had been the last to arrive, the one who stayed out searching the longest—desperate, frantic, chasing down any possible lead that could tell her where they had taken her best friend, the godmother of her son. “You know this never ends well, Spencer. You know that. You should have known that…”

"Enough" Emily appeared beside them, gently wrapping her arms around JJ’s shoulders.

JJ slumped, a single tear glistening in her eye for the first time.

"This isn’t helping," Emily said softly. "We need to focus on finding her as quickly as possible. They… they don’t kill their victims. Not right away. We still have a chance…"

"They don’t kill their victims," JJ repeated blankly, wiping her eye with a stiff movement. She didn’t look at any of them. "They just keep them locked up for days, drain their blood, and throw them away like garbage."

She took a breath.

"I need to see Penelope."

She tore herself from Emily’s grasp and walked away without looking back.

Her words lingered, filling the space, stretching the silence into something unbearable.

Spencer felt like he might throw up if he even tried to swallow

By accident, his gaze met Emily’s. Her brown eyes were surprisingly gentle.

He looked away.

Facing JJ’s fury had been easier—it was just a fraction of the hatred he felt toward himself. But he couldn’t stand any attempt to soften just how badly he had fucked up. He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, before realizing just how meaningless it would be. What would his apology change? The only thing he could do at that moment was pull himself together and find her.

“I need to focus,” he said, his throat so dry the words barely made it out. He wanted to leave the room, to be back among the case files, to lose himself in analysis and overlapping thought patterns, to check everything—literally everything.

But then Penelope appeared in the doorway, the color drained completely from her face.

“Guys, you need to see this…” she choked out.

For a second, everyone froze—until, led by Spencer, they rushed toward her office.

"Just like in the previous cases, I can’t trace this transmission," Penelope explained frantically, nearly running beside him on her high heels. They burst into the dimly lit room full of screens, where JJ was already inside—motionless. She was biting her thumb, staring at one of the monitors in a trance. "They’re using satellite internet, masking the signal, and constantly jumping between servers..."

Behind them, Prentiss let out a strangled sound.

The whole thing was being streamed via a handheld camera, mostly fixed on one point—the face of their teammate. It seemed to be set down on something, maybe a table, because if someone were holding it, the frame would be shaking.

Hotch stepped in as close as possible, his eyes shutting for a brief moment. He was reliving it all over again. Once more, one of them had been taken, and the rest were forced to watch, helpless.

But if Tobias Hankel had left behind anything remotely useful, it was that they knew how to handle this.

Silently, painfully, they all gathered around Garcia, absorbing the footage—no, the live feed.

"Is recording this really fucking necessary?" a woman's voice snapped—it belonged to Lavinia.

Spencer's mind flickered with the image of her face—those empty green eyes staring down the barrel of a gun aimed directly at them. Her brow furrowed. She had no visible injuries on her face. She was lying on a stark white bed, the kind that looked like it belonged in a hospital, covered by an equally white blanket up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest anymore—just a loose nightgown that ended at her elbows. Her eyes were half-lidded, blinking slowly—probably just waking up.

"We already talked about this. It is," her brother replied. "What are you doing?"

Lavinia stepped into the frame. They weren’t wearing masks, weren’t bothering to hide their identities—fully aware that law enforcement already knew their names.

One of her hands clamped down on the captive’s, pulling it toward her with little care before pricking the tip of one finger.

Confusion rippled through everyone watching. Spencer might have rushed to explain if not for the fact that he couldn’t force a single word out. He couldn’t even look away.

"I'm checking her blood type, what else?" she scoffed. "You kidnapped her without running it by me, and you should know that if this bitch has the wrong blood type, I’m not wasting our time on her."

"Pay attention to the way they speak to each other," Hotch started, bracing a hand against the desk. "There's tension—some kind of conflict…"

"Hotch," Spencer cut in, his eyes shut tightly. Nausea churned in his stomach. Keeping his eyes closed was the only way to stay on his feet.

Lavinia's words pounded against his skull on repeat. If this bitch has the wrong blood type, I’m not wasting our time on her.

"…That's a good thing. It means they're less coordinated, and it's more likely they'll make a mistake..."

"Hotch," he tried again.

This time, it was almost a plea.

"…We should—"

"She’s AB Rh+."

Hotch finally turned to look at him. So did the rest.

They froze—silent, motionless—not because they didn’t understand what it meant, but because they refused to accept it.

AB Rh+, a blood type that could only be transfused to someone with the same.

All the previous victims had type A blood.

I’m not wasting our time on her.

Prentiss sank into the nearest chair, as if her knees had simply given out beneath her.

So this was how it was going to end?

Before they could do anything to help her? Before he could even come up with a single idea on how to save her?

A single tear slipped down Penelope’s cheek. She didn’t even try to wipe it away.

“Let me check,” Leon, the male unsub, suddenly offered. “Go turn the heat up. Even I’m cold, and I’ve got a jacket on.”

His sister hesitated for a moment before she agreed.

Spencer finally opened his eyes—not to torture himself with the helplessness on his colleagues’ faces, but to force his gaze onto the screen. He fixed his eyes on her half-conscious face, searching for any sign of understanding. Did she get it? Had she already connected the dots?

Breathing started to hurt.

He wanted so badly to apologize. It wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe—maybe—it would dull the ache.

Him. Spencer Reid. And his stupid idea to split up.

He had sent her back to the car.

He had sent her to die.

That thought was dangerous, but maybe it was a good thing that the end was so close. That she wouldn’t have to endure days of suffering, uncertainty, and fear. He knew that feeling. He knew it all too well—praying for his own death when the pain became unbearable when fear and exhaustion drained the last of his strength. He didn’t want her to go through that.

He didn’t want her to go through any of this.

But that…that especially.

"And?" Lavinia returned to the room after a long moment.

"Well, what can I say? I’ve got a good eye," her brother said lightly. "O Rh-, a universal donor. We couldn’t have asked for a better match. You know what this means? That this time, we might finally succeed."

Everyone exchanged glances, utterly confused.

“Spencer…” JJ looked at him for the first time since their argument. “You said…you yourself said that she—”

“Because she is,” he interrupted. “He lied.”

Prentiss snapped her head up, a spark of hope flickering in her eyes. Spencer didn’t share her optimism. He did feel some relief, that much was true. But he was painfully aware that this wasn’t over. The nightmare was only beginning, and it was up to them to end it—before it was too late.

♊︎

You were afraid to be afraid. 

Absurd—you were well aware of that. But ever since you woke up in that hospital-like room, hooked up to an EEG and an IV, with a pulse oximeter clipped to your finger, your thoughts had focused solely on one thing. Not panicking. Calmness gave you a sense of control. Of course, you had none whatsoever—you were entirely at the mercy of two lunatics who believed they could bring someone back to life. But if they could be delusional, then so could you.

You knew this room from the recordings. For the longest time, you couldn’t determine where exactly it might be located. Was it a repurposed basement? A cabin in the middle of nowhere? Even now, being here in person, you couldn’t say for sure.

The moment you were left alone, you seized the opportunity to unhook yourself from all the machines and pressed your ear against the wall.

Once, your team had found a victim’s location by identifying the sound of a plane taking off in the background of a ransom call. You hoped for something similar to happen now. But you quickly realized the grey walls were lined with  soundproofing foam. The floor, covered in rubber, absorbed footsteps completely. You didn’t even hear anyone approaching until a flat palm struck you across the face so hard that you collapsed back onto the bed.

Lavinia was ridiculously strong.

“If you get up without permission again, I’ll cuff you to the damn bed,” she said, tossing a bottle of water onto the mattress beside you. “Drink. You’ll get food when you do something for me.” 

"As if I have anywhere to run," you muttered under your breath, reluctantly reaching for the water. "What do you want me to do? What time is it?"

Every time one of the twins visited you, you asked for the time. You needed to know how long you had been there. But with the constant doses of sedatives they were giving you, you couldn’t even estimate it.

Deep inside, you felt like it had been no more than a day.

The others had been kept for seven days before…

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about the others if you wanted to hold on to what was left of your sanity.

“Good night,” Lavinia muttered, messing with the IV drip.

“But you said I had to do something…” You frowned in confusion.

The blonde shrugged. She was wearing a green coat with fur on the hood. Both she and her brother always came to see you dressed warmly, even though the temperature in your little prison was relatively comfortable.

They had changed you into a thin nightgown that ended just above your knees and at your elbows, but curled up under the blanket, you were relatively warm.

That led you to one conclusion—wherever you were, the rest of the building wasn’t as well-heated. It was cold enough that they needed extra layers.

Whatever was in the IV worked.

You woke up on the floor. And freezing. Oh God, it was so cold. Your entire body immediately started shaking.

When you tried to push yourself up at your own sluggish pace, someone simply yanked you upright, like pulling a vegetable from the ground. You hissed in pain, instinctively trying to push the woman away, but all that did was earn you another hit.

Lavinia didn’t hold back.

The previous victims hadn’t been beaten this badly, so you assumed she particularly disliked the fact that her brother had chosen to kidnap you.

Leon, unlike her, didn’t hit you.

He just kept shoving the camera in your face.

Honestly, you preferred a busted lip and bruises over the fact that your team was seeing what was happening to you.

That awareness hurt a thousand times more than any torture ever could.

You managed to take a look around this new room before you were shoved toward the bed.

Unlike yours, it didn’t look like a mad doctor’s operating room but rather an ordinary, slightly old-fashioned bedroom. Dark wooden floors, a wardrobe with ornate handles in the corner, no windows—just like your room. Bottle-green walls.

Your gaze finally fell on the bed, and you barely managed to choke back a scream.

Suddenly, you understood why it was so unbearably cold in the room.

In front of you lay the body of a woman, her eyes closed, but her face was so unnaturally blue that you could never have believed she was merely sleeping. If not for the fact that she had been dead for—what you estimated to be—several weeks, she would have been identical to Lavinia.

Only after the initial shock of the sight wore off did her name come back to you.

Lydia.

The last of the triplets. The one who had died. The one they were trying to bring back with their…ritual.

As an FBI agent and profiler, you were accustomed to seeing dead bodies—but this one unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite rationalize.

Lavinia approached the corpse and smiled down at it with an affection so genuine, so reverent, that it sent a shiver down your spine. It was the kind of smile only mothers gave their children. Then, without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Lydia’s cold, gray cheek.

The dead woman’s short blonde hair fanned out across the pillow like a halo. Her hands were folded neatly atop the blanket, eerily reminiscent of someone in prayer. You were shaking, and it probably wasn’t just because of the cold.

"From now on, you will take care of our sister twice a day," Lavinia began, opening the drawer of the bedside table. She took out a hair comb, a bottle of some liquid, and a silk cloth. "Brush her hair and wipe her body."

As she spoke, she demonstratively rolled up one of Lydia’s sleeves. She was dressed in a nightgown similar to yours, but with lace at the collar and long sleeves reaching down to her wrists. You couldn’t suppress a shudder at the sight of her exposed skin. You were trembling too much from the cold for Lavinia to notice.

Lydia’s veins were dark. The blood transfusions into her lifeless body had caused it to clot. Small lumps had formed where the blood had thickened, and her arms were covered in scars and puncture marks.

“W-why do I have to do this?” you asked, clenching your teeth to stop them from chattering.

Lavinia shrugged as she wiped her sister’s skin with the cloth.

“Someone has to take care of her,” she said. “By doing this, you’re building a bond with her. Here, try it. Just be gentle.”

For a moment, you just stared at her. You were now certain—absolutely certain—that both Lavinia and Leon had crossed the threshold of madness and were living in a world where logic held no place.

Her gaze hardened as she shoved the cloth into your hands. It almost slipped from your trembling fingers.

You looked down at the body and hesitantly wiped its surface…a violent gag reflex hit you so hard that you staggered.

You heard a contemptuous scoff.

“If you throw up on her, you have no idea what I’ll do to you,” she warned.

This was sick. Sick, sick, sick.

Your breath caught in your chest—you couldn’t look at Lydia, laid out in bed as if merely asleep. Taking care of her as if she were alive. But another warning glance and the flash of a weapon beneath Lavinia’s coat forced you to keep going. You started wiping down each of her limbs, one by one.

She was a small woman, barely any weight to her, and yet it felt like the task stretched into eternity.

Sick, sick, sick.

When you were done, a comb was shoved into your hand. Its teeth were wide-set, meant to avoid damaging the delicate hair of a corpse. Lavinia kept hissing softer through gritted teeth every few seconds.

Sick.

You forced yourself to set the comb down calmly instead of flinging it away like it burned you. Following instructions, you reached for Lydia’s hands, gently folding them back into the same position as before. As you did, your gaze lingered on her wrists for a long, drawn-out moment. The deep, jagged wounds. So that’s how she died? Suicide?

Lavinia stabbed you with a syringe.

♊︎

You lay in bed, your body still trembling.

You weren’t cold anymore, yet you curled up under the blanket. Just as Lavinia had warned, she forced you to do it again a few hours later. Taking care of Lydia’s body now dictated when morning came and when night fell. Not once had you fallen asleep on your own—there were always the drugs, injected mostly when they needed to move you to another room. You wondered why you couldn’t just walk there yourself.

Not that you would have been able to sleep anyway. You made sure not to close your eyes. When you did, your mind conjured sick visions—of the corpse lying right beside you, feeding off your blood, slowly consuming you the way mold devours fresh fruit.

You were afraid to be afraid, yet fear was beginning to take hold of you.

You were still searching for a way out of all this… You knew the team was looking for you too, doing everything they could, but you couldn’t just sit and wait. You had to find a way to gain some sort of advantage over the unsubs. There was no use trying with Lavinia, but Leon…

He was the weaker link in this duo.

He had lied about your blood type, which meant he wanted to keep you here.

You heard him enter the room. They usually took turns coming to see you, rarely together. His arrival was always preceded by the small wheeled table carrying all the electronic equipment and streaming cables. If only Garcia could trace it…

“How are you feeling?” Leon asked, sitting on the edge of your bed, keeping his distance, the camera aimed directly at your face. You tried to turn your head so the bruise under your eye—courtesy of his sister—was out of view. A poor attempt. Your lip was swollen too. “You look weak. My sister told me to bring you something to eat, but… you know, Lydia is smaller than you.”

