#quitting my job so i can look at this art full time

[nerice]

good evening i am. angry but also don't have the wrist stamina to get into it

[writers-hes]

tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS

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I need you tonight. Want to go?

You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.

-

Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect. 

“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?

“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”

“And you took the L,”

“Ubered here, actually.”

“Surge rates?”

“I was in a rush.”

“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”

“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.

You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history. 

You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.

You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.

You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry. 

“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls. 

“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”

“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?

“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.

“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”

“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”

“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”

“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”

“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”

You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt. 

“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper. 

“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly. 

“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,” 

He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud. 

“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”

“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them. 

“Carm…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.

You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”

He taps his cock against your pussy.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”

“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”

He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”

With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly. 

“Fuck,” 

The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.

“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”

“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”

“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”

“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,” 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”

“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,” 

Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom. 

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,” 

“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”

Sex has never felt this good. 

You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?” 

“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”

He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away. 

“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”

You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did. 

“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.

“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”

“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”

You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles with whipped cream.”

-

Why won’t you let me love you?

There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go. 

You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…

It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.

-

Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go. 

Isn’t this what lovers do? 

He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on. 

“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”

Would you still send it to him?

-

By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else. 

You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. 

You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was. 

“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”

“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked. 

“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?” 

“Sure.”

You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him. 

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”

“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling. 

“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”

“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”

“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”

“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.

You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing. 

“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?” 

Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself. 

“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”

“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”

“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”

“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?

“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”

You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding. 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”

“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. 

-

“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed. 

“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”

“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”

“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney. 

The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily. 

“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”

“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”

“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle. 

“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”

“Yeah. You were so excited,”

“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”

Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.

“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”

-

I want to talk to you.

Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.

Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads  texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go. 

“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”

He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.

“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down. 

“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”

“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”

“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“

“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.

“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”

“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“

“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.

“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?

“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?

“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Carmy frowned. 

“What else did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”

Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.

You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him. 

“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”

“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…” 

“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say? 

“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”

“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”

“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”

You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you. 

“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”

“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?

-

It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old. 

He’s been doing good—perfect. 

It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand? 

He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway. 

It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright. 

He was alright. 

“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”

“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter. 

“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.” 

“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”

“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“

“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”

“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”

“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station. 

He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?

“Carmen,” 

“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 

PART 2

AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash

[avis-writeshq]

02 — haunted

summary: “something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst warnings: rated 16+ for alcohol, religious talk (inaccurate portrayal of Christianity), vomit, INCREDIBLY CANON COMPLIANT ‼️IF YOU WERE TRIGGERED BY S2 EP15 REVELATIONS IN CRIMINAL MINDS, DO NOT READ THIS‼️ wc: 10.1k a/n: another special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading and hyping me up!! love you loads zahra 🤎 (she's also doing an AMAZING derek morgan series that i have the honour in beta-in so if you have time please do check it out!! it is an absolute work of art) SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

There is never a dull day when working at the BAU. After weeks of cases and paperwork, a night out was exactly what everyone needed. A place to get drunk, have fun and unwind– and O'Keefe's was the exact place to do just that.

“You know, you can at least try to look like you’re having fun,” Emily muses, nudging your shoulder. 

Emily joined the team soon after Elle had resigned, and as much as you missed your friend, you enjoyed Emily’s company. She’s too observant for her own good; grinning at you from across the room whenever you have the slightest interaction with certain people. She’s a brilliant addition to the team, much to your chagrin, but you know it’s all in good fun. Well, all in good fun for her.

You shoot her a playful glare, sipping on your drink. “I am having fun!”

“Liar,” Emily says instantly, grinning at you. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you deny, “I’m just tired. Things have been… busy to say the least. I’m just glad that the team is getting some R&R. Well deserved, might I add. How are you? You know, with joining the team and all that.”

She smiles in your direction before downing a shot and shrugging. “It’s been good! Yeah, everyone is so… welcoming. It’s nice.”

“Different to a desk job?” You ask with a teasing lilt in your voice. 

Emily laughs softly. “Yeah, totally.”

Your gaze shifts to where Spencer is sitting, for once enjoying himself in such a crowded area. He’s talking to two strangers at a table, his hands gesticulating as he explains something and the two people seem thoroughly amused. 

“So… Spencer, huh?”

You frown. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Emily laughs, “You’re staring at him with heart eyes. Anyone can tell. Except for him, apparently.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For a profiler, you’re a horrible liar.”

You let out something that sounds akin to a dying cow, turning your attention back to your drink. Your attention wavers and it shifts back to Spencer who is enthusiastically talking about something to the two amused guests. He grins at them as they drink, his own cup still full. Derek is thoroughly enjoying himself as he dances with a group of girls, and you can see Aaron and Haley dancing together on the floor as well. It’s wholesome, seeing everyone in their casual wear and just having fun.  

“You should talk to him,” Emily tries again, nudging you. “I’ll buy you a drink if you do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re bribing me to talk to my best friend?”

“I’m bribing you to give me entertainment,” she corrects, laughing.

“You’re horrible,” you tell her, smiling, as you walk past her in Spencer’s direction. “I expect that drink to be delivered to me.”

“Deal!” She calls after you, downing a shot as she watches you. 

Spencer smiles when he sees you make your way over to him, shuffling his chair to the side to give you more room. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, pulling your seat closer to him. “Having fun?”

