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reiderwriter · 7 months

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Dirty Cops

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: With a dirty cop killing women in the BDSM community running loose you and Spencer have to devise an equally dirty plan to catch him in the act.

Warnings: Kintober Day 22 - S&M, BDSM themes, public sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, interrupted sex (both of them are cockblocked by the job).

A/N: I'M BACK! Sorry for the delay. This is the fic that has been beating my ass for about two weeks now. I fear I put too much detail into the case, and now I'm 6k words deep into a part one of a fic that should've been a 3k standalone.... oops! I hope you enjoy~

You sat in your office hands on your forehead as you desperately searched for the solution to your problems. 12 women, 12 homicides that VICAP had just spotted were easily similar. All in the same jurisdiction, and yet no connections made by their police force.

Something was going on in Tampa, and you needed to get to the bottom of it before another person died.

You supposed it didn't really help that some of the women had died in some pretty unorthodox ways. Strangulation, blunt force trauma, evidence of rope burns, and having been held hostage but not for long. Things your team was familiar with, but local detectives usually couldn't stomach.

As the BAU's brand new liaison officer, you got the job of convincing the local law enforcement to invite you in. They certainly weren't making it easy for you.

"Listen, I'm telling you there's something here, sir, if you'd just check the case files. We're only trying to help."

"You're trying to stick your nose in my departments business because you think your fancy FBI agents can handle my cases better than me."

"Sir, with all due respect -"

"Fine, you think you can come find whoever whacked these street whores you come and do it." You took in a sharp breath and paused, trying to make sure if you were hearing him correctly.

"What do you mean by whores, Captain? Choose your words very carefully." The warning was a bonus, knowing your voice had already done such a 180 he was probably regretting his previous word choices. As far as you knew none of the victims were wex workers. They mainly had office jobs or were even stay ah hone mom's.

"Each and every one of these women were jezebel's. Cheating, doing dirty things while showing their faces in church. They attended a certain establishment, not a Christian one, if you understand what I'm telling you, Miss."

"It's Agent, actually, and if you ever leave these details out of a case file ever again, I'll make sure to have your badge pinned up on my wall like a hunting trophy. Are we clear, Captain?" He stuttered out a yes, but you cut him off quickly.

"My team and I will arrive later today. Expect us for lunch." You said, slamming the receiver down and finally releasing a huff of breath you'd been saying for emergencies.

A whistle from the door finally draws your attention after a few minutes.

"Okay, Y/N," JJ clapped, looking impressed. "Who pissed you off?"

"Just the Captain at the precinct who just very politely invited us to consult on our next case." You threw the file in her direction as she set down the coffee she'd bought you, picking it up to peruse it. "Where's Hotch? I need to tell him we've got to go now before they change their minds."

"You know you want to say it," she teased as you began walking out of the office to find your elusive boss.

"Ha. Sure. Wheels up in 30, Jennifer." She raised her coffee in a salute to you as you finally took off, getting ready to go to war against an unhelpful police precinct.

–X–

With all the time you don't have, you end up briefing the team on the jet. You have to stand and grab the edge of the table as you try not to pace up and down the aisle.

"Twelve victims, all women between the ages of 20 to 28. He's crossing race lines, so I don't think they're placeholders." In all honesty, this case had pissed you off.

Twelve dead women and no one seemed to care until you phoned the department up yourself when VICAP flagged it all with you. Half of the cases had been closed for lack of evidence, and the other half so poorly investigated that you knew it was only a matter of time before they got boxed up and shelved too.

"The general public in Zephyrhills doesn't even know they have a serial killer. No one is being told to exert caution. There's no local press on this either."

"It says that these women were all killed, but there's no viable DNA they could pick up?" Morgan asks, looking up at you.

"That's right, no DNA evidence can be lifted, but spermicide was found on three of the victims."

"So our unsub was wearing a condom. He came prepared, and we were dealing with a serial rapist who has bridged into murdering his victims."

"There was no spermicide found on the other nine victims?" Emily looks up at you from her place at the small table.

"No. Rape test kits weren't run on any of the other victims because, quote: 'it was pretty obvious what had happened.' The precinct waited too long to collect the DNA evidence and now we don't have enough to locate, let alone prosecute an unsub based on DNA."

The whole team shared in your stressed look then, sending you matching sympathetic glances as they suddenly understood the herculean task you'd taken on trying to convince the locals to invite you in.

Not noticing the awkward silence that fell on the group, Spencer spoke up quickly from his place, standing beside you.

"You know, Zephyrhills is only about an hour away from Tampa. Tampa is the number one hook up spot in the US. It's residents boast on average 14 orgasms a month instead of the nationwide average of 12.5." He seemed pleased with the knowledge he'd just let everyone in on, as you looked back on him.

"Right. So our guy is trying to get his rocks off to out gun the rest of the country. Thanks, Spencer."

"It's relevant. It's says in the casefile here that three of our victims were last spotted on the highway making their way to Tampa, but then their bodies were found dumped in Zephyrhills. What if he's following them?"

"Spencer has a point, but if he's following them, what gets them to turn around? The cars were found abandoned in Zephyrhills, too, none of these women made it to Tampa." Hotch adds, and you make eye contact with him as your next thought comes to you.

"What could get someone to stop on a highway?" You ask, the question so simple, every single one of them knew the answer before you'd even finished asking.

"A cop." JJ filled in, and you all sat silently as you realised how dangerous this next case could truly be.

"We're about an hour out from arrival, everyone get some rest for now, I'm going to make a call to the nearest FBI Field Office, see if any of this is on their radar."

You slunked back to your seat at the back of the jet and sat down again, trying to get comfy but ending up just shifting multiple times in your seat.

Spencer joined you, sitting beside you, so close you could feel his eyes on you as your leg began to bounce. He put his hand over it and, with a strong hand, stilled the movement.

"Y/N, you did a good job connecting these cases." His voice was meek and calming, and you'd generally very much appreciate it if his hand weren't sending your body through some serious loops right then.

Your leg was on fire where he was touching you, his hand hot even through the fabric of your clothes. But when he pulled the hand away, watching your legs for any further tremors, you felt the need to snatch it back and replace it on your leg, certain that it would sooth the burning once more.

You snapped yourself out of it quickly. If you were thinking this way about Spencer of all people, then you really needed to get laid.

"Tampa's population consists of 43% singles, you know. Good statistics for getting laid." You twisted your head around to meet his eyes again.

"Tell me I didn't say that outloud." But his small smile dashed your hopes as you realised you just admitted to feeling incredibly horny because of his hand on your knee.

"If it's any consolation, I'm definitely the only one who heard it." His hand fell back to your thigh, and you twitched as it did, but you didn't move him.

"Fucking floridians and their goddamn 14 orgams a month," you muttered under your breath, hoping that he wasn't paying any attention to you now, seeing as how he'd opened up a book to hold in one hand.

"Lucky if I get even one and Florida man has 14 in him." You continue mumbling as you try to get cosy, closing your eyes and moving your head to find a comfortable position.

“You definitely said that one out loud.” He laughed, and you threw up your middle finger while letting your head fall back and your body take the rest it needed.

Without opening your eyes, you decided you needed the last word, a phenomenon you often found occurring in Spencer’s presence.

“A gentleman would pretend to not have heard that, Spencer.”

“I’m not a gentleman.” Annoyance prickled you at his reply, but you were too tired to say anything more as you caught up with the sleep that had been evading you for weeks.

–X–

Your landing in Florida comes almost too soon, and Hotch delegates tasks before you’ve even had the chance to properly get your feet beneath you after so long in the sky.

This case was becoming more of a mindfield with each of the pieces of information you’d received. Upon getting off of his call with the FBI Field Office closest to Zephryhills, Hotch had informed the team about an ongoing investigation into the police captain’s wife, whose pseudo-Christian church group were spewing vitriol about damn near every group you could think of.

“Religious discrimination, racism, sexism, homophobia and some pretty screwed up views of basically everything else, too.” Penelope had informed the group, pulling up the files that had been sent to her.

“It seems their most recent project is… Oh, how relevant. An adult establishment just opened up on the outskirts of Tampa, right on the highway that connects it to Zephyrhills. And from the boasts of the club owner on social media, it seems he’s telling anyone who listens that he’s not going to get shut down because the police are his main clientele.”

She sent through links to some of the posts to your iPads, and you angled the thing towards Spencer so he could take in the new information as well.

“Could we be looking at a religious motive to the murders? You said that the police captain called these women Jezebels. The name is biblical, she was a Queen who worshipped a false god and was defenestrated because of it, but over time, the uncapitalised jezebel, as you know, tended to refer to women with loose morals.”

“The motives could still be religious, but these women were raped. It says in the case files that Mrs. James’s church group is solely comprised of women, mostly the wives of the officers in the police force.”

Again, everything was leading you back to this stupid police precinct. You grimmaced as you realised that the next few weeks were going to be spent on the edge watching your back.

“Y/N, Reid, I want you both with me at the precinct when we land. Morgan, JJ, go to the church and interview some of the ladies there, see if you can’t push some buttons. Emily, Rossi, some of the family’s of the victims got in touch with the field office to request inquiries, go anf find out whatever you can about the last known whereabouts of these women.”

Now bracing yourself, you set your face in a neutral expression and let Spencer hold the door open for you as you walked into the station.

“Hello, we’re the agents from the FBI. Where can we find your captain?” You ask the receptionist at the chatting to her desk, but just as you finish your inquiry, another officer cuts you off, stepping half in front of you and demanding some files from the woman.

She stands awkwardly, sending you an apologetic glance as she scurries off to go and complete whatever busy work he’s just given her as you quietly seeth at his back.

The officer turns around to you and grins, sending you a smile as he walks off, apparently pleased with himself for foiling your attempts to find his boss.

“Y/N, keep a cool head. The captain’s office seems to be just ahead, I’m going to go and see if he’s there, smooth out some of the issues they seem to be having over here with our presence.” You nod and stay back with Spencer, who takes a quick seat behind you.

You don’t sit, though, too on edge and pissed off to get comfortable now.

The officers seem to ignore the two of you, bustling around you with no sense of shame, but you can tell they're watching you, hearing the low murmur of whispers.

When one of them decides to out their hands on you, though, you've decided you've had enough.

"Sorry, little lady, I need to get through. Important police business." He practically Leeds down at you as his hands grab your waist, meaning to move you aside to her you out of his path.

You don't give him the chance, grabbing his hands from your hips and twisting them behind his back quickly, shoving him face first into the nearest desk.

"Fuck, you little bitch. Come and control your partner, man." He struggles in your grasp, signalling to Spencer.

You grin as Spencer doesn't even look up at him, having pulled out a copy of War and Peace and settling nicely in his seat. You could tell he was on edge though, had seen the slight way his body tensed when you'd first been touched, and knew that if you'd needed it, he'd be there backing you up in a second.

"Sorry, are you talking to me?" He finally said, still not looking up from his book.

"Yes, get this bitch off of me."

"If you ask her nicely, I'm sure Agent Y/N would release you. As for me, I'm certainly not making her do anything she doesn't want to." He grinned as he said it, and you rolled your eyes slightly.

"Maybe if you told some of these other agents here to stop looking at her likes, she's a hunk of meat and greeted her respectfully instead of calling her… little lady, was it? Maybe then she'd be more generous." The man grumbled beneath you again, but before you could actually force his hand, Hotch and the Captain were exiting his office, obviously alerted by the crashing sound you'd made.

"Reid, Y/N, that's enough." Hotch signalled, and you complied, letting the man go and stepping back to Reid's side. He'd stood now, squaring his shoulders and making use of his quite intimidating height. You must seem tense, though, because the second you settle next to him, he puts a hand on your lower back, and you're surprised at how calm you instantly become.

Earlier, his touch had been fire and ice, and now it was relaxing you beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with your body recently?

"Thank you, sir," the officer said, straightening, dusting off his uniform as he levelled a glare at both you and Spencer. "I was beginning to think the FBI was just a bunch of sissy's and menstruators-"

"Cut the crap." Hotch barked out, and even you were startled by the sound. "Captain, if you or any member of your precinct says anything further about any member of my team, or god forbid puts a hand on them, I'll personally make sure this office is charged with conspiracy to murder for not investigating these deaths and aggravated assault of a federal officer. Do I make myself clear?"

The man seemed displeased at having his badge threatened for a second time in 24 hours, but nodded, dismissed the other officer, and finally shut up.

He has the female receptionist from earlier show you to the room you'd be using for your investigation for the next few weeks.

After making sure the room is secure, you place a call to Penelope and the others trying to gauge if they'd found any further leads.

"Some of the family members know exactly where they were going that night. One of them had a husband, said he was going with her, that they drove in separate cars because it was part of the thrill of it all." Emily's voice sounded tense and frustrated, and you could only sympathise silently before jumping in to ask her more questions.

"I thought they said it was an adult establishment? Does that not mean strip club?" You asked, perplexed at why the married couple would be going together.

"No, from what I can tell, it seems these women were members of the BDSM community, and that place… is somewhere they can practice."

"So even if we do somehow get another victim, any DNA test could be questionable evidence because they all left to have consensual sex." You sighed out and ran a stressed hand through your hair.

On your call with JJ and Morgan, you got much of the same.

"Oh, they're angry, alright. About the immigrants and the drug dealers, the homosexuals, and the jezebels. Seems they're working hard to get the club closed not just because it's a house of sin but also because the man who owns it might be an illegal immigrant."

"How quaint and Christian of them."

"Yep, and get this, the club's official title? Women for the Grace of God. There were no men in this group, Y/N. We're not going to find our unsub here."

Hanging up, you let your head hang, the fatigue of the case really kicking your ass.

"Spencer, draw the blinds, Y/N, lock the doors." Hotch ordered, and you listened, quickly making sure that no one was even close to the door. Returning to your seat, you noted the tense set of your boss's jaw and decided that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good.

"Our unsub is in this precinct, which means we're not safe. But it also puts us in a unique position. They don't know we suspect them yet. We can force the unsubs hand."

You straightened in your chair, listening closer.

"You want to bait them out?" Spencer asked from his place beside you.

"I want you two to bait them out. You already got under a few of the officers' skin, push a few more buttons, and we could get our unsub to slip up."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" You asked, heart thumping in anticipation. You thought you already knew, but you needed to hear the words from his mouth to be sure.

"They're going after women in the BDSM lifestyle. Let's convince them that the two of you are also similarly involved."

He turned and left you with the decision then, leaving you and Spencer in the small room alone.

Your palms were sweaty, and you refused eye contact for a few minutes before he finally cracked and gave in first.

"It'd work." He whispered, suddenly closer than you remembered.

"What?"

"It would work. Whoever this guy is, he's getting off on dominating these women, seeing another man that he deems physically inferior dominating a woman who's already kicked an officers ass… that's enough to get him to crumble, slip up."

"So I'm supposed to just bend over and take it?"

"Bend over, yes, but I usually prefer women to be a bit bratty."

"What?" You found yourself blinking up at his face, even as the door swung open again, another officer walking into the small room you'd been left in.

You stepped away from Reid slightly, putting a more appropriate distance between the two of you before the man started talking.

"Well hello, I heard we had some feds in the office, thought I'd come introduce myself, but I didn't hear we had such a beautiful woman here, too. She a witness?" He directed the question to Spencer, but his leering eyes never left your body, trailing down slowly and disgustingly as you tried not to shudder under his gaze.

"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, this is my partner, Agent Y/N. How can we help you?"

"Oh, I'm all set on my medicals, doc. You can't help me. Maybe she can if you let me take her out for a test drive?" Your blood boiled as he said those words, and you were about to send a cutting reply back to the man, when Spencer sat back down in his seat, snaking an arm around your waist to take you with him.

"Sorry, I don't lend out my private property." Stunned, you tried to act naturally about your new position, but his hand on your thigh slashes your brain capacity down by half, the only thought in your head running through Spencer Reid's possible sexual preferences.

"Oh, I see how it is. She's a slut, just not that kind. Okay, I'll bite, what's this one into? Choking, spanking? Careful, don't go too far or you'll be prime suspect number one for our perp."

"What are you insinuating, officer?"

"That these sluts you're asking about got in over their heads. Some women like it rough, practically beg for it. Poor guy just did what they were asking." Biting your tongue, you let the man keep digging his own hole, as Spencer kept him talking.

"Actually, contrary to popular opinion, in most sado-masochistic relationships, the submissive partner is the one in control. They have power to stop whatever role play is going on in the scene through safe words and actions, and the dominant role is more of a protective role, requiring a deep level of commitment and care for their sub." As he said it, he turned your face to his, hooking a finger under your chin and then stroking your face as you fell further into his body.

You almost forgot the other officer was there until you heard his grumbled reply, turning your head slightly to whisper in Reid's ear.

"Long shot, Doc." With that, you climbed from his lap, turning back to the other officer with a grin.

"Sorry, was there anything professional we could help you with? Or would you like to go and deal with your little problem alone in the men's bathroom now?" He turned on his heels and exited swiftly, face red with rage at your insinuations.

"Okay. I'll admit, it's going to work. But we're going to need to set up some bait and deliver the profile to them to make sure we have each and every one of their attentions."

"I'll notify, Hotch."

"Spencer, wait." He stopped at the door and turned back to listen to you. "Earlier when you said… when you mentioned that you'd prefer…" You tried to ask the question but it seemed the question just wasn't going to form on your lips so you simply let out a small frustrated humph and let him figure out the rest.

"Y/N, I… I don't know how to answer that question and still act professionally around you."

He left the room shortly after, and you couldn't help but feel disappointed at the distance suddenly kept between the two of you. You were beginning to become much too distracted by Spencer Reid.

–X–

"Let's have another rundown again, just so we're all clear on the play by play on this." Morgan said as you and Spencer were wired up, ready for your operation.

It wasn't exactly undercover, but it wasn't quite straight police work either, but here you were. After giving the profile earlier, you'd noted that three of the officers had seemed a little bit fidgety under all the new information they were getting, all three of them matching your profile.

Unluckily for you, they just happened to be the Captain in charge of the precinct, Detective Handsy from your first trip into the office, and Detective Dumbass, who'd asked you and Spencer all about BDSM earlier that day.

Penelope had filled you in on each of their backgrounds. The Captain was second generation police force, but court of public opinion had ruled that his father wasn't exactly an upstanding guy, a report corroborated by his mother's multiple accidents and trips to the ER. Detective Handsy had a misdemeanour sex crime expunged from his juvenile record for masturbating in public - on the unconscious girl who sat next to him on the bus.

Detective Dumbass seemed to be the police contact for all the local prostitutes. He'd busted at least thirty in three months, and each of them had reportedly tried to turn him in as the John who'd paid for their services.

"Run through it again." Morgan brought you down to earth as JJ finished attaching the wire under your clothing, handing you the small in ear so you could hear updates from the team.

"We walk into the bar, get a little too close for comfort than they'd like, then ask the bartender where we can have some fun around here. She's been prepped to give us the answer we want, and we set out on the highway where Rossi and Hotch are waiting in unmarked cars to give us an escort until our unsub takes the bait and tries to pull us over."

"Good, now, Spencer, do I have to show you where to put your hands, or do you think you've read enough to figure out how to push the right buttons?" From the grin on his face, it was evident he was enjoy pushing the younger man's buttons but you could tell he wasn't doing it maliciously. The two of you were both tense and on edge, and you needed that waylaid somehow.

"Trust me, Morgan, I think he knows where his fingers should go." You said before grabbing Spencer’s hand and dragging him out of the vehicle, not letting him go until you were right by the door of the bar.

You didn't really let him go either, it's more like he caught up to you and moved his hand from yours to your ass instead, pulling you closer into his body as you made to move inside the bar.

He hesitated a moment outside, though.

"Y/N, we haven't talked about boundaries yet. I'm going to have to touch you in there and-"

"You have my permission. For anything." Your words come faster than you expect, but they're there, filling the silence of the night quickly.

"Anything?" He asks, a small play lighting up his lips as he pulls you in closer. You can feel his breath on your skin, and you almost take back your words until he lowers his head. Your lips are barely an inch apart and getting slowly closer as you angle your head up towards him, when the bar doors swing open and he turns and pulls you inside instead.

You recover quickly, trying to focus on the twelve women who need to find justice rather than the many things you suddenly want Spencer Reid to be doing to you.

You slide into a booth at the edge of the bar but you'd canvassed the place earlier, knowing that while it appeared to be a quiet corner, every other table had a clear view of your actions in the corner.

Surely enough you felt a few pairs of eyes on you as you sat down, a little closer for comfort than you expected.

"Well, Penelope's sources were correct. It seems like every cop in town is here tonight." You said, whispering the words into Spencer's neck, just above where his own wire was placed, making sure the words were heard by both him and the members of your team left in the surveillance van.