You raised your eyebrows. So what, was he planning to starve you until you resembled his sister’s corpse? You didn’t even try to understand it anymore. It wasn’t worth the effort for your exhausted mind. You didn’t answer, unsure of what you even should say. But you wanted to keep the conversation going.

“Why…why are you even recording all of this?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing directly into the camera. It was impossible that the whole team was watching the stream. You hoped as few of them as possible were seeing you like this. Especially not Penelope—she wasn’t built for this. Not JJ, your best friend. And definitely not Spencer.

On second thought, you didn’t want any of them to be watching.

Leon cleared his throat.

“Well, we’re doing something incredible. People want to see it. They’re curious if we’ll succeed.”

You’re doing something sick. Freaks want to watch it. They’re fascinated by it, you corrected him in your head.

“So, I have fans?” You tried to sound playful, friendly.

Leon was surprised by the warmth in your voice. Pleasantly surprised. His pale face, green eyes brightened slightly.

“Yes. I guess you do,” he admitted. He almost seemed shy, as if he hadn’t kidnapped you. “Can I…can I talk to you? Maybe they’d like to know something about you. The previous ones…the previous ones didn’t really want to say much. Mostly, they just screamed.”

You used all your strength not to flinch.

“Sure,” you replied, forcing a soft smile. It was just a game, a mask. You tried to observe the conversation from the outside, detached, clear-headed—while pretending you didn’t hate him. “What do you want to know?”

He didn’t move closer, but he shifted slightly to make sure the camera captured as much of you as possible.

“I know you’re a fed,” he began. “I even looked you up. I know your name. How old you are. But nowhere did it say what you like. You know, what you do. In your free time.”

You hesitated for a moment. You were kidnapped. If it were someone else in your position, you’d tell them to be as human as possible—honest, even. Make your captor see you as a person with feelings, desires, dreams.

So you took a breath and tried to answer truthfully, even though it hurt.

“I love musicals,” you finally said.

You thought about the two tickets—Spencer’s gift.

It hurt unbelievably much.

You prayed he wasn’t watching. That he wouldn’t hear this.

You told Leon a little about the last musical you had seen. It had been a long time—your job left you no time for such things. You looked him straight in the eyes as you spoke, because the sheer disgust you felt toward him was the only thing keeping your tears from spilling over. You felt so fragile, talking about something you loved to a man who, in just a few days, planned to drain you of blood.

You didn’t want to die like this. You refused to.

“Do you want kids?” he asked suddenly.

The question was so unexpected that you didn’t even have time to think.

"I guess…I guess so," you said.

But your surprised mind quickly sharpened, pulling up information from their biography. You knew that the twins' mother had died in childbirth. You didn't know what was driving him to ask this question, but you preferred to be cautious.

"I mean, no. I don’t know, actually. Maybe. To continue the species."

Or to have a loving family, but of course, you weren’t about to say something so personal out loud.

Leon remained still for a moment, then suddenly laughed. You pretended to laugh along, but you couldn’t stop the sharp flinch when he suddenly moved closer, touching your cheek with his hand. He lowered the camera—it was now pointing at the floor.

"You're so funny," he said with strange tenderness. "Just like Lydia. She…she was the same way."

For the first time, he referred to her in the past tense instead of the present. Was he starting to realize that she was gone?

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Another question.

"No."

"Have you ever loved someone?"

"What…what really happened to Lydia?"

The team had never found that out. But you had seen the wounds on her wrists and figured it out yourself. Still, you wanted to hear what he had to say about it. Because by now, you were starting to suspect.

"She passed away because of an illness," he said shortly, enigmatically, cutting off any further questions. Then, he repeated himself. "Have you ever loved?"

"In what way? Romantically, like a sibling, like family…?"

"It doesn’t matter."

Your posture became more alert, analytical. Leon withdrew his hand from your face, but he didn’t point the camera back at you, as if he had forgotten he was even holding it.

"Of course, I’ve loved," you said quietly. "And I still do. And you loved Lydia, right?"

The man nodded, a certain longing filling his green eyes.

"It’s late," he announced after a moment of silence. "I should go."

But before he even moved to stand, he leaned in. His lips brushed the top of your head, hesitant. You fought the urge to push him away. You had to keep up the act, continue this game. Wrap him around your finger, so that the very thought of hurting you would terrify him.

"Goodnight, Lydia."

♊︎

A certain force kept him bound to that chair, watching each broadcast over and over again.

He believed that, eventually, he would spot some previously overlooked detail—one that would immediately allow him to pinpoint the location. But in part, he also wanted to punish himself. Because what could hurt more than watching the face of one of the most important women in his life grow paler and more bruised with each passing moment?

A woman he himself had condemned to this fate.

But he didn’t stay in the office for another night just to drown in his own guilt. He was capable of multitasking, so while the weight of it pressed down on him, he poured everything that came to mind onto paper.

He noted the exact moments the streams began, measured their precise duration, wrote down every single word spoken, and searched for any hidden meaning.

Maybe, somewhere in one of those conversations, she had hidden a message meant for their team—a clue to help them find her.

Three days had passed. Logically, it made sense to assume they were following the same pattern as in previous cases. And that meant nearly half of their time was already gone.

Spencer kept thinking about Leon’s cryptic words—that his sister had supposedly died of an illness. He wondered if that was true or if the twins had chosen to live in denial. Maybe it was easier for them to accept that fate, a cruel and indifferent universe, had taken her—rather than the possibility that she had done it to herself.

He rubbed his tired eyes and let out a heavy sigh when he realized he was getting nowhere.

Garcia had allowed him to stay in her office alone—something that, under any other circumstances, would have gotten him killed. She hated when anyone touched her keyboard.

But time was relentlessly moving forward, and they all had to sleep at some point. Usually, only one or two of them were assigned to monitoring the broadcasts at a time, while the rest focused on other search efforts. They worked nonstop.

They had already experienced a moment of sheer terror at the very start, forced to confront the brutal reality that she could die. And they were determined not to let that happen.

Especially Spencer.

Not just because he owed it to her. It wasn’t only about guilt—the fact that he had been the one to suggest they split up. Even if he had nothing to do with her current situation, he would still be glued to this chair in the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the glow of the screens, a single desk lamp, and the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

Because she was his friend. Because she was an inseparable part of his life.

Because she was someone he could say, without a doubt, that he loved.

Whether that love was purely platonic or something more didn’t matter right now.

The only thing that mattered was the silent promise in his mind—that he would make sure they watched that musical together.

Hundreds of them, if she wanted.

He drank surprisingly little coffee. What kept him on his feet and his mind sharp weren’t the stimulants but the occasional glances at the drawing Henry had made—a gift she had left in the office, intending to take it home after work. To pin it to her fridge with a cat-shaped magnet. Of course, Henry had no idea what had happened to the best aunt in the world. 

He drifted off in thought for a moment, only to be pulled back by movement on the screen.

The stream was starting.

Spencer immediately straightened in his seat, giving his cheek a light slap to wake himself up, to force himself into absolute focus.

Like every time, something clenched painfully in his chest.

He barely recognized her, even though the light in her room was on.

Several details hit him all at once.

First, the wound on her cheek—one that hadn’t been there before. Second, her hair. It had been cut to the exact same length Lydia’s had been in the photos he’d seen of her. The association filled his mind in an instant, vivid and unshakable. Third… the bandages wrapped around her wrists. Both of them. His hand shot toward his phone to alert the team, to wake everyone up. Or maybe someone else had already done it—he wasn’t entirely present in his own body.

But before he could move, before he could do anything at all, his breath caught in his throat. A thought began to scroll across his mind like a news ticker.

Metamorphosis had already begun.

♊︎

When Leon cut your hair, you took advantage of his momentary distraction—his mind entirely consumed by memories of his sister—and stole the scissors, slipping them under your pillow.

You wished you could say it was part of some greater plan. But in reality, you were exhausted, your strength fading more and more—not just physically, but mentally too. If your calculations were right, at least three days had passed. Twice a day, they drugged you and moved you to a room so cold that you lost all feeling in your limbs for hours, forced to care for a dead body. Staring into Lydia’s empty eyes, at the bluish veins beneath her lifeless skin, you couldn’t stop imagining yourself the same way—discarded by the roadside, drained of every last drop of blood.

You didn’t want to go like that. You wanted to go on your own terms.

You seized your chance that evening, when they left you alone without sedatives. You hesitated. But what if the team had finally tracked you down? What if they were already on their way? Wait or don’t wait? They would understand. You knew that. You were relieved that the camera hadn’t been on you 24/7. You had at least spared them from witnessing this, the desperation and terror slipping from your wrists along with your blood.

It was Leon who found you. He collapsed to his knees beside you, consumed by sheer panic, screaming Lydia’s name over and over, begging her not to leave him again. His cries alerted Lavinia. You had hoped that despite her medical experience as a nurse, she wouldn’t reach you in time.

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting their faces to be the last thing you saw before death. With the last remnants of your strength, you struggled against their grasp as they tried to lift you from the floor.

Then, everything faded away.

"Leon, this is a waste of time."

The blurred words drifted into your consciousness, floating there like debris on the surface of water. You observed them with closed eyelids, seeing nothing, feeling little, barely understanding anything.

"She…maybe we should just get rid of her. Find a new one."

"We can’t," her brother responded firmly. You had never heard him speak in such a commanding tone before. "We can’t take that risk. They’re on our tail. Police…FBI. If we try again…this is our last chance. She is our last chance, and this time, it will work. I can feel it"

He paused.

"She’s just like Lydia."

His twin remained silent for a moment before letting out a weary, resigned sigh.

"I guess you're right," she finally replied. "I'll go refill the boat's fuel. Keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. And when she wakes up, take her to Lydia. They need to…they need to bond. A stronger bond. Right now, she's too weak."

"Be careful," her brother warned her gently.

You opened your eyes only after Lavinia left the room. The light stabbed at them painfully. For a moment, the helplessness consuming you was utterly devastating. You wanted to scream, to wail—it took everything in you not to beg the man to put you to sleep again. If even death couldn’t save you from this fate, then what could? 

Leon didn’t say a word to you. After a while, he simply helped you up, touching your body as if it were made of fragile porcelain, then guided you into the hallway, offering light support. You were weak, horribly weak, but the moment you left your room, a flicker of strength began to return.

For the first time, they allowed you to walk to Lydia on your own instead of carrying you there unconscious. That gave you a chance to take in your surroundings more clearly. You were so surprised by this newfound freedom that, for a moment, you forgot how unsteady your legs were.

You stepped into what seemed like a corridor. Instead of soundproof foam, the walls were lined with metal, rust creeping along some of the panels. The air carried a certain chill—not the biting cold of Lydia’s room, but something more natural, like a draft seeping through an imperfect structure. And then there was another sound, layered beneath the whisper of wind slipping through the cracks—a faint, steady noise.

Rushing water.

Leon kept leading you forward. You crossed a threshold, and that was when you saw it—an old window at the end of the corridor. Something inside you surged forward, an instinctual pull. You wanted—needed—to press yourself against the glass, to look outside, to at least see where you were. The unfamiliar sounds and the stark change in environment stirred something deep within you.

The will to survive.

You thought it had died back there, on the floor, when you miraculously lived. But it hadn’t. It had only been waiting.

Leon pulled you along more forcefully. For the first time, you thought about hurting him. He wasn’t as strong as his sister—if you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck at just the right angle…You were alone there, Lavnia had gone… You tried to recall her blurred words. Refill the fuel in the boat? A boat? So your intuition had been right—you were somewhere on the water.

You had done this so many times that he didn’t need to hand you the cloth or the comb; you already knew where to find them. As you opened the drawer, you could feel Leon’s gaze on your back. You moved slowly, hoping to find something sharp. Anything. Even the comb would do…

You turned around and saw Leon sitting on the table by the bed, his forehead resting on his sister’s lifeless hands.

A perfect opportunity. Perfect circumstances. He was distracted, not paying attention to you.

Unfortunately, you weren’t fully focused either. His sobbing…

"My beautiful Lydia," he wept softly into his sister’s body, burying his face in it as if hoping she would embrace him, stroke his head. "My dear Lydia. I loved her, you know. I love her."

You didn’t move, clutching the comb in your hands. You barely felt the cold, even though your body registered it perfectly, making you shiver. And although rage filled you—a wild, feral madness—you wanted to lunge at him. Yet somehow, you found a sense of calm, a sliver of reason.

You remembered your previous strategy. Leon, the weakest link.

Leaning in, you gently ran your fingers through his blond hair.

“I love you too,” you replied with difficulty.

The man stopped sobbing, remaining still for a moment. With a slow inhale, he straightened up, his wide-open eyes locking onto your face. A slight shiver ran down your spine.

It was possible that you had just made the worst mistake imaginable.

But there was no turning back now. You held his gaze, refusing to look away. You couldn’t tell what emotions were flickering behind his stare. Was it shock? Suddenly, he stood up abruptly. Instinctively, you flinched, raising your hands to shield yourself, bracing for the kind of blow his twin sister had delivered so many times before.

But it never came.

Instead, without a word, he simply turned on his heel and left. He didn’t call for you to follow. He didn’t say anything at all.  For a moment, you stood motionless before slowly setting the comb back onto the table. Your feet barely lifted off the ground as you moved toward the door, only to freeze once you reached it. Seconds passed. Then minutes.

You pushed it. And it opened.

A strange wave rolled through your chest.You were alone at the threshold of an open door. Alone on your own feet, not tethered to anything that could put you to sleep at a moment’s notice. You didn’t think long.

You ran.

The world spun violently from the sudden movement, your weak body barely managing to stop in time to avoid crashing into the window. Your heart pounded furiously, drowning out your thoughts.

You would regret it. In fact, you already did a second later.

Your gaze had barely locked onto the space outside the window when strong arms seized your clothes, yanking you back and slamming you to the ground. You landed hard on your elbow, too disoriented to even feel the pain. Lavinia stood over you, clad in a jacket, her hands clenched into fists. But before she could take a step toward you, her brother moved between you, shaking his head.

"Don't hurt her," he pleaded.

He reached out to touch her, but she slapped his hand away, redirecting her fury toward him instead.

"Don't hurt her?" she echoed mockingly. "And how else is she supposed to learn that she can't just go running off? Why did you even let her?"