“I should be asking that to you,” you respond, smiling. The two people he was once talking to take their leave, giggling about something you couldn’t quite make out. “I didn’t mean to scare away your company.”

He immediately shakes his head at your words. “I’d rather talk to you anyway.”

You can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face or the way your cheeks heat up and you cough. “Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

Spencer laughs, his hand gravitating to your knee and he squeezes good-naturedly. “You exceed them.”

You think he’s trying to kill you and you swear you stop breathing as you choke out, “I’m glad.”

It isn’t long before Emily makes good on her promise, and a waiter appears on your left. He presents a drink to your table, the glass adorned with a lemon rind and a raspberry, and you eagerly take a gulp. 

Spencer frowns a little as he watches you drink. “Aren’t you going to question who it’s from?”

“I know who it’s from,” you respond cheerfully, letting out a contented sigh. You offer the drink to him, moving the straw so that it’s pointing in his direction. “Want some?”

He eyes the pink drink suspiciously. “What is it?”

“It’s a Pink Bikini!” You chirp, sipping the drink again. “Like… coconut rum, raspberries, and lemonade. It’s good, Spence, you can barely taste the alcohol.”

His nose scrunches at the idea of coconut rum. “I dunno.”

“You’re not gonna get drunk from one sip,” you protest happily, a little tipsy. “It’s good! Besides, how do you know you’re not going to like it if you never try it?”

“You’re literally drunk right now!” He points out, laughing a little and moving the drink out of your reach. “Give it to me.”

“That’s only because I had a couple drinks earlier,” you argue, lunging for the glass. You’re quick but Spencer is quicker (and taller), and he chugs the drink before slamming it back onto the table. “Spencer!”

He grins at you, smacking his lips as he plays with the paper straw. “I’m protecting you, (Y/N). Who knows what you would’ve done if you drank any more.”

“You’re insufferable,” you chastise half-heartedly, “I was thirsty.”

“I have water,” he says, fishing a plastic bottle out of his satchel. He cracks the lid open, taking a sip himself before passing it to you. “Drinking even moderate amounts of alcohol can lead to dehydration. Drinking water slows down this effect, allowing the liver to metabolise the alcohol that was already consumed. This also means you won’t have as bad a hangover tomorrow morning.”

You beam at him, taking tentative sips from his water bottle. The fact that you’re drinking from the same bottle as him is not lost on you, nor the fact that he finished your drink by using your straw– your lipgloss stained straw– and he didn’t even bat an eye. 

“What would I do without you?” You croon, handing his bottle back. 

“Probably die of dehydration,” he responds, taking one last gulp of water, before returning the bottle back to his bag. 

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” you laugh again, beaming at him. You’re not sure if it’s from the drinks, but you can feel your cheeks begin to flush. Did it get hotter in here?

“Hey, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but we have a case,” JJ pats your shoulder sympathetically, frowning. “Horrible timing, but it’s urgent.”

You all but whine. “But I’m tipsy.”

“I’ve got aspirin in my bag,” JJ says, “you’ll be fine.”

“Stupid serial killer,” you huff, getting up from your seat. “They owe me a day off.”

*** 

“You know it never fails. Just as I’m getting my groove thang going, bam! We’re back at the BAU,” Derek says, pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee and sitting at the roundtable.

Spencer shrugs. “You know, statistically, a case doesn’t come in with any more frequency if you’re at a party or gathering than if you aren’t. It’s a… trick of the mind. We merely remember the ones that came in that way more.”

“Besides, how long does it take for you to get your ‘groove thang’ going anyway?” You tease, sipping from your own cup of coffee, and Emily cackles from beside you. 

“Only when he’s sleeping,” Gideon comments, walking into the conference room and taking off his coat. 

Hotch’s brows raise in a mixture of surprise and concern. ��Where were you tonight?”

“I told you, I went to the Smithsonian,” he grunts as he sits into his chair.

“You missed a good time,” Emily insists, smiling.

“I had a good time,” Gideon responds, his attention turning back to the screen where JJ was getting ready to present the latest case. 

“Well, that’s definitely over,” she says, flicking the screen on. “Georgia. The Kyles– Dennis and Lacy– were murdered an hour ago in the suburban Atlanta home.”

Hotch’s brows raise in surprise. “An hour ago?”

JJ nods. “Police were on the scene unusually fast.”

“Why?” Derek asks, leaning over the table.

“One of the UnSubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.”

You huff out a laugh in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“From inside the house.” JJ purses her lips, gesturing to the transcript that was printed out in their files. “According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there.”

“‘Sinners’?” Hotch echoes.

JJ nods again, a grimace painted over her features. “The 911 centre is going to send Garcia the tape.”

“How fast was the police response time?” Spencer asks, glancing at the screen.

“Four minutes, twenty-six seconds. During which time Raphael was able to do…” JJ clicks a button on the remote and an array of gruesome crime scene photos popped up onto the screen. “This.”

“In four and a half minutes?” Emily asks incredulously, frowning. 

Garcia immediately turns away from the screen, clutching her mug closer to her chest. You can’t help but cringe as well from the violence presented in the photos: blood everywhere, smeared across the walls and floors of the house, and the victims lifeless. 

“Mr. Kyle is a dot-com millionaire. His company is one of the largest employers in the community. There’s going to be media coverage. Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”

Another image appears on the screen, this time a page of the Bible placed into a plastic evidence bag with a certain section highlighted. 

“Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8,” Hotch reads for the rest of the team.

Derek can’t help but scoff. “They’re killing sinners.” 

“These guys are on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing,” Spencer says with a wince. 

“‘And I looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was Death,” Hotch begins, eyes trained on the Bible page.

Gideon continues, his voice quiet and grim, “And Hell followed with him.”

*** 

You sigh tiredly as you slump into the seat beside Spencer, playing with the cap of your water bottle. The sky outside is painted in oranges and purples as the sun begins to rise, and you try to hold back the frustrated groan when you see the blaring ‘4:22AM’ flash on your watch. 

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks quietly, looking over at you.

You shake your head, running your fingers through your hair. “I just… I have a bad feeling about this case. There’s something… off about it.”

He hums in thought, “we’ve dealt with religious motives before, though.”

“I know but just–” you huff, leaning against the headrest. “It’s just weird. I mean, usually if one of the UnSubs were partnered with someone who was a liability, they’d eliminate them. But that’s just not happening here.”

“Don’t think about the case,” Spencer says gently, resting the palm of his hand flat against your knee. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”

When you don’t respond, he pokes your cheek gently shooting you a lopsided smile. “Hey. It’ll be okay.”

“I hope it will be,” you respond quietly, moving so that your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “But you saw those images; what the UnSubs can do in less than five minutes. I know it’s nothing we haven’t seen before but–”

“(Y/N).” He squeezes your knee again and you flush as he continues to speak. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be back home before you know it. Trust me.”

You nod, although you can’t shake this feeling off. “Promise you’ll be safe?”

Spencer smiles at you. “Promise.”

*** 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter, turning away as the video of Mr. Kyle being murdered plays on repeat. Your stomach churns at the mere mental image that pops up in your mind, and a chill run downs your spine. 

The case is a lot more gruesome than you expected it to be, especially when it came to the team’s attention that a video of the murder was circulating the internet. The video was currently being played on loop, with the voice of the UnSubs playing out of the computer. You thought you saw it all but this was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

That is, until Spencer stood from his seat. 

“Agent Franks?” He whispers, looking towards the lead detective. “Does this building have wireless internet?”

Agent Franks nods. “Yeah. Why?”

Spencer swallows, gesturing to the computer. “That camera’s on right now. The computer has connected itself to the internet; it’s streaming a video feed somewhere.”

Hotch’s concern only deepens, along with the frown on his face. “Can we trace the stream to the destination?”

“If we keep it open, Garcia might be able to–” Spencer begins, only to be cut off by a beeping from the computer.

In bright red lettering, the words: ‘THE ARMIES OF SATAN SHALL NOT PREVAIL’ flash against the black screen before turning off.

“So, they’re controlling it remotely?” Hotch asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is that even possible?” Emily asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah, you can totally access someone’s computer remotely. It’s actually done a lot today when a mortal calls for tech support. Instead of giving you instructions the tech can work on your computer from wherever she is,” Garcia explains through the phone. 

“And they maintain the access even after the work is done?” Hotch asks.

“They’re not supposed to, but I suppose you could install a Trojan horse.”

Spencer turns to Gideon. “Something left in the computer to be turned on later. It’s the same way that websites get pop-up ads onto your computer.”

“Garcia can you check the Kyles’ phone records and see if they called tech support in the last six months?” Hotch requests as he flips through the Kyle family’s folder. 

“Right-o. Oh, and if you get me the laptop I can search the drive for anything implanted there.”

Hotch nods. “As fast as we can.”

“By the way, this video? It’s gone crazy viral.”

Gideon frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That means it’s the most downloaded video on the entire Internet. Worldwide. And judging by the responses people seem to think it’s pretty cool.”

“Call us if you find anything on the Kyles’ computer,” Hotch mutters, before the phone hangs up.

“Honestly, they probably don’t even realise that the video is real,” you say quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I mean, you see a video on the internet. The last thing you’d think is that it’s actual people being murdered.”

“They probably think that it’s marketing for a horror film or something,” JJ adds on, but the look on her face is just as disgusted.

“Well, the UnSubs were right about one thing,” Derek mutters, nodding grimly. “The world is pretty screwed up.”

*** 

After hours of going through files and trying to find a paper trail, you’re left with a mountain of paperwork in front of you and sore eyes. You press the pads of your fingers against the corner of your eyes, slumping over the table. 

“Hey.” 

Spencer’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and you peek a look at him. “Hm?”

A takeaway cup of coffee is placed in front of you and you immediately perk up. He chuckles softly, patting your head. “You looked like you needed it.”

You spy the name written across the paper cup and frown. “It’s your coffee.”

“You need it more than me,” he says honestly, smiling. “Besides, I’m okay.”

You take a tentative sip of the drink, the sweetness of the sugar overwhelming the bitter taste of the coffee but you don’t mind it. Instead, you didn’t actually mind it; especially because it’s from him. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. “We can share it if you want.”

He shakes his head ‘no’, turning back to the files on the page. “Where did you get up to?”

“Nowhere special. Agent Franks is right; there’s nothing in any of the files relating to knife fights that are remotely similar to the case,” you say, slumping against the table and leaning your head on your arm. “I’ve got six or so left to go through but I’m not getting much luck anyway.”