"Show time," he said, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips as you stood. He gave your ass a quick slap as you made to walk towards the bar, and you sent him back a wink as you walked to order your drinks.

Ordering them quickly, you took a simple scan of the room, noting that all three of your suspects were social butterflies tonight. They all sat on different tables, but each had at least another man with him, and every single one of them was looking at you presitorially.

Returning to your seat with the drinks, you never felt their gazes leave you.

"Certainly caught their attention. What now?" You asked hesitantly, sliding up against Spencer’s body again.

"Now we give them a show." He said, snaking a hand between your legs and forcing them apart gently. You'd changed into a shorter skirt and smaller top before coming back out, needing to look the part of the slut they'd already deemed you.

You smiled up at Spencer as he stoked your thigh suggestively, but he never moved it further up.

"Spencer, kiss me." You said, eyelids heavy as you begged the man to take you further than touching.

"Why?" He asked softly in your ear.

"Because a few of our suspects are getting restless, and I want to see if we can tip some of them over the edge. Obviously you're smarter than trying to stick your hand up my skirt in public surrounded by a group of cops who would happily stick you in a cell for the night for public indecency, so you're just going to have to stick your tongue down my throat."

"Here I was thinking maybe you wanted it," he grumbled but complied anyway, grabbing the back of your head with his free hand and pulling you towards him. The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle the way his caresses were. It was hot and it was demanding, and when he pulled away after a minute and your lips followed his desperate for more he grabbed your hair and pulled you backwards, baring your neck to him easily as he moved his lips down slightly.

Opening your eyes then, you again surveyed the bar, noting that the Captain and his friends were leaving, sending a stink eyed glare in your direction as they threw down their cups and left.

"Morgan, get eyes on the Captain. Make sure he goes home and stays there," you breathe out quietly, waiting to hear the affirmative in your ear as Spencer kept his head buried at your neck.

In another second, he was off you, taking a swig only his drink as he smoothed your hair down again. You do your best to ignore the history pooling between your legs and the haze clouding up your brain as you stare at him swallow the drink, watching a small stream of the soda you'd ordered him instead run down his chin.

You watched it fall and, in a moment of thoughtlessness, pressed forward to lap it up from his neck. He'd spent time marking you. What harm could this do now?

However you rationalised it, you knew it was just an impulse, one greatly rewarded by his hands pulling your hips over his and a growl in your ears.

"Anything?" Was the only thing he said, and you pulled away to look into his eyes again before he pulled you in for another kiss.

"Sorry to interrupt, love bunnies, but we've had a change of plan. Two of our suspects are out, and they've bailed and been safely and discreetly escorted home by FBI agents from the field office. Hotch and Rossi are on the way back. He thinks we can nail him in there and get him to act out."

Pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper your reply to Morgan into Spencer's mic, you can barely tear your eyes away from the man.

"What do you want us to do?"

"Men's bathroom is free. Hotch thinks if we make it look like you're doing something less than holy in there that it could force his hand. Especially because he's shown voyeuristic tendencies in the past."

"Shit. Detective Dumbass?"

"Only one left. And his name is Dunbar. You'd do well to remember that in the paperwork."

Pulling yourself up and out of Spencer's lap, you took a swig of your drink again as you stood.

"Follow me in three minutes." He grabs you by your wrist and turns you back around to him again, though before you can leave.

"Y/N, we're going to get this guy. After we do, I think we should talk." Instead of answering him, you pressed another lingering kiss to his lips and moved out again, heading directly to the dark corridor where the bathrooms were.

You slipped into the men's easily enough, thankful that it was empty. It was a single stall, and when you heard the knock on the door two minutes later, you were suddenly thankful that it was, because it meant that you could lock the door behind him and not risk anyone else coming in while you baited your unsub.

Spencer placed a hand to his lips as soon as he made it through the door, pulling out his phone to type out a message to you without speaking.

"Followed me. Think he's listening outside."

You pulled your own out to answer him.

"Let's give him a show then."

The both of you discarded your phones on the countertop of the bathroom and suddenly collided again, as if you were two magnets who could no longer resist the pull.

Your lips fought hungrily, and now you didn't pull back your voice letting all the moans of pleasure fall from your mouth and fill the bathroom.

His hands were on you in an instant, pushing you back against the door, letting the creep behind the wall hear as much as possible as his hips found yours and you started grinding against him like your life depended on it.

You could no longer tell what you were doing for the case, and what you were doing out of the simple desire to do so, wrapped up in all of the pleasure he was giving you in that minute. And that was before he started talking.

"You like that, whore? You like feeling my hands on you out here in this dirty bathroom." You clenched around nothing, even as his hands trailed lower, reaching the top of your skirt just as you replied.

"Yes, I like that, Daddy. Please touch me more."

You crashed together again, even as Spencer's hand fell inside your skirt and panties suddenly reaching for your clit. You forgot everything. The bathroom, the unsub, the wire you were wearing. When his hands were on you your only thoughts were him.

You gasped in delight as he began rubbing you, moaning out heartily, not bothering to restrain your voice. Even if there was not a murderer on the other side of the door, you'd have wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel.

"Kneel," he says, and you listen, getting down to the dirty floor for him and looking up at him innocently.

"Now what, sir?" You ask, teasing him with a smile. He gives your face a light slap in reply, but the sound is sharp, and you can hear some movement outside. You don't get to think about it for too long, however, as he suddenly removes his cock from his pants.

"Suck" is all the instruction you need before you're taking him into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around him.

After the entire night of teasing, you don't have to be told twice. You take him down your throat until you're gagging, but he puts his hands on your head and pushes you further anyway.

"That's it, baby, such a nice little slut just for me." He holds your hair as he begins fucking your face, softly whispering insults into the quiet bathroom.

"Perfect little slut, letting me do this here. For anyone to see and hear how much you like my dick down your throat. I should unlock this door, show everyone how nicely you take my cock."

You moan around him, desperately gripping his thigh as you struggle to breathe. He finally pulls out, pulling you up by your hair until you're face to face with him again, saliva dripping from your mouth.

"Is that how you like it?" He asks, and you nod fervently.

"Yes, sir. Please fuck me now, I've been such a good little girl."

He turns you and presses you against the door again. As you turn your ear to it, you can hear some pacing outside of it as he lifts up your skirt.

You were ready to feel this perfect bliss, right up to the moment Morgan decided to remind you of the task at hand.

"Hotch is here. We've got him cornered. Great acting, guys. We're thinking if Y/N exits the bathroom now, we can catch him trying to carry her off."

His hands stilled on you, and you both stared guiltily into each other's eyes. You kept your sounds up, definitely acting now, feeling as though you'd just been doused in ice-cold water.

Footsteps retreating down the hall had you suddenly nodding in response to each other, faking your orgasm with one last large gasp followed by a few minutes of silence and you straightened your clothes ready to bait the unsub once again. He tucks himself into his pants, and you loudly discuss your plans for separate exits.

"I'll meet you back at the table in five." He says, and with another lingering look, you're out the door and alone in the dark corridor, feeling empty and needy.

It was time to catch a killer.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #kinktober 23

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

Text

Treat You Better III

Laia Codina x Reader

Summary: You visit Spain

The language barrier posed a bit of a problem but you could get past that.

The food posed a bit of a problem but you could get past that too.

What you couldn't get past was the topless sunbathing.

You weren't prudish by any means. But you were Irish and the beaches you usually went to in Ireland were full of pebbles. You didn't sunbathe in Ireland. You just hoped that you didn't get taken out by a wave.

Spanish beaches were different though. They were sandy and the sea was calm and all of Laia's friends were stripping off their bikini tops and lying out in the sun.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline at how easily everyone did it. You hadn't experienced much cultural issues moving from Ireland to England but now you were getting the experience that Laia did.

Moving from Spain to England was a big thing, full of cultural differences that she had to adapt too. Now you're doing the same.

You didn't know the rules surrounding this so you just decided to avert your eyes and pretend that it wasn't happening.

You sat under an umbrella and contemplated whether it was rude to just duck into a shop and stay there until everyone was ready to go.

"You aren't sunbathing?"

"I'm Irish, luv," You say," I don't tan well. I burn."

"Katie tans."

"Yeah, she got lucky. I didn't."

Laia wiggles under the umbrella with you. She's shirtless just like her friends but you don't feel awkward looking at her. You've seen her naked countless times. Seeing her topless seems a little tame in comparison.

Seeing her friends and other world class footballers shirtless was a little different.

"You don't tan at all?" She pouts at you," I could have sworn you did in Australia."

"You were watching me back then?" You laugh," You little stalker."

Her cheeks turn pink. "I thought you were very pretty. It is a shame you won't try to tan here."

"I'll burn," You insist," And we'll go back to London and Katie will tease me. I'm not attempting it."

"But you tan! I know you do! I've seen it!"

"It's too much effort," You say nonchalantly," I'm happy here. I might go and buy an ice cream. I'm fine, luv."

She looks at you suspiciously, her pout getting bigger and bigger the more you attempt to get away.

"Leave her alone, Codi!" You hear someone yell, Mariona you think.

"I'm just wearing her down!" Laia yells back with a teasing smile," Don't ruin this for me!"

"Ruin this for you?" You echo," I see how it is. You want to see me topless."

She tries to deny it but her stuttered words betray her true attention.

"You're cute, luv, but no, I'm not stripping in front of your friends."

"Why not? You're not insecure are you?" Her words come out in a stream, interspersed with random kisses pressed to your face. "Because you're so beautiful and you're stunning and I think you're so much prettier than all of my friends and you shouldn't feel insecure about something like this."

"Laia-"

"Because you have nothing to feel insecure about. And I love you and-"

"Laia-"

"You should never feel bad about your body and-"

"Laia! Luv, shut up. I'm not insecure. I know I have a good body but...These are your friends and they're topless."

Laia frowns. "I don't understand."

You laugh. "It'd be like if we went to the beach with Katie and Caitlin and they whipped their tops off. You would feel a little awkward, wouldn't you?"

You can see Laia think it over for a moment. She turns it over in her mind. You can see the moment she imagines Katie topless because her eyes suddenly squeeze shut.

"I see," She admits," But you promise you do not feel insecure?"

"I promise," You say, laying a kiss on her lips," Just feeling a little awkward. I'm sure after a few more trips I'll feel more comfortable."

She beams. "You want to come back?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Laia. This is your home. These are your friends. Of course, I want to come back."

She attacks you with kisses, pinning you against your beach towel.

"Codi!" One of her friends call," Stop kissing your girlfriend! I want to go paddle boarding!"

"Go, luv," You laugh, pushing her away," We have lots of time later."

#woso x reader #laia codina x reader #laia codina #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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pia-nor481 · 5 months

Text

Oscar Piastri NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

Always cuddles, whether she's resting on his chest or him on hers. I definitely see him being lazy afterwards and is all "do we have to get up, it's so comfortable" but he knows better and does so with a groan.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

He actually really likes his cock. Not overly sure why but just does. But also his hands, they can do a lot.

I don’t think there’s one part of his partner that he doesn’t like. But he like boobs. Always has and always will. Seeing them is a pretty bra just gets him off. But he will always have an appreciation for ass.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

Oscar likes things MESSY. He will happily cum absolutely anywhere, and he comes a lot. Also taking into consideration Australia's circumcision rate of 10-20% (depending on where you look) I reckon he isn't, and so is very sensitive, so it's quite easy to make him cum.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he might really like the idea of someone watching, he’s a bit of a voyeur. Not many would believe he’s so fantastic in bed. So he’s like someone else to see and say so. Not that her body language doesn’t tell him that. He’s a bit of a show off at times. But it’s always hot.

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

Not very, but he's so willing to learn!! He wants to make her cum because she deserves. If he eats her out he doesn't expect anything back, but he'd never complain. I think he likes to do research and wants to try it out, so immediately he's telling her about this thing and he's all giddy.

F- Favourite position

Oscar loves so many positions!!! He really likes straddling positions where she's on top; any variation of cowgirl or where she's sat in his lap. But he also likes to be on top;any variation of missionary, but in particular when she has her legs around his waist and hands in his hair.

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

Definitely a mix of both. There's definitely times where nothing arousing or particularly intimate has occurred yet he really wants sex. Or times where they could have a pretty normal conversation while getting railed. But he like more serious sex too- he likes to focus on pleasure-not just cumming.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

I think Oscar's hair is the same colour. But I think he's very well groomed, although he's okay with mess (have you seen his drivers room?) I think this would be something he's quite picky about. Always trimmed to a nice length. Have you seen his happy trail? I think he’d be a little scared of razor burn (probably happened once and was suffering) so avoids them like the plague, unless she offers for him when in the shower ;)

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

I’m lead to believe he’s very romantic, he wants to show her how passionate he is. He loves her with all of his heart, and what better way to show that than pleasure. He knows that the build up to an orgasm is just as fun as the final climax so he isn’t always desperate to cum.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

In my mind he doesn’t masturbate often, but when he does he likes to tease. He uses such light pressure that he can’t get anywhere close to cumming. Or he’s so desperate that his main focus is the head, he just rubbing an open palm against the tip, moaning while is eyes roll back. However he doesn’t like to Jack off, he’d prefer her hand or mouth.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Switch- if it wasn’t made obvious I think he’s the perfect example of a switch. He’s equally as submissive as dominate, and it makes for a really good sex life. With his dominance, I think it comes mainly position and instruction; there will be times where he just picks her up by the waist, places her on the nearest surface and just fucks her brainless

Bottoming- is this even a kink? Well it’s here now. I think this came about from his little research moment, he saw a lot about how much pleasuring the g-spot could heighten his orgasm and practically begged for it.

Temperature play- I think ties into a fondness for toys. But also, now hear me out, when he’s getting a bj and there’s lots of spit on his cock, he likes when she blows air onto it, giving a cooling sensation.

Voice/sound- he loves when there’s some kind of music playing, but he also loves just hearing her voice, maybe it’s because he likes being told what to do.

Praise/degradation- this can be read in the context of either dom or sub. But he’s loves degradation with a mix of praise. “Such a slut, so good for me.” Praise him because he derives it!! But call him a slut for looking at lando like that. Oscar loves to give praise after sex, sweet nothings and pillow talk is his specialty if he’s coherent.

L- Location (their favourite place)

I’m going to have to be basic in saying the bedroom. However not just the bed. Say you’re picking out some clothes from the wardrobe, if you’re trying things on, you should know it’s not long until you’re being pushed up against the door.

Round two in the shower are a must.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

He really likes dirty talk, but the subtle kind. Or if you whisper in his ear out in public “I can’t wait to get home and have your cock in my mouth” he’s already semi hard. “I think it’s time we leave”

Lingerie- I imagine him to really like baby dolls or really pretty/ intricate bras and panties.

N- No (what turns them off)

CNC-he can’t see the appeal of it.

Spanking- I’m talking more about 5+ with the intention of it really hurting/being a punishment. He definitely likes to tap her ass. But not leave it so red and sore that she can’t sit.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

I think he may slightly prefer giving. Just seeing the pleasure he can give with his tongue/hands. He’s very skilled in eyes, I think that he’s desperate to please and so found different techniques to see what would work best. Oscar *fuck me eyes* Piastri like to be on his knees while you ride his face. However, when he sees how enthusiastic she is about blowing him, how can he say no?

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

He definitely prefers slow and sensual, but he does like it rough from time to time. He knows variety is super important and is very willing to give that. I think post race win!Oscar definitely likes hardcore, he feels like he deserves it.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

I think he can see the appeal and is quite happy that he can cum pretty fast, the risk of it is nice so he does enjoy them. But he would definitely prefer hours long to have his way with you.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He loves to experiment. He knows to switch up his technique every so often, switching from deep thrusting to short and shallow. The following week maybe he tries to milk her g-spot. He will always keep it interesting

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

I believe he can go for quite a few rounds but he has a long refractory period. You have to wait quite a few minutes to even dare to touch his cock after cumming. But it will take him a while to cum again. But he’s easy to overstimulate

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

Absolutely loves them!! His personal favourite are vibrators. He loves using them on her, as well as on himself. If he was really spending the whole night focusing on her, his mouth and hands will need a break. So he’s ready to get out a rabbit or a wand. He might like handcuffs but it can be a spur of the moment thing, even if he’s in control. The first time he used one (a vibe) on himself he came in under five minutes, and overstimmed himself. He didn’t focus on the shaft enough. But he later realised to use a slow vibration and apply less pressure. His favourite dildo is 6-inches btw.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He loves being teased but not edged. When he wants to cum he should be allowed to!! Or he’ll pout. Slowing down while blowing him is one of his favourite things. But he also loves to tease back. He’s NOT all talk. He’ll make you wait for hours before you’re allowed to cum. Only kissing around your cunt. Or just twisting/sucking your nipples. But you won’t cum. Foreplay is a favourite of his.

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

When dimming he’s not quiet, but not loud. He’s definitely making noises. He groans and had a very low moan. But the more he cums the higher and louder the moans become. He’s very breathy if that makes sense.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

He really loves flavoured lube. He’s got all of the fruity ones in the bedside table. He just thinks it’s nice to spice it up as lube isn’t just used on his cock or her cunt. Yes he does like whipped cream and sweet sauces, so he cheats on his diet quite often.

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

Definitely more thick. Although I can imagine 6/7 inches I’m not sure why.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not very, he just gets very caught up in the moment. So one day he’ll be begging for hours on end for pleasure as if he didn’t have morning sex or didn’t bend her over the sofa two hours ago. Other days he just doesn’t feel like cumming at all. But if you asked he’d definitely eat you out, or grab one of the many toys scattered around his messy room. Overall some days are 0/10 others 10/10

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Oscar Piastri sleepy boy confirmed. He loves his sleep so much, so pretty quick; especially it was very sensual and romantic. But if the sex was more rough I think the adrenaline would keep him up for quite a while.

Help why is he so pale. Like you’re from Australia babe, how are you as white as me. (I’ve not stepped foot in the sun for 3 years.)

#f1 x reader #f1 x reader smut #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #oscar piastri x reader smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar pistachio #oscar piastri x reader #oscar pastry #Oscar Piastry #oscar piastri x female reader #Oscar Piastri x fem reader smut

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confused-pyramid · 2 years

Text

While I breathe, I hope

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Aaron doesn't let people in, but when you burrow your way into his life, he finds that even the worst moments don't hurt as much...

word count: 10.1k (omg)

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), p in v, slow burn, age gap, canon!typical violence, mentions of death, drinking, angst, so much yearning, hotch is a dilf

a/n: this covers events from the beginning of season five through the end of season seven, and includes mentions to specific episodes and cases

You can't go inside. The whole team is in Hotch's hospital room, looking at his motionless body, and your feet just won't move.

It would be one thing if he was awake and talking, but the idea of seeing him just lying there, hooked up to countless tubes and a heart monitor, makes you want to throw up.

You weren't the one who went to his empty apartment. You didn't see the bloodstained carpet or the bullet hole in his drywall. If you had, you definitely wouldn't be as outwardly calm as the team thinks you are right now.

When you got the call from Emily that his things were still in his apartment, his car still outside, you thought the worst. You’re ashamed that your mind went there immediately, but it's almost like your brain was trying to prepare you, just in case.

Your back is pressed against the wall next to his room when Derek finally emerges, an impassive expression on his face.

"How is he?" you ask, your voice reverberating around your skull like an echo chamber. "Will he be okay?"

Derek looks at you for a long moment, and you can tell he's profiling you, but you don't have the energy to gripe at him today. "Yeah, he'll be okay. We briefed him on the situation. You should go in. He's awake."

He's awake. That means he's okay.

The rest of the team files out a moment later, and JJ squeezes your arm as you finally take a step into the linoleum room.

He looks better than you would have expected, considering he's been stabbed nine times.

Fuck, was it really that many?

"Hi," you croak, your voice breaking embarrassingly as you flash him a tight smile. "You look terrible."

Hotch lets out a small laugh before wincing slightly. "You wouldn't look any better after being stabbed a dozen times."

"Look who's exaggerating now. I heard it was only nine."

Only nine. You can hardly get the word out.

"You missed Haley and Jack," he says simply, but you can tell what he's really trying to say.

Where were you when I woke up?

You swallow, knowing that the truth might be more than you can bear to disclose...because he's your boss. "I had to wrap up some things with a case."

Hotch nods slowly, but he doesn't press you further. You both know you're lying, but this isn't the time for torrid confessions. His face returns to its resting stoic expression and for a moment, he looks just like he did when you saw him for the first time.

"This lecture was supposed to start 20 minutes ago," you complain, checking your watch again. "You'll forgive me if I find it hard to believe that an agent on the Behavioral Analysis Unit has better things to do than guest lecture at Quantico."