"Sorry, it's my fault. I forgot to lock the door," he said.

You didn’t even care whether he was telling the truth. Your mind was spinning too much, especially as you tried to push yourself up.

"But she's our sister, and you can't keep hitting her."

At those words, both you and Lavinia froze.

You looked at her face—pure shock, trembling lips. You were surprised too, but… the corners of your mouth twitched. You masked it quickly, pretending there wasn’t even a trace of satisfaction in you. That your plan wasn’t starting to fall into place.

“Get her out of my sight,” Lavinia said coldly, her voice devoid of emotion.

You watched as Leon slowly stepped toward you, helping you to your feet. As he led you back to your room, you caught a glimpse of Lavinia hiding her face in her hands. You stayed silent for a long time, watching him carefully. It hit you—this was the first time you were with him when he didn’t have his camera.

Slowly, you sat down on the bed, waiting to see if he would sit next to you. And he did.

You swallowed. You couldn’t let yourself feel too confident yet—you still had to be careful, still had to watch every step you took.

“You defended me,” you noted gently.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked just as bewildered as you felt. You hoped he wasn’t starting to regret calling you that. You hoped his own delusions were wreaking havoc in his mind—to your advantage.

“Thank you,” you added.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. He straightened up, turning his head toward you. There was a strange devotion in his green eyes. “You’re my sister. Of course, I have to protect you.”

You nodded gently.

"I am your sister," you repeated clearly, locking eyes with him, willing these words to sink deep into his very core. "I am already your sister, Leon. Lydia. But… our other sister wants to hurt me."

As you spoke, you reached out your bandaged hand, lightly touching his arm. He stiffened under your touch, staring at you with growing astonishment. In fact, he looked almost in awe. As if you had just descended from the heavens. You took that as a good sign.

"You know what she wants to do to me. To drain my blood. How many days do I have left?"

His breathing grew heavier.

"Tomorrow," he answered. "Tomorrow at midnight."

"Tomorrow…" you trailed off, shaking your head. You forced panic to take hold of you. You must have been unconscious longer than you'd thought. "But I am already her. Can't you see?" You ran your fingers through your hair, smiling brightly. "We’re together again. We love each other again. And she wants to tear us apart."

You saw hesitation creeping onto his face, the subtle furrow of his brow betraying his uncertainty. You had forgotten—Lavinia was his sister too. He loved her as well. Turning him against her wouldn’t be that simple.

Swallowing your nerves, you spoke again.

"We have to convince her that I have truly become Lydia. But for that to happen…you know, there’s something still holding me back. An anchor. Two anchors, actually. They keep me from letting go of who I used to be."

He gazed at you with growing intrigue. A metaphor like that had to be especially stimulating for his deranged mind.

"What are these anchors?" he asked, a readiness in his voice, as if he was already prepared to rid you of them.

"One of them," you began slowly, carefully choosing your words—mostly because you hadn't fully thought this through yet. "One of them is…I need to say goodbye. One last farewell that will sever all ties to my previous life. I wish I could let go without it, but…Leon, I’m afraid it’s necessary. It’s holding me back against my will."

You could see him absorbing everything you were saying.

"Say goodbye…to whom?"

There were many names you could have given him. But you chose the one that would strike straight at his orphaned heart.

"To Mom. I don’t need to see her. Just…just a short phone call would be enough."

The silence between you was so heavy, you genuinely feared he might hear your heartbeat. And it was raging in your chest, pounding so fiercely that your limbs trembled. You waited. Everything depended on his answer.

Leon averted his gaze, staring blankly into the distance. You prayed you had reached him. That his desire to have Lydia back was strong enough.

"Tomorrow, I will bring you a phone. One that can't be traced," he finally said.

Okay, that was not part of the plan.

"But tomorrow, Lavinia will…"

"She won't," he cut you off. "I won’t let her… We’ll get rid of the anchor, and she’ll understand that you’re already here."

You could have argued, but you were too afraid of accidentally undoing everything you had achieved so far. So, you agreed. Even an untraceable call was better than nothing. Especially since, in that brief moment you had stood by the window, an idea had begun to form in your mind.

Leaning in, you pressed a grateful kiss to Leon’s cheek. He allowed himself a brief smile.

"And what is the second anchor?"

You told him.

♊︎

When you woke up, you knew it was morning.

Lavinia had dragged you to Lydia’s room the old way—while you were unconscious. At the same time, she had announced that this was the last time and that you had better start getting it right. So, you wiped the woman’s body with as much care as possible. For the first time, you were able to look directly into her eyes.

This was going to end soon.

She would finally end up in a grave, those two would be in prison, and you…

You tried not to fantasize too much. You had to stay focused.

You slowly combed through Lydia’s short hair. Time passed, but Lavinia did not return. You had grown somewhat accustomed to the fridge-like cold, but you had never stayed here longer than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. You waited for someone to come, but when the chill became unbearable, you approached the door and started pounding on it. Your frozen hands didn’t even register the pain.

"I’m still here!" you shouted.

Had they forgotten about you?

"And that’s where you’ll stay," Lavinia’s voice answered from the other side.

You frowned, hugging your trembling body.

"You’ll stay there until the ritual. I’ll come for you before midnight."

"But it’s morning!" you screamed.

No response.

You slammed your fists against the door again. Harder. Again and again, until blood coated your knuckles and your lungs burned from breathing in the freezing air. One moment, you had everything—a plan to keep yourself alive. The next, you doubted you’d survive the next few hours in this cold.

Had the previous victims gone through the same? Or were you the exception because Lavinia wanted to make sure you never made it out?

You paced around the room, hoping that movement would warm you up. Meanwhile, thoughts of hypothermia and its fatal consequences circled in your mind. You wavered between determination to survive and pure despair, convinced that you wouldn’t make it. You had no idea how many minutes had passed before your gaze landed on the wardrobe that had been standing in the corner of the room the entire time.

With almost blissful relief, you layered on piece after piece of clothing found inside. You knew you would make it until nightfall. 

What came next remained uncertain.

♊︎

Leon found you curled up inside the wardrobe, so accustomed to trembling that it felt like a natural state for your body.

“Come on, we have to hurry,” he said, offering his hand to help you out.

You clung to him tightly, as your legs refused to support you.

“What…where…Lavinia…the phone…” you mumbled, your frozen body unable to form coherent sentences.

“I have the phone, but we need to move fast. I got here just before her to give it to you. Come on.”

He led you out of the room. You turned your head toward Lydia lying on the bed, wondering if this was the last time you would see her.

When you were back in your own room, you wrapped yourself tightly in the blanket, leaving only your head and hand exposed—the hand in which Leon pressed the phone. Your body slowly began returning to its optimal temperature. You couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Leon crossed his arms over his chest. He had no intention of leaving you alone with the phone—he was going to listen to the call. But you were prepared for that possibility.

Instead of frantically dialing, you looked at him. He didn’t have his camera with him.

“Don’t you want to show… this moment to your fans?” Your voice still trembled slightly, your tongue struggling to cooperate. He frowned, not seeming to understand what you meant. You had always avoided the camera before. “Well, you k-know…the final moment before my complete metamorphosis. They’ve followed you for so long…I’d think they…they’d want to see it.”

"You're right. Absolutely right. Wait here."

Not that you had anywhere to go.

He returned, as always, pushing his small table along and clutching his camera in his hand. His fingers trembled slightly. Acting behind his sister’s back must have been stressing him out, but his desire to get Lydia back was too strong. At that moment, you were certain he would do whatever you told him to. With stiff fingers, you dialed the number twice before getting it right. You were calling your mother to say goodbye. That was the official version.

There weren’t many numbers you knew by heart, but Spencer’s was one of them.

Under Leon's watchful eye, you pressed the phone tightly against your ear to make sure he wouldn't hear a male voice—one that was definitely not maternal. The camera was aimed straight at your face, and you stared into it without blinking, as if challenging it to a contest of who would break first.

If the team wasn’t watching this, you might as well smash the phone against the floor.

"Hi, Mom," you said the moment the call connected.

You didn’t breathe. The fear of ruining everything made your throat tighten, and you swallowed hard against the lump. For a moment, there was only silence on the other end.

You didn’t look away from the camera, your senses sharpening from the sheer intensity of your focus. The adrenaline burning through you kept you warm.

Still, no response.

"Hi, sweetheart," a woman’s voice finally said—JJ’s voice.

Tears stung at your eyes, and you worried they would give you away in front of Leon. You made a mistake while blinking and you bit down hard on your tongue as punishment.

JJ was pretending to be your mother.

"I don't have much time, Mom," you began. "I'm just calling... just to ask how you're doing. Is everything okay?"

"Garcia, can you trace where this call is coming from?"

Spencer’s voice.

Another mistake.

Your next breath felt like choking, and you had to steady yourself. You needed to do one more thing—just in case this didn’t work.

"That's great," you threw in a random half-sentence to make the conversation sound real for Leon. "Uh-huh...I'm glad everything's fine. Yes, I'm okay too, don’t worry"

You fell silent for a second, too long. Leon raised an eyebrow. You were supposed to be saying goodbye.

"I...I...Mom, do you remember my favorite mug? The one you accidentally broke last time?"

You swallowed hard, never breaking eye contact with the camera. You couldn't come up with any other cover story besides the mug, so it had to be enough.

"I...I kinda yelled at you back then. Sorry. It was my favorite, but now I...I know it wasn’t your fault."

Your voice grew weaker as you spoke.

Don't cry, you warned yourself.

"It wasn’t your fault, Mom. Not your fault, S—Mom."

Terrified, you glanced at Leon, hoping he hadn't caught it. But he only waved his hand impatiently, urging you to hurry.

You swallowed hard, and before anyone on the team could say anything else, you spoke your final words.

"I love you. Goodbye."

Then you hung up.

For a moment, you stared at each other without moving, until he turned off the camera and you handed the phone back to him. Hearing their voices—possibly for the last time—tightened something in your chest, a pressure you struggled to release.

"Thank you, brother," you said softly. You nodded slightly, grounding yourself, pulling yourself back to the plan. You had to act, to keep moving before Lavinia returned. "You know what we have to do now, right?"

Leon nodded.

♊︎

“What was that about the mug?” Prentiss asked as the call ended.

JJ closed her eyes for a long moment. The rest of the team, gathered around the computer where the stream had played just moments ago, looked utterly confused.

“You think she was trying to send a message? A hidden clue?”

“Garcia, can you play it from the beginning?” Spencer cut in, leaning toward the screen.

The first time he watched it, emotions had taken control, clouding his focus. He had been stupid, so incredibly stupid. Most of his attention had latched onto the repeated words it’s not your fault which only deepened the devastation in his mind. But a small part of him had registered the way her eyes moved.

“Sure, just a sec…” Penelope’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and soon the footage played again.

“Do you understand what she was trying to say?” Rossi asked.

Spencer shook his head. A rush of adrenaline, almost intoxicating, coursed through him.

“She didn’t hide a message in her words,” he explained, straightening up. His gaze darted around Garcia’s desk, searching for something to write with. He grabbed a notebook with a pink, glittery cover and a pencil topped with a fluffy pom-pom. “Look at the way she’s blinking. It’s Morse code.”

Everyone fixed their eyes on the screen, trying to see it for themselves.

Everyone except JJ.

She was looking at Spencer, no trace of anger in her expression—just hope.

Reid wrote down the message she had sent.

Oil rig.

♊︎

The cold was almost liberating.

You stood with Leon at the edge of the oil rig. Ever since you managed to reach the window, you'd been trying to figure out where they had kept you. The realization had come to you slowly. The sound of water surrounded you both, and the wind played with your freshly cut hair. It felt so good that, for a brief moment, you closed your eyes.

But only for a moment.

You couldn't celebrate victory when you hadn't won yet.

Your gaze shifted to the man beside you, then to Lydia’s body, wrapped in a bedsheet and lying just a few steps away. This was the last anchor—the one you had convinced him needed to go.

Lavinia would be back any second. It had to happen now.

Of course, it was never really about anchors. The whole story about your mother had been nothing more than a way to send a message—one you hoped your team had understood and was already acting on. And the one about Lydia? That was just to bring Leon to the edge of the oil rig. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, nodding slightly and exhaling as his eyes lingered on his sister’s body.

You pushed him.

When you planned this, you hadn’t accounted for how weak you would be.

Leon staggered, yes—but he didn’t disappear beneath the waves. Instead, his hand caught the thin fabric of your nightgown, and with a short, startled yell, he yanked you both down onto the floor. 

You groaned as your body slammed against the hard surface.

“You… bitch,” he said, almost in despair, realizing you had been lying to him all along.

You kicked him in the face with your bare foot and pushed yourself up onto your elbows. He let out a sharp gasp of pain—you heard the crunch of his nose breaking—and for a fleeting second, you thought you were on the fast track to escape.

But then his hand clamped around your ankle, yanking you down again.

You let out a frustrated sound as his knee pinned you to the ground. You struggled to shove him off. He wasn’t like Lavinia, but he also wasn’t as weak as a starved woman who had spent nearly an entire day in a freezer.

Right. He wasn’t like her.

He was fucked up, but not enough. Not enough madness in him.

Your nails clawed blindly at his skin while your other hand fumbled against the surface, searching for anything. You felt like you could kill him with a feather if you had to. But you found something far more practical than a feather. 

A brick.

Leon collapsed when it struck his temple. But that wasn’t enough. With a pained breath, you pushed yourself up over him and swung again. You kept swinging, not caring that your fingers were sticky with blood and the brick was beginning to slip from your grip. You kept striking longer than necessary.

Leon had been dead for a while.

You threw the brick aside, gasping for air. Everything felt so unreal, so distant. For a moment, you closed your eyes, still kneeling over his motionless body. When you opened them, ready to face the sight before you, your gaze accidentally met someone else's.

Lavinia stood a few steps away, disbelief and slowly growing fury in her eyes.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, neither of you fully grasping what had just happened.

Then it hit her—you had killed her brother.

And it hit you—that you were absolutely screwed.

Well, that thought only truly settled in once she tackled you to the ground. Punch after punch rained down on your face, so relentless that you couldn’t think, couldn’t come up with an escape plan. Was there even one? Your hands fell limply to your sides, no longer attempting to fight back. The ends of her blonde hair mixed with yours, strands stained red from the blood streaming down your face.