At that moment, JJ enters the room, holding another cream coloured file. “What if we were looking at this the wrong way?”

Hotch turns to her. “What do you mean?”

“I looked for unsolved home invasions. Three months ago there was a prowler called in directly outside of the Kyles’ house.”

Your brows knit together at her words and look up at her. “A prowler?”

JJ nods. “The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park. Going back to his car, he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall and start sneaking up to the house. By the time the police got there, the prowler was gone.”

“Only one man?” Hotch asks. 

“Apparently.”

“Was the witness able to describe the man?” Spencer questions.

JJ looks into the papers before shaking her head. “If he did, it’s not in this case file.

Hotch looks at JJ then back at the corkboard. “Is there a name and address to the witness?”

“Tobias Hankel,” JJ reads. “Lives about an hour from here.”

Hotch lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “It’s a long shot, but he might be able to give us a description. Why don’t you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr Hankel, and see if he remembers anything.”

You immediately frown, perking up at his words. “I can go too, sir. There’s a safety in numbers.”

“You’re exhausted and we need you here,” Hotch says, immediately shutting your suggestion down. “We don’t need three people to talk to a witness.”

Your face falls and your stomach churns. “I understand that, sir, but it’s late and wouldn’t it be safer if more people go?”

“We’ll be fine,” Spencer reassures, squeezing your arm. “We’ll be armed and we’ve got our phones.”

A small breath escapes you and you nod slowly, chewing your bottom lip. “Okay. Be safe.”

He smiles. “I will.”

JJ snickers lightly, turning to Hotch. “Be safe,” she echoes, grinning.

Hotch can’t help but chuckle as he returns with, “I’ll be so safe.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

JJ grins. “But how will that keep us safe?”

You throw an eraser at her shoulder in response and she laughs loudly, walking out of the room. Spencer squeezes your arm again, rubbing your shoulder through the fabric of his jumper before following after her. 

It isn’t long before the lead detective rushes into the room, his words flying out of his mouth. “Agent Hotchner, we got another murder.”

*** 

“Tobias Hankel is the UnSub.”

Five words is all it takes for your world to come crashing down around you. Hankel? The UnSub? Your mouth is dry as the head detective explains about the dogs and you think you’re going to throw up. Your mind spins and your chest pounds with anxiety because oh God, what’s going to happen to the others? 

“We sent Spencer and JJ there,” you whisper, your throat closing up. You tug desperately at your collar, trying to breathe. “Oh my God, we sent them there. We sent them there.”

“Hey, hey,” Derek is quick to ground you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “They’ll be okay. It’s Spencer Genius Reid and Jennifer Bad-ass Jareau. They’ll be okay.”

You shake your head firmly, pulling away from his grasp and clutching your head. “I should be there with them. I should have gone with them. We don’t know what Tobias is capable of, Morgan, something could have happened to them.”

“We’re dispatching police now,” the detective says, getting off the phone. 

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and you try to keep your breathing steady. It doesn’t work. The room is spinning and you can’t see straight. The words your team are trying to get through to you fades into background noise and you let out a choked sob. 

“They could be–” Your words don’t make it off your tongue and you turn, gesturing to the black screen that was once playing the video of the woman and the dogs. “Oh my God.”

“(Y/N),” Emily holds your shoulders tightly, her words a mixture of firmness and care as she tries to snap you out of it. “They’re going to be okay. We have to go there now.”

“They can’t be gone. Spencer can’t be gone,” you say, more to yourself than anything. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. We have to find them.”

The others don’t need to be told twice. You get into the passenger seat with Emily, trying to calm your breathing. One hour is too long. Why does Tobias have to live so far away? You press the palm of your hand to your mouth, the lump in your throat getting bigger. Hot tears fall down your cheeks as the world becomes a blur of flashing lights and you try not to cry. It’s your fault. You should have been there with him. There’s safety in numbers. Why didn’t you trust your gut?

“Don’t do that,” Emily says sternly, gripping the wheel tighter. 

You can’t bring yourself to respond, merely shaking your head adamantly. 

“Stop blaming yourself,” Emily tries again, glancing at you for a second before turning her attention back to the road. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should be there with them.” Your voice cracks pathetically and you wipe furiously at your eyes.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.”

She looks at you again. “Stop. You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.”

The rest of the car ride is silent. You’ve learned that this is the hardest part of the job: losing someone. Losing someone because of a job. It seems ridiculous, considering that it’s something so miniscule in the grand scheme of things, and yet it is the most common factor in divorces. A lack of commitment. Instead of committing to something that actually matters and can’t be replaced, their attention turns to something so lacklustre. If Spencer were here he would tell you the exact statistics. If Spencer were here, you wouldn’t even need to think about the statistics. 

The sound of sirens echo through the once quiet country area and the police officers file out of their cars. You fasten your Kevlar vest over your chest hastily, fumbling with the clasps as you jump out of the car. 

“John, Bobby, take the house with Hotch, Gideon and (L/N),” the captain orders, pointing towards the house. 

Your stomach lurches as Hotch busts the door open, and you move upstairs with your gun pointed out. 

“Clear!” You yell, rendezvousing with Hotch and Gideon soon after. 

“Downstairs is clear,” Hotch says, nodding towards you. 

“Then where the hell is he?” Gideon mutters, looking around the rooms of the house.