Your friend rolls her eyes before turning to you, an exasperated expression on her face. "I actually heard they're being called onto some pretty big cases these days. Did you hear about that train that got taken hostage last month? That was theirs."

You scoff, already too haughty for your own good. Getting the highest test scores in your class has filled your head with hot air. "I'll believe it when I see it."

When Aaron Hotchner eventually walked up to the podium in front of the large lecture hall, everyone was either on their phone or talking to their peers.

He taps the microphone once and leans forward, his tall stature making him tower over the stand. "Good afternoon."

Whether it was the timbre of his voice or his self-assured nature, you couldn't be sure. But within a few moments, the entire auditorium was silent.

He starts speaking again, and his voice is the only sound filling the room. "Today I'll be discussing some the recent cases my unit has worked on, and how profiling helped us solve all of them..."

Your first thought as he begins his lecture is, 'He's handsome.' The next is a bit more professional: 'I want to have that kind of effect on a room.'

You graduate from the Academy a month later, and within the week, your application to be assigned to the BAU is on his desk.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask, suddenly eager to get out of this sterile, fluorescent-lit room. "Coffee? Jello? Tequila?"

He laughs again, but this time he manages to move less, so as not to shift his bandages. "Just water would be great."

You nod and dip your head down before leaving the room, the tension leaving your shoulders when you walk into the hall.

"He seems good," you tell the team when you find them around the corner by the nurse's station. "Really good."

"Yeah, kid," Rossi smiles, patting your shoulder. "He's a tough one."

You fill a paper cup with water from the fountain and are about to take it back to Hotch, when Emily catches your arm, taking the cup from you.

"I got it," she assures you, before shooting a nearly imperceptible glance at JJ that you wouldn't have noticed before joining the unit.

Rossi, Morgan, and Reid start walking back to the waiting area, and you move to follow them, but JJ catches your arm, holding you back firmly.

She cocks her head to the side, her eyes serious, but not unkind. "Come with me."

"Look," you say as JJ leads you to the opposite side of the waiting room. "I know I'm the youngest, but I really don't need a babysitter."

She shakes her head, motioning for you to sit down next to her. You sigh, sinking down onto the vinyl covered cushion, even though every muscle in your body wants to avoid what is coming.

"We all know you and Hotch are close," she says softly, her tone diplomatic. "We just want you to know that you're not alone, and that we're all here for you."

Close. You're not sure if that’s an overstatement or an understatement. He has definitely opened up to you a lot more since you joined the team, but you don't know if you can classify your relationship as anything more than professional.

A small voice in the back of your mind scoffs. You can't even convince yourself.

***

Aaron can't help but feel slightly disappointed when Emily enters his room with his water, instead of you.

"Surprised to see me?" she asks conspiratorially, and he isn't sure what he's supposed to be hiding.

"No," he frowns, trying in vain to sit up a bit straighter, "I thought- well, never mind now. Thank you for bringing the water."

"We're all really glad you're okay," she tells him, leaving a soft pat on his covers. "We'll find this son of a bitch before he can hurt anyone else."

He appreciates her sentiment, but the fear he feels for Haley and Jack - his family - still burrows deep in his bones.

Emily doesn't stay long, and soon the familiar silence envelopes him once again. Ever since Haley left him, his apartment hasn't felt like home. Not really.

He started staying at work later and later, coming home only to shower and get a few hours of sleep. It certainly wasn't healthy, but after getting stabbed in the place he was supposed to feel the safest, it is all he can do to keep going.

The silences had felt safe at first, but then you started coming over, dropping by randomly when you knew he would be home, and he finally began to understand what being safe was really supposed to feel like.

You are so young, barely 27, but you are one of the best agents he has hired straight from Quantico. When your application arrived on his desk, after a thorough review from Strauss and the director, he had been certain that you wouldn't be a good fit for the BAU. But then he met you.

"You were the top of your class," he observes, his eyes trained on your file that he has laid open on his desk.

He hasn't looked up since you sat down, but he has clocked everything about you. The way your hair is pulled back from your face, as if to present yourself fully and openly. The firm set of your shoulders as you sit forward in the chair. Even the small, loose thread on your blazer that you must have missed when you were likely inspecting your clothes that morning.

You nod, clearly proud of your academic accomplishments. Aaron is the last person who would fault someone for taking pride in their achievements, but he also can't shake the feeling that you may just be another one of the 'rich girls' he knew in law school. The trust fund kids and Senators' daughters who knew just how smart they were...and knew exactly how to use it to their advantage.

"Your academic record is quite impressive, and you scored well in physical fitness," he continues, quickly realizing that he doesn't exactly have any concrete grounds on which to reject you.

"Thank you," you smile, your hands folded in your lap. "I would love to work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. One of my favorite classes at the Academy was in behavioral science, and I know how important the work you all do here is. I also got a chance to talk to some of the team before this interview, since I got here a bit early..." You let out a small laugh, and he can tell that it's mostly for your benefit, to lighten the tension. "...and everyone seems really nice. Agent Morgan is clearly a natural leader, especially with how he carries himself in front of the team, and Doctor Reid gave me some statistics about the rate of Academy grads who get into various fields across the agency."

You trail off as your rambling winds to a close, and suddenly Aaron isn't sure what to make of you anymore.

"Doctor Reid is a genius," Hotch agrees, before cracking the faintest smile, "but he can take some getting used to."

You shake your head, possibly misinterpreting his comment, but trying to clear the air nonetheless. "Not at all! It was incredible speaking to him. I think I learned more just this morning than I have since I graduated."

A slight flush colors the top of your chest as you gush about your experiences and Aaron finds that your curiosity and keen senses (and warmth) are the exact characteristics that will serve you well here. He is pleased that you got along with the team, and that's when he realizes there is no point in trying to find a reason to reject you.

You're already in.

***

It still hurts when he breathes in too quickly, but after three weeks of recovering in his empty apartment, Aaron is ready to return to work.

You've been keeping him up to date with the cases that the team has been working on, but it's not the same as being in the thick of it. After years of constant motion and always being on his toes, this last month of medical leave has made him feel like he's decomposing.

He only gets up to eat, shower, or, you know, and he misses being around people every day. He misses being around you.

As if his thoughts conjured you into being, a knock sounds at his door, and he gets up with a grunt when he hears your voice announcing your presence.

It takes him ages to get to the door, but once he gets it open, he sees you standing in front of him with a plastic bag in one hand and a bottle in the other. He's surprised to see you, but he's also very very pleased.

"I brought takeout," you smile, your eyes glinting in the dim light of the hallway, "and sparkling cider."

His eyebrows raise at the latter, and you roll your eyes dramatically, following him inside. "Considering all the medications you're probably hopped up on right now, I made the tactical choice not to bring alcohol over here."

He chuckles, watching as you remove containers of steaming Thai food from the bag. "A sound decision."

"How are you feeling?" you ask once you're both settled on the couch, a plate of uneaten noodles resting on your lap. "Do you think you'll be ready to come back soon?"

"It's not up to me," he sighs, his eyes following the movement of your fork across your plate. Why aren't you eating?

"Well, you can tell those doctors at St. Sebastian's that I said you look great."

His heart rate jumps before the meaning of your words sinks in. But the warm shade of mauve that flushes across your chest says otherwise.

"I just mean that you look fine," you correct, clearing your throat. "Healthy."

He nods, not wanting to embarrass you, but a fire courses through his veins as he watches the telltale signs of attraction wash over you. Darkening of the eyes, flushing of the skin, eye contact.

Aaron would be lying if he said that he never noticed the way your eyes lingered on him across the conference room. He had chalked it up to a schoolgirl crush, but could a temporary infatuation really explain the relationship that had developed between the two of you?

You were the first person he looked for when he walked into work in the mornings, the first opinion he sought out when testing a new theory. How much longer could he pretend that what he felt for you was strictly professional?

"How are Haley and Jack doing?" you ask, jerking him from his thoughts.

"About as well as you can imagine," he says sincerely, his expression falling as he thinks about how long it has been since he has seen his son. "It's tough being under constant watch."

Ever since Foyet practically called them out by name, they've been assigned a protection detail and kept away from anything to do with the case...which includes him.

"We'll find him, Aaron," you whisper, your eyes glowing with genuine earnestness. "We have to."

He nods, and only then do you finally take a bite of your food.

"I'm sorry, I just don't like red wine," you laugh, taking a sip from your chilled glass of white. "I'd much rather just have a beer."

Rossi scoffs, his "Kiss the Cook" apron lending him very little authority. "That's because you've never had real, good wine. Your $7 grocery store wines don't count either, kid."

Leaning your forearms on the island counter in the center of Rossi's kitchen, you shoot Hotch a look that says 'help me out here', but he just shakes his head, smiling at you from over the rim of his glass.

"Okay," Emily nods, taking a seat next to you. "I'll bite. Let's see this fancy red wine you've been raving about."

"Not yet," Rossi says, waving his hand at you both as he carefully stirs marinara sauce into his handmade pappardelle. "Red wine cannot be truly enjoyed unless it is taken with authentic Italiano."

It takes everything in you not to snort, but you bite your tongue and take another sip of your white wine.

"I hope you're prepared to finish what you started here," a deep voice rumbles from behind you.

Hotch comes up next to you, his hip resting against the counter as he turns to face you. "David won't give up until he gets you to concede."

"I can handle myself," you smirk, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Besides, when have you ever known me to turn away from a challenge."

He's about to say something witty, but then the edge of your lips curves up and you wink at him, and suddenly every thought he has ever had has mysteriously disappeared.

You can't stop laughing, even though it really isn't that funny. "Kevin asked you for advice on how to ask Penelope out on a date?"

Aaron nods, his lips twitching as he tries not to laugh. "He was very earnest, but I didn't think his prospective relationship with our tech analyst was more pertinent than finding a missing girl."

"He asked you in the middle of a case?!" you squeak, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you shake with laughter.

He lets himself go a bit and a bright grin spreads across his face. Your laugh is like music and he finds that his wounds don't hurt as much anymore.

The drinks don't have any alcohol in them, but he still feels lighter than he has in months, and he feels himself wishing that you could be here with him all the time.

"Yup," he confirms, shaking his head. "Reid was with me as well, and I thought his jaw would fall off with how far open his mouth was."

"Oh my goodness," you gasp, trying to control the giggles bubbling up inside of you. "Speaking of Reid...he really needs a haircut."

This finally breaks him and Hotch lets out a loud hoot of laughter. You almost forget to worry about whether his scar tissue is hurting him, because he looks so happy for the first time in what feels like forever.

Your heart warms in your chest and as you lean back on his new couch, you realize that you would come over to his place with takeout and cider every night until the end of time if it meant he would keep smiling at you like that.

***

Your ears are still ringing even in the eerie silence. Three gunshots and a choked sob and then nothing.

Your SUV feels like it's barely moving, even though the speedometer is hovering around 90, but somehow when you skid to a stop in front of the Hotchner family home, there's only one other SUV parked out front.

You throw yourself out of the car, running as fast as you can into the house, your gun at the ready in front of you. It takes a long time - too long - to make it up the stairs, but the moment you hear the forlorn mix of thuds and sobs, you're running again.

Please let him be okay. Please let them all be okay.

You burst into the room as Hotch pounds into Foyet, his bloody face practically unrecognizable as he gets shredded to a pulp.

"Aaron," you gasp, sinking to your knees and throwing your arms around him from behind. "He's dead. You have to stop."

It takes a few more moments, but eventually his hands stop throwing punches. His knuckles are covered in blood and his hands shake violently as he leans into you, his body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs.

Tears prick your eyes as you hold him tightly, working off the futile hope that if you squeeze hard enough, all of the pain and horror will go away.

Loud footsteps reverberate around the house and you relax when you hear Emily and Derek's voices behind you. They fall silent when they see the two of you, but you're unable to focus on anything other than keeping the man in front of you in one piece for as long as possible.

"Wait," you mutter suddenly, the team's arrival bringing you back to reality. "Jack?"

Aaron's body stiffens against yours and he practically springs off the ground, pushing through all the officers and agents that have entered the house since you arrived. You race after him, following as he runs into his home office and opens a small compartment under his window seat.

When Jack's small face peers back at you, the entire house lets out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, buddy," Aaron whispers, pulling Jack into a lumbering hug.

Jack looks at all of us over his shoulder, his eyes full of a youthful innocence that tugs at your heartstrings. "I worked the case, Dad, just like you said."

"Yes," Hotch nods, the tension in his body slowly seeping away, "you did a great job, buddy."

***

The funeral is somber and beautiful, even before the snow starts falling. JJ and Will nod at you from across the lawn as you make your way along the sidewalk, a few steps behind Derek, Emily, Reid, and Rossi.

You feel a light pat on your hand and you look down to see Jack looking back at you. You press your lips into a thin smile and take his hand, trying to warm up his chilly fingers with your glove.

"Let's find your Aunt Jess," you tell him as you wade between the crowd, all dressed in black.

When Jack is safely tucked under his aunt's arms, you trudge back over to where the team is all standing together. Rossi holds his arm out and you latch onto him with a grateful nod.

"Will this ever end?" you whisper, unable to keep the pain festering inside of you for a moment longer. "The pain can't go on forever, can it?"

He brings his other hand up and lays it on top of yours, holding you to him for a small, comforting moment.

"It will feel like forever," he sighs, his usually reassuring voice suddenly low and anguished, "but it won't be...and that's the important thing."

Haley's casket is carried up the snow-blanketed hill and when the proceedings begin, you watch as Aaron clasps his hands together, his head permanently dipped down.

You can feel his sadness from here, and you would give anything to be able to take it away, but this isn't the time. This is the time for remembrance and appreciation of the life Haley lived. The loyal friend, the loving wife, the devoted mother.

Jessica squeezes your hand as she passes by you, and when she makes her way up to the front, Aaron begins his eulogy.

"Haley was my best friend since we were in high school..."

***

Even when it seems like nothing will ever be the same, things eventually manage to return to normal. Jessica has been helping out with Jack when Hotch is at work, but you can see the strain being a single father is putting on him.

When the team is called to a small fishing town in rural Alaska, you can feel the stress emanating off of him from being so far from Jack for so long, but he doesn't let it get in the way of the work. He never does.

"I've got four of the upstairs rooms available," Rhodes, the police chief, explains when you all arrive at the singular lodge in town.

Uh, four?

"Uh, four?" Derek asks, echoing your thoughts.

Rhodes sighs, clearly starting to regret calling us at all. "Your team is double the size of my department."

When we don't say anything, he shakes his head and bids us goodbye. "I'll see you in the morning."

When he leaves, Hotch turns to us. "Looks like we'll have to double up."

"I'm not sleeping with Reid," Derek points, shaking his head.

You stifle a laugh when Garcia immediately latches onto Derek, piping up with a "Dibs!"

By the time night falls, you end up bunking with Garcia, which works just fine for you, except for the fact that you can't sleep.

Penelope has been out like a light since everyone called it a night an hour ago, but you've been staring at the ceiling, unable to catch a wink.

A half hour later, you finally give up, grabbing your files and shutting the door quietly behind you. You tiptoe down the stairs, hoping that the small seating area in the lobby will be empty, but when it comes into view, you spot someone sitting in front of the crackling fireplace.

"I want to dance!" JJ announces, clapping her hands together as she bounces on her toes. "I love this song."

"You go right on ahead, darlin'," Will says, pressing a kiss to her temple.

JJ shoots him a knowing look that feels so familiar it makes your chest hurt. You would give anything to have that sweet domesticity with someone you loved.

"If you won't join me, then my girls will," she fires back, reaching out to grab at your hands.

Emily and Penelope start to shake their heads, but JJ looks so excited that you can't help but mirror her enthusiasm.

"Okay," you nod, taking her hand. "I'm in."

She grins back at you and shoots Will and the guys a proud look, before pulling you into the crowd with her. It's clear that she's had a couple more drinks than she should have, but as long as she's having fun, who were you to stop her?

With the bustling throng of bodies filling the bar, you can hardly believe that Rossi's favorite joint is about to close for good.

The bar is pumping a bright Abba song through the rickety speakers and you sway your hips to the melodic beat as JJ gyrates in front of you. Your eyes fall closed as you lift your hands above your head, trying to find the rhythm over the loud buzz of conversation around you.

Your eyes snap open when JJ squeals again, signaling the arrival of Derek and Penelope to the dance floor, and you grin at them as he holds her hands and twirls her around deftly.

You turn around, scanning the crowd for a familiar face - well, one in particular - when you land on Rossi, who smiles at you. You grin brightly, waving at him, but he heads to the bar to get another drink, shrewdly managing to avoid your call for him to come join you all.

Your line of sight wanders again, this time landing on the person you were looking for. Aaron doesn't smile back immediately, his gaze slightly hazy, but then he lifts his glass in a pseudo-salute, his eyes never leaving yours.

You know this isn't his usual scene, so you don't try to get him to join you on the dance floor, but when he reaches up to unbutton his collar, you feel a breathlessness you haven't experienced since your first kiss.

The rest of the bar fades away and the loud voices around you quiet to a murmur. Hands grab at your shoulders, but your body feels far away as your eyes stay locked on his, diving deeper and deeper, trying to see every inch of him.

You love him, you know you do. You can try to ignore it for as long as you want, but that won't change the truth.

You're in love with him.

You snap back to reality when Penelope yells your name, and you shake your head, trying to clear the feelings that are rising inside of you.

Your brain feels warm and fuzzy as you return to your friends, and you're not sure if you can blame it on the alcohol anymore.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask rhetorically as you take a seat on the well worn couch, next to Hotch. He's still in his clothes from earlier, but his sleeves are pushed back and his tie is hanging loosely around his neck.

He looks hauntingly beautiful with the firelight gleaming against his skin. You want to lean in and press your lips against his —

He shakes his head. "You too?"

You don't respond, instead reaching forward to lay your case file on the wooden coffee table.

"There's something off about this place," you eventually say, trying to describe what you've been feeling since you arrived. "I feel like something bad is going to happen."

He nods, setting down the files he was working on. "I think I understand what you mean. The kills have been so horrific, I'm shocked that the town hasn't already imploded just from trying to find the killer on their own."

"That's not- I don't mean..." you struggle to find the right words. "I'm scared for the team. I feel like we're all so strung out that one bad case, one bad outcome, could break us."

You don't know where this is coming from, and you can tell he doesn't know what to make of it either, but you're glad it's out there. Anything is better than the pit you feel in your stomach every time he - any of them - gets too close to a place they can never come back from.

Before he can react, you lean your cheek on his shoulder, a sigh of relief leaving your body as his fire-warmed skin burns into you through the thin fabric of his button-down.

This is the closest he has ever been to you, and the warmth of your smooth skin against his makes his breath catch in his throat.

He whispers your name and it comes out more like a gasp than a warning.

"Please," you breathe, turning your face so that you are looking at the fire. "Please, just...can we just sit here for a moment."

He knows what this will mean for your relationship going forward, knows that nothing can be the same if he lets this continue, but he can't bring himself to move.

The words flash in his mind before he can shut them off, and he closes his eyes, savoring them for as long as he can before reality is sure to set in.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Eventually, the fire will die out and the morning light will filter through the windows, and the world will come rushing back. But for now, it's just you two. So instead of doing what he would've done not six months ago...instead of standing up and telling you to go to bed, he stays still. Instead of stopping this at the root, before it can blossom into something he can't control, he sits there, with you at his side, for more than just a moment.

***

When Aaron pulls you aside in the hospital to explain the plan to fake Emily's death, you can barely breathe.

"You mentioned in your department file that you have contacts in Paris," Hotch is saying as you struggle to quiet the buzzing noise in your skull, "and we need them to help her lay low for a while as we figure out the Ian Doyle situation."

You remember nodding and giving him the information he needs, but everything else that happens that night is a blur. You can't remember who broke the news that Emily was gone, or where you went when you couldn't stand to be in that hospital anymore, or even how you got home.

All you know is that it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to tell the team the truth. Their gaunt faces stare back at you every morning for weeks, and somehow, at the same time, you have all the power in the world to help them, but also none at all.

You swear you can hear the crack of your heart when Spencer comes to your apartment every other night, tears spilling onto his cheeks, and at first, Aaron is the only person you can be yourself around.

But then he leaves too, and that's when the ground truly starts to cave in around you.

***

"Hey," you say softly, pressing the satellite phone to your ear. "How are you?"

Derek had handed you the phone after debriefing Hotch on the Doyle investigation, and now he was downstairs with rest of the team.

"It's getting harder to find leads over here, but we're still working," Aaron tells you, a quiet static coloring his voice. "How are...how is Jack?"

You press your lips together, trying to hold in the anger that has been bubbling up inside of you for months. "He's really good. Jessica is great with him."