When she stopped, for a brief moment, you thought you were dead.

You had always imagined death as a very quiet experience. Peaceful.

But instead, you could hear her ragged, frantic breathing, a sound almost like a sob, and barely intelligible words cutting through the air.

"I’ll finish this."

During your entire time in that place, she had always moved you from one location to another by knocking you out with sedatives first. But this time, it wasn’t necessary. Your body was so battered that all she had to do was grab you by the leg and drag you along, not caring that your skin scraped against the rough surface.

When your vision finally sharpened and you realized you were back in that same cursed room where it had all begun, for a moment, you thought the recent events had been nothing more than a dream.

But then—

One glance at your bloodstained hands.

One glance to the side, at the neighboring bed and the lifeless body of Lydia resting upon it.

One glance at the IV lines piercing the crooks of your elbows, the slow, steady flow of liquid passing through them.

Your blood.

The only thing that brought you solace was the slowly creeping realization that, at the very least, you had managed to say goodbye to those closest to you. They had seen your face, the raw pain and love in your eyes as you whispered your final goodbye. At least you had assured Spencer that none of this was his fault. You could only hope that, in time, he would start to believe it. At least partially.

You had long drifted off when the door to the room burst open with a bang. 

♊︎

She was saved by the fact that she was a universal recipient.

Still, by the time they found her—after Garcia had finally tracked down the illegally sold oil rig through a bankrupt extraction company—she was already weak. Very weak. So much so that the following hours were filled with even greater fear than the past few days.

She couldn’t slip away from them now that she had been rescued. Or rather, now that she had rescued herself. Spencer had no intention of taking credit—nor letting anyone else take credit—for her brilliant moves and meticulous plan.

He sat in the hospital corridor, while JJ rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. Her leg trembled, and with it, her entire body. Emily held her other hand tightly.

"Spence," she finally said. Her gaze had been fixed on the floor, and it took effort to lift it to him. But it was necessary for what she was about to say. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For how I reacted, for how I treated you these past few days."

He wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he just gave a small nod.

“She’s your friend. It’s normal that—”

“She’s your friend too. Ours. We should have been supporting each other this whole time instead of yelling at one another.”

“You were the one yelling.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. JJ opened her mouth but said nothing.He hadn’t meant to throw it in her face—he didn’t even feel angry. Back then, he had only cared about one thing. One person. But before he could add, retract, or clarify his words, a nurse approached them, informing them that someone could go inside. The entire team stirred in their seats, but only two people were allowed in at a time.

Spencer sat back down, nodding toward JJ and Emily.

Emily raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Reid. Of course, it has to be you.”

Although he had been ready to step aside, a faint, grateful smile crossed his lips.

He followed JJ into the hospital room, his steps slowing as they approached her bed. Unpleasant flashbacks flooded his mind—seeing her like this on a screen, the helplessness that had gripped him then. It took him a moment to shake off the feeling, to ground himself in the realization that he was here now. That she was right in front of him.

A sudden chill of panic ran down his spine. What was he supposed to say to her? Was he even capable of opening his mouth without turning into a pathetic, guilt-ridden mess, mumbling endless apologies and self-deprecating confessions? JJ spoke first, sparing him from his spiraling thoughts. She started with something simple—a quiet whisper of her name.

She said it again, and slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. Spencer felt something tighten in his chest. A relief so immense it almost hurt.

She murmured something weakly.

Both he and JJ stepped closer, and this time, he was the one to say her name.

“Don’t call me that,” she rasped. Her eyes shut again, and she turned her head to the side, as if refusing to look at them. Shutting them out. “That’s not my name,” she whispered.

“I’m Lydia.”

post-reading author’s note:

if you survived reading such a long fic—CONGRATULATIONS and THANK YOU and also im SORRY. i know there wasn’t much reid not much of the team and honestly it had very little to do with canon—it was mostly just a product of my imagination. i hope you’re not disappointed.

if any topic in this fic triggered you, i apologize. i tried to include everything in the tw but i might have missed something.

[melminli]

Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-cheol as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though, it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

[irisintheafterglow]

itoshi rin doesn't get injuries. ever.

he's downright religious about stretching, warming up properly, and being aware of how his body is holding up under the intense conditions of a match. he keeps a strict diet, an even stricter sleeping schedule, and pops enough vitamins and supplements to make his immune system work at 200%. but, when stupidly lukewarm isagi misplaces his stupidly lukewarm foot, rin ends up rolling his ankle harder than a bowling ball slammed down a lane. he doesn't react immediately to the lightning bolt of pain that shoots up his calf, only sending isagi a withering glare and continuing to rush the opposition's net.

like the rest of his team, you don't notice something is wrong until the end of the scrimmage, when rin collapses and curls his upper body around his ankle. his hands clutch the bottom of his leg and he shuts his eyes tight to hold in the frustrated groan he wants to release. the other players approach him and he snarls like a circus tiger, barking at them to leave him be. the same tune is played for the medical team, having no choice but to retreat after he insists he just needs a second to rest. with a deep inhale to prepare, you steel your nerves and walk over to where he sits.

"i said go," he seethes, his forehead resting against his propped knee. his eyes are shut, but he can feel someone standing there, watching him with a pitying look in their eyes. stupid. he gets hurt and suddenly it's poor, poor rin and his poor, poor ankle. it's weakness that he needs to stomp out, weakness that--

"you need to ice that." his eyes open slowly and you catch his walls recede ever so slightly. you always had a no-nonsense kind of relationship with rin, especially as a health analyst-in-training who was the only brave soul that spoke to him among your cohort. there was an unspoken level of respect that you had for him that you assumed he reciprocated, seeing as he always had patience for your long spiels outlining everything to do with his physical wellbeing. he appreciated that you never asked about his mental wellbeing, but sometimes your gut told you that maybe you should.

"i'm fine," he says through gritted teeth and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his melodrama. you bite back your initial retort and instead settle on the turf next to him, your legs facing the opposite way so that you're not making direct eye contact. he watches you from the outskirts of his vision, as do the rest of the remaining team on the field, but doesn't deny your company. you let him take a few more breaths before asking your next question.

"what hurts?" any other trainee in your group would immediately be subject to scathing insults about their personality and emotional aptitude. you'd seen it, how he snapped at the trainees that weren't you.

"calf. ankle. inside of my foot," he mumbles, shame evident in his voice. he didn't like appearing weak; he already felt weak living in the shadow of sae. it was something he was constantly fighting against, carrying the sack of weight on his shoulder every game. he waits for you to scoff, to tell him to get over it, but you don't. instead, you hum and refrain from looking at him directly. in a way, it's the indirect conversation that he appreciates the most.

"i'm gonna get you a tennis ball for your ankle. where's your water?"

"back left by the bench." you nod and retrieve both items, returning to him in no time at all. you don't even stop to converse with the other concerned members of the management team, making a beeline back to him like you had no other place to be. "you should go," he says before you sit down again.

you wait for him to elaborate. he doesn't.

"do you want me to?"

he hesitates.

"...no."

"then i'll stay." you sit closer this time, still facing the other direction, but close enough that your arms could brush if he leaned close enough. rin won't admit that he likes the proximity. "i don't need to tell you how to use a tennis ball," you comment and his silence expresses his gratitude. he reaches wordlessly for the ball but you hold it just out of reach. "but, i am gonna force you to drink water before you do anything else."

"i'm not thirsty."

"i don't care," you reply. "you won't get better if you're not hydrated." part of him hates that you're right, that you're sitting here pitying him. but, he takes the bottle from your hand anyway and downs a few sips that turn into large gulps. he didn't realize how parched he'd become. "there. what else can i do?"

"stop pitying me," he scowls without thinking. as much as you like to think he's different when he's with you, there's still times like these when the rage slips out and he snaps. you haven't known him long enough to weather his storms, but you're determined to wait it out and you know he notices. he's too smart not to notice the way your shoulders sag, the way you conveniently look anywhere but in his direction, the way you're fighting every instinct to abandon him to protect yourself. "it's," he forces out, surprising you both, "it's not-i'm not your responsibility. i don't need you to take care of me."

"but do you want me to?"

he hesitates again and turns to look at you completely, detecting no sense of pity or malice or arrogance in your expression. you were there to help him, and you wanted him to trust you. what a foreign feeling.

"yes."

so you continue to sit there with him in silence, running your fingers absentmindedly over the turf as he gently massages his ankle with the tennis ball. you don't question when his shoulder brushes yours for a second, then returns to completely lean against you. when he decides it's time to wash up, he takes your hand and lets you help him off the field, his arm draped around your upper back as you act as his crutch. you later tell him after he's showered that you didn't help him because you pitied him, but because you knew he would be too stubborn to ask for help.

"how are you so sure?"

"because you told me to leave, remember? and who would have helped you if i left? who would you allow to help you?" you don't wait for him to answer and bid him a polite goodbye, leaving his face warm and completely at a loss for words.

he decides that it's not so bad if he gets injured, as long as you're the one sitting on the turf with him after the game.

[reidology13]

this is a state of grace

Aaron Hotchner x fem babysitter!reader - Drinks with the team

cw: fluff, a hint of angst, age gap, hotch calls reader 'sweetheart', drinking, pining, reader's hair is straight/wavy, the team is as desperate for them to get together as we are wc: 2k a/n: they're so hopelessly in love I hope they kiss one day (I'll write it guys I promise maybe)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Aaron could come up with as many reasons as he wanted as to why he invited you out for a post-case celebration—you deserve a break from your constant hard work, he wanted you to get a second meeting of the team that didn’t involve dating accusations—but nothing that he could come up with rang true. Honestly, he just wanted to spend time with you, not in babysitter mode, but as yourself. Instead, he found himself spending time with a very drunk version of you, courtesy of a drinking game Garcia had roped you into.

“Sweetheart, please don’t.” He wrapped his hands around your waist, tucking you into his side, much to the amusement of the team.

“I want to dance.” You didn’t struggle against him, crossing your arms as you slumped into the seat, frowning up at him in annoyance. Adorable.

“Just stay with me.” He squeezed your waist gently, rubbing your side in an attempt to comfort and calm you, to keep you by his side, rather than letting you run off into the flock of drunken clubbers.

“You’re so clingy.” You groaned, dropping your head onto his shoulder as you spoke, which diminished any thoughts in his mind that you were actually annoyed. He brushed his fingers through the soft strands of your hair in the hopes that it would quiet your hushed grumbling.

“I need to keep my favourite babysitter safe.” He pulled you in closer, too distracted to notice the looks being exchanged between the others at the table with you.

“I’m your only babysitter.” You corrected, glaring at him.

“So be grateful I didn’t call you my least favourite.” Aaron couldn’t help the lazy grin that spread across his face as he spoke, unbothered by the fact that the team was there to witness it. He became bothered when they decided to disrupt the two of you, popping the bubble he had been happily residing in, and would have remained in forever if he could. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

“Aww, you two are so cute.” Garcia cooed, bringing Aaron’s attention away from you and back to his unruly team just in time to see several eyes dart away from their boss and his babysitter-who-was-just-his-babysitter-thank-you-very-much. He was also just in time to see Morgan slap Garcia on the arm with a look he presumed meant something like ‘why would you say that?’ and her returning pout that undoubtedly meant ‘because they’re cute and I know this face will make you forgive me.’ Which must have worked, because Morgan sighed, then pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head.

He gave her a warning glance, although from the lack of worry on her face he assumed his usual air of intimidation was being diminished by the way you seemed to be attempting to crawl into his lap.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He untangled his hand from your hair, relocating it to your waist alongside his other as he tried to gently redirect you back into the seat beside him, although it became apparent that you would not be so easily persuaded.

“Seat’s too warm. And sticky. Just really gross.” You fought against his efforts, struggling to stay where you were, half across his lap, one of your legs draped over his own while the other remained on the leather booth.

“The alcohol in your system is raising your internal temperature, that’s why you feel warm.” Reid piped up from across the table after a moment’s delay as he swallowed his sip of water, and you appeared to listen, pausing for a moment to ruminate on what he’d said.

“I think it’s just the seats.” You shrugged and moved again, catching Aaron off guard as you swung your other leg over both of his, then readjusted yourself so that you were delicately perched sideways on his lap. Almost immediately, you struck up a conversation with JJ, who had all of Aaron’s amusement, without his apprehension or current embarrassment. After a few more minutes of jeers and teasing remarks, he decided enough was enough, leaning in so that you could hear him over the sound of the bar.

“We should go home.” He used a hand resting on your waist to tap your back lightly, hoping you would take it as an invitation to move off of him. You didn’t, only clinging tighter to him and staunchly refusing to move.

“Aaron, I don’t want to go. I wanna dance.” So you were back at dancing again, just as insistent as before—if not more so—and he had no idea how to persuade you away from it.

“Sweetheart, it’s getting late, we don’t have time to dance.” He tried to plead, to convince you that you simply didn’t have the choice to stay, despite the bar not closing for another two hours. It must have worked, you climbed off him, landing back where you had been sitting, and slid out of the booth as Aaron sighed in relief, thinking it would be smooth sailing from there. As always, you had other ideas, and as he followed you out of the booth, you—much to the amusement of his colleagues—wrapped yourself around his arm and bargained.

“Can we dance as we leave? It won’t even slow us down.” Really, how was he supposed to say no? There wasn’t a single reason he could come up with that aligned with his previous excuses as to why dancing was off the table, and the implication that Aaron was now expected to dance alongside you was making him wish he’d just let you go earlier.

“We will be doing nothing of the sort, you can dance on the way out.” He tried to sweeten you up, prying you off of his arm and spinning you in a circle under his arm, rolling his eyes at the wolf whistles sounding from the table behind him.

“No, no-no-no-no-no, you have to dance with me.” You whined, using the hand he had spun you with to pull him away from the team, an outcome he wouldn’t say he was disappointed about. He glanced back at the table to see Prentiss winking, as Morgan mouthed ‘get some,’ and Garcia was managing to draw hearts in the air without lifting a finger. He was going to make Monday a nightmare for them.

“I’ll spin you one more time, but that’s it, okay?” He pulled you back to him, holding you close as you both walked towards the exit, only to keep you safe, of course.