The blood rushes to your ears and the air grows thick. You can’t breathe. The house is unmaintained with mould growing in the corners of the rooms and dust gathering on the shelves, the paint on the walls cracking from water damage. Your eyes sting as the air pricks at your skin, and your legs carry you down the stairs and out the house.

“JJ,” you breathe, your eyes wide as you meet the blonde sitting at the back of an ambulance. You pull her into a hug. “You’re okay.”

It’s a different JJ to what you’re used to. She’s always been put together with not a hair out of place. She’s usually so full of life and mirth, bringing a sense of serenity and security when you need it most but this… 

Her blue eyes are red and puffy from crying and she’s shaking miserably against your body. She scratches at her wrists and picks at the bandages, her bottom lip trembling. Her gun is set beside her, not in the holster she usually carries it in.

“(Y/N),” she sobs, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” You demand. “Where’s Spencer?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I tried–”

“Where is he, Jennifer?” You ask, pulling away from her like she burned you. “Where is he?”

She sobs again, clutching her head. “I don’t know, we separated–”

“What do you mean you separated?!” You’re trying not to scream. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. Spencer is gone. He’s gone. “Why would you do that?”

Jennifer lets out a wail, trying to explain herself through broken words. “We didn’t– he said– I’m sorry I’m sorry–”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring him here, does it?” The words are harsh and low, and you tug at your collar again. “He’s not here, Jennifer! Does that mean nothing to you?!”

“(L/N), that’s enough.”

Hotch’s voice makes you snap your head in his direction and you see red. 

“I told you I should have gone with them,” you snap, and it doesn’t even occur to you that this man is your boss. “If I went with them, Spencer would still be here right now!”

“(L/N).”

“No.” You glare at him menacingly, too deep in your anger to even comprehend anything else. “He should be here right now! He should– he should be spouting out statistics or coming up with some theory! He should be here and he’s not!”

“We’ll find him. Trust me.”

“I did!” You yell, your voice fervent. “I trusted your judgement! And look where that got us. Spencer is gone. He’s not here, Hotch, because I trusted you!”

“(Y/N), enough.” Hotch is firm and he stares you down. “That is enough, do I need to remind you who you are speaking to?”

In an instant you stop, your heart lurching and you quiver. “... This is my fault.”

He immediately shakes his head no. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with him. I should have– it’s my fault. It’s my fault.” Your eyes well with tears and you tug at your hair erratically. “He can’t be gone. He’s not gone. He’ll figure something out. Why didn’t I do something? I should have–”

“Stop it. (Y/N), stop.” Hotch grips your shoulders squarely, bending down so that he’s eye level with you. “Take deep breaths.”

Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, hot ragged breaths leaving your lips shakily as you cover your face with the palms of your hands. Tears fall down your cheeks and gather in your hands as you make a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. It’s all too much. The sky is pitch black and the feeling of cold rain stings and bites your skin. The sounds of sirens fade away and for a moment it’s just quiet. Quiet, except for the words and the voices that swirl in your mind. 

“A man that matches Hankel’s description was spotted in the next town over.”

Derek’s words bring you out of your thoughts and you manage a soft, “What?”

“Alright,” Hotch nods, before turning back to you. “Go back to the police department.”

“What?” Your ears are ringing. You must have heard wrong. “No. No, no, I can’t– no, Hotch, I’m not going back to the police department. Spencer is missing.”

“You’re too close to the case.”

A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you stare at him. “We’re all too close to the case, Hotch. Look around!”

“You attacked JJ and you raised your voice at me. I want you to go back to the police department and work the case from there.” He speaks to you as if he were speaking to a child and it makes you feel sick.  

“Oh, so you’re punishing me?”

“No, I’m using you,” he says firmly, and then his voice softens. “It won’t do you any good to be here, (Y/N), you know that.”

“Aaron,” you try again, your voice wavering. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Go back and find us something that we can use.” He turns to one of the policemen. “Make sure she gets there.”

The policeman nods, tipping his hat, and gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Wait I– let me talk to JJ. I need– just, please,” you say quickly, clearing your throat. “Sir.”

He’s sceptical before nodding. “Go ahead.”

You don’t need to be told twice. In moments you turn back to the ambulance, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”

JJ shakes her head adamantly. “No, you’re right. It was my fault.”

“It’s not,” you say quietly. “I know Spencer and I know you. It was… probably his idea to split up.”

She smiles wryly, fiddling at the bandage on her arm. 

“It’s not your fault,” you say again. You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince anymore. “You went through something too and I ignored that and that wasn’t right of me. I’m sorry.”

JJ sniffles, pursing her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you respond quietly, patting her arm. “I need to go. Um, Hotch wants me off the case, or something.”

She nods. “Okay.”

You look at her again, the guilt building like bile in your stomach. “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” she whispers, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “We’ll find him.”

You don’t respond.

*** 

Everything hurts. His head is pounding and he can feel the sticky blood drip from the side of his head and against his cheek. His feet hurt from each thwack of wood, and his wrists hurt from the handcuffs. It’s cold. So, so cold, and he feels so weak. No amount of knowledge or training could have prepared him for this.

Spencer’s throat throbs from crying. No matter how many times he tries to convince whatever personality is taking over Tobias, it never seems to work. What’s the point of being a profiler if he can’t even save himself?

The creaking of the door brings him out of his thoughts and he jolts. Tobias, at least who appears to be Tobias, enters the room carrying a slaughtered animal. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine and all he can do is watch. 