Since Aaron left for his assignment in Pakistan, you have been spending more and more time with Jack. He's a sweet kid, and since you can't be there for any of your work family, the absolute least you can do is be there for a boy who doesn't have his mother or his father right now.

"Will you be home soon?" Your voice sounds different to your own ears. Tinny. Distant.

"I don't know," he says truthfully, his voice giving away nothing.

There's a pause on his end of the line and when he starts speaking again, his voice is clearer than before. "I know how hard all of this has been on you...I'm sorry."

Anger flares in your veins and you bite your lip as you hear quiet laughter filter up from the bullpen. "Hard? Yeah, it's been really damn hard to come in to work every day and lie to the people I care about most in this world."

You can hear the slight catch in his breath, but it only spurs you on. "I'm sure it's much easier to hide from the team when you're all the way across the freaking world."

He says your name, his tone not so much warning as it is fervent. Your finger moves to the 'off' button and you don't wait for his response before you mutter a quick "I have to go" and press down.

When you go back to your quiet apartment that night, the solitude feels almost overwhelming. You set your bag on your coffee table and pull your shoes off on the way to the master bathroom, where you strip off your clothes in one go.

Your shower is set so hot that steam fills the bathroom within minutes of you stepping inside. The scalding water burns away the pain and loneliness of the day, and for a few moments, you can just stand there and not think.

When you close your eyes, you can almost imagine that he's still here. That the searing rivulets that glide down your body are his fingers and that the hands that are holding you and comforting you with their warmth aren't just falling water.

It takes you a few minutes to realize that the tracks running down your face aren't coming from the cascade above you. The sobs you've learned to hold in and keep quiet start gurgling in your chest, and before you can tamp them down, they burst out in full force.

Your knees give out and you crumble to the floor of your shower. The salt of your tears mixes with the water around you and for the first time ever, you hate him almost as much as you love him.

***

Everyone looks just as confused as you do when they are called into the office extra early for seemingly no reason. You all meet in the conference room, trying to figure out what kind of case could be so secretive that none of you were briefed, when a figure appears in the doorway.

"Welcome back," Derek mutters from across the room, but you can't take your eyes off of Aaron (and his beard?).

"You're back," you exhale, equal amounts of joy and fury flooding your system.

"Everyone," he nods, motioning to you all, "take a seat."

Everyone sits down obediently, and then he dives into the speech that you have both dreaded and looked forward to for months.

"Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team."

The lying is finally over.

"As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle."

They look so confused. God, why can't he get to the point.

"But the doctors were able to stabilize her."

There it is. She's okay. Emily is alive, and she's okay.

"Her identity was strictly need-to-know."

They look so betrayed. You've been lying to them for months, of course they feel betrayed.

"She's alive?" Penelope asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer gapes. "...But we buried her."

Aaron closes his eyes for a moment, and you can see the emotions swirling inside of his head. Pain, anger, self-hatred.

"If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me."

"Who else knew?" Derek yells, his eyes brimming with hurt.

Aaron's eyes flash to you for barely a moment, but it's enough. They all turn to you, disbelief coloring their features.

"This whole time?" Reid mutters, his eyes not fully meeting yours. "You knew this whole time?"

You are spared from answering when Emily steps into the doorway, a shawl thrown over her shoulders. You know you don't deserve the reunion as much as they all do, but seeing her is still a shock.

Even though you were privy to the details of her re-assignment, you haven't seen her since that day at the hospital either. Penelope and Spencer rush forward, pulling her into desperate hugs that burn your throat with tears.

Morgan is standing still, his hands motionless on the back of one of the conference room chairs.

"Derek," you plead, trying to catch his eye. "I'm so sorr-"

He doesn't let you finish, his hand coming up in an evasive gesture. "Save it."

A sob catches in your throat and you walk out of the room.

***

Aaron's apartment building looks exactly the same as it did seven months ago, when you came to say goodbye before he left for Pakistan.

You sit in your car for what feels like hours, but when you finally step out onto the street, it's only been ten minutes.

After Hotch broke the news to the team, you went home in a haze, unsure of how you were even able to drive. Hours of sitting by yourself in the dark didn't do anything to change your mental state, and you were already in the car when you realized what was eating at you.

Now you are in front of his door and you can hear his footsteps getting closer and closer. When the door opens, you push past him, swiveling your head as you look around the apartment.

"Is Jack here?" you ask, searching for his telltale head of blonde hair.

Hotch shakes his head, clearly confused. "He's with Jess until tomorrow."

You nod, trying to formulate what you want to say in your head. There are so many words swirling around your brain, but nothing feels just right.

"What's going on?" he asks, taking a step towards you. "Are you doing okay?"

That's what breaks you.

"Am I doing okay?" you cry, your hands coming up to rake your hair back. "Emily's finally back, and I can't even enjoy it, because the whole team hates me."

"I'm sorry," he says, his brow furrowing. He takes another step toward you. "They're going to hate me too, if that makes you feel any better."

You scoff, turning away from him as you pace across his living room. "They'll never hate you as much as they hate me, because you weren't here. You weren't the one lying to their faces everyday for seven months. I was!"

He deflates, and suddenly he looks smaller than you've ever seen him before. "I'm so sorry for putting you in that position. I can't imagine how painful it would have been to lie to the team for so long."

He's saying all the right things and that only makes you angrier.

"You don't get it," you grit out, your fingers pressing into the back of your neck. "They had each other. All those months they were grieving, at least they were together. For a second, I had you, but then you left me and I was all alone."

Your voice breaks on the last word and he reaches forward as you fall into his arms, sobs wracking your body. "I missed you. When you left, I hated you, but I still missed you every day you were gone."

Your face burrows into the crook of his neck as he holds you tightly in his arms, his strong body holding you up as your legs threaten to give out. He smells different, like pepper and smoke, and you resist the urge to breathe him in now that he's finally here.

When you pull back, you stay in the circle of his arms, relishing the way his hands feel resting against your lower back. It's almost comforting to know that your body still reacts to him the same way it did seven months ago.

He's so close to you that you can feel his breath on your nose. If you tilted your head back your lips would brush his, and it takes everything in you not to give in.

But then the familiar warning bells go off in your brain and you take a step back. You aren't completely in the dark. You know that he feels something for you that isn't strictly professional, but you also know that if you lost him the way he lost Haley, you wouldn't be able to handle it. At least not with the grace that he has.

Your expression falls and his eyes fill with pain. "I shouldn't have left. I was wrong. Please forgive me."

"That's the problem," you sigh, resisting the disturbing urge to laugh at how deep inside of you he has burrowed himself. "I forgave you the moment you walked through the door."

***

Emily's return softens the blow of what you and Aaron had done, so by the time Ian Doyle is killed and the case is finished, the whole team is mostly working together cohesively again.

Spencer and Derek didn't speak more than a few words to you for weeks afterward, but when Emily made it clear that it was her life that hung in the balance, they eventually came around.

With the Senate hearings and Congressional oversight starting to take a backseat, the team was finally getting a chance to loosen up, and after investigating a serial killer in Atlanta, you all decided to make a day out of cheering on Aaron at the FBI triathlon.

Jack holds your hand as you lead him through the small crowd that has gathered by the finish line. The rest of the team is already there, leaning against the barricade, and Derek props Jack up on his shoulders when he gets to the front. He waves his big sign in the air and you grin as he cheers loudly, even though nobody has made it to the finish line yet.

"Do you see him, Uncle Dave?" Jack asks as he starts to get bored.

Rossi peers out across the trail. "Yeah, buddy, I think I do!"

You all turn to see Aaron jogging across the grassy expanse, his running form impeccable (of course). Everyone starts cheering and when he sees you all, a smile crosses his face, his eyes glinting with joy and amusement.

"Running should be illegal," you complain as Aaron pads along a few feet ahead of you, his skin barely starting to glisten while yours is covered in sweat. "How far are we now? We've definitely done at least a half-marathon."

He snorts, checking his fitness tracker. "We're halfway through the second mile."

You groan, slowing to a stop and putting your hands on your knees. "I have no idea how I scored so well on my academy physical. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"How old does that make me?" he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up.

You shake your head, lifting up a finger as you ask for another minute. "If we're talking in terms of physical fitness, you may just be younger than me, Hotchner."

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly before patting your back and nodding. "Come on, let's keep going."

You groan again, this time more dramatically, but you start jogging alongside him, making a genuine effort to keep up. "Okay, so you can run. Well, need I remind you that a triathlon has three events...my money's on the swim taking you out."

His eyes twinkle like bright stars and you have to look away, pretending that the sun's in your eyes. "I think I can handle myself. Besides, I have a much better chance of completing the swim than the bike ride at this point."

"Well," you grin, speeding up a bit to run a few steps ahead, "you know what they say about riding a bicycle!"

"Thank you guys for coming," he says sincerely after hanging his medal around Jack's neck.

"Oh, we wouldn't miss it," Derek grins, smacking him on the back playfully.

"How do you feel?" Rossi asks.

Aaron sighs, a small grin appearing on his face. "I'll survive."

Jack patters around the group and reaches forward to grab your hand again, and you don't miss the look in Aaron's eyes when you take it.

The sweet domesticity you wanted. This is it.

Your chest burns with tears and you clear your throat, squeezing Jack's hand and helping him roll up his poster.

"Okay, drinks tonight," Rossi announces suddenly, clapping his hands together. "On me!"

That gives you all another reason to cheer, and you lead Jack to Hotch's car as JJ loops her arm through yours.

Penelope and Derek walk a few paces behind you, arms linked, and Emily, David, and Spencer are deep in conversation about something you probably wouldn't understand.

The team feels like a family again.

Happy tears sting your eyes and you blink them away, hoping no one noticed. But when you look up to find Aaron's car, he's already watching you, and you could have sworn his eyes were glinting too.

***

The whole team is crowded around one booth in the back of the fancy bar that Rossi selected for tonight's celebration. You are squished between Aaron and Penelope, and the conversation has gone from the average running speed of adult males (Reid's idea) to how many shots would you need before you'd be willing to go and dance in front of the whole team (Emily's).

Your empty vodka tonic is sitting on the table in front of you, condensation dripping onto the dark wood as the ice melts.

"I'm going to get another drink," you announce, before pushing past Hotch and Rossi and slinking up to the bar.

"Can I get a cosmopolitan?" you ask the bartender, who nods at you before turning around to make your drink.

You drum your fingers against the counter as you wait, but it doesn't take long before a tall, blonde man who looks to be about your age sidles up next to you.

"What are you having?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in a way that you're sure he thinks is seductive.

"I'm already set," you tell him, turning your body away slightly, "but thanks."

"I saw you with your group earlier," he continues as you flash your eyes at the bartender in a signal you hope conveys that you need him to hurry up. "Unless you're with the nerdy one, I'm not sure what the problem is."

"The problem," you explain, your jaw clenching as your drink finally lands on the counter, "is that I'm not interested."

You grab your drink and immediately turn around, but thankfully Emily and JJ have come up to order new drinks too. Clearly outnumbered, the man shakes his head and leaves you alone.

Aaron hasn't taken his eyes off you since you got up from the booth. When a man approached you at the bar, he felt the first inkling of jealousy scrape through his bones, but your body language quickly made it clear that you weren't interested, and that you could handle yourself.

He probably should be a bit more careful with how much he watches you, especially when surrounded by a band of profilers, but sometimes, when the day comes to a close, and he's had a drink or two, his shields fall down and he allows himself a moment to just...pretend.

Pretend that what you feel for each other is something he can act on. Pretend that you are someone he can look for in a bar. Someone he can call his.

He's lost in his thoughts when David mutters something from next to him.

"What was that?" he asks, turning his head to hear him better.

Dave repeats himself. "It's okay, you know."

Aaron frowns. "What are you talking about."

"What you feel for her...it's okay."

His brow furrows and a pained look crosses his face. They were bound to notice eventually, and he would have had to tell them at some point. If not now, when? "It doesn't feel okay all the time."

Dave sighs, his fingers running over the side of his whiskey glass. "When you're with her...does it make everything else hurt less?"

Aaron shoots him a look that's a mix between confusion and exasperation, but when he thinks about the question, all he can hear in his head is yes, yes, a resounding yes.

Dave must see it on his face, because he smiles and shrugs. "Then how can it be wrong?"

He turns to look at you again, but this time the lights in the bar feel brighter than before. The music sounds clearer and the smile on your face sets his whole chest ablaze.

When you return to the table, you finish your drink, but you don't go back for another. You've noticed Aaron looking at you here and there throughout the night, but you're not sure if it's just your imagination or if you're tipsier than you thought.

The team is laughing around you, and Aaron's thigh feels warm pressed against yours. You haven't been this happy in ages.

***

After what has easily been the most taxing case of your life, the weekend comes to a close with an evening you have all been waiting for almost as long as JJ and Will have.

"You clean up well," you joke as Aaron walks into Rossi's backyard, where the rest of you are scattered around, talking to the wedding guests.

He's wearing a clean, black tux that fits him perfectly.

"You think so?" he asks, the ghost of a smirk in his eyes. "You look beautiful."

You smile in response, letting him lead you to the back of the patio, where rows of folding chairs have been set up. He looks better, lighter, than you've seen him in a while. It suits him.

JJ and Will get married in an elegant ceremony that leaves no more than a few dry eyes in the audience, and when they take to the floor for their first dance, you sip your champagne from a table off to the side.

Aaron is watching Spencer do magic tricks in front of the children, and he's wearing one of his secret, dazzling smiles that he only brings out when he thinks no one is watching.

"This seat taken?"

You turn to see Emily's hand on the chair next to you, and you shake your head, smiling as she takes a seat.

"You look wonderful," you tell her, patting her hand on the table. "I'm so glad you're here. You were amazing this weekend. This wedding wouldn't be happening without you."

She laughs, taking a sip of champagne. "I'll be sure to tell Will you said that."

You chuckle, settling into a comfortable silence that is only really possible with people you know as well as you know this team.

Emily adjusts her dress and you think she's going to get up and re-join the group, but then she takes you completely by surprise. "You should go for it."

You look at her, confused. "Huh?"

Deep down, you know what she's referring to, but if you can play dumb for a few more moments, you won't miss out on the opportunity.

"You and Hotch. You should go for it."

You open your mouth to respond, but she gets up and leaves you to mull over her words.

When Rossi asks everyone to join the newly married couple on the dance floor, you assume that you'll just hang off to the side with Reid, but then you get your second surprise of the night.

"Care to dance?"

Aaron holds his hand out, only mostly certain that you will accept. When you take his hand, he's as much relieved as he is pleased, and he leads you out into the center of the clearing.

Your hand finds his shoulder as his slips onto your waist, and you fall into an easy rhythm as you look up at him, a smile on your face. You look radiant under the twinkling fairy lights, and he has to tear his eyes away from you when you lean in closer to rest your chin on his shoulder.

His arms envelope you as your chests press together, your breaths going in and out in unison.

You peer over his shoulder, watching as Derek and Penelope laugh in the corner, and Emily tries to teach Spencer how not to step on her feet.

"Jack looks happy," you whisper as your eyes land on the children playing off to the side.

"He is," Aaron agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. After a pause, his head dips down and his cheek presses against your temple. "We are."

***

When the night comes to a close, you are looking for Emily, since she drove you to Rossi's house, but a pat on your shoulder stops you in your tracks.

"I can take you home," Aaron says, his eyes filled with an earnest look that has you nodding before you can even process the offer.

The car ride is nearly silent during the short trip back to your apartment, but when he pulls up in front of your building, you can't bring yourself to open the door.

You can feel a tension in the air, the same one that has been building for years, and for some reason, tonight, you're not scared of it anymore.

"Aaron..." you whisper, turning to look at him, but he cuts you off.

"I love you."

Your breath leaves your lungs and you open your mouth to say it back, but he keeps going.

"I'm not some young player anymore," he says, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth as he speaks. "I think you know what I feel for you. I think you've known for some time."

You've forgotten how to speak. "I didn't know for sure."

"I know why you never brought it up," he whispers, his voice tight with emotion, "but even though she's gone, I know she wouldn't have wanted me to be alone forever."

None of the words floating around your brain seem good enough, and you can't think, so you just lean forward and kiss him.

His lips are softer than you imagined, and after a moment of indecision, he reaches up and threads his fingers through your hair, holding you against him. The kiss is sweet and it feels like the perfect start to something new and fresh, but then his tongue slips along the seam of your lips, and you gasp, heat shooting down to your core.

"Aaron," you gasp against his mouth, your hands gliding up his chest and over his shoulders. "Let's go inside."

He pulls back momentarily, and there's a small smudge on his lips from your lip gloss.

You throw open the car door and practically speed-walk to the elevators as he follows closely behind you. It takes years to get up to your apartment, but when you finally get the door open, you're on him again, your lips pressing against his and your hands tangled in his thick hair.

A groan rumbles in his throat when you tug slightly, and he grips your waist, moving you back and lifting you onto the couch.

"You'll tell me if it's too much," he says frantically, his voice low and strained. "If you want me to stop and take it slower, you just have to say it."

You shake your head, pulling him down on top of you. "I've waited for this for years. I'm not going anywhere."

He smiles against your skin, peppering slow kisses down your jaw as your eyes fall closed and pleasure melts down your spine. His hands are firm on your waist, holding you tightly as though he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

Aaron's ministrations are slow and careful, and you quickly become impatient, your body squirming as you implicitly beg for more. You're practically vibrating under him when he lifts his knee and presses into you, his lips moving in unison with his body as he applies a glorious pressure that has you gasping into his mouth.

Where did he learn to do that?

Heat swells in your abdomen and you pull back, your eyes wild and your chest heaving.

"What is it?" he asks, his forehead furrowing. "Are you okay?"

"I need more," you exhale, reaching down to grab at the hem of his shirt.

You yank open the buttons and slip it over his shoulders, reveling at how beautiful he looks on top of you. When his mouth returns to your chest, you keen against him, your legs pressing together as you try to ward off the pleasure rising inside of you.

Aaron reaches down and tugs the bottom of your dress up, yanking upward until it's over your head. Your hair cascades down, splayed out around your face like a halo, and he can't imagine that any angel would look prettier than you do right now.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and along your stomach.

The sensation is not enough, but the sheer anticipation of where he's heading has your whole body tingling.

He takes his time, kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs and working his up around your core until he finally dives in. His hands takes your calves and lift them onto his shoulders as he licks a thick stripe up the center of your cunt.

You writhe against the smooth couch, your hands grabbing onto his hair for some semblance of support as he thrusts his tongue inside of you, his nose bumping against your clit with an infuriating rhythm.

Aaron moves his tongue with the movements of your body as he painstakingly avoids the one place you are begging for him to go. Your hand tightens in his hair and he groans, creating satisfying vibrations that make you shudder.

Just when it seems like it may never be enough, he laves over you, sucking at your clit with a lewd, wet sound that makes you moan so loudly, you shock even yourself.

He hums with pride and your hips fly off the couch, trying to get closer and closer as you near the precipice of all the pleasure that's been building up. He sucks you into his mouth one more time and you fall over the edge with a strangled cry.

His hands press into your abdomen, trying to keep you still so that he can keep working at you, but pleasure rolls over you as your body spasms below him. You lift your head slightly as you come down from the high, and you see him pushing himself into the couch, his eyebrows pinched in a strained expression.

When the shudders finally abate, Aaron crawls back up your body, a big grin eating at his face. He plants another kiss on your mouth and the taste of yourself on his tongue makes you whimper.

"I want to feel you," you gasp between clashes of teeth, "inside me."

He freezes and you're afraid you may have gone too far, but then he's tugging off his pants and you can't help the small smirk that flashes across your face.

When he's fully bare, your mind goes blank and you move to reach down and take him in your hand, but he just shakes his head, pushing your shoulder back gently to lay you down again.

The apartment is silent except for low grunts and harsh breathing as Aaron enters you slowly, pushing forward until he is seated fully inside of you. His size is impressive and it takes a few moments for the initial sting to dissolve into white, hot pleasure.

He takes his time to let you get adjusted, but when you grit out a "please, move" he doesn't wait another second. His thrusts start slow, because he wants to work you up until you're writhing beneath him, but when he peers down at you, his breath leaves his body.

You are everything he imagined, and he can feel you everywhere, from the flush of his cheeks to the tingling of his toes. You look like a dream below him, one he never wants to wake up from.

Aaron pushes into you, harder this time, and a barely constrained bliss fills your eyes, a cocktail of desire and hunger mixing to create the greatest possible pleasure he can imagine.

You squeeze around him like a vice grip, and a deep, low sound rumbles in his chest, stuttering his movements.