“Fine.” You pouted, his gaze flickered to those soft, unfairly tempting lips that were still somehow coated in a sparkly pink gloss, despite spending the night sipping on various drinks. He supposed you must have been reapplying it every time you went to the bathroom, but you had no purse, and he couldn’t figure out where you were storing it.

“Come on.” He tore his eyes away from your lips, guilt creeping in at the corners of his mind, admonishing him with reminders of who you were and who he was.

You managed to convince him to spin you four more times on the way to the car—he would have made the world spin faster if you’d asked him to—and he watched as you flopped into the passenger seat. Tired, drunk, slightly dizzy. It was a deadly combination that had knocked you out within minutes, your head lolling against the window with a soft ‘thud’ that made Aaron wince each time.

It was just past one when he parked his car in the driveway, gently shaking you awake, “Hey, sweetheart, I need you to get up for me.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, and Aaron decided he shouldn’t have woken you up in the first place as he carried your almost limp body into the house. The only noticeable difference to if you were unconscious was the pressure of your arms wrapped around his neck.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmured in your ear when you started to show clear signs of distress at the loss of one of his arms that kept you from falling. He had the door open a moment later, without dropping you, which you had clearly been nervous about. The door swung closed behind him, and he quickly disarmed the alarm before taking you to your room. Your door was slightly ajar, so all he had to do was push it open with his hip and carry you in.

He cupped the back of your neck as he sat down on the bed, tenderly lowering you onto the mattress beside him, “I need to leave for a minute, is that okay?”

“No, don’t leave, I don’t want you to go.” Those sad eyes almost had him staying, but he had to lock up the house, because the thought of you getting hurt was unbearable, and he would take your momentary disappointment if it kept you safe.

“I’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart.” He adjusted you to lie more comfortably against the pillows, “There we go, good job.”

When the fight was successfully coaxed out of you, he returned to the entryway, securing the locks and alarm before heading to the bathroom. He found your makeup wipes, the spare pack you kept at his house for the many nights you stayed over, before returning to your room.

You were fast asleep, and this time Aaron couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Sitting beside you, he tried to put his weight down gradually to keep the dip of the mattress from being sudden enough to disturb your slumber. He pulled one of the damp wipes out, distinctly familiar after years of baby wipes, he wondered if that was why you used them instead of anything else. Maybe they were just ‘in,’ and Aaron needed to stop overthinking things.

He rolled you onto your back, closely watching your face for any signs that your sleep wasn’t as deep as it seemed and finding none, your demeanour as peaceful as ever. He brushed your hair out of your face, replacing it with the wipe, softly swiping it over your skin, each pass bringing with it your foundation, blush, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d insisted on wearing for a night out, and that had thoroughly dazzled him.

When no more came off, Aaron took another wipe in hand, one final pass over to make sure that none was left. He stood up just as slowly as he’d sat down, taking a step away from the bed before he allowed himself to look at you. You were as breath-takingly beautiful as ever, so calm in your sleep, and he thought he might have seen a slight smile dance across your face, indicative of a nice dream. For a moment, he let himself imagine waking up to that kind smile, those bright eyes watching him from the space on his bed that would no longer be empty.

He stepped out of the room before he could think any more, before he started to truly feel like a creep. But not before one last look at the space you had built around yourself—the candles on your nightstand, the posters of your favourite artists on the walls, the framed photo of you and Jack—so completely yours, he’d ceased calling it the guest room years ago. You made the space brighter, all the little touches of you in the house were like rays of sunshine through the clouds on a gloomy day. Something that you’d baked and left in the fridge, a necklace forgotten by the sink, his house may as well have been yours. He wished he was, too.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams @khxna - Comment to be added <3

[bluem1lls]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a se-mi fic where the reader is really sweet/kind and is apart of Gi-hun's group in the games. So when se-mi starts flirting with her the boys go all big brother/dad mode and start getting protective. I just think it would be funny to see Dae-ho and Jung-bae doing their goofy marines bit, while se-mi is absolutely unimpressed and sassy and the reader is just watching from afar happy that they're all 'getting along'. Thank you and I love your writing <3

✧₊⁺ i'd do it all again

✦ synopsis: she's very willing to flirt with you, even if there's two are always there to try to stop her from doing it!

tw: pure fluff!

authors note: hiiii, its short but its a week update and im DEAD so dhhdhdfh i hope u like it!!! tysm for the request💓💓

-> "fuck" my head hurts from the impact as i open my eyes to see a girl.. on top of me. her eyes widen as she tries to stay still. her arms keep my body trapped underneath her.

"shit- i'm so sorry" she whispers slowly, trying to not get caught by the doll from the game.

as i can hear it say 'green light' once again. she stands up quickly, lending me her hand as we start running. i can see my brother's eyes moving across the entire room trying to find me because he lost me out of his sight. when he does, he lets out a big sigh as he runs to my side, staying still as we hear the 'red light'.

-> once we're get to the finish line, i lay on the floor, exhausted. my eyes try to find the short haired girl. i stare as i see her bent over, trying to catch her breath.

"you're not allowed to leave my side, ever" dae-ho, my brother, grabs my shoulders as i rolled my eyes. "i'm serious."

"i know, i'm sorry. a girl tripped over me."

as we turned around to head to the main room, i see the girl's eyes follow me until we arrive.

-> as we're done voting, my brother, being the social butterfly he is, already got us a group.

i sit besides gi-hun as i stare the surroundings. i can feel my brother's arms around me as i groan. the girl who fell on top of me stares, quickly removing her eyes of me as i find her sight.

-> and i try multiple times to talk with her, but everytime i seem to get somewhat close, she's moving around as i frown. maybe she's awkward after the way we met but, i'm still curious.

-> as the second game begins, we get together until they announce 'group of 5'. their eyes widen as in-ho tries to move aside, i grab him as i shook my head no. i turn to leave as dae-ho grabs my arm, serious.

"there's no way-"

"listen, i'll be fine. i have an idea. i promise i'll be fine."

"no you liste-"

it's too late, because i'm already running to the pierced girl as she stares up and down at me with a smirk. great, finally an excuse to talk to her and i know she can't run away this time.

"you owe me. and i need a group" i said to her as she scoffed in amusement.

"oh? i owe you?"

"you fell on top of me!" i reply as she hums, playing with her lip piercing.

"what's wrong with your boyfriend's team?" she lifts an eyebrow as i stare wide eye. boyfriend???

"that dumbass?!" i point at dae-ho."he's my brother, ew."

her expression turns into a surprised one, quickly returning to her normal one. was that why she was avoiding me this whole time? i chuckled softly as she did too.

"oh- right. sorry. so um, let's go get three more people" she says, turning around as we see the purple hair guy coming in our direction. we both stare at eachother at the same time, smiling.

great.

-> as we pass the second same, i sit with them, waiting nervously for my brother and the group's return. i see them arrive with a smile as i get up to throw myself into his arms as he hugs me tight. i hug every one of them, happy to see them again.

-> as the night comes, i eat my food while chatting with the group until i see a someone in front of me. i lift my gaze to meet her brown eyes.

i lift my eyebrow as i slowly smile. "hi"

"hey.. thought you could use the company" she said with amusement, sitting next to me. "and, you never told me your name.."

as i tell her, she replies with hers. se-mi.

"pretty name for a pretty girl" i chuckle at her poor attempt to flirt as she laughs with me.

i feel arms wrap around me as i turn my head. of course. i roll my eyes as i sigh.

"hello ladies. i'm dae-ho" he says (to se-mi, mostly) with a serious expression as she stares unfazed and gives him a head nod. "her brother, but you probably guessed since we have the same 'pretty face', like you said." he tells her, trying to put his most 'older brother' face as i elbow him on the ribs.

"get out, oh my god you're so annoying" i said removing myself from his grip as he stares, offended.

"i'm trying to look after my little sister! you can't date someone from this game"

"we're not dating! leave!" i whisper/shout at him as he stares like a puppy while i push him out.

"i was in the marine, by the way!" he tells to her, turning around one last time as she smirks.

i sit again besides her as i huffed. she smiles, amused.

"so that was.. interesting" she plays with her lip piercing, the smirk never leaving her lips. i nod as i stare away, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. "does that mean every time i'll try to talk to you, you'll have a bodyguard?" she chuckles as i nod, embarrassed.

"i mean.. probably"

she hums as her gaze meets my eyes.

"i can do that."

and she means it.

-> and as the days go by, we become closer and closer. hugging eachother everytime we see the other one survived the game, teaming together and staying all night talking.

and she's so pretty, that it doesn't feel surprising when she's making me blush from staring too much, or when i get butterflies everytime she whispers sweet things to me because she knows i love it.

-> and after one specific hard game, i realize i wanna spend every little minute with her. too scared to loose her, i'm asking her to bring her mattress besides mine. as i'm helping her to move it, i can see two people standing in front of us, staring to see what we're doing.

"are you two sleeping together? i don't think thats a good idea." jung-bae says as my eyes widen. "you look like a good young girl, but we can't trust too much" he says to se-mi as this one stares and gives him a soft chuckle.

"that's true. sleeping together is a step too far. are you two dating?" my brother nods at jung-bae's words as i cover my face in embarrassment.

"not yet" she smirks at my brother as his eyes widen.

"can you two just... shush away?" i murmur to them, staring at both.

they look at each other as i move them softly aside.

"i can't believe the disrespect we face. from two young girls" jung-bae says as dae-ho nods.

-> and as the night comes, we lay side to side while talking.

"i really like this.. spending time with you" she says, making me smile. i feel her cold hands with the rings cup my face as i stare at her. "do you think your brother's awake?"

my expression turns into confusion. "um.. no? i don't think so?"

"good" she mumbles against my lips as she kisses me. i let out a soft moan in surprise as i melt into the kiss.

"i knew you weren't a good girl!" my brother jumps from the bed, his finger pointing to se-mi, making us break from the kiss to stare him.

"oh my god where you spying this whole time? you're a fucking-"

"hey careful!" he says, his finger now pointing at me. "now. if you want my sister, i will make your life a living hell" he warns se-mi as she lifts her arms, smiling.

"she's worth it" she says as we both stare at her.

-> and he means it. because even when we leave the game after voting 'x', she warns me many times i'm not allowed to disappear now that she's attached. not like i was going to. but wherever i go, he's also always there too.

and all the guys are also there. even gi-hun, jung-bae and in-ho, warning her every step of the way, as me and jun-hee chuckle. and se-mi starts loving them too, because she's sure she won't be able to get rid of them (she tried!)

with our poor relationship with our father, jung-bae ends up turning into more of a father figure to us, being the one supporting my brother through everything, but also being there for me everyday.

and with time (a lot of family dinners we have together) they start to soften up for her.

-> so it's not a surprise when a few years later, at our wedding, she takes a video of how our life together has been and a video of my brother and jung-bae shows up.

"are you- are you asking us for our blessing?" dae-ho sobs as jung-bae seems to be suppressing his tears. i can hear her laugh, although i can't see her because she was the one recording the video.

"i don't think i would be able to go through it if i didn't" she says, softly.

they're both crying now as they hug her.

"i knew you were the one!" jung-bae says, sobbing like a baby while she laughs.

"we knew it! that's why we went easy on you!" dae-ho says, wiping away his tears.

"yeah, i figured" se-mi says, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

i turn to the side to hug her while i kiss her, laughing as dae-ho and jung-bae stare at the video, blushing red.

"we agreed that was a secret!" jung-bae says, embarrassed as gi-hun hugs him with a chuckle.

"that's-that an edition. se-mi! you said you wouldn't play that" dae-ho says to her as she shrugs.

i cup her face on my hands as she laughs. her gaze meets mine. "i love you so much." my stare filled with love like the first day i met her.

"mh, i love you so much too. happy family, happy wife and happy life right?"

[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling them pretty boy 3/3

PART 3 WOO YEAH

I. thINK this is all the male toons! If I've forgotten anyone let me know TToTT there's so many characters

Running in to add RUDIE I ALMOST FORGOT RUDIE IM SORRY DEER BOY

The girls are getting their own parts soon-- maybe not directly after this but I'll definitely try

Characters: shrimpo, razzle & dazzle, sprout, dandy, rudie

Notes: gn reader, toon reader, can be read as pre or post game, short post, admin may get razzle n dazzle mixed up bare with him, written on mobile. I think in the future I'll just give the mains their own post so the third part isn't long compared to the other 2

CWs: none

SHRIMPO

He kind of just stares at you for a second, audibly grumbling to himself as he stares right into your soul

...hes... always a hard one to read- you can't really tell if he likes it or not- you can see hid tail kind of. Tense up too

"IM HATE BEING PRETTY!" And he just. Storms off into a huff. Ignore the faint crack in his voice

(He's so tsundere coded/hj)

RAZZLE N DAZZLE

Razzle takes it in stride and brightens up over it... dazzle on the other hand may think you're teasing him until you insist you aren't- afterall you've never called them pretty boy before..!

Dazzle doesn't smile that often but you get one from him from the sudden comment, it's faint but it's still there. He kind of.. stares at the floor and thinks over your words

Razzle is going to adopt that name and will (lightheartedly) give you flack for not calling tjem that again

SPROUT

Oh you're so sweet...! Pretty boy isn't exactly his first choice but he's not going to shut you down, it's simply... different!

You're not too bad looking yourself, and he's going to let you know that! He's got a talent for turning things right back onto you casually

If you say it while he's piping he WILL mess up the frosting :(

DANDY

Takes it in stride, hardly shoes any surprise on his face when you call him pretty boy

Sly grin with a smile, oh you cheeky little..! Did you really think he was going to let you get away with this Scott free?

Oh nononono! You've opened the floodgates! You've given him an invitation to try to fluster you right back and trust me he's not going to pull any punches with his affectionate name calling

RUDIE

Nose? Glowing. Ears? Perked. Tail? Wagging. Ooooooh he loves it! Actually he loves every little name you give him, so it's not much of a surprise that he loves this one too!

Will call you pretty in return with no hesitation, in fact he makes it a point to call you pretty more often!

Definitely thinks about it all week, he's the type to kick his feet in the air in bed

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I love your writing and have a request

14.. "What are you doing here? It's so late."