“You need to eat,” the man says, his voice strangely soft and oddly calm. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, his voice small.

The man looks back at him. “Tobias.”

“Tobias, who was here before?” The fear is obvious in his voice and Spencer just wishes for an ounce of Hotch’s stoicism or Derek’s bravery. 

Tobias chuckles weakly. “It was probably my father. I’m sorry if he hurt you.”

Before he could comprehend his movements, Tobias takes off his belt and walks over to him. Spencer fears the worst. Did Tobias’s father take over again? He tries to inch away, struggling against the restraints as best he could.

“W-What are you doing?” Spencer asks shakily, trying to pull away from him.

Tobias doesn’t respond, slipping one end of the belt above his elbow. Everything begins to click.

“No, no. Don’t. Please, please don’t.” He resorts to begging. 

In this moment, Spencer hates the way his mind works because he doesn’t need to know the statistics. He doesn’t need to know that 75% of drug abusers started out using pain killers. His head swirls with what Tobias could be using. Codeine? Heroin? Opium? The list goes on and he tries to keep his breathing steady.

“It helps,” Tobias says, ignoring the way Spencer trembles and shakes his head adamantly. “Don’t tell my father. He doesn’t know they’re here.”

Tobias takes the syringe and the bottle out of his pocket and Spencer sobs even harder. He tries to appease him again, shrinking away as best he could in his chair. 

“Please,” he tries again, his chest heaving and tears wetting his waterline. “Please, I don’t want it, I don’t want it.”

“Trust me. I know.”

“Please,” he begs, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Don’t.”

Tobias doesn’t listen. 

The effects are far too quick for codeine, heroin or opium and Spencer can feel it hit. He knows it’s wrong. He can go on for hours about the statistics about it but the feeling so euphoric that he can’t help it. And then he sees it. 

“We have another recruit as well. Came in a couple weeks ago,” Derek told him, walking him through the halls of the BAU headquarters. “She’s part of the academy Honours program. Top of the class, apparently.”

“Oh.” Spencer nodded slowly, fidgeting with the zip of his bag.

Derek grinned. “Relax, kid. You still have the most impressive résumé. She’s just an intern; doing paperwork, mainly.”

“I wasn’t– I wasn’t worried about that,” Spencer stammered, wetting his bottom lip. “I mean– not that I think she isn’t smart or anything. I just meant–”

“Kid, I mean it when you have to relax,” Derek snorted as he opens up the door to the bullpen “Meet the rest of the team.”

He walked through the doors, ready to make his mark. He’s spent so long believing that he was nothing but now… he took another step, meeting Hotch’s gaze and– he didn’t get very far when something catapulted into his side. There was a flurry of paper work and cream coloured files, case details splayed all over the floor. Spencer grunted a little, tumbling to the ground like a house of cards. 

“Oh, my God, I am– I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I was running and I am not used to office attire! I am so sorry!” 

The ramblings of a girl– she couldn’t be older than him, at least, not by much– filled Spencer’s ears and he grimaces. “No, it’s– it’s okay. Don’t– uh– don’t worry about it.”

“(Y/N)...” JJ huffed out a quiet laugh, helping the other girl to her feet. “Are you guys okay?”

“I’m okay,” Spencer said, slowly getting to his feet. 

The girl didn’t do the same, instead scrambling to pick up the multitude of papers that litter the floor. “I’m fine! Just– great. Great. Brilliant.”

Spencer immediately started to reach for the papers, trying his best not crumple them up anymore than they already were. “You’re… the intern?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, breathless. “I’m still getting used to all…” You gesture wildly to the interior of the bullpen. “... this.”

“(Y/N), meet Doctor Spencer Reid. He’s the youngest addition to the team. Reid, meet (Y/N) (L/N). She’s part of the Academy Honours Program,” Gideon introduces, peering at the two of you from behind his glasses. 

“Hi,” you said meekly, stretching out your hand.

His words hitched in his throat because once he’s gotten past the flying papers and the fact that you literally ran into him, he realises just how beautiful you are. You were right there in front of him, close enough to touch but–

“I don’t shake hands,” he said quietly, the anxiety gnawing at his stomach. His fingers twitch at his sides and he moves them to grip the handle of his satchel. “Sorry.”

You smile at him and his heart thunders in his chest. Is this how Romeo felt when he met Juliet? Or how Charles Bingley felt when he met Jane Bennett? 

“It’s okay,” you told him, tucking the papers under your arm. “Don’t worry about it. So, you’re a doctor? That’s really cool!”

“Reid here got accepted into the BAU without even taking a physical exam,” Derek chimed in, practically bragging about Spencer’s intellectual prowess. “Isn’t that right, kid?”

“I’m not an athletic person,” Spencer said awkwardly, his worries dissipating when he heard you laugh good-naturedly. Regardless, he felt the urge to defend himself. “I’m not weak.”

JJ laughed along. “We know, Spencer.”

“I’m not weak… I’m not weak…”

“I don’t give a damn whether you’re weak or strong.” 

Spencer barely manages to blink his eyes open as he hears the familiar timbre of Tobias’s father’s voice fill the room. He’s slowly coming down from the high of the drugs and the room spins as he does. 

“Yell all you want boy,” Tobias sneers, bending down so that he’s eye level with Spencer. “Ain’t no one gonna hear you where you are.”