Your legs shake as he runs his hand up your thigh, before lifting it up and around his waist. The new angle hits a deeper spot inside of you and you let out a moan so beautiful that he can't resist dipping down to press his lips to yours.

You tighten around him once more and he can tell how close you are, so he speeds up his thrusts, creating a rhythm that has you shuddering against him. You reach your climax a moment later and with you falling apart below him, he thinks that he finally understands what it means to have everything you could ever want.

After a few more thrusts, he spills into you, his arms the only thing holding his body up as all energy flows out of him. He rests his forehead against yours and his breath stutters as he falls onto the couch beside you.

You may be completely spent, but you're not ready to be away from him yet, so you tuck yourself into his arms, practically on top of him as he wraps himself around you.

"I love you too," you whisper, ghosting your lips over his pulse.

Aaron sighs out a breath of contentment and he pulls you closer to him, unable to let go just yet. Emotions that he finally understands rise up inside his body and for the first time in a long time, he lets them wash over him.

This is it. This is what home feels like.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #david rossi #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner fic

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slvthrs · 9 months

Text

ALL THE THINGS WE MEANT TO SAY | vinnie hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

one stupid red hoodie makes it impossible for you to do anything and the only thing you can do is try to give it back

OLD BSF!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, ANGSTY, + some fluff, sex, making out, grinding, oral (f receiving) praise kink, cheating, they're both not the best people but they're in love

word count: 4.7k <3

This dumb fucking hoodie.

I don’t know what to do with it.

I’ve had it for a week now and it’s been sitting on my desk, folded perfectly and untouched. The red on it is slightly faded and cat hair covers it instead of dog now but it still is the same crewneck that I loved on Vinnie and the same one I would wear every time I slept over at his.

But now I can’t even touch it. It smelt like him, it felt like him, it was just so Vinnie and it was too much for me.

3 days I spent trying to just ignore it despite everything my friends said, also trying to ignore Vinnie’s calls and texts.

And now I’ve spent 2 hours on a call with my best friend, Bowie, debating what to do with that stupid hoodie.

“I swear to god just get rid of it, burn it, rip it to shreds I don’t know babe just do something to get rid of it.” Bowie argues

She’s always been better at relationships than me. To the point that she and her girlfriend were planning for their one year anniversary in 2 weeks while I was her worried about a boy I haven’t seen in years.

“I can’t get rid of it, Bow.” I sigh

“Oh c’mon! Vinnie slept with you and literally RAN away the next day and refused to talk to you for 3 years, PLUS he has a girlfriend… you know you deserve better!”

“I know, you're right but I just can’t Bowie, I’m sorry.”

“Why,” She exclaims, “What is so special about this stupid hoodie and Vinnie?”

…

“I actually think I’m gonna die, Mom please hurry up.” I sigh, clutching my stomach.

We’ve been on the road for 5 hours now and we haven’t taken a single bathroom brake since we couldn’t spot a gas station but my bladder was screaming at me

“You're so dramatic, y'know that right?” Vinnie quips from the seat next to me causing me to throw my bag at his chest.

He’s sitting with his headphones in, playing some game on his console with the light from the window shining on the side of his face illuminating his side profile so perfectly.

The pain in my stomach doesn’t stop and I bend forward resting my head against the seat in front of me with my hands holding my stomach tight.

I feel a hand rubbing on my back and I realize it’s Vinnie trying to help and then suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my stomach and everything just clicks.

I’m on my fucking period.

“Mom,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Please tell me you found a bathroom, I’m pretty sure I just got my goddamn period.”

She tries to reassure me and turns into a parking lot while Vinnie keeps rubbing my back and offers me food to which I throw it at his face.

We finally get to a run down bath station which I run into with everything I need and I’m able to clean up but there's still a huge stain in my pants and for some reason I feel tears well up in my eyes and I just sit on the point seat for about 5 minutes until I finally force myself to wipe my tears and get up.

I walk back to the car but I hear a voice shouting at me from behind.

“Hey wait up!” It’s Vinnies, he’s holding a bag with snacks and a hoodie in his right hand, leaving the shop nearby.

“Take this, it’ll cover your pants up, plus it’s a Washington sweatshirt, and your favorite color!”

It’s a pretty red with white letters spelling out our state. It’s too big for me, most probably Vinnie’s size.

It’s cute.

He helps me wrap the sweatshirt around my waist and walks with my back to the car right next to me.

We settle back into our seats and thank god that no blood spilled onto the car seat.

With all the bags and the fact that we were in the back with the rest of our families in the front plus Vinnie basically grew a foot over the year, we were crammed together in the back seats with our legs hitting the others and our shoulders touching.

I end up plugging my headphones in and listening to music while staring outside the window, looking at the trees and the sky trying to take in nature but not even 30 minutes in and my stomach hurts again.

I try to hold it but Vinnie realizes and dumps the plastic bag of all the stuff he brought on my lap.

I look into it and I see chocolate, all my favorite candy and snacks, bottles of my favorite soda and medicine in there.

He didn’t buy anything for himself, he only bought stuff for me.

“Thank you Vin.” But my voice comes out no louder than a whisper.

“Eh, don't sweat it, you're awful on your period.” He laughs and I punch him in the shoulder.

“Asshole.” I mutter.

I end up falling asleep with my head on his shoulder listening to Ivy by Frank Ocean.

I never forgot that roadtrip; it was 2 years before Vinnie left for LA.

…

“You just don’t get it Bow, I can’t get rid of it!” I reiterate.

The phone call goes silent as I droop against my head board sighing.

My eyes roam back to the hoodie again.

I should give it back to him.

“What if I give it back to him?” I mutter to Bowie

“Babe no,” She continues, “You're using this as an excuse to go see him and it’s not gonna end up well.”

“But Bow-” I try to reason with her but she cuts me off.

“C’mon, we both know you shouldn’t go see him.”

“I know, I know. I’ll call you tomorrow; Love you.” I tell her

“I love you too, get some rest.” And she ends the call

I lay down on my bed staring back up at the ceiling.

Bowie is right, I’m just trying to make an excuse to see Vinnie and he probably doesn’t even want the hoodie back.

My mind goes blank as I stare up at the wall.

Bowie is right.

But I rarely ever do what’s right.

I get up and grab the hoodie, the bag it came with along with my phone and car keys and walk down to the parking lot and before I realize it I’m punching in the code to Vinnie’s house I got from Harvey into the GPS and driving off.

The road is wet from the rain which happens once in a blue moon and there is a surprisingly few number of cars on the road for this city but I try to look at that as a positive.

I try to put some music on and it auto plays to ‘White Ferrari’ by Frank Ocean and suddenly I remember this is an awful idea.

What if he’s home with Allison?

What if he doesn’t wanna see me?

What if he refuses to take the hoodie back?

What if I make a fool of myself?

Panic racks up in my brain and thousands of ‘what ifs’ terrify me. Just the thought of Vinnie not wanting to see me makes me wanna drive my car off a bridge but I try to push every negative thought away.

I skip the next few songs until my phone lands on “Black Beauty” by Lana Del Rey.

Every single day after Vinnie got his license we would blast this song, screaming the lyrics and staying out until our parents would call us home.

He loved to drive and I loved just sitting there in his presence, not even talking just being there with each other, it was our favorite thing to do together.

Now I have to drive myself everywhere in a black Honda Civic.

…

“This car is actually fucked you don’t get it like everything about it is broke what the hell did my dad make me fix this shit? I fucking hate Hondas.” Vinnie whines, he loves fixing cars but still always drags me to sit there and watch him do it whilst I text my friends.

The dust and oil lay cover his face whilst he sits there with black gloves and poking and prodding under the hood of the car.

“Oh c’mon are you even listening to me?”

“Yes yes I promise! And why don’t you just tell your dad you can’t fix this car?” I tilt my head to the side practically begging to finish this up.

“No, I’m gonna finish this and then we’re going out for ice cream.” He says with his chest puffed like it’s an amazing, unthinkable plan.

“Whatever Hacker, at least this car is cool.” I say sliding my hand across the shine of the black.

“It’s not. You just like every black car.” He shrugs but he’s right, I love black cars.

“Hey when we grow up I’ll buy you a black JDM so we can match.” He huff’s and I can feel a smile tugging the corners of my lips.

“We both know I’ll be the one making enough money to buy a car.”

“Whatever, as long as I get to drive you around in it.” He replies

I smile to myself imagining Vinnie and I when we were old still doing the same things we did as kids, driving and smoking until the sun comes up.

A familiar feeling in my stomach rises as we return to doing our own thing and I return to texting on my phone.

“Who have you been texting so much anyways?” He asks about 10 minutes putting some random tool down and picking up another

“No one Vin, it’s just that guy from that skate shop, he’s actually kinda cool I think you would like him!”

“Oh.” He replies in that voice he gets when he tries to not get mad

“Yeah! He asked me to go on a date with him to a skatepark.” I reply beaming.

“You're joking right? I ask you to go every week but you never do,” He reminds me whilst twisting something inside the car, “ But you’ll go with the sketchy guy from a skate park who always smells like weed and let me remind you, I’m literally a better skater than he is!”

“Dude it’s not that serious it’s just some dumb date!” I raise my voice at him but I don’t even understand why

“Fuck fine whatever just don’t come back crying when the date goes horribly with that guy.” He retorts staring dagger in my direction

“Whatever, I'm not gonna come back crying and you're just being a dick cause no one wants to go out with you.” I walk off when I finish leaving Vinnie in his dad’s garage.

Vinnie was right however, the date went terribly that night. He picked me up an hour late and all we did was smoke and walk around and when I wanted to leave he got pissed I didn’t hook up with him.

I ended up walking by foot to Vinnie’s house and ended up spending the rest of the evening crying into Vinnie’s familiar red Washington crewneck.

That was 3 weeks before Vinnie left for LA.

…

The drive feels like it’s going so slow.

My mind is so scattered that I keep zoning out until the robotic voice of the GPS snaps me out of my self induced trance.

The closer I get to Vinnie’s house the harder it gets to breathe and the more my mind keeps disassociating.

My eye’s keep getting foggy and I start getting scared that I shouldn’t be driving in this condition.

I run my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots.

It’s dry, I need to put oil in it.

I watch as the lights flash from red to green and watch as the trees sway due to the rain, watching stray’s scatter across the road’s and how my windshield wipers turn from one side to another trying to flick all the water droplets off.

The more breaths I take, the shallower they get before I finally decide to pull over on the side of the road.

My head falls against the wheel as I try to relax, forcing myself to take slow deep breaths, in through my nose and out of my mouth.

But I jolt my head back up as I get a call, grabbing my phone and picking it up, praying it’s not Bowie.

“Hello?” I whisper into my phone

“Jesus, Y/n where the fuck are you?” Vinnie replies back at me

“Vinnie? What the hell are you talking about?” My voice rises

“Outside your house, I’ve been waiting for like 10 minutes, where are you?” I can hear the rain pattering on the other side of the call.

“Fuck, I have a key under my doormate, I was just…out.” I half-lie.

“Just get here okay?” His voice is softer now and I can hear him unlock my door and walk in, ending the call.

What the fuck.

What is Vinnie doing at my house?

How does he even know where I live?

A thousand questions race through my head as I take my car out of park and turn it to drive back to my house, pressing on the gas and driving as fast as I can.

I arrive back there in about fifteen minutes and as I pull my car into the parking spot I suddenly become very aware of what I left the house wearing.

It was my black bralette and a pair of low rise sweats and I slammed my head against my wheel again.

I’m not going to see Vinnie in this yet there's nothing in my car to cover me up.

I mentally swear at myself for not thinking ahead enough cause even if I got to Vinnie’s house was I really gonna walk in wearing just a bralette and sweats?

The only thing in this car, besides me, is that red hoodie sitting right next to me, basically taunting me.

The stupid hoodie I tried to ignore for a week, sitting there, being my only option- it was like karma.

I slip the hoodie over my head as the neckline dangles over my shoulder. The sleeves are far too big and threads are coming loose. But one thing is most noticeably different, it’s scent.

What used to be old Axe body spray mixed with sweat, weed and dog smell, is now Dior cologne, teakwood, with smoke but with something else.

It’s pretty lavender and the essence of pineapple- Allison’s scent.

He gave our hoodie to her.

The hoodie he gave me he gave her.

I take a second to breathe again, letting the cool air enter my body and try to cool me off in the process.

I get so entranced in the hoodie that I nearly forget I’m supposed inside with Vinnie.

I slip out of the car and ever so slightly push down the handle walking into my own home with heavy steps, far too upset to try to be quiet.

I slip past the shoe rack and through the mirror and art littering my house.

Barely any lights are on and I can smell coffee from the morning and smoke from earlier in the day as I walk into my living room.

And there he is.

The same guy who left me days after he turned 18, after everything. He’s just sitting on my couch.

His head is tipped back with his hair damp from the rainwater, his legs are spread apart as he has his phone in his right hand whilst his left is fidgeting and picking at the skin surrounding his thumb. It was always his dumb tick that he did when he was stressed and I can’t help but feel worried.

“Vinnie.” I breathe out so desperately it sounds like a prayer

He stands up so fast he nearly loses his balance and he walks over to me in quick, hurried strides as he catches his balance like a baby giraffe running to its mother.

“Fuck I didn’t realise you arrived.” His voice is no louder than mine.

“Why wouldn’t I, Hacker?” His last name is all I can bear to muster to his face, “It is my home isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He stops and breathes,”Hey, you're wearing the hoodie.”

A smile bleeds onto his face and a light blush quickly accompanies it.

“Yeah all my other hoodies were in the wash.”

And the smile fades away.

“Oh, of course.” He stops for a second, “But um, where were you?”

“It’s funny actually I was on my way to your house.” I chuckle to myself avoiding eye contact with Vinnie but he doesn't laugh.

He steps closer to me and now he’s towering right above me

“Why were you coming to my house?” He asks, his eyebrows knit together, looking at me confused.

His hands gently pull my chin up so I can look at him and for a second he looks like the same guy I fell in love with for the first time.

But I pull away, it’s not the same.

It’s never going to be the same again.

“I wanted to give you your hoodie back.” I say looking away from him

“But it’s not mine… I gave it you to keep-” I cut him off

“I don’t care Vinnie, you have a girlfriend, I haven’t seen you in 3 years I didn’t want your stupid hoodie asshole, I wanted you.”

I say the last part before I realize what I just said with shaky eyes and a stuttered breath.

Everything goes quiet, we don’t say a word, we don’t even move. The only sound in my house is the dripping of my broken sink and the brushing of the plants across the wall.

“Fine.”

“What?”

“Fine, give me the hoodie. It’s what you wanted to do anyways.”

Is he fucking serious right now?

“Sure whatever.” I grit through my teeth

I pull the plush of the hoodie off letting it settle in my hands before passing it back to Vinnie and then bringing my hands back up to my chest trying to cover myself up.

He takes the hoodies and holds it in his hand whilst his eyes rake over my body, going over the curves, watching as my skin ebbs and flows from my bralette into my sweatpants and as my hair sits, flowing over my shoulder like I’m the prettiest thing in the world.

“Allison.” I spit out like venom, a lot meaner than I intended, trying to catch Vinnie’s attention again.

“Huh?” He asks, his tone bleeding with disinterest

“Your girlfriend… remember?”

“Right.” Yet he still doesn’t look away from me.

His eyes rake all over my body watching, trying to memorize everything that has changed over the past 3 years. He’s trying to take everything in.

“You should leave Vin.” I say trying to stay stern

“Sure,” He shrugs off before he snaps out of his trance, “Wait what?”

He’s making this all so hard, I try so hard to ignore the way his gaze makes the hairs at the back of my neck stand up and causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach.

I try to pretend I’m not talking to Vinnie.

“I said you should go Hacker.”

“Wait, why?” He asks with that glint in his eyes.

It’s such a dumb question and we both know the answer to it but Vinnie tries so hard to pretend he doesn’t know why.

“Cause I’m trying to be strong for both of us, Vinnie.”

“Don’t be.” His voice is so quiet as he steps closer to me, his hand resting on my forearm whilst his other one holds on to the hoodie that got me in this circumstance in the first place

It takes me so much strength to not lean into his touch.

“You have a girlfriend.” I breathe out, looking right at him.

“I have a girlfriend.” He repeats but his tone is so much more soothing.

“We’re gonna fuck everything up.” I say and get a familiar feeling of deja vu

“We might fuck everything up,” He stops for a second, “But how could we fuck things up even more?”

He’s right.

This relationship is already doomed.

His eyes flick down to my lips and suddenly my hands are looped around his neck with our lips pressed together, his hands trails down my waist and he grabs both my legs, hooking them around his waist.

Our lips push against each other whilst my hands pull and tug in his hair, they trail down his face and I push them under his shirt.

He swipes his tongue across the bottom of my lip and his grasp on my thighs causing me to moan into the kiss, letting the kiss grow deeper and letting both of us gasping and moaning into each other's mouths, afraid that the moment would end.

We end up falling on to my couch, him towering over placing sweet kisses all over my neck and trailing down farther, trying to make up for the years we spent apart.

The kisses quickly turn into love bits and his roaming hands quickly start taking off the clothes we have on, my bralette falls onto the floor and Vinnie’s shirt is thrown over the armrest.

Gushes of cold air fly through my window and both tighten our grasps on each other in a futile attempt to cool us down, his hips grinding over my cunt and my nails dig into his back to try to get closer to him.

His hips are so unbearably slow whilst his lips are so fast and his hands play a tantalizing game scratching, clawing, and massaging the plush of my skin.

His lips are so chapped but they still feel nice, in between mine as he slipped his tongue in between the warmth of my lips.

I need to buy him chapstick

“Fuck I missed you so much.” He moans into my lips as his hands fall down in between my thighs and his hands slowly undo the knot and pull my pants along with my underwear off leaving my fully exposed under him as he dips his head below.

Faint kisses are placed all over my lower stomach and as they get closer to the inside of my thighs they turn into bites and my airy gasps turn into echoey moans as they bounce around my house coating the walls as my chest heaves up and down and my hands flow along the curves of his shoulder, tracing the muscles there.

“So pretty,” He heaves out, “So so fucking pretty.” His tongue lapped at my cunt, focusing on my clit whilst my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

My legs contorted as my right hand pulled and yanked in his hair whilst my left clawed through his back gaining a hiss from the blonde under me.

It didn’t take long before I came into his mouth with him sucking at my clit and vulgar moans and curse fell through my lips.

He lifted his head up back to see me and I could see the lower side of his face glistening whilst his eyes had darkened with lust to the point the faint brown looked like pools of rich obsidian ink.

He heaved above me before diving back into attacking my neck and lips and my hands returned around his neck.

“Fuck Vinnie,” It slips from my lips whilst his neck is sucking beautiful amethyst marks onto my neck, “God where did you learn how to do that.”

“Oh shut up.” He laughs continuing kissing me all over whilst his finger slowly and tantalizing play with my already swollen cunt.

My hands trail down his chest, feeling my hands go over his muscles reaching to the base of his pants I tug at the belt, whining, asking for permission to take them off.

“Please Vin.”

He laughs, “Please what baby?”

“Fuck me please.” I ask undoing his buckle and try to pull his belt off, right before he stops me, his hands grabbing mine.

“Jesus, were you always this bossy when we were kids?” His eyebrow quirks up, “Ask nicely.”

It’s a command that sends a shiver down my spin and I relax into his touch.

“Please.”

“Do you know what 'nicely' means?” He teases

“Vinnie, please.” I whine, looking up at him through my lashes and I watch as he breaks above me.

Years could go by and I will always know what’ll break him.

“I hate you.” He whispers onto my lips and pulls his pants down.

When he finally starts fucking me it takes me a second to get re-used to his size but when he finally starts thrusting into me I hide my head into his neck to try and subdue my voice.

My legs wrapped around his waist as my hands marked his back with red lines.

He sped up his pace and I arched into his touch, my heart was pounding in my chest and Vinnie wasn’t giving me a break.

He held me down by my hips and as I looked up at him I could see his eyebrows knitted together, looking as if he was focusing on making me feel good.

My hands laced their fingers together behind his head as I looked back into his eyes staring at him.

We stayed like that for a bit right before he dipped his head down kissing along my chest and placing kisses along my tits, covering them in marks and bites, sucking hickies all over them and marking them up.

His kisses moved upwards towards my neck and ear and he placed more kisses along my neck and bit my earlobe whimpering and moaning, making sure I could hear how easily and quickly he fell apart for me.

As we both got closer to our ends his pace became relentless, slamming into me, hooking my leg over his shoulder to get a better anger and more illicit, pornographic moans to fall from my lips.

When he finally came in me, he fell on top of me and we both breathed out trying to catch our breaths.

We stayed there for a bit to try to cool down.