Something about Quinn getting hurt at a game and reader comes over afterwards to see how he is doing without telling him she would come. Because she’s worried about him. Something cute and heartwarming:)

You're so sweet, babe. Again, I hope this is to your standards. 🩷

CW | blood and injury descriptions, mild adult content

The hit had been severe. 

The amount of blood that dotted the ice looked like scarlet paint across a virgin canvas. You had wanted to go to that game, but a migraine had kept you at home in bed for most of the day. Watching the high-sticking on TV had been just as hard to handle as you could imagine seeing it in person would have been. The replay made you gasp each time you were forced to rewatch it, and seeing Quinn laid out on the ice like he was made your stomach tighten. 

He looked so little while the cameras captured him trying to realize what had happened in real-time. The way the blood dripped from his mouth and covered his bare fingertips was frightening. Finally, he got to his feet and held the hem of his jersey to his mouth as he skated off the ice and disappeared down the tunnel. It had happened so fast. 

Your heart raced the entire time he was gone, mind wondering what he was feeling. You had no memory of the first period or what had happened after the hit until Quinn returned wearing the bubble. It was hard to see how bad everything really was through the face shield, but it was obvious he had a series of stitches. The first goal --his goal-- was textbook Quinn, and it was stunning. However, it wouldn't be enough.

You had fallen asleep after the second intermission, still exhausted after fighting such a terrible headache all day. There were a series of messages from Quinn when you'd awake, and it would be late by the time you saw them.

Quinn: I'm okay, babe. In case you saw what happened. No need to worry, okay? (10:42pm)

Quinn: I love you. Hope you're alright. I haven't heard from you much today. (10:58pm)

Quinn: Maybe you fell asleep. If so, good night. I love you. I'll talk to you in the morning. (11:07pm) 

It made you feel terrible, like you had ignored him when he was dealing with so much. You wouldn't text him. Instead, you'd throw on some sneakers and your coat and leave your house in a hurry, wearing your pajamas. How could you have fallen asleep? This was one of the worst injuries you'd see him inflicted with and you felt like you had completely disregarded him. It would be a quarter to midnight before you arrived at his apartment door. 

Hoping he'd hear your knocking, you had to keep it fairly quiet so to not scare him or wake the other neighbors on the floor. 

"Come on, Quinny. Please don't be asleep yet," you whispered under your breath. 

After a few more raps on the door, you'd hear the lock flip on the other side. When Quinn opened the door, the sight of his face shocked you. His upper lip was swollen and faint bruising could be seen beneath his facial hair. 

"What are you doing here? It's so late?" He asked, though talking seemed to be difficult for him. His words came off as rude, but you hoped it was just because he hadn't expected you. 

"I'm sorry, honey! I was asleep when your messages came in. I've had a migraine all day, and it's screwed everything up. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You didn't have to do that. It's too late for you to be driving, especially if you have a migraine, but it's alright, come in." He opened the door wider, letting you slip past him into the apartment. "How are you feeling?"

Removing your coat, you turned back towards him, "I was about to ask you the same thing. I saw the game, well, some of it." 

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his freshly-washed hair, "I've been better."

"Am I...bothering you?" You asked, unsure of how to read his mood at the moment, but getting cues that he wasn't happy for the company. 

His expression changed slightly, "Sorry, no, you're fine. I'm tired, my face hurts, and I'm just-- down."

Without another word, you walked the few steps back to him and embraced him in a loving hug. Quinn melted into your arms almost instantly, the weight of all of his troubles being dropped on you, but you didn't mind. He stayed so strong through much more than any person should have to carry. 

"Can I do anything for you?" You asked, your head laying against his as you both stayed standing by the door. 

"This..for just a little longer?"

Smiling, you would oblige his request until he finally decided to break it. Quinn's hugs were the best: they were tight, warm, and always left you wanting them to never end. 

"You're staying the night, aren't you?" He asked, still staying close to you.

"If you want me to," you said, holding his injured face between your hands. 

"Always."

"Okay, baby, to bed then." You placed a kiss to his cheek, careful to avoid his swollen upper lip. It looked so painful; your heart ached for him. Quinn was the sweetest guy, so humble, and a clean player on the ice. You found it unfair that such things happened to him, but you'd remind yourself that that was just the nature of the sport. This had been an accident --you guessed-- still it pissed you off that it had been so bad. 

"Are you off tomorrow?" He mumbled as the two of you got into the bedroom. The light was off, but you had been there plenty of enough times to get around without it. 

"Yeah," you answered, crawling into the bed before Quinn. "Why?"

"I just wanted to know if you could sleep in with me." His voice sounded so small, likely a product of the constant conversation aggravating the injury. 

"Always," you replied like he had moments ago. Laying on your back, you'd wait for him to find you in the bed. Whenever he was down, it was a given that he would want some gentle cuddles to help him get to sleep, and tonight it was proving no different. 

"I'm not too much, am I?" He asked, his hand slipping beneath your shirt. 

"You could never be too much, Quinn." 

He wanted to smile, but he would restrain himself. Being right up against you, he'd give hints that you were right where he wanted you to be. His fingers would dance slowly over your skin, his thumb rolling over your right nipple so softly. You'd bite your lip in response to the sensation as your fingers got lost in his hair. Quinn was very skilled with his hands, but this wasn't one of those moments; he just wanted you to know he loved you, that he appreciated you. How dare he be injured, or this evening could have gone a very different direction. 

"Good night, babe," he whispered, hand finally coming to rest against your ribcage. "I love you. Thanks for coming over."

"I love you, Quinn. Sleep well."

"I always sleep well with you beside me."

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 24 for @steddie-spooktober, Pumpkin. I'll just finish this hellish month and then write all the good Halloween-y stuff when people already look forward to Christmas. There.

"Oh my god. That's Eddie Munson!"

Steve's eyebrow did that treacherous twitch. Here we fucking go again.

Robin just snickered. "Oh wow. That's like what, the fifth one today?" She didn't even look sorry for Steve, the traitor! She just kept making the coffee order, creating a lovely heart in the milk foam.

The woman who ordered the coffee didn't even bother to try and whisper to her friend. She was squealing and pointing at the unsuspecting rock star who had earphones over his head. "What do you think he's reading? It must be something dark. He has a reputation, you know."

Another twitch in Steve's eyebrow, but he was a professional. It was fine. He could do his job even when annoyed. Maybe.

Robin flipped the whiteboard with their seasonal specials. The other side revealed a meticulously prepared game of Eddie Munson-themed bingo. "Wanna play, Steve?"

He scowled at the board. All of those were classics, the stupid shit people say when they meet a rock star like Eddie Munson.

He took an erasable marker and scribbled X next to the questions, comments and other atrocities he managed to catch.

I wonder if he'll show me that special tattoo if I ask nicely. Check.

I heard he's unforgettable in bed. Check.

People say he has a...you know. A piercing down there. Check.

I don't believe the rumors. A guy like that can't be taken for long. He was made to sleep around. Check.

I wonder what he's drinking. Probably something dark and bitter. Mmm, how mysterious!

"Bingo!" whispered Robin. "Now, as per the rules of this humble establishment, once we have a bingo, you get to go there and be a bitch. Do your worst, oh platonic soulmate of mine. I'll be watching."

Who was Steve to deny Robin one of her favorite hobbies? He fluffed his hair and re-applied his lip oil, arranged some pastries on a kitten-shaped plate and made his way to Eddie Munson.

Eddie was lost to the world, but there was a familiar pattern in Steve's footsteps, one that reverbated through the wooden floor. In a second, Eddie had dropped his book and gave Steve the widest smile. One that he couldn't even conjure up on stage. This smile was only for Steve, and Steve fucking hoped the women noticed that.

Eddie made grabby hands at him, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Is your shift over, Stevie? Can we go?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, two more hours to go. Ish. Are you sure you don't want to wait for me home? You must be tired."

"Tired?! Pffft. I mean, yeah, but I want to spend time ogling my boyfriend when he's at his sexiest - covered in flour and sugar. And speaking of sugar..." He glanced at the plate. "Is that for me?"

Steve laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Honestly? Even if it wasn't, those doe eyes of yours would persuade me in a second. But yeah. It'll be Halloween soon, and I was testing out some spooky cookies. Do you like pumpkins?"

Eddie gasped and clutched his heart. "Do I?!"

Steve kissed Eddie on the top of his head and put his earphones back on. In a few seconds, Eddie was back in his own world, book, music and cookies.

In a corner of his eye, Steve saw the two young women, speechless. Robin was serving them their coffees, giddy with anticipation. She'd prepared them in to-go cups, just in case.

Steve stood in front of them, flipped his hair and smirked. "Well, ladies. You've had many questions or guesses, and I'm happy I can answer them. You know. To give you some peace of mind" He nodded to Robin. "The list, Rob?"

Robin glanced at their bingo board. "I wonder what he's reading!" she read out.

Steve nodded and returned to the frozen guests. "The book to end all books. That's what Eddie calls the...uh. Tolkien bible thingy. Silmarillion." He pronounced it gery carefully. "He reads it to me sometimes, when I can't sleep. Works like a charm." He might have smirked at the blush creeping up the woman's face. "Next."

Robin saluted him. "Special tattoo?"

"He won't show it, I made him promise he'd no longer get arrested for public indecency. Besides, it's only me that gets to see it. Next."

Robin fake gagged. "Is he unforgettable in bed?"

"Sure is. He talks to my chest hair. I think they're a couple."

Robin gagged again. "Why...ladies, get better questions! That piercing down under?"

Steve snickered. "Very real. Very...effective." He sneaked a glance at Eddie. Sexy and charismatic, yes, but more importantly warm, happy and home.

In a sing song voice, Robin got to the next point. "Is he really taken?"

"Take a guess," Steve winked at them. Or at least tried to, because the customers were already halfway out of the door with their coffee cups, and a very generous tip left on the counter.

"Aw," muttered Robin. "Shame, I thought these two would last longer. It's been ages since someone lasted the full Munson reverse bingo."

Steve laughed and helped her clean the table. "Would a pumpkin cookie console you?"

"Only if I don't have to hear about your bedroom rituals ever again," she said and reached for a cookie. "Or at least until the end of the shift."

[applecrispy]

Oct. 2 ; Begging

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Male! Reader x Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games)

HEADS UP!

Second Kinktober prompt, set! Enjoy this drabble

Ended up being a bit sweeter and not too 'begging' as the prompt said, but hey! There's always another chance to re-write this after kinktober!

Also, ignore the fact I haven't posted day one yet ajdhkcjks I'll probably post it later since I'm a tad stuck on it.

And how out of practice I am in writing- but I swear, all my thirsts will (hopefully) get better overtime!

▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂

Finnick moans, his hands claw at the kitchen counter top as his boyfriend pounds into him from behind. He aches a bit, but god it's amazing and worth it all.

He had teased (Y/n) earlier today, he was in the mood, and seems like (Y/n) was as well after having Finnick drop to his knees and suck him off from under their dinning table. He wouldn't admit it straight up, but Finnick has been itching for his lover's touch since a few days ago when (Y/n) had returned from his trip to District 13 to check in. The kiss they shared at the station, Finnick liked it a bit too much, maybe he missed (Y/n)'s lips against his, the gentle touch on his sides, how he didn’t push him-

"(Y/n)- baby, fuck!" Finnick chokes out, another moan leaving him.

His chest felt cold from being pressed against their marble counter, but (Y/n) simply continued to piston into him. A hand gently holding his thigh up to the side, granting him a new angle, and Finnick felt his legs shake, and at some point he's pinned to the counter. He can barely keep himself up on the floor, and (Y/n) seems to notice because Finnick yelps briefly as he's flipped over and he's now with his back to the counter, staring up at (Y/n) as he hikes his legs up. Now presented with a canvas, Finnick reaches up and wraps his arms around his boyfriend's back, moaning as he tries to bite the noises back by biting his bottom lip.

His hair is disheveled, messy, and not in the usual styled and seductive manner that his ex-stylists used to fix it into, but rather into something raw and honest. His fingers draw down (Y/n)'s back as he shudders and soon sputters on a noise and breath.

"Another- inside, please-" Finnick begs quietly, he doesn’t care how he aches faintly from the past three orgasms he's already had which have stolen all the air from him, he needs another load inside of him. One more.

(Y/n) smiles slightly, both love and pure unadulterated adoration, and he leans down to groan into Finnick's ear "You want another inside? And here I was thinking of pulling out and finishing all over your thighs instead... why so desperate?" He teases, and Finnick scoffs as much as he can before he breaks into a choppy whimper mixed with a moan "I- Oh right there... There! Nail right there!" He can't help but purr out, and when (Y/n)'s thrusts slow and intentionally miss, Finnick is digging his face involuntarily into (Y/n)'s neck "Please- please please... So good, please, inside. Another, right... right tHE-" his words are cut off and hit a high as he throws his head back, and if it weren't for the gentle hand on the back fo his head that stops the movement by catching his head and curling a hand into his hair, Finnick would've slammed his head open. But he's too lost to properly adore the action, instead he only lets out a heavy, and noisey high pitched moan.

(Y/n) had shifted his thrusts, and was now thoroughly fucking into him, right into his prostate as he had asked, and the tease just chuckles breathily.

"There?"

"Yes... Yes! Please inside, inside." His last few words mold into messy shapes and noises, still coherent in a sense, but debaunched with his ecstasy. He lets out another softer whimper, and Finnick swears this man is the only one who has been able to reduce him to these honest words, begs, and noises. He's a mess, but shit it's so nice.

It doesn't take too much longer, and (Y/n) gives a small tug to Finnick's hair, reeling his mind back to quickly ask for honest confirmation "Inside?" And Finnick can't help how he begs.

"YES! Inside, inside, please- please (Y/n), need it. Please, need to feel it, feel you-" and Finnick is cut off with a yelp and moan as his hips are grabbed and he's pulled down to be plush against (Y/n)'s hips. He shudders as a weak orgasm leaves him, untouched, oversensitive, and the feeling of being filled and pumped with a orgasm once more in him, Finnick lets the fingers he hadn’t noticed that dug down (Y/n)'s back fall lax.

He lets his expression drop, content as he bathes in the after glow, breathing in heavily as he lets out weak little noises. He gently holds onto (Y/n) as his partner seems just as breathless as he is, pulling back to smile down at him as Finnick feels his heart briefly flutter at how he looks at him.