As if to prove his point, he begins to scream. Deep and rumbly, and it jolts Spencer back to reality. He wishes he was careful. He wishes he was with you.

*** 

“Tobias has dissociative identity disorder,” Garcia explains to you through the phone, and you slap a hand to your forehead. 

“That makes so much sense,” You mutter to yourself, pacing around the room of the police department. “I should have seen it. It was right there in front of me and I missed it.”

Penelope hums, her voice tense with worry. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. No one knew until we started digging into the journals and cross-checking dates.”

“I know but–” You rub your eyes, cringing as stars litter your vision– “it was just so obvious. What else have you gotten?”

It has been a little over ten hours since Hotch sent you back to the police department and you haven’t gotten much sleep. You tried, you swear you tried, but every time you see the terrified face of Spencer and it makes you sick. The whiteboard in front of you is littered with different evidence files and profiles. Profiles on Tobias, profiles on the victims, geographical profiles… the list goes on. 

“We know that Tobias is an addict,” Emily says. “He picked dilaudid as his poison.”

“For someone so hellbent on following the Bible, he’s incredibly hypocritical,” You say, jotting down the words onto the whiteboard. 

“His personality is split into that of his father, Charles, and Raphael,” Emily continues, and you can hear the frown in her voice. 

You’re about to say something when Garcia’s voice raises by an octave. 

“Oh God,” she squeaks, and you can hear the clicking of keys in the background. “Morgan? Emily, get the others, oh my God!”

“What’s going on?” You demand urgently, gripping the phone tighter. “Garcia, what’s going on?”

“It’s Spencer,” her voice is hushed and far from the speaker, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

“What happened? Penelope, what happened?”

“We have to go,” she says hurriedly, and the sound of footsteps from the rest of the team fill the speaker.

“No! Wait, don’t hang—“

The sound of the prolonged dial tone echoes in your ears and you resist the urge to scream. You press the pads of your fingers to your eyes, hot tears wetting your skin. Crying will get you nowhere and you know that. You know that Spencer is holding on. He’s relying on the BAU to save him. 

You gather all the available files on Charles Hankel, spreading them around the table. There’s not much to read; he’s lived a relatively quiet life. He was a farmer, his wife left him… dead end. Again. You’re at your wit’s end and you grab your keys. 

“John, want to work on a federal case?” You ask, shaking your keys. The younger policeman nods eagerly and you point to the door. “Great. Let’s go.”

It’s a small country town in Atlanta. Someone has to know something, especially if Tobias was a drug abuser. 

“We’re going to a few Narcotics Anonymous groups,” You explain to John who looks a little too excited to be sitting in a federal car. “Ask questions on Tobias Hankel and Charles Hankel. Someone has to know something.”

“All due respect, um, ma’am,” John stammers, and you raise an eyebrow amusedly. He coughs before continuing, “why aren’t you with the rest of the team?”

You falter, turning your attention back to the road. “They need me to work it from here. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Two miserable hours pass by with not much luck. Two hours that could have been used for something more meaningful than asking a bunch of drugged up assholes about the UnSub. Anxiety claws at your chest again as you flick through the answers. It’s nothing you didn’t already know. 

“I got something,” John says a little breathlessly, jogging back over to you. 

“Yes?” You need something. Anything. 

“A few sheep were stolen off of a farmer’s property,” he says, flipping through the notebook and reading off his scrawny handwriting. “Wasn’t Charles a farmer?”

“What does that have to do with–” You feel your mouth go dry and you turn to him. “Which farm?”

“Which– um…” He swallows. “Mcallister? Shawn Mcallister.”

In seconds you’re dialling Garcia again and she picks up with a trembling, “hello?”

“Is Spencer alive?” You ask firmly, slamming the car door. 

“Y-Yes. He’s– it’s not good, (Y/N),” she whimpers, clicking on the keyboard. “There was another murder. Spencer had to– he had to– he had to choose who to save. The UnSub fed a video to us, (Y/N), it’s horrible.”

There was another murder? John seizes up beside you and you grimace. You keep forgetting that John is practically a kid, barely twenty-one, and he hasn’t even seen the horrors of the world yet. 

“But he came back, right? To Spencer?” You ask, gripping the steering wheel tighter in an effort to keep yourself steady. “Penelope, Tobias posted a video of the latest murder, right? When was it posted?”

“9:23,” she says woefully, typing away.

“Okay, and…” you check the police radio, biting your lip nervously. “Okay, it says that the call for the murder came in at 9:04.”

There’s a little static in the background along with some shuffling before she responds. “Um… okay?”

“John, I need a map. Where’s– goddamn it– where’s the map of the area, John?!”

He fumbles, spreading the paper open. “Here!”

“That road– it’s 60 miles an hour, right? That means he needs to be–” you scribble across the map, frowning. “That’s within seventeen miles of the crime scene. There’s a farm, uh, poaching or something. Mcallister farm?”

“We’ll find something,” Penelope says quietly. “I’ll try find the farm area. He is going to be okay, I promise.”

You let out a heavy breath. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

*** 

The guilt alone is enough to kill him. Spencer knows that he is not at fault for this; Gideon said so. Regardless, he can’t get their faces out of his head. They were happy. What if they had kids? They were good people; they didn’t deserve to die the way they did. Spencer’s head pounds as he slumps against the chair, his breath quickening when he realises that Tobias is right there.