He ended up cleaning me up and we just lay there on my sofa, my body swung over his as my head lay on his chest.

I trace his tattoos with my nails listening to his heartbeat and the sounds of satisfaction he makes whenever I scratch certain spots.

His hands trace my back ever so slowly whilst his other one lies behind his head, propping him up.

The room had quickly gone from being filled with moans of ecstasy and the sound of skin coming together to my voice humming and Vinnie breathing ever so gently.

We don’t say a word to each other but look up and his hand pushes away the hair on my face and lifts my chin up so he can place a gentle kiss on my lips.

We just stay in the kiss looking into each other's eyes and I truly let myself believe that we could be together.

I imagine us back home in Seattle, just us.

Everything’s the same. Ponchos sitting on his bed with his head in my lap. Vinnie’s playing some new game that just came out.

And he never left for LA.

He never left me.

I let myself forget for a moment and convinced myself that I didn’t just sleep with the man who left me all alone but rather I slept with the man that I truly thought I was going to end up marrying when I was a young girl.

I let myself forget.

But before we can deepen the kiss Vinnie’s phone buzzes and when he picks it up he sees her name.

Allison.

And without another word Vinnie puts on his clothes and leaves me there.

All over again.

But this time Inew what would happen but I still did it.

I lie there in my underwear staring at the ceiling and turn my gaze to the floor.

He left the red hoodie.

At this point I have no shame, I pick it up and slip it over my head and it smells so different.

It smells of sweat, mistakes, and all the things we meant to say.

#bella fawns over vhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagines #vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie x reader fluff #bella's full works #vinnie hacker angst #vinnie x reader angst #vinnie hacker x reader angst

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dorkynerd23 · 7 months

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"I Love Them And I Love That They're There For Each Other." 🥺🩷

[Liam Vickers (The Creator Of Murder Drones) Talking About N And Uzi.] (GLITCH X 2023)

In all seriousness though, although I'm a Nuzi/Biscuitbites shipper and all, I overall really do love and adore how much N and Uzi's relationship has blossomed and developed over the course of the show so far and how much closer the two have gotten. Whether you see them as either platonic or potential lovers, you can't deny that these two are absolutely adorable and badass, and just work so damn well off one another, they're honestly the heart of the show, in my opinion. (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠) You can honestly see the friendship and connection between the two and see that they do deeply care about one another and bring the best out of each other, it's honestly understandable why so many fans love the pairing between these two and their dynamic and find it comforting, because there's so much charm and even relatability to both characters. You truly do believe in their bond and their relationship is only going to get so much stronger once the final two episodes of the season are released next year, especially with the huge amount of stakes involved now + with N having to choose between either saving the universe or potentially killing Uzi.

N X Uzi is pretty much a slow burn, it's taking its time before things get serious between the two. To me, nothing in my eyes feels forced or rushed unlike other romances in pieces of media I've seen which didn't have the best development and growth, or the right amount of it. Although, relationships like N and Uzi have been done so many times and can be seen as cliche, (which I can get behind!) that doesn't always mean it's automatically bad and horrible, some cliche tropes for potential couples can/have worked as long as they're written correctly and done well! For me, when it comes to my favorite ships I like for them to have chemistry and believability and show the connection between the characters.

Honestly, for any romances/relationships in pieces of media to come across as believable than the audience must be convinced that the couple is genuinely connected and N and Uzi fit this category although we're only in the first season and we aren't sure what the future holds for the show, there's more potential to show more growth and development for N and Uzi and their relationship, with the potential of them being more! I honestly don't see how these two wouldn't end up together by the end especially after so much buildup and teasing only to have the two end up with different characters at the end of the show, it would've definitely left a bad taste in the fans mouths and would've been pointless. It would be understandable for N and Uzi to get together and it works, as not only do they have the strongest dynamic and relationship out of all the characters but throughout all the episodes (so far, at least) the two have shown to start growing closer and closer, the show has hinted at them being something more eventually. ❤️

Now, of course, anything can go and Envy might end up being the endgame couple instead, especially after V's sacrifice and her growing character development things could change. But, I honestly don't really see them getting together and besides, He and V could still be friends and connect and not everyone needs to get/be in a relationship to be happy. V doesn't need to be in a relationship with N to be happy, she needs to improve herself first and become a better person which is what she's slowly doing and as said, she can still find happiness in a found family and friendship, she can still find happiness in other places! 💙💞

#murder drones #liam vickers #liam vickers animation #glitch productions #murder drones uzi #uzi doorman #md uzi #murder drones n #serial designation n #md n #n x uzi #nuzi #biscuitbites

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luveline · 10 months

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Omg Jade, I’ve been LOVING the asf resurgence ☺️☺️ It hits my heart in all the right ways!!

I was wondering if would please write something showing more of the burrow from asf? Would love to see Molly (alongside Fred ofc!) doting on the reader. Maybe she feels poorly during a gathering? Just an idea - no pressure ofc to respond or to go in this direction. Thank you either way!!! 😊

tysm for ur request!! sorry this took me a whole month ♡ fem!reader, 1.5k

cw mental health issues/ poor eating habits

The popcorn is greasy between your fingers. You look down at a slightly burned kernel without much feeling, giving it a squeeze to listen to the styro-foamy groan as it breaks.

The crumbs fall down the front of your hoodie. The mess is enough to make you feel something other than tired, blinking to attention while you pick tiny bits from your tummy.

Fred's hand reaches over to help. "Whoops," he says, flicking them off of the sofa onto the rug.

"Don't do that," you chastise without any heat, nudging his knee with yours. "Your poor mum will have to clean it up."

"No she won't."

"Are you going to hoover before we go?" you ask.

Fred puts his hand on your thigh for an unapologetic feel. "No. She'd be offended."

It's hard to describe how something as simple and as normal as Fred's hand on your leg can make you feel. Suddenly, you aren't alone in your head, feeling all sorts of awful. There's someone with you.

Fred often laments (with sympathy) that you live in the past. He's not wrong. There are things that haunt you without pulling punches, stuff that makes you feel sick even though you can't remember how it all went anymore. It's like your body has caught hold of the way you felt at the time and is now throwing you into the deep end, no warnings.

George takes the popcorn bowl from your lap, a lazy heist from his positioning on the floor. He, Ron, and Harry play a game of exploding snap that smells like no one's winning by your shoes.

Bill and Fleur sit on bean bags by the fire, their legs interlocked, and the baby (who isn't a baby anymore, actually, a brand new toddler) waddles around the room in footie pyjamas. Every time you see Victoire, you wonder if she's an easy baby, and if you'd be a good mom. If you're even capable.

Things tend to twist from there. Capable in any capacity? You're sure there are a hundred different things that Fred wants from you that he will never be able to have. A girlfriend who doesn't shut down when she's worried. A partner who pulls their weight. You let him down pretty much every day though he doesn't say, in your uselessness. You're awful. He deserves better than someone who's clinging to the bad things that happened to her (though you don't want to cling, you can't seem to make yourself stop).

Fred's hand abandons your thigh. He sits up in his seat on the sofa to wrap his arm behind your neck instead, encouraging your head under his. With the side of his chin pressed to your temple, he doesn't say a word.

Molly appears from the garden with a handful of fresh lemon balm. "Who wants a cup of tea?" she asks.

Her eyes flicker straight for you. Fred told you once that Harry used to be her favourite child. It confused you —family is much more than blood, but still, there's so many to choose from and they're all brilliant, so why Harry?

He was the one who needed the favouritism most, Fred says. Mum has a built-in pain detector. She knows when people need love.

"We'll have a cup of tea," Fred says, rubbing your shoulder.

"Obviously," Molly says, though what's obvious about it escapes you. "Anyone else?"

There's a chorus of requests, most of which you can't keep straight. Molly's brilliant, she doesn't miss a beat. "Lovely," she says with a smile.

"I'll come help you, mum," George says, using your legs as a brace to get up.

You kick him without force in the leg. He turns to you, shooting you an adoring, saccharine smile with hands at his chest curved into a heart shape.

"He's in a mood today," Fred says.

Your sleeves bunch under his hands with every upward swipe. You sit there for a while feeling off. Something is wrong, some pit sucking you in, but nothing's happened. It's been a while since you felt this suddenly sick —you're better than you were, but you aren't better.

"It's okay," Fred says, like he can read your mind. His reassurance kisses warm over your cheek. "Do you want to go home?"

He doesn't seem upset with you. If anything, he's chipper, like he'd love to go home with you. It's a charade for your benefit to erase the guilt that comes with yanking him out of family time, and you don't fall for it.

Yet you can't make yourself smile. You aren't as good of an actor as he is. "No," you mumble, pulling away from his loving embrace to meet his eyes.

He inches closer, hand sliding down your arm.

"I love you," he says very quietly. He's at risk of being heard by three different brothers, each of which might rip him to shreds for being as whipped as he sounds.

You don't not want to say it back. Sometimes it's hard. Fred isn't telling you for a parroting, anyhow, and he doesn't care when you fail to answer.

"Let's go help make tea," he says, standing up. You don't want to move, but you'd rather not stay by yourself. You've no choice but to follow him through the living room and into the kitchen.

"Hi, dearie," Molly says. You realise she's talking to you, not Fred. "You look like you need something to eat. I'll make you something sweet, how does that sound?"

It sounds like a bad idea. "That sounds great."

She nudges George off with his tray of tea to stand in front of you. "There's a good girl," she says, squeezing your elbow. "Fred says you're not eating, but you were fine at breakfast. Feeling better?"

"Mum," Fred says, sending you an apologetic look. "Sorry, I don't mean to gossip about you–"

"No, it's okay. It's nice, it's… a privilege to be worried about," you say, though you wish he wouldn't.

Molly shakes her head, ginger kinks swishing over her shoulders. "It's not a privilege, lovely. That's just what family does, mm? You worry about Freddie, he worries about you, and I'll worry about both of you."

"You don't have to worry about us, mum."

"I know. It's a privilege, though, to be the one worrying," Molly says, offering you a gentle smile.

"Right," you say.

"So stop pretending you're okay and have a seat. Freddie, you better go and get her one of your blankets, I think."

Fred grins and exits the kitchen quickly to avoid giving you time to protest. Ever a people pleaser, you sit down at the table in one of the chairs with a tall back. Molly puts down a cup of tea in front of you, swiftly followed by a plate of biscuits, a toasted, buttered currant scone, and a blueberry muffin sliced down the middle.

That's what gets you. The muffin cut in half, paper peeled away. Molly has no reason to like you; you make Fred happy, but you know you've made him so, so sad, sometimes. You've weighed him down. You're not the best he could've had, but his family don't care. He doesn't care. He loves you enough to breeze into the kitchen with a throw blanket, wrap it around your shoulders, and nestle a kiss behind your ear.

You scramble to grab his arms rather than let him stand again. He startles at first, but he recovers, and his arms curl around your front with enthusiasm that can't be faked.

"I love you," he murmurs. Words slid together like he's tipped them out, impossible to deny. "Try not to wind yourself up, alright? It's a normal day. The only people who matter are you and me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you say through a lump.

"I'll be just in the living room if you need me," Molly says.

"Thanks, mum," Fred says, perching his chin atop your head.

He waits for her to leave and plants a kiss on the highest point of your cheek. When you smile, he tracks them all over. Kiss to your head, your ear, the soft line of your jaw.

"Do you want to talk about something? Or should we think about other things?" he asks.

It's a strange, coddling way to ask if there's something in particular that's upset you, but it's nice to be coddled. Truthfully, there's nothing concrete that hurts. A little bit of everything. The world is busy and life is hard and people aren't always kind, and you'll always be unbalanced by that. Luckily, Fred's there to hold you up, together, whatever you need.

"Do you want half of my muffin?" you ask.

"I'm eyeing up your scone, honestly."

"You can have it if you want it."

Fred hugs you tightly. "And deprive you? No way. I'll settle for the muffin if you feed it to me," he says hopefully.

You twist in your chair, holding a bit of the muffin up for him to eat.

"I love you," you say. In a horror story, a nightmare, your nearly constant thoughts, he scoffs in your face.

Fred swallows roughly. "I know. S'why you're gonna let me have half the scone, too."

It's awfully cheesy, but you'd give him much more than a scone. You'd give him anything he asked you to give.

"Greedy," you say.

"I resent that, ghost."

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #a special friend universe

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niki-phoria · 1 year

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‧₊˚✩ chishiya, arisu and kuina reaction to their s/o doing their makeup

warnings: ooc chishiya, might edit and change kuina's later idk, this is just fluff there are no games or anything they're just cute

gn! reader (no pronouns used)

reblogs (with feedback) >>> likes

‧₊˚✩ chishiya

(word count 230) look at how pretty he is omg

chishiya poorly stifles a chuckle as you brush the liquid against his eye, slightly pulling away from you. “stop moving,” you complain, hand holding his face in place.

“it feels weird,” he says. “how do you do this everyday?”

you shift from your position on his lap as you lean in a little closer. chishiya’s hands ghost against your hips, holding you in place. “the sooner you stop moving the sooner you can take it off.” you tilt his head to the side to get a better angle. “close your eyes.”

despite his complaints, chishiya relents, lifting his head and letting you work. his skin is soft as you press your hand against his jaw. his eyes stay closed when you pull back. you take the time to admire him. his bangs are pushed back behind his ears, framing his face. his jacket is only partially zipped up, part of his chest and collarbones visible.

you put the cap back on the eyeliner, setting it aside on your bed. chishiya’s eyes blink open as you hold his chin to turn his face from side to side. “done?” he asks.

“done.” chishiya smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down to sit fully on his lap. you laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “you’re so pretty.”

chishiya leans up to press his lips against yours. “you’re prettier.”

‧₊˚✩ arisu

(word count 298)

arisu laughs as you brush the power against the corner of his eye. you stifle a chuckle of your own, pulling the brush away from him. “stop laughing,” you whine.

“i can’t help it!” he whines. “it tickles.”

you shake your head and move to sit up on your knees. you nudge his knees apart, gently pushing him back to make room on his lap. your knees press into the mattress on either side of his hips as you lean over him. arisu looks up at you, blushing. “what are you doing?”

“your makeup,” you say. arisu’s blush deepens, ears burning a fiery red and cheeks a light pink. you pretend to not see it and continue applying the eyeshadow to his face.

you’re so focused on blending out the different shades of brown that you don’t notice arisu’s hands awkwardly resting on your waist. his hands are warm as they press against your body. his blush is still painfully visible as you set the brush aside, careful not to let the makeup touch your white sheets.

you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb against the skin. arisu opens his eyes, blinking up at you. you smile, leaning down a little. “do i make you nervous, arisu?”

“n-no,” he stammers. you smirk, leaning down even further to press your forehead against his.

“are you sure?”

“y/n,” he whispers.

“i like you, arisu.” his eyes widen as he stares up at you. his grip on your waist tightens a little.

“i like you too.”

“can i kiss you?” arisu’s blush deepens even more as he nods a little, closing his eyes before you gently press your lips against his. he smiles a little when you pull away, pressing another quick kiss against your cheek.

‧₊˚✩ kuina

(word count 270)

kuina’s hands gently press against your thighs as you lean over her. the blue eyeshadow is vibrant against her skin as you buff the colour out. you lean back up on your knees as she blinks up at you. the moment feels more intimate than it should be. your knees are on either side of her hips, bare skin against hers.

“does it look good?” she asks. you move off of her, making room so she can sit up. you lean over to grab your phone, unlocking it before handing it to her. kuina shifts to raise the phone up, closing her eyes and snapping a quick picture of the makeup. “oh wow, it looks beautiful!” she smiles.

“you think so?” kuina nods before gasping.

“we should add glitter!” you chuckle at her enthusiasm, letting her look through your various eyeshadow palettes. “ooh, this one is pretty.” she picks out a light blue glitter, looking over her shoulder at you. “what do you think?”

you lean over her shoulder, glancing between the palette and her makeup. “it’s pretty,” you say. “let’s test it out.”

kuina excitedly sits across from you as you carefully press the glitter against her eyelid, blending it into the rest of her makeup. when you pull away she eagerly pulls your phone out again, taking another picture to check how it looks.

“it looks great!” she smiles, throwing her arms around you and pulling you into a hug. kuina presses a kiss to your cheek. “thank you!”

you hope she doesn’t notice how flustered you are as you wrap your arms around her waist. “of course.”

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20dollarlolita · 4 months

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The process of how I bought my wheelchairs.

Someone's asked for help on this, and I've written a couple of really thorough posts that I never published, but here's the short I intended this to be short, but it's not version.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: This is not medical advice. I cannot provide medical advice. I am sharing my own experience, and it should not be used as your only research for this issue. Any time I am saying, "you," please note that it is a style choice to use the second person, and not an indication of giving advice.

Quick note: if your doctor prescribed you a chair, make sure you know what kind of chair was prescribed, and why. The best chair in the world is still awful if it doesn't do what you need.

Also if your insurance will cover a wheelchair then, once you've made sure that your insurance will cover the chair you need, make the smart choice about where you'll buy these things.

The first time that I was using a wheelchair full time, I was borrowing this one from a friend. This chair is about $500, so when I was buying my first chair for myself, I was looking at that price point. If a chair I was considering was notably more than $500, I knew I could just get my own copy of this chair that I was already comfortable with. The chair that I was borrowing was three years old and had been heavily used, so I was confident in this model's lifespan.

The other big advantage of this is that it ships free with Prime, which meant that it was easy to send to a friend when I was tired of watching her use a inexpensive chair to get around the Disney parks.

But then I went on ebay and learned about the magical world of secondhand wheelchairs. The short version of the story is that a wheelchair can outlive someone's need for it, and so it's not super uncommon to see someone selling an older wheelchair for much less than the chair is new. A lot of the time, these are custom or modular chairs. Instead of a basic chair that's set up to one-size-fits-probably-most, modular and custom chairs have 10+ pages of options to select from in their order form. When you're buying a new custom chair, you pick every option to make sure it's perfect for you. When your goal to buying a used chair is to just get one that's better for you than a Drive Super Sport one-size-fits-hopefully-you chair, the secret to buying on ebay is to find out what features you absolutely need, and then to check the other elements of the chair and see if they will work for you.

Quick note, at the time that I was buying my wheelchair, I actually already owned a wheelchair, and had decided it wasn't going to work for me to use full-time. This is an Invacare Tracer and it was, according to the tag, stolen from a wheelchair rental place in 2010, and according to my mom, stolen from my neighbor's to-be-burned pile in 2019. So if we don't count alleged crime as a cost, this wheelchair was free. This is a great example of a chair that's set up to be one-size-fits-no-one-perfectly.

This wheelchair would be better than nothing, but it's heavy, the wheels are really far back, and it doesn't really fit in my car. The tires have no tread and are pretty worn, so they don't do great for outdoor offroading. All detachable parts of this (armrests, foot rests) had been lost a decade ago, and they're not cheap to replace. I already knew what kind of budget I was willing to spend, and I felt that just using this as my main mode of movement wasn't going to be worth the saving of the $500.

I do still use this wheelchair a LOT in my house, because it's a pain to get my real wheelchair out of my car and into my house (because stairs), but I wouldn't feel confident taking it out on the town unless I have someone to push me.

So the secret to buying a wheelchair on ebay is a three step process:

Determine how much money you're able to spend. The best wheelchair in the world isn't going to do you any good if you can't actually get it.

Determine what main features you want in a chair, and look for those.

When you find a chair that has those features at that price, check to see if everything else in the chair works for you.

(Secret step 4: be lucky enough to have someone listing the chair you need).

So I picked this chair (Which is a Quickie 2 Lite) mostly because the Medwarm wheelchair had been a bit too wide for me. This chair was narrower and had a lot of the traits of the Medwarm chair that I'd liked. It folded, had 24" wheels with tread, had feet plates that didn't stick way out in front. I didn't actually know how any of that felt until I had it, because I didn't have experience with multiple wheelchairs. My inexperience gave me a superpower, which was that I didn't need to get so critical of certain traits, because I had no idea what any of that meant.

Shipped and with tax, this was $400. At the time, I just went, "hey, this is like the wheelchair that I want, but without the negative trait of being as wide, and it's $100 less."

The main this about this chair that I learned that I love is that the center of gravity is farther forward than on the Medwarm chair (I believe it's set to +1"). This gave me a lot more power pushing myself. When I was using the Medwarm chair, it wasn't uncommon for me to ask friends to push me long distances. I very rarely needed that in the Quickie2.

But I did have to replace it.

Short version of a long story was that when I went to being a most-time wheelchair user, the seat of my chair got smaller relative to my body. I'd picked a narrower chair because it was easier to navigate the world, but I'd actually picked a chair that was becoming too small for me to fit my Kitten Holding Legs into. I looked into getting a new chair.