"Seems like you've missed me." And Finnick groans in complaint and jokingly tries to shove (Y/n) away with a little tired grin on his own face "Oh piss off!" He scoffs out a playful laugh despite how breathless it sounds, quickly diving in to kiss (Y/n) once more in something sweeter.

Yeah, he had missed him.

[daisymbin]

so? what's it gonna be, princess? - choi seungcheol

warnings: none!!

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: best friend to lovers (as always... zzzzz)

wc: 1.8k

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

‘’cheollie, i think i will be running a little late. it started pouring out of nowhere and i don't have my umbrella with me,’’ seungcheol could practically hear the pout coming from you through the phone, ‘’please help me tell the boys im sorry and that i'll be there as soon as i can.’’ today was yet another friday evening where the boys had planned a group dinner to catch up with everyone which happens once every 2 weeks. 

‘’you're pouting arent you?’’ your best friend teased you through the phone. ‘’no im not..’’ you lie, but unbeknownst to you, seungcheol is sitting in his car; parked just outside your company's lobby waiting for you. he smiles as he watches you furrow your eyebrows and look up at the sky; watching the pouring rain, and he sees your pout growing more evident. ‘’don't you regret turning me down this morning when i offered to drive you after work?’’ he chuckles to himself as he continues to tease you; he fumbles reaching for an umbrella in the backseat, ready to walk towards you. 

‘’maybe a little…but my office is in the complete opposite direction.. i didn’t want to trouble you.’’ you tried justifying. ‘’its been 13 years now that we've been friends, how many times do i have to tell you that you're never a bother or trouble to me? you know i love helping you out and doing things with you. even if its just driving with you by my side.’’ you felt your stomach do a little flip at your best friend's words and you try to shake the feeling away. seungcheol watches as you brace yourself, getting ready to run in the rain to cross the road, most likely to get to the bus stop. ‘’WAIT, STAY THERE!’’ he shouts through the phone and you all but halt your movements all together. ‘’huh? what do you mean?’’ you asked as confusion took over you. ‘’hello?’’ you prod again when he doesnt say anything back. ‘’cheol??’’ this time you remove your phone from your ear to look at the screen, had the call been disconnected?

‘’princess!’’ your head whipped around at the sound of that. you could recognise his voice anywhere and yet, you didnt exactly believe it. what is he doing here? why would he be here? you watch as seungcheol run out of his car holding an umbrella over his head, ‘’what are you doing here? i thought i told you not to come? i could have made it to dinner on my own..’’ you say as you started to feel bad. ‘’in this heavy rain? its gonna take you forever!’’ he chuckles lightly as he reaches his arm out to put over your shoulder, getting you under the umbrella with him. ‘’yeah but still.. its so inconvenient for you.’’ seungcheol watches as your pout slowly returns. all he can think about is how cute and pretty you look, and how soft your lips would feel against his. 

‘’nothing is ever inconvenient when it comes to you. did you forget why my nickname for you is princess in the first place? did you forget the promise i made you when we were kids? i said i'll always treat you like the princess you are, didnt i?’’ he asked as he tugged you closer to him and start walking back to his car. ‘’cheol, of course i remember, but no one ever really holds onto promises they made when they were kids. it was just all fun and games!’’ you laugh as you hit his chest lightly with your fist playfully. seungcheol catches your hand and held it in his for a second before letting go. ‘’i didn't think it was just for fun and games…i meant what i said back then & i still do.’’ his face turned serious before it was quickly replaced by his boyish shy smile that you love so much. he reached down to open the door to the passenger seat, ushering you to get in. 

you watch as he closed the door to the passenger seat and quickly ran over to the driver's seat. ‘’what was that about?’’ you asked as soon as seungcheol settled in this seat. it doesnt go unnoticed by you that half of his body is wet; drenched in rain, clearly from shielding you with the umbrella better and not himself. you heart aches at that a little. ‘’what was what?’’ he questioned back, looking at you with confusion swimming in his brown orbs. you took in a deep breath and let out an audible sigh, ‘’you mean what you said back then and you still do?’’ you laughed before continuing playfully, ‘’aww, does that mean that my cheolie is still in love with me after all these years?’’ you teased jokingly as you think back to when you were both 21, your best friend had drunkenly confessed to you in a game of truth or dare with chan, minghao, soonyoung and joshua that you were in fact his first love when you were both younger. what he failed to mention however is that he was still in love with you at that time. 

‘’cheol, im just joking. dont look at me like that.’’ you say as you shift your eyes towards the road; finding his burning gaze too hard to keep in contact with. ‘’don't look at you like what?’’ his voice came out a lot softer and huskier than he'd like. not that seungcheol was trying anything, but his throat suddenly felt so so dry. was he about to have this conversation with you? ‘’i don't know, you just look so serious. i was just kidding. come on, start the car, or we'll be late.’’ you unintentionally whined, hoping that he will let it go and drop the subject. but seungcheol caught on to your nervousness, he always does. you have your tells when you're nervous and seungcheol knows all of them like the back of his hand. he knows you oh so well. 

feeling a sudden surge of confidence from the fact that he made you nervous, inevitably, your best friend turned cocky. ‘’so what if i am?’’ he asked as he leaned his face against his fist that his biceps were resting on the steering wheel. ‘’what?’’ you asked as you furrowed your eyebrows at him. seungcheol could see the slight irritation dancing in your eyes. he knows you think he's fucking with you again like he always does, except what you didn't know was all his playful flirting? yeah he meant those. but you? you could play along with his playful flirting but joking about feelings and being in love? that crosses the line for you. not funny. at all. 

‘’i said, so what if i am? so what if i am still in love with you after all these years?’’ truthfully, seungcheol felt confident and cocky, but that was before he actually said those words out loud. now? his heart was thumping so hard he thought it might jump right out of his chest, but of course, he didnt show it, he tried his hardest not to at least; always keeping that small but nervous smile on his face. ‘’if this is another one of your stupid jokes, stop it. its not funny. you know i hate when people joke about feelings.’’ your irritation had grown tenfold by now. ‘’start the car cheol, we'll be late.’’ 

‘’but we're already late,’’ he says as he debates in his mind if he should hold your hand. ‘’and besides, don't you think i know you well enough by now to know what not to joke about?’’ he watches as your eyes soften and reaches for your hand. you look down at where you are both linked: your hands, and silence takes over you. ‘’so, should we walk into dinner holding hands and let the boys plan our wedding or are you going to reject me and let this car ride be the most awkward we've ever been around each other?’’ seungcheol all but nervously asks, jokingly of course.

‘’is this really how you ask someone out? that's so corny and cringey. no wonder you've been single all these years!” seungcheol lets out a breath of relief when he hears your sweet laugh and sees a smile finally break out on your face. ‘’is the reason i'm single all these years really because of how corny and cringey i am or is it because of how in love i am with you that i stayed by your side and took care of you the best i knew how to at whatever age it was, that i always looked out for you no matter where we were, be it at a party, in class, in school, at a dinner functions, anything. that i tried my best to never let you feel alone and to know that i always believe in you no matter what negative things that pretty little head of yours tells you when you go to bed at night? and look at you now? look how far you've come.’’

seungcheol held your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. you felt tears lightly prickle your eyes and you blinked them away, ‘’thank you, cheol..for always being there for me even when i didn’t know i needed you.’’ he now held your hand up to his cheek, still intertwining your fingers. ‘’like today?’’ he asked with a shy smile. ‘’like today..’’ you smiled back. ‘’so what's it gonna be princess? are we picking out a wedding destination or are we sitting in awkward silence?’’ he teased. ‘’why can't you be normal and just ask me to be your girlfriend like everybody else?’’ you ask as you tried tugging your hand away from him but he didn’t let up, it only made his grip on you tighter. ‘’where's the fun in that? and besides, you answering my question will tell me if i have a girlfriend or not.’’ seungcheol already knows your answer to his question, but he still had to ask, he just wanted to hear you say it so bad. 

‘’hmm..,’’ you looked away from him and pretended to think for a second, ‘’you know The Maldives has always been my dream destination for travelling…a wedding there would be pretty don't you think?’’ you turn back to look at your boyfriend with a faux face of being in thought. seungcheol didnt know he could smile so big but in that moment he did, ‘’i think anywhere in the world would make for a pretty wedding destination as long as you're the bride, princess.’’ seungcheol finally lets go of your hand, but only to now cup your face in between his 2 hands.  he kissed you once on your forehead, ‘’you know i love you right?’’ he asked as he looked into your eyes, his usual playful and mischievous brown orbs are now replaced with love, adoration and sincerity. you smile as you answer, ‘’you know i love you too, right?’’ and that was all it took for seungcheol to finally kiss you on the lips. ‘’i think i love you more.’’ he just always has to win, doesn't he?

[bun-z-bakery]

seen you're writing for LADS now! can we get a sylus x reader where the reader bonds with the twins but sylus is all heck no at first but sees them happily snoozing on the couch together and is like ok maybe this is nice?

Not So Bad After All

Pairing. Sylus x Gn!reader Warnings/Tags. Mostly fluff, silly interactions with the twins, Sylus being Sylus and wanting you all to himself.

Words. 1k

A/N. hi hi! thanks for requesting! just a heads up I'm still trying to get comfortable with writing for the LADS boys so it might be slightly ooc but I still hope you enjoy! Here's your order!

Menu | AO3

"Hah, I win again!" you throw your arms up, victorious once again, as Luke and Kieran groan at another loss.

"I know kitty cards hate to see me coming!" You smiled at the masked twins as you collected the cards, preparing to shuffle for another round.

"Two against one, yet we're still losing—" Kieran says.

"You must be cheating somehow!" You place a hand on your chest and gasp dramatically at Luke's accusation.

"If anything, I'd say two against one would be considered cheating! 1 v 1 me right now!" Your shuffling became quicker as you worked yourself up, ready to win for the 10 th time. However, your playful rivalry was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. All eyes fell onto the doorway. Sylus stands at the entrance with his arms crossed with an unamused expression.

"Boss, welcome back!" the boys say in unison. You remain seated, avoiding Sylus's intense gaze as he strides into the room. "Seems like you three have been busy." He examines the table for a second before his eyes find your frame again. Finally, your eyes meet as you turn your attention to him. There was no way in hell the boss of Onychinus was upset you were playing kitty cards with his henchmen. The thought was laughable.

"Why don't you two make yourselves useful instead of playing kitty cards?" Sylus didn't spare them even a glance; his eyes were fixated on you.

"Yes, boss!" The twins shoot to their feet and scurry out.

"Sy, we were just having fun!" His gaze was intense, full of greed and desire. You knew what he was doing, but when his gaze softened, you decided to hold your tongue. Rising to your feet, you wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his chest. You looked up at him and furrowed your brows.

"Always so needy…" you muttered, a playful jab that didn't bother him since you both knew it was true.

"I apologize for spoiling your fun, sweetie." Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, then places one hand on your back, resting the other on top of your hair and making small circles with his fingers.

"The twins had you long enough today. Now it's my turn."

A few days had passed since you last seen Sylus; work had devoured you both, but absence makes the heart grow fonder; you learned that rather quickly. Your motorcycle zooms through the city and crosses the threshold into the N 109 zone.

"Sylus, I'm here!" you called out as you shut the main entrance door.

"The Boss isn't here yet!" Luke says as he and Kieran peek out of one of the rooms. Suddenly, your phone vibrates. Pulling it out of your pocket to check who would be texting you at this hour?!

'I'll be there soon, kitten.' it was Sylus, of course.

'Better return home in one piece,' you responded before putting your phone back in your pocket and heading to where the twins were hanging out. Upon entering the room, you noticed they were playing kitty cards. You stifled a laugh. They were set on beating you, but you weren't going down without a fight, and they knew that. On the table, a chart kept track of their wins, strategies, and… Well, more like ways to cheat without getting caught.

"I thought you guys were with Sylus?" you asked, plopping yourself down on the couch across from the table they were playing on. They sat back down on their chairs and resumed their game.

"We were told to stay behind," Kieran replied as he placed a card down, earning a huff from Luke. They were serious about beating you someday. A small smile formed on your face as you watched the twins play. An hour went by, and still, there was no Sylus. You quickly became bored, and the twins seemed to be at their boiling point with kitty cards.

You glance around the room until your eyes fall onto a giant screen mounted to the wall."Luke, Kieran?" they face you, kitty cards still in hand even though they were complaining about the game seconds prior.

"Yes?" they ask in sync.

"Wanna watch a movie?" You grinned as you pointed to the giant screen. They glanced back at the screen and then back at you. Suddenly, they slammed the cards on the table and jumped to each of your sides on the couch, almost crushing you.

"Yes!"

"But we're picking the first one!" Luke added.

Playfully, you squint and pout.

"Fine, but it better be good."

Sylus walks into the base and lets out a long sigh, his eyes shut tightly as he takes a moment to center himself. He knew you were here and waiting for him; the thought of you being wrapped in his arms made his steps faster. He makes his way to his bedroom, heart pounding as he opens the door, expecting to see you either asleep in his bed or on your phone. But you weren't there. His eyes dart around the room in search of you. Maybe you were hiding? He'll play along.

"Is there a lost kitten around waiting to be found?" he taunts with a smirk as he walks to the middle of the room, hands in his pocket, trying to hear your muffled giggle, but it never comes. You usually weren't this quiet; your shaky breathing and giggles were a dead giveaway of your hiding spots. Yet you weren't here. Slight panic begins to set into his chest as he walks out of his room. He pulls out his phone, ready to call you, as he searches from room to room.

His finger hovers over the call button, but he's already found you, and in an instant, the panic has washed away and been replaced with warmth and longing. Your arms are crossed, and your head is tilted backward onto the couch cushion, smushed between the twins. The movie you three are watching continues as you sleep peacefully.

He raises a brow, mouth slightly open, ready to tease, but his face softens at how peaceful the three of you looked. A smile tugs at his lips as he walks to the couch, standing behind you to not startle you. Sylus raises his hand, and with the weight of a feather, he caresses your cheek. Even in your sleep, your body responds to him; you lean into his touch, yearning for more. The N 109 zone had no light, but somehow, even in your peaceful slumber, you always lit up every part of his world, and he made it clear that light was his and his alone. Yet, it felt… Nice. Maybe letting you spend time with the twins wasn't so bad after all.