“Sorry, I had to leave for a while,” Tobias, the real Tobias, says quietly, strapping the belt to Spencer’s arm again.

He’s felt this so many times now. The high, and then the inevitable low. There’s no point fighting it, Spencer tries to justify, it’s biology. 

“You can leave again,” he says softly, “and you can take me with you.”

“My father would be angry,” Tobias says, drawing the liquid up the syringe.

“Not if he can’t find us.”

Tobias scoffs. “He always finds me.”

“If you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us,” Spencer pleads, trying to look him in the eye.

“We can’t be saved,” he says dismissively, flicking the syringe. 

Spencer sniffles, and for a split second he feels the fear course through his veins. “We can. We can, I promise, if you tell me where we are I’ll save us both.”

“Listen to me. It’s not worth fighting.” Tobias pauses, readying the syringe. “Tell me it doesn't make it better.”

The silence that follows is humiliating. He hates the way that he isn’t fighting anymore but he can’t. It’s almost as if his body doesn’t even want to listen to him. Tobias doesn’t waste another moment and the familiar feeling of artificial ecstasy floods Spencer’s mind.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

The phrase was so unfamiliar and Spencer’s brows furrowed as he looked at you. It has been a couple weeks since you were officially indoctrinated into the BAU and he couldn’t be any happier. It felt nice to talk to someone who was his age, especially because he never really knew anyone of his age back in Las Vegas. 

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

You laughed and his heart fluttered in his chest. He remembered the feeling distinctly; how could he forget? The feeling is still the same now.

“I mean… tell me something not a lot of people know about you. Like… okay, I’ll go first. Um… my favourite flowers are hydrangeas. The purple ones.” 

He committed that information to memory. Every year for your birthday he would buy you a new pot of hydrangeas for your apartment or something flower related like an automatic waterer or a replacement sun lamp. 

“Hydrangea macrophylla,” Spencer said slowly, his cheeks flushed. “It means… gratitude, grace, and beauty. It’s fitting.”

He relished in the way your eyes lit up and the way you smiled at him. “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Um… my middle name is Walter?” He chuckled awkwardly, wetting his bottom lip. “No one really calls me that, though.”

You typed something on your computer, reading out loud, “The name Walter is Germanic in origin and means ‘commander of the army’.”

His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I like it.” You grinned at him. “Walter.”

Spencer choked a little, the hairs on his neck standing on end and heat crawling up his cheeks. “You– you don’t have to call me that.”

“I won’t if you don’t like it,” you told him. 

“It’s not that I don���t like it,” he said quickly, his eyes widening. “I’m just not used to it.”

He remembers the way you beamed at him and the way he felt knowing that he made you happy. 

“Well then,” You began, meeting his gaze, “I guess that means I just have to call you that more often.”

Tobias’s yelling brings him back and all he can do is stare as he watches him slam on the keyboard angrily. A bright red pop up is flashing on his computer, and Tobias turns to Spencer with a murderous scowl. 

“They’re trying to silence my message.”

“I can’t control what they do,” Spencer defends tearfully, his voice wavering. “I’m not with them, I’m with you.”

Tobias scoffs again. “Really?”

He types something onto the keyboard and Gideon’s face show’s up on the screen. He’s leaning towards the camera, his words a mantra that Spencer repeats in his mind. 

“Reid,” the crackly audio sounds with Gideon’s voice, “if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this, understand me? He’s perverting God to justify murder. You are stronger than him. He cannot break you.”

Tobias slams the computer off, walking back to him. “You think you can defy me?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about–”

“You’re a liar!”

Spencer can only grimace in response, the words caught in his throat. Tobias must have been able to see something and the fear creeps into his heart again as the man lunges for his arm. Tobias forces Spencer’s sleeve up and the guilt crashes like waves. 

“You’re pitiful,” Tobias sneers, “Just like my son.”

Spencer wracks out a sob, silent pleas of mercy never leaving his lips. Maybe he does deserve this. Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, the universe is out to get him for all his shortcomings. Maybe, he thinks to himself as he watches Tobias turn the camera on, maybe he does deserve to die this way.

“This ends now,” Tobias snarls. “Confess your sins.”

“No,” he whimpers. 

Tobias’s fist collides with the side of Spencer’s face with a resounding slap. 

“Confess!”

“I haven’t done anything…”

His fist meets Spencer’s cheek again and all he can do is recoil in his chair.

“Tobias, help me,” he manages, but his plea is shut down almost instantly. 

“He can’t help you, he’s weak. Confess!” He hits him again and the pain is almost too much to bear. “Confess your sins.”

Spencer sobs. “No…”

In a fit of anger, Tobias throws Spencer to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts as he feels the back of his head meet the cold musty ground. He can’t breathe. He feels like he’s underwater. Have to breathe, he needs to breathe, why can’t he breathe? He needs to see you again. He can’t die like this. He can’t, he can’t, he needs to breathe. He tries to take a breath of air but it’s like his mouth is full of water. And just when he thinks he reached the surface, he’s pulled under once again. 

Warmth. The feeling of his blood pumping to his ears is the first thing Spencer feels and his fingers twitch. He’s alive. There’s only one reason why that must have happened. 

“I was given CPR,” he rasps out, Tobias’s words swirling in his head. 

“There are no accidents,” Tobias says slowly. “How many members are in your team?”

Spencer can barely whisper the word. “Eight.”

“Seven