So let's talk about the wheelchair that I bought and couldn't use. We learn from our wins and our misses.

This is a 19" Catalyst 5. There's a few problems with this one for me, but they all sum up to (for me personally) that it had more negative (to me) traits than the Medwarm one, but also was more expensive. I'd picked this one because it looked like it'd be more like my Quickie2 than like the Medwarm, but it just wasn't good for me.

My Quickie2's narrow, so I could put my feet right next to each other. This was the most comfortable way for me to sit. The way that KI measures a Catalyst frame and the way Quickie measures a Quickie 2 frame are different. My 15" frame Quickie 2 had a 14" wide seat, and this 19" Catalyst 5 had a 22" wide frame. The first time that I unfolded it, I knew that it was just too big for me to use comfortably. In addition, I didn't like the solid low-profile tires. I didn't like how far away the wheels were. It also had a really nice quality back, but the back had to be removed to fold the chair, so it was another step to take in and out of my car. It was also about 2" shorter at the seat than my old chair, and I already deal with being too short for my store's counters, so I didn't like losing that height.

So this was a case where I looked for traits that I thought I wanted: folding, wider seat. Then, instead of checking to see if the rest of the traits of the chair were things that I wanted, I just assumed it'd be okay. Personally, it just wasn't the chair for me.

I ended up learning that selling a used wheelchair on ebay is actually pretty easy as well, so the money I lost on this purchase summed up to the cost of a roll of bubble wrap to pack it up to send it to someone who would benefit from it.

When I was looking for my next wheelchair, I had changed what I wanted out of a chair. I knew that I wanted tires with actual tread on them, instead of solid poly smooth tires. I knew that I wanted a wider seat, but not too wide. If it didn't come with a little bit of camber on the wheels (that's where they slant towards the top of the chair), I wanted to be able to add it. I also wanted it to be a minimum of 17" high seat. But the biggest change was that I'd decided that I didn't really need it to be folding.

I drive a hatchback with back seats that can fold down, and I pretty much never have passengers. I decided fuck it, if I'm not driving people, I don't need to keep the seats up, so I could get a non-folding chair and just shove the whole thing in the back without breaking down. Without breaking down the chair. I could still break down. Life is tough sometimes.

So this is a Quickie GT, which is an old, discontinued model. According to the serial number lookup, it was made in 2009. The good news is that it immediately passed the Cat Test.

When I was looking at this chair, I saw that it was designed for people who push themselves, and would probably be less good for someone who needed other people to push them. This wasn't an issue for me, because I hate being pushed.

(same chair plus two cans of spray paint)

This chair was over the $500 budget (it was $670 with shipping and tax), but this time I'd done enough research to be confident that it'd be a lot better for me than the Medwarm chair. I stuck with Quickie as a brand because I felt like I better understood how they size their seats. The serial number lookup said that this chair was 17" wide, so I was ready to get a 16" seat, and that's what I got. It's got pneumatic tires, which don't just have tread but also roll along the ground like bicycle tires. I love this chair. Instead of two separate foot rests, there's just the one, so I'm a lot more comfortable with how I sit.

It does have the downside of this is the smallest it gets without taking off the wheels. The wheels come off easily and so it's not a big problem, but it's more steps to get it into the car if I don't want to fold back my seats. Also, the front plate doesn't flip up or go away, so if I want to propel myself with my foot I'm a lot more limited.

Once I don't need this anymore, I'm also going to need to either sell it or figure out where to store it. I can keep a folding wheelchair in the back of my closet in case I need it again, but this one will be taking up some space.

For all of the chairs that I got, I was really only searching ebay for a couple of days before the right one at the right price showed up. This is somewhat slanted based on what I need, because certain things do show up more often than others, and at different prices. Wider chairs tend to have less selection and be more expensive, while 12-14" wide chairs are really plentiful.

Let's get together and look at some ebay chairs. We're going to search "wheelchair" and set condition to "used". If you plop the sort system into "price+shipping: lowest first" and then start scrolling until you get past all the wheelchair parts and all the "free local pickup: <location that is in another country>" and into the actual wheelchairs that can ship, you can start checking out the market.

I immediately eliminate anything that doesn't have all the parts, that is too expensive, that is only available for pickup, that doesn't have foot rests, or a few other things. The first one that I saw that I didn't elminate was this.

The most important thing from this listing is where they post the serial number.

And that's because KI, Sunrise, and Permobil all keep databases of all the serial numbers of all the chairs they have sold.

You can now go onto a site that sells that chair and look up what all those things mean. Spinlife sells the Catalyst 5Vx, and if you click "help me choose" on an item listing, it'll usually give you pictures of the different options. For me personally, the draw of this one would be that it's a really good price, and it's roughly set up the same as my default Medwarm chair. I don't like the tires but I do like the side guards and arm rest combo.

This was on a listing for a chair where the serial number wouldn't pull up. I wouldn't consider this one since I can't tell the width or depth when the seller won't list it and Sunrise doesn't have it. I'm just dropping this screenshot because "SELLER NOTE TO SELF" and "BUTT PAD NOT INCLUDED" both made me laugh.

As a quick final note, this is not going to be cheaper than getting a really basic wheelchair off Amazon. However, as someone who has used really basic wheelchairs, getting something upgraded has a whole lot of value. One of the reasons why I really like lolita fashion is that we treasure used things that still have use, and so it's also got some value to me to see if I can get something used that still has use. In my experience, things got better when I tried to get something used. If you do want a really basic chair, it might still be worth it to check if they're available for nearby pickup. Plopping my location into "free local pickup within 30 miles" offers me a basic Drive chair for $20. It's reusing something instead of having to throw it away, and it's also $20. Can't argue with $20.

Anyway, that's half diary entry and half possible advice.

#20dollarlolita on wheels #tag later #going o have to actually go tag things later sometime

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chaoticbeanz · 4 months

Text

Hellfire's Girl

Summary- A new girl moves to Hawkins and has already made an impression.

Pairing- Eddie Munson x Fem!oc

Warnings- friends to lovers, slow burn, she/her pronouns, cursing, mainly nickname will be used,

Notes- This is my first Eddie fic. Also, I will be straying from the storyline. Please don't forget to comment. I'd love to hear feedback.

Masterlist

~Lena~

Moving to Hawkins wasn't as bad as I had originally thought. Sure it sucks that I had to leave, but knowing I was only about 3 hours away from my friends made me feel better about it.

Starting my senior year in a new high school on the other hand… blows.

Well, it would have if I cared about fitting in. Back home no one judged. But here? Oh boy did they. I had to keep some of my hobbies on the down low, for now at least. Apparently, Dungeons and Dragons was considered “Devil worshipping”. So much for me trying to find people to teach me how to play. Or so I thought. Barely one week in Hawkins High is all it took for me to make a friend. Or a few.

~English class~

I was sitting in the back because I couldn't pay attention today. I was a passing student so I wasn't worried.

As I tuned out the teacher, I started doodling on what should've been my notes. The only thing on my mind was smoking my last joint that was tucked away in my car. I was unconsciously drawing clouds around the leaf I had made on my paper.

“Hey, New girl.” I heard whispers next to me. Turning my head to see a boy wearing a shirt with the words “Hellfire Club”. Maybe it was a new band?

“Do you partake or just like drawing?”

This felt like a trick question. Was he trying to get me caught or being friendly? I've learned quickly not to trust anyone yet. The jocks and the cheerleaders are the royalty in the ranks. Any lower on the food chain and you're a target no matter what.

He felt my hesitation to the question so he continued, “I only ask because if you need “flower”- he points to my picture- I know a guy.”

That sounds even more suspicious! I lean in slightly whispering, “You do realize how that sounds like a total set up right? Why should I trust you?”

The boy puts his hands up in defense.“That's fair. But wouldn't me asking you just be me outing myself? Why would I rat both of us out?”

“Touche.”

“I’m Gareth by the way.”

“Lena. And hypothetically if I were to say I had “flower”. Would you partake?”

“Uh Duh.” We both laughed silently.

“You seem pretty cool Gareth.” I could tell that took him by surprise but he tried to cover it up.

“Uh, thanks. So do you.” he paused for a second “Would you wanna come sit with me and my friends during lunch? I can't guarantee that you'll think they'll be as cool as me but…” I giggled.

“I’d love to. And trust me if they're like you I'll like them way better than the “royalty”.”

With that said the bell had rung, dismissing everyone for lunch. I put my notebook in my bag seeing Gareth standing in the corner of my eye. Like he's waiting for me. How sweet.

“I have to put some stuff in my locker. You can go ahead and I'll find you.” I smiled at him. He nodded his head but looked unsure. Like he thought I was lying about sitting with them. Nonetheless, he walks out of the room towards the lunch room while I head to my locker.

~3rd Person~

As Gareth walked to the lunch room, he thought about Lena. Was she being serious about sitting with them? Regardless he would have to mention her to his friends. Even if she didn't sit with them she was one of the good ones.

As he walks through the doors, a roar of multiple conversations bounces off the walls. He grabs his lunch and then heads to his table with his dungeon master and best friend seated at the head of the table.

The kiddies arrived just as he sat down. Now was his chance.

“Hey guys, I invited the new girl to sit with us.”

Everyone at the table paused as if processing what Gareth had said. Then a chorus of laughs erupted from the group. “I’m serious!”

Eddie wipes a fake tear from his eye. “Good one Gare.”

“Yeah like a girl is gonna sit with us.”Jeff rolls his eyes.

“You're delusional man!”

With Gareth trying to defend himself and the group in denial, they had not noticed Lena approaching their table.

~Lena~

I rushed to my locker to dump whatever I didn't need for my next classes. Then into the bathroom to make sure I didn't look crazy. I wanted to make a good first impression on Gareth's friends. It’d be nice to have real people to hang out with who are not snobby rich fakers.

When I got to the cafeteria I scanned the room to find Gareth while going through the line to just get some fruit. Surprised that they had peaches I grabbed two then spotted Gareth after I paid.

As I was heading to the table, a blonde cheerleader I met earlier stopped me. I think her name was Chrissy.

“Hey, would you like to sit with me and the girls?” she smiled sweetly.

“Oh thanks but I've got a seat already.” offering her a smile back. I didn't want to hurt her feelings because she seemed like the only genuine popular girl I'd met.

“Oh, that's okay! Maybe next time.” she then walked away to her table.

I started walking again and as I approached the table it seemed like they were arguing about something. Before you could catch what was going on they all fell quiet when you stood in front of their table. Looking at the boy standing at the opposite side of the table.

~3rd Person~

Eddie was not buying it for one second as soon as the sentence left Gareth's mouth. A new girl sitting with them? The freaks of Hawkins High? Yeah right. But alas Eddie believed that Gareth was committed to the bit til he had enough. He stood from his chair and slammed his hands on the table.

“For fucks sake! Why would she…”

He never finished his sentence. Once he saw her walking and stop right in front of his table he was speechless. No one ever makes Eddie Munson speechless.

The boys turned to see why he shut up and were equally astonished, besides Gareth of course. He wore a smug smile, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair.

“Uh hi. Gareth said I could sit with you guys.”

Silence from the whole table. They just couldn't believe that Gareth was telling the truth. With no response, she tried again.

~Lena~

“Is that okay?” I asked as I looked at the boy directly across from me. He seemed like the leader of the pack so I awaited his response. But nothing. They all just stared at me like they had never seen a girl before. I don't know if I should be flattered or concerned. Before I could feel embarrassed and think this was a bad idea, Gareth spoke up.

“Here, you can sit next to me.” He scooted the chair next to him out for me to sit.

I sat down hesitantly, eyeing everyone as they still didn't speak. Lingering a little longer on the curly long-haired boy. He was cute no doubt. I toss that thought immediately away. Friends Lena. You're making friends. It was too soon to be having a crush on someone.

“Don't mind them. They didn't believe me when I said you were sitting with us.”

Gareth went around the table, introducing everyone to me. Next to him was Jeff. Across from me was Mike, and to his right was Dustin and Doug. Lastly, at the head of the table was Eddie. “Guys, this is Lena.”

I gave them all a smile and waved. Also noticed that they all wore the same shirt. I made a mental note to ask about it.

Dustin seemed to be the first of the group to come to his senses. “So, where are you from?”

“Harrison. It's about a half hour outside of Cincinnati.”

“What made you come to Hawkins?” Mike asked with a confused face.

“Uh, well my dad overlooks construction jobs. The company he works for has a new location. So he decided to move closer since he’ll be running that place.”

Everyone seemed to become more comfortable as I answered their questions. Seemingly deciding that I wasn't a threat. As I talked I subconsciously worked on opening my peach. It was what I always did to them. Slightly crack open the top, and run my finger all the way around. Now and then lick my finger to stop the juice from running down my hand then twist until it splits in half. Once opened I took a bite and noticed they all were staring again.

“What?” I said wiping the corner of my mouth.

“How in the hell did you just do that?” Jeff asked.

I couldn't help but giggle. “It’s my party trick.” I took another bite.

~3rd Person~

“Is that okay?”

The way she looked at Eddie stirred something inside of him. Genuinely asking for permission. His permission to sit with them. He was so dumbfounded to speak. Just taking her in. From her pretty brown eyes to the Queen t-shirt and jeans she wore that hugged her curves in all the right places to her ring-adorned hands holding peaches. She looked godsent. Well, at least that's what Eddie was thinking. He got a weird feeling as he saw you take the seat next to Gareth. Jealousy? What? No way he was already crushing on the new girl?! He barely even spoke a word to her, just listened to her answer any questions the guys had.

He watched her as she absentmindedly moved her fingers through the peach. His mind started creating naughty thoughts he couldn't shake away. The way she licked her fingers, completely oblivious to what she was doing to him. The juice of the peach slipped out the corner of her mouth as she took a bite. All he wanted to do was lick it off her. Oh, how he was already done for.

Jeff was the first to express his bewilderedness. Man, hearing her giggle? Eddie wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever.

“It’s how I've always eaten peaches. They're my favorite,” she says like it is the most obvious answer in the world. Before anyone could ask about the side with the pit, she does the same trick to split it again in half and then pop the clean pit out. She holds out a slice offering it up to anyone. Before Eddie could act, Dustin took the offering.

“Well in that case should we be calling you Peaches then?” Gareth joked.

She pondered the thought and then shrugged with a smile. “I wouldn't mind that.” Right at that moment, Hellfire as a collective decided that from now on they would only call her Peaches.

Tagged: @luv4peterba1lard @arlxtarts @midnyghtsolstice

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

If you would like to be tagged or share your thoughts please leave a comment. It would be greatly appreciated.

part 2 underway

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suzukiblu · 8 months

Note

"understanding" please!

Match knows who Lex Luthor is, obviously.

He doesn't know why he's here, though.

"If you don't give me your little side project right now, I'm going to burn you to the ground," Lex Luthor informs the directors pleasantly. Director Beta looks sour. They were married to each other at some point, Match is vaguely aware somewhere in his information uploads. Or might still be? Legally, anyway.

He really doesn't know.

Lex Luthor walked into this Agenda lab with just his chauffeur and a single apparent bodyguard who are both wearing miniskirts and high heels and minimally armed at best, but seems absolutely unconcerned about all the guns currently trained on him or the directors' dark expressions. Match expects to be told to kill him shortly, but no one's given any orders yet.

"And why would we do that?" Director Beta asks dubiously.

"Really, Erica," Lex Luthor says dryly. "Do you think I'm stupid, or are you just producing any random clone now without so much as glancing at their DNA?"

"What?" Director Gamma frowns. "What does the project's DNA have to do with anything?"

"Ironic question to get in a cloning lab," Lex Luthor observes still more dryly. "It's mine. I designed it. You're currently in possession of my intellectual property. So either hand it and all its files over, or I will, again, be burning you to the ground."

Match has the odd thought that he isn't convinced Lex Luthor won't be burning the Agenda to the ground no matter what they give him.

Though–he couldn't. Could he? Not even Lex Luthor.

"Will you now," Director Beta says frostily, and Lex Luthor looks vaguely annoyed and fully exasperated.

"Hope. Mercy," he says, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket and the knot of his tie. "Keep Project Match from getting himself killed, won't you?"

"Yes, sir," the chauffeur replies with a smirk as the bodyguard dips her head in a silent nod. They don't seem remotely concerned that Lex Luthor just told them to go take on a half-alien metahuman clone.

No one tells Match to do anything, so he waits.

"This really didn't have to be difficult," Lex Luthor says with a put-upon sigh, and four point five seconds later the room is full of robot drones with glowing energy gun barrels and Match is pinned to the floor with the chauffeur and the bodyguard on top of him. They're strong. Stronger than him, he's pretty sure. And definitely better-trained than him too. He can't move his arms or legs or get any leverage, though obviously he could still use his TTK.

But no one tells him to, so he just keeps waiting.

"Spence!" Director Alpha shouts, and Director Beta snaps, "Lex–!", and then the shooting starts.

A lot of screaming and chaos happens, but Match still doesn't get given any orders.

"This brat's concerningly agreeable, actually," the chauffeur muses.

"Given his genetic profile? Yes," the bodyguard agrees dryly.

Match could kill them, technically. He's much better with his TTK than his useless "genetic profile" is, and they're both stupid enough to be touching him right now. It wouldn't matter how strong they are if he triggered a stroke or heart attack, after all, and he knows exactly how to.

But no one tells him to do anything, still, so he doesn't.

The drones whir and buzz and keep firing. Spence screams. So does Director Gamma, and then a few different guards too. The whole room is all chaos and noise and irritatingly loud. Match wishes everyone would keep it down a little better.

He doesn't like loud noises.

He waits with his face pinned to the floor. He can feel most of what's happening in the room with his TTK anyway and hear the rest, so it's not like he actually needs to watch.

A lot of things happen before the last body hits the floor, but still, no one tells him to do anything.

And then everything is quiet again, finally, and Match doesn't have to deal with any more loud noises.

"Anti-climatic, but effective enough," Lex Luthor observes like there wasn't just a screaming firefight in the room. Match feels him adjusting his cuffs again, though he's pretty sure they don't need it. Lex Luthor didn't actually do anything but stand there the whole time his drones were tearing through the guards and the directors were fleeing. Director Gamma didn't make it out; he's dead in his seat. So is Spence, on the floor.

Match doesn't care about people dying or not, but Spence being dead is . . .

He didn't like Spence.

Not that he likes anyone, but he didn't like Spence even more than that.

Lex Luthor turns towards his chauffeur and bodyguard and, incidentally, Match. He tilts his head.

"You know, I really assumed he'd be more trouble, all things considered," he says as he tucks his hands into his pockets, sounding mildly annoyed about it. Match doesn't understand why he would be. Whatever side project the man's here for, it's all his now. No one's left to stop him.

Except Match, obviously.

But no one told him to, so he doesn't.

He does wonder why Lex Luthor picked him to leave alive for whatever presumable questioning he has in mind, though. A guard would've been less risky, and also easier to threaten.

They'd care about being tortured or dying, for one thing.

"Let him up," Lex Luthor says, and the chauffeur and bodyguard get off Match and let him go. He considers just staying on the floor, but the order is implicit, at least.

And also he doesn't feel like dying on the floor, if he's going to die. He assumes Lex Luthor has questions, and then some sort of kryptonite. It's Lex Luthor, so of course he does.

Match should care about that, probably.

#dc match #lex luthor #hope taya #mercy graves #wherethevoidends #long post #rinfic #wip: match is technically also a luthor

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call-me-a-simp · 1 year

Text

Heal My Wounds

Selfharm (Part 6)

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Tw: physical and sexual abuse, toxic relationship, selfharm

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

You hear a quiet ringing sound and feel a vibration on the table. Rhea resceived a message on her phone. "Hey y/n, the boys are asking if we can spend the day at mine and play some games together. You in?" she asks you.

You never met the other members of the Judgement Day before so you're pretty nervous and considering the situation with your ex you're not really in the mood for meeting other guys at the moment.

"Ye sure, why not" you say. You feel more and more comfortable around Demi but you're still too scared to actually say when something doesn't feel right. "Ok perfect, they're coming around in about an hour, so we have time to get ready" Rhea says and stands up to do the dishes. "I'll go take a shower then." you say and disappear into the bathroom.

You take off your clothes and step under the warm water. You turn the heat all the way up and watch your skin get red from the hot water. It hurts, but it's better than the feeling of him touching you, that still haunts you every time you think about him.

After about twenty minutes you're done showering and walk out to dry yourself off. Your skin is still all red and it hurts when you touch it. You decide to put on a hoodie, at least for some time, so Demi wouldn't notice.

You go back into the bedroom, plop yourself onto the bed and scroll through your phone. After About 15 minutes Demi walks in, only wearing a towel to cover her body.