"Rest well, kitten."

A/N: LADS and JJK have taken over my brain 😭 all of my wips are just lads and jjk atp send help. Thanks for reading hope you enjoyed your order!

[baseonezero]

miniskirt - leehan

pairing. leehan x fem!reader | synopsis. you wear a cute outfit out but you get too much attention from your boyfriend's friends | warnings. smut (mdni), vaping (thc), perv!jaehyun & riwoo kinda, jealousy, hair pulling, name calling, unprotected sex, public sex-ish??? | an. kind of a leehan addict :p

while getting ready, you already had an outfit in mind and you decided you were finally going to wear the miniskirt you had bought weeks ago. you already paid for it so you might as well wear it out!

all dolled up, you walked into the living room to find your boyfriend sat on the couch, a disposable pen in one hand and his phone in the other, lazily scrolling through it.

"is jaehyun almost here?" you asked, walking over to the couch.

his eyes looked up from the screen and fell onto you, looking you up and down. he whistled at you, his lips turning into a smirk. "yeah, but i might just tell him to hangout without us."

"pfft, yeah 'cause i spent two hours getting ready just to stay home," you retorted, taking the pen from his hand and taking a hit from it.

his eyebrow quirked as he watched the vapor flow out from your mouth, the scent of strawberry filling the air. "it wouldn't be just staying home. anyway, you look really good, just in case i didn't make it obvious enough." he shut his phone off, sliding it into his pocket before standing up and stepping closer to you.

"you think so?" you asked with a hint of flirtation as you looked into his eyes, taking the tip of the vape between your lips.

"you really trying to play this game right now?" he whispered, inching his face closer to yours.

beeeeep beep beep

"looks like our ride is here," you smiled, making your way out the front door and to the black car.

riwoo's window was down, his arm hanging out. "woahh, now where are you going?" he asked, jaehyun moving his head to look past riwoo, his eyebrows rising for a second. "well, dayum."

you could help but to laugh at them, opening the door to the backseat of the car. "can a girl get all cute without getting questioned?" you scoffed, looking out to see leehan walking to the car, nodding at his friends before getting in the backseat with you, shutting the car door.

"you guys just cockblocked me," leehan mumbled as he put on his seatbelt as jaehyun began to drive.

"dude" you glared at him.

"did she just 'dude' you?" jaehyun looked over at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, cracking up as riwoo looked back over the seat.

leehan scoffed, crossing his arms.

"whatcha got there? let me see," riwoo reached over to your hand and took the small device from it, observing it from different angles. "'strawberry cough' huh?" he shrugged, deciding to take a hit of it.

"isn't it good?" you asked, watching as he gave a nod of approval.

"i might have to keep this. is it yours?" he asked in return, looking back at you with it in hand.

"it's mine. unless you wanna buy it off of me," leehan huffed, staring him down.

"i'll just buy my own." riwoo turned back to face the front, taking yet another hit from the pen.

"wait— hand it over," jaehyun held his hand out, glancing at riwoo for a second before looking back over at the road.

he did as told and jaehyun took a deep inhale, handing it back to the passenger as he blew out the smoke, letting out a few small coughs afterwards. "i might just buy that off of you," he smiled.

somehow, by the time you all had arrived at the arcade, riwoo was beyond faded. his eyes were now red and droopy. of course, jaehyun took the opportunity to laugh at him and riwoo could only laugh along with him.

walking into the building was a little annoying as the skirt kept riding up. you pulled it down to its place but was still higher than mid thigh but hey, at least you looked good and it showed off your assets.

leehan noticed this, and he took your hand into his. "do you maybe want to wear my flannel?" he asked, though it was more of a suggestion.

you shook your head. "i'm okay."

"i just don't want you to be uncomfortable," he pushed up his black frames with his finger, glancing over at you.

"'m not too worried because i have you around," you assured, squeezing his fingers for a second.

from behind, you heard jaehyun fake a gag. "get a room," he booed.

normally, riwoo would've chimed in, but instead he was too busy looking around the place. "so fucking cool.." he whispered to himself, eyeing all the various types of machines and the small section where people could go bowling.

both pairs walked up to a machine to get cards to play with, paying to get a enough credits to play for most of the night. riwoo and jaehyun would share a card, and you would obviously share one with your boyfriend — though you thought about how it'd be a little annoying to keep having to ask each other for the card.

throughout the night, leehan would catch onto the stares his friends would give you while you weren't looking, too busy playing a game on a machine.

this wasn't your fault, but theirs, yet he couldn't help but feel like this is what you wanted.

at one point, leehan had gone to go get a drink for you and you had decided to stay with riwoo and jaehyun.

being the sly guy that he is, jaehyun had asked riwoo to record both you and him on the motorcycle racing machine from his phone.

riwoo stood behind you two, both in frame, but mostly focusing in on how your panties were now visible with the position you were in. hell, even while high, riwoo was perfectly well aware of what jaehyun was up to and he did not mind to be apart of the plan.

unfortunately for you, you were unaware that your panties were being exposed and leehan had come back just in time to catch the scene.

he stood next to riwoo before snatching jaehyun's phone from him, stopping the recording to which riwoo just stared, not caring enough to do anything. and weirdly enough, leehan simply waited for you and jaehyun to finish the game.

once you both got off, jaehyun's eyes met leehan's and he knew something was about to go down.

"fuck.. was my ass out?" you asked, mostly to yourself as you adjusted your skirt before looking up and seeing leehan, your drink in hand and a phone in the other.

"i'll take that back," jaehyun wore a smug grin as he took his phone from leehan which only pissed him off some more and you noticed how his jaw clenched.

"take this too." your boyfriend handed his friend what was supposed to be your drink before reaching over for your wrist. "we'll be back."

as you were basically getting dragged, you glanced back to see riwoo and jaehyun exchanging knowing looks before you turned your attention back to an angry leehan. "now what is your problem?" you asked, feeling slightly annoyed at his behavior.

"what is my problem?" he scoffed, pulling you into the unisex bathroom where he shuts the door and locks it behind him. "did you purposely wear that skirt today so they could eye fuck you?" he snarled while his grip on your wrist tightened.

"ow— what? no?!" you winced, trying to pry his grip off of your wrist. "i wore this because i haven't had any other chance to."

the corner of his lips lifted into a smirk. "yeah, you couldn't have worn it any other time that we have gone out, right?" his face drew closer to yours, his eyes darkening with every inch.

you opened your mouth to talk back but before you could even say anything, his lips were already on yours, his hands landing onto your ass.

his fingers found their way to the bottom hem of your skirt, rolling it up for him to give your cheeks a squeeze as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

you couldn't help but moan into his mouth at his groping, just to find yourself sucking on his tongue.

he pulled away, eyeing the string of saliva attaching your mouths before licking it away. "is this what you wanted? hm?" he hummed, pushing you against the sink.

you felt gross as your skin touched the sink, the public bathroom being arguably one of the most unhygienic places ever but you also weren't going to stop him.

"can i just wear something hot without having you bitch at me?" you hissed, trying to scoot your skirt back down.

"dress like a whore and you'll deal with the consequences," he leaned into your ear and whispered, slapping your hands away as his snaked down to your clothed core. "oh.. and she's dripping." his fingers tapped on the wet, sticky patch, feeling amused by your body's reaction.

your breath hitched at the sudden attention, feeling a warmth spread throughout you. "leehan.." you whined, your hips pressing down into his hand.

leehan's free hand quickly undid his jeans as his other fingers rubbed against the dirtied fabric. "look at you acting like the slut that you are."

without warning, he turned you around so you could face the mirror as he shoved his pants and briefs down just enough to free him from his constraints.

"you're gonna watch how you look while you take me," he huffed, using the tip of his cock to slide your panties to the side, letting it coat with your juices. "bet that'll turn you on even more too."

you put your head down, too embarrassed to even look at the reflection and that certainly didn't make him happy.

"chin up, baby." his hand gripped your jaw as he tilted it up, making you watch before he slammed himself into you.

a yelp fell past your lips as your jaw dropped, feeling a sting from being forcefully stretched out while your hands held onto the sides of the sink. "waitdontmove," you sighed, wanting to adjust before he could do anything.

in the mirror, you saw how smirked, pushing his glasses up by the middle. "we have all the time in the world," he leaned down and kissed all over your neck, sucking softly on some spots.

contrary to his words, leehan couldn't help but to start rolling his hips into you, sighing at the way your warm gummy walls felt around his cock all while watching your expressions in the mirror.

his hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, turning it into a makeshift ponytail to pull your head up. "watch."

you finally looked at yourself and felt slightly embarrassed by the view. your jaw hanging open as moans slipped out from your mouth, eyebrows furrowed with the way he fucked deep into your cunt.

your bottom lip was captured between your lips as a pretty blush tinted your cheeks.

he let go of your hair and his hands pulled down at your tube top, letting your tits spill out. "no bra either.." he licked his lips, his hands fondling with your boobs. "fuck.. you really did want this."

you couldn't even form a proper sentence, just nodding at whatever he had to say as you pushed yourself back against him, loving the way his cock abused your hole.

he breathed out a small laugh. "so fucking greedy for me," his voice was low which only made you moan.

his hands let go of your tits and moved down to your hips, pulling himself out almost all the way before ramming himself into you.

he groaned, this time biting down on his own lip as he repeated the action.

your eyes rolled back, feeling a knot form in your tummy and as if his dick wasn't enough, he reached over and started rubbing at your clit.

the stimulation was too much and you felt as if you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from cumming if he kept at it.

"i'm gonna cum..." you whined between moans, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts.

"oh yeah? cum all over this dick, baby," he encouraged and used your words as his own encouragement to fuck into your cunt and circle your clit even faster.

before you could even process his words, you became undone around him and a string of moans filled the small space.

"god," he dragged as he kept thrusting into you even after your climax.

not too long after, he pulled himself out and jerked himself a few times before shooting his cum all over your thighs and ass, moaning your name.

you held the sink to keep yourself balanced as he took deep breaths, fixing his briefs and jeans.

"mind helping me out a little?" you asked, looking back at him while pulling your top up with one hand.

"right.."

riwoo and jaehyun had moved to play skee-ball and when leehan made his presence known, they both eyed you two and then looked at each other.

jaehyun took a hit from leehan's pen that he had held onto, blowing out a small cloud into the air. "you two took a while," he smirked.

your cheeks blushed as you pressed your lips together, feeling shy and exposed.

"are we even allowed to smoke in here?" leehan changed the topic.

"you guys are freaks," riwoo switched the topic back, grinning before turning back the skee-ball machine, trying underhand throws to perfect his aim, "but i can't judge you 'cause i would too."

[universefcb]

Hiii love your work💗💗 can you do an imagine of hector always talking about his pop star girlfriend and going to her rehearsal (someone like Tate McRae)

Lights and shirt 32

Pairing: Hector Fort X gf!reader

Summary: You're dating Hector Fort, Barcelona's prodigy, and he's obsessed with you. He always comes to your rehearsals.

Warning: no <3

Author's note: Sorry for my absence, I'm tired these days, but I'll bring all the requests to you💗

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The Barcelona dressing room was as busy as ever, but Héctor Fort was quiet, sitting in his corner, taping his ankles with absent-minded ease. His thoughts were not on the game, nor on the coach who was talking about marking and quick transitions.

“Wake up, Hector,” Balde laughed, throwing a wet towel in his direction.

Héctor just smiled from the corner of his mouth.

“I'm just thinking.”

“In her again?” Gavi asked, without even looking.

“Always on it,” he replied, with a smile, as if it were obvious.

Her. The girl who won over crowds with her husky voice and magnetic stage presence. The one who appeared at the biggest festivals with precise choreography and lyrics that stuck in your mind. The one who dressed like a pop hurricane and danced like the world was going to end with the next chorus.

His girlfriend.

The press was still trying to understand the couple: the discreet full-back and the global star. But for Héctor, it made perfect sense. She was his favorite mess, his organized chaos, and he would calm her down in the midst of all the flashes.

When practice was over, he drove straight to her rehearsal studio—a converted industrial warehouse in Poblenou, with exposed brick walls, huge mirrors, and the constant smell of coffee and sweat. She was there, in the center of the room, wearing a black tank top, sweatpants that hung low on her hips, and chunky sneakers, her hair pulled back in a messy bun.

The beat of the music filled the space and Héctor stood in the doorway, unnoticed, just watching. She moved with fierce precision, every step measured, every movement timed perfectly. But what moved him most was the look in the mirror—focused, fierce, mesmerizing.

“Fort is drooling,” whispered one of the dancers, laughing as she passed him.

He just raised his hands in surrender.

“I don’t deny it.”

When the music stopped, she turned, gasping, and their eyes met. Her smile was immediate, as if the world had stopped for a second just to remind her that he existed.

“You came,” he said, walking up to him.

“Of course I came. Do you think I would miss this?”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist, her face still hot from the exertion. He ran his fingers down her back, to the elastic of her top.

“You look so beautiful dancing… like, absurdly beautiful” he whispered in her ear.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Always. I want you to miss a step just because you thought of me.”

She bit her lip, pulling him closer.

“You are an idiot.”

“You idiot.”

She pushed away with a light push, returning to the center of the room.

“Stay there. I want to show you a new choreography.”

Héctor sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to her. When the music started again, slower, almost painful, he saw every line of her body tell a story—of pain, desire, longing. It was a new song, he had never heard it before.

“Is this song about me?” he asked when it was over.

She just smiled, walking slowly towards him.

“Maybe. Do you think you deserve it?”

“I think you think about me more than you admit in your lyrics.”

“Arrogant,” she whispered, sitting on his lap, sweaty, still panting.

He hugged her tightly, as if the outside world didn't exist.

“If I were you, I would write a song called Héctor, full of dramatic choruses and verses talking about how I am the man of your life.”

“Maybe I already wrote it.”

Silence fell between them, complicit and warm. She rested her forehead on his and sighed.

“Promise you’ll be at the show on Saturday?”

“Front row. Shirt number 32. Your biggest fan.”

She smiled, with that look only he knew—the look of the girl behind the pop star.

“I love you, Hec”

“Me too, Mi estrella ” (My star)

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