"Oh hey, I didn't know you're in here" she says and grins at you. "Oh I- uh sorry, I can go if you want me to" you say. "Nah it's fine, I don't mind as long as you turn around." she replies and grabs some clothes out of the closet.

You turn around and hear the towel falling to the ground and Rhea putting on some underwear. "Why are you wearing a hoodie? It's gonna be pretty hot today." she says. You don't Reply and hear Rhea sitting down on the bed to put on some socks.

"Hey" she says and lays down on the bed so her head is about next to your hips and looks at you. "What" you giggle. "I asked you something" she smiles. "I know.." you trail off "I'm just not comfortable enough right now.."

"Why what's wrong? Is it because of the boys?" concern written over her face now. "I can tell them not to come" "No! No, that's fine.." "Then what is it?" Rhea asks and puts her Hand on your arm. You flinch slightly under her touch.

She looks at you confused. "Did I do something wrong?" You sigh, shake your head no and stand up to go.

Rhea grabs your hand and pulls you back onto the bed. You're now lying on your back just like she did before and Demi sits next to you slightly hovering over you.

Rhea looks you deep in the eyes, she doesn't need to say anything. You just sigh again and pull up your sleeve showing her your burned skin.

You turn your head away in embarrassment. "Did you also hurt yourself anywhere else or just here?" Demi whispers.

"Everywhere" you mutter, closing your eyes as tears start to form. "I turned the water to max heat while showering"

"Oh sweetheart" Rhea murmurs "you know you can always talk to me, don't you?". You nod, tears now falling down your face.

Rhea carefully pulls you into a hug, bringing you into a sitting position again. "Thank you" you mutter, burying your head in the crook of her neck.

"I'll cancel the boys today okay?" she says in a low voice. "M-m" you mumble. "What?" "I mean no, you don't need to" you pull away slightly for her to understand you better, just as the doorbell rings.

"Come on then, it's gonna be fun and you can always tell if it's too much okay? Or you just come back in here if you need a break from the boys"

"Okay" you smile, pulling away completely so you both can stand up. Rhea quickly puts on some more clothes.

She obviously didn't want to open the door in her underwear. You then follow her into the hallway and Demi opens the door.

---------------------------------------------------

Part 6, hope you like it. You know the drill by now, leave your suggestions, wishes whatsoever in the comments ;)

Taglist: @thatonepansexual2000

#demi bennett #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #wrestling #wwe x reader #self h@rm #hot water #heath burns

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adventuringblind · 9 months

Text

Drive With You Forever

Chapter Fourteen: The Rise and the Fall

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Charles has a theory, Lando and Oscar get a better car, they group takes a trip to America to learn more about our reader

Warnings: Ferrari strategists, blood, mentions of death, gore, mentions of past abuse and neglect, medical abuse and malpractice, no graphic descriptions but r*ape is alluded too, panic attacks, mentions of sickness, cults, witchcraft is mentioned along with burnings

Notes: This one was hard. It gets really dark so please read the warnings.

Also, thank you for all the support for my writing! I'm terrible at responding to comments, but I want you to know that I see them and I appreciate every single one of you!

Previous <-

Masterlist

It’s always weird when things go back to normal. It feels temporary. Like she’ll never be able to rest easy because something else is going to happen.

Even when they’re here, relaxing after a race.

Things had been so crazy lately that none of them wanted to join in on the after party. Instead, they all lay comfortably with each other.

"So I have a theory." States Charles. His body splayed out at the foot of the bed. Next to him is Oscar. Max is laying the correct direction woth his legs over the top of the other two. Then Lando and Y/N are leaning against the bed, curled into each other on the floor.

"That's dangerous." Snickers Max. He receives a scowl from the Monegasque.

"What's your theory, Charlie?" Pipes the girl on the floor. It's never mattered the idea or thought. She always wants to hear it.

"At least one person wants to hear it." He grumbles. "Anyway, y/n has four entirely different abilities, and now she has four partners. Do you think it was meant to be?"

"It is an odd coincidence." States Oscar. He looks up from his phone and considers the statement.

"We could see if there's more to it than you know." Lando says into her hair.

It's not something she would've considered a year ago. But now, with everything she's survived, maybe it would be worth a look around. Show her boys where she used to live.

It's not pretty by any means, but it is a part of her.

Before they could take a trip to her home, they had to get through Silverstone. Lando is excited the car upgrades are doing their job and Oscar is absolutely petrified.

It doesn’t show on the camera or when he’s in the car, but when they catch him before the race after qualifying third, he looks terrified.

Charles and Max were upset they couldn’t get to him, ,raving it to the other two to make sure he’s properly encouraged before the race starts.

She standing in front of him holding his face with her hands. It could almost be intimidating if she wasn’t complimenting every fiber of his existence. She does it to all of them on bad days and it never fails to make them smile.

“Os, you are an amazing driver. There isn’t anything that can change that. Now you just have a car to prove that you’ve always been good.”

She kisses his forehead before he’s called to get into his car. Lando makes sure to also give him a pep talk before his engineers have to drag him away.

She bolts back to the Redbull garage. She has her own job to do. Even though she spends majority of her time watching the race in the screen, she dies still analyze data.

It proves difficult, however, when three of her lovers are in the top three places. She had to bite her tongue to hold in her excitement.

Then the unlucky safety car. She knew Oscar would be disappointed, but he's still in fourth.

Max crosses first, followed by Lando. The two are absolutely ecstatic. She can see the mild disappointment when Oscar isn't in the third spot.

Charles is definitely upset with how his race went. He'll need cheering up as well. Finishing ninth and having his strategy messed over again was not something he'd wanted this weekend.

She runs off to find Charles and Oscar first. They're waiting just outside the weigh station and she can see the both with sollum looks.

"I don't care what anyone says. You two were amazing despite the difficulties."

Charles just hugs her. He's tired and words are hard. Her embrace is relaxing and all he needs right now.

When the two are consoled for the moment, she knows she has to let them go. Their media duties are still part of the job even if they hate them.

She gets to leave with Charles first. Oscar and Lando are still finishing up media duties, and Max is doing his best to avoid them but failing.

Charles crashes as soon as he's in the room. Face planting on the bed and screaming into the pillows.

She sits next to him and plays with his hair. "I wish I could just be happy for Max and Lando- even Oscar!"

"It's okay to be upset, Sharl. Feelings have a way of escaping like that." She whispers to him gently. She ponders for a moment. "Maybe a cheat meal is in order."

Charles lifts his gaze from the bed to her and smiles. "I think you're a genius."

The other three come back much later than expected. The three of them are far too exhausted to do anything else but sleep.

Max opens the door for the three of them and is met with the lovely smell of food. He didn't realize how hungry he was until now.

The two who'd left earlier are sprawled out with a blanket on the floor. They'd found that tables in hotels never have enough chairs. The floor has become their table in these scenarios.

"Welcome back! We got dinner!"

The stresses of the day, the highs and the lows, fade into the back of everyone's minds. Their company enough for each other.

They'd left for America the next morning. She'd begged Sébastien to come with them, and he'd accepted. Though he was meeting them there.

None of them had seen her home before. The boys made sure she knew she could back out at any time. But it's almost as if she needs this. To finally close the lid on the box.

Sure, there may he a group of people after her now, but her father can't touch her. She has the freedom to go searching for her own answers.

Seb landed before them, so he was waiting for them when they landed. She jogged to hreet him and threw herself into his arms.

Seb had barely talked to Oscar in the past, and now they've had some video calls as a group, but nothing major. So, he settles for a hand shake and a warm greeting. "These four treating you well?"

"Always room for improvement." Oscar laughs as the other four feign hurt and shock.

"I think we're going to get along fantastic."

The ride from the airport to the property is ridiculous. A handful of back roads and small towns make for fun stops, but it's still long.

She'd had to message Guenther about the address. She'd never needed to learn it, so she never had. She only knew property lines.

Finally, they're turning down a familiar overgrown dirt driveway. Everyone can see her body tense up.

"Are you okay? Should we stop here?" Asks the Brit. He's trying not to let his worry for her show, but his voice fails him.

"No, I'm fine. It's still about a mile from this point."

The land is overgrown and eery. It's not long til they can see the warehouse in the distance. It was larger than they'd imagined. Lando had pictured something like a shed and Oscar just ran with that idea. Charles thought maybe a prison or one of those abandoned hospitals. Max didn’t care, he just knew whatever it was couldn’t be good.

The building itself looked menacing. The sides are covered with vines and there were random bits of debris scattered around the property. It looks both unsafe and unsanitary.

Seb stops the car a few arid away from the entrance. Everyone getting out of the SUV, except for her. Charles comes around the side and opens her door. “Mon amour, we don’t have to go any further.”

“I want too, just need a minute.” She sighs. Charles can see the glaringly obvious unease in her eyes. He laces her fingers with his and lets her take her time getting out of the vehicle. He refuses to let go even after she’s out.

They walk hand in hand to the metal door that everyone assumes is the entrance. Max has set himself in front of everyone, nothing unusual, but he kept Lando and Oscar behind him instead of letting them walk with him. The gloomy feeling of the building not helping protective nature.

Max attempts to get the door open. His attempt being foiled by things in the way. She watches on as the five males struggle to get it open.

“What the hell is behind this thing?” Asks a heaving Lando.

“Shelves I reckon.” Guesses the Aussie.

then the door busts open and then tumble down to the floor in a heap. “It was locked actually.” Smirks the female. “took me a minutes to get it open.”

Charles groans and shoves himself out from underneath the pile. “We loosened it for you.”

The building is just as eery inside as out. The group stick close to eachother as they explore about.

The female leads them to where the braker box is. All of them practically keel over when she gets on the lights.

The sight they are met with is terrifying. Almost as if they walked into some sort of horror movie.

There are bodies tagged and lined up, which explains the rotting smell. Machinery litters the ground. Bigger machines that none of them know the purpose of are in their own sections of the warehouse.

"It's not what you were expecting..." She fidgets with her fingers.

"I don't think it's about what we were expecting. I think that all of us hate that you had to live like this." Oscar explains carefully. Charles had yet to let go of her, and Oscar now sits himself on her other side.

Lando peeks his head around another set of shelves. "It almost looks like he was part of a cult." He scrunchs his nose in disgust.

"I wouldn't be shocked if he was." She points to a set of stairs. "My room and his office are up that way."

The group trek up the stairs and are met with a set of office style rooms. She leads the all the way down the hall to the furthest door on the right. She pushes open the door and inside is her room, exactly how she’d left it. The screen is even still missing from when she took it out. “This is my room.”

Her partners and adopted father file into the room. It’s not a large room and there is not much to look at. A mattress on the floor and some old books is as exciting as it gets.

They are all rendered speechless and she doesn’t know what to do. So she takes them to the next room. The door across the hall is filled with machinery. What they used to help with the F1 cars. The bigger machines are scattered about, but this room help some of the smaller testing components. “I spent a lot of time in here.” She smiles at them to hopefully lighten the mood.

She steps out again and points at the door beside it. “That one is where he used to hold the corpses. Since the Haas team was here often enough he didn’t want them to be seen.” Then she sighs again and starts back down the hall. “The rest is really for storage. My father spent majority of his time in the lower levels.”

“We can stop now if you need. Or take a break and get some air.” Suggests Seb. His fatherly instincts tell him this may be to much for her right now.

She shakes her head no. “I’ve just always hated the basement. It’s where he keeps all the important things.”

Max eyes her skeptically. “Important things?”

“Like food and my mothers corpse. The only way I could get food is to try and bring her back.” She shrugs. She can hear Max suppressing an angry growl.

They make their way to the stairs on the opposite end of the building. The lighting down below considerably darker then the upper floors.

The basement room looks as if it’s been carved out. Like it wasn’t here originally. At the center lies a beautifully adorned casket. She gestures to it. “This is my mom. I’ll spare you the disgust and not open that.”

The other side of the room houses a desk with books and a laptop. She’d forgotten he had that. She’d gotten caught on numerous occasions trying to use it. She eyes the laptop and then slips it into her bag. Something Seb had made her bring just incase she did find anything she wanted to take with her.

The laptop is newer then she remembers. Something like what she used for work.

The vials that he’d been injecting her with to supposedly rewrite her DNA are still sitting on a metal table, along with other medical tools.

She steps over to it. The bed he used to operate wasn’t a a traditional one. It was another casket sent on top of a table. He’d used it to remind her of why he was doing it, what her mother had felt, where she lays now permanently.

She can feel the walls closing in as she opens it. The woods inside still stained red. Memories of the times he’d cut her open just to sew her back up.

The vague sensation of teeth and hands on her skin fills her senses as the ground falls out from under her.

Max is the first to hear her breathing quicken. He’s standing almost next to her, observing, taking in every piece of information. Charles had gone with Seb and Oscar to explore a different offshoot. Seb had noticed weird writing on the wall and wanted to investigate.

They were right down the hall so Max wasn’t to worried about them. His attention now completely on the female.

She shrieks. Her body goes rigid. Then she’s falling the the ground.

Max catches her and Lando slides down next to them. Both look between her and each other. A dull pulsing light emitting from her skin but her hands and trailing all the way to her chest.

The other three come back into the room and frantically look around. “What happened.”

“She was looking at something, froze, then fell over.”

Lando can’t even get words off his tongue. Max can see him struggling and knows he needs to get everyone out of the building. “Seb can you help get Lan out of here?” Seb nods and drags the Brit back up the stairs. He would’ve sent Oscar with him since his demeanor seemed to calm the other, but ever since the bunker incident, Oscar was more panicked when away from her.

Charles and Max haul her up the stairs and out of the building while Oscar guides and moves things out of the way. He also took her bag so they didn’t have to deal with it swinging back and forth.

Finally they are able to drape her body across the middle seat of the SUV. The glow now diminishing but the girl’s condition seemingly getting worse. The blood, sweat, and tears they are used to seeing are being intensified.

Seb manages to get Lando to breathe then the five are able to discuss.

“I think her father may have been a cult leader.” Confesses Seb. The Germans eyes are sad and distraught but he’s doing his best to remain calm.

Oscar is sitting with the females head in his lap. He’s almost defensively holding her body, something they all noticed he started doing after they were rescued. “We found a book about her mom. Looks like the same handwriting in all the notes.”

“The scariest part is that she endured the same things.” Charles runs his palms over his bare skin, a nervous tick that Max tried to keep him from doing because he rubbed his skin raw. “She could do similar things to her, it seems. Whatever happened after is hard to piece together. She wasn’t meant to get pregnant, I don’t think, at least not when she did.”

“She served as some sort of alter. They did things that ar unspeakable.”

Max stands behind Charles and holds his hands to hopefully ease the need to turn his skin red. “Do you think the cult is who’s after her now? If they need her to complete whatever rituals they’re doing, it would make sense they’d want her back.”

“I think that she is more to them then any of us could’ve guessed.”

The ride back to the airport was long and contemplative. They decided not to go back to Monaco for now and instead head with Seb to Germany. The female still had yet to wake up and Lando is becoming increasingly more aware war of every time she inhales.

He sits in the back seat with Charles, leaning into the monegasque’s shoulder. “Do you think she’ll be ok?” He asks.

“Pretty sure nothing can get her at this point. Plus, she’s already looking better.” Charles reassures him. Yet the sinking feeling in his gut is still there.

They have too carry her into the plane. Lando watches on as Max bundles her in his arms and carries her inside. Lando jumps on the opportunity to sit with her. He eases her body into his, grateful that she’s not burning up anymore.

They sleep most the ride home, aside from Charles who is picking through the found journals. Lando is finally able to rest his mind to the feeling of her steady heartbeat against his hand.

Hanna is in full mother mode as soon as her husband, daughter, and her daughters four partners step through the door.

She has them set the unconscious female in the room they keep for them should they visit. She's quick to clean her up and change her clothes into comething comfortable. She doesn't let any of the boys near her, much to their protest.

It's quiet around the house. Nobody knows what to say. Where are they supposed to go from here?

Seb pulls the laptop out of the girls bag and finds a suitable charger. He knows he'll have to pick through it eventually. He just hopes she'll be awake before then.

"What if she doesn't wake up?" Lando is the first to voice his concern. "I know she always does... but this feels different."

"Don't say such things, Lando." Charles has kept himself curled up in an empty corner of the living area. He's dealt with so much loss already that he doesn't think he could take another. He's been spiraling since she's been out of sight, and it's visible in everything he does. "My question is why they wouldn't put her father away to begin with if he's leading a cult?"

"They may not have known. It seems they've been around for some time, and since Haas was paying him for work, I don't doubt there was money involved." Seb leans futher back into his chair. Even he is panicking. Though he's trying to remain calm for the youngers sake.

Max can't take it anymore and gets up from his place on the sofa and plant himself next to Charles. He wraps the Monegasque in his arms protectively. His body doesn't relax all the way, but the tears he'd been holding back now find Max's shirt.

Oscar is pacing. He's been pacing. He hasn't stopped moving since the female left his sight, and he's on the verge of toppling over mentally.

He's been mumbling this to himself. Definitely not things they've heard him say before. They all look as him with worried expressions.

"Jack?" He freezes at the nickname. Then he finds a place next to Lando who'd called for him.

The look in his eyes is one they've grown used to. He's thinking through a problem. Looking for every tiny detail. "They were talking about things in front of me while I was drugged." He declares.

Now it's everyone else's turn to freeze. They hadn't pushed Oscar to talk about things. He'd been doing that with his therapist. They'd almost that forced on him after he couldn't get past the separation anxiety. Thankfully, he had complied and was doing better mentally when he wasn't with one of them.

Now, to hear him openly state such a thing is both promising and terrifying.

They continue to just listen and let him work at his own pace. Lando plays with his fingers to remind him he's here with them and safe.

"There were complications with the birth. They knew her mother was getting older, so they would need a replacement, but she ended up in labor early so they couldn't finish."

"The journal also gives detailed instructions about what the process was that created them." Charles adds into the conversation. Pieces are starting to click together now. "It's dated back from forever ago as well. Something about starting from a line of witches, supposedly."

"But why do they need her specifically?" Max leans in closer to Charles. The unease and addiment need to keep his lovers safe is doing nothing for his own anxiety.

Seb leans forward now. He's pondering what he found as well, trying to link every bit of information. "Because she's the last of the bloodline." Seb only gets stares in return.

"Explain, please." Despite all of them being confused, Lando is the only one brave enought to voice it.

"Well, since I've picked her up when she was fifteen, it's always been men that she's talked about. There were never any females in the picture, I believe. So she might be the last of her bloodline."

"The journals sort of prove that as well. The history of it is muddled and doesn't make sense, but there is a story written about a lone female survivor during a burning. Some of the men who had already fancied her decided to use her in whatever ways they deemed neccecary, but she only ever bore one child." Charles recalls the story but cringes while doing so. He was sparing them the most gruesome details. "I think they took is as a sign and continued the tradition."

"Then why would he make it so she can't have a child?" Again, Lando asks the questions that confuse all of them.

"Anger makes you do unfathomable things." Seb sighs.

It doesn’t take long for the computer to charge. Everyone sits at the dining room table as seb opens it up for the first time. All of them are shocked it’s not locked. The man obviously didn’t think it was going anywhere.

Seb looks through some files and they can see him getting paler by the second. “There are videos and pictures on here and a few emails back and forth with a couple people but that’s all.” Then he pales out completely. “Hanna, can you make sure the kids stay upstairs?” Seb turns the computer toward her for a mere second and she looks sick.

“Don’t go too far, please.” She pleads, then hurries off upstairs. It’s an agreement that he’ll stop if he can’t take it. A plea that he won't invade too much of their adoptive daughters' privacy.

“If you guys want to see this that we’ll make so all of us only do this once. Otherwise we can figure it out.”

“What have you seen so far?” Questions Max. His nerves are increasing with every second and his leg is bouncing rapidly underneath the table.

Again, Seb looks like he might vomit. “I’ve already see photos of what they did. It’s not good and she’s completely exposed in most of it.”

All of them collectively swallow.

All of them felt sick watching the screen, listening to the screams. They moved past a majority it to the parts where a man (presumably her father) was monologuing.

He wasn’t meant to fall for her. Only meant to do what was necessary and give them a continuing line. When she died prematurely, he went into a completely psychotic state of mind.

Everything they did that involved the mother seemed bad enough. It only escalated for the female that’s currently unconscious.

then he revealed his plan.

Make her strong enough to bring back his beloved. Make sure she can’t have any children so they don’t have a choice if they want to attempt to continue in their faith of these miraculous beings.

And he caught every second of it.

Every ritual.

Every procedure.

Every time they took something from her.

They all felt sick. The rage mixed with violent sickness shaking all the males to their core.

They just want their toy back.

And they wouldn’t rest until they had her back.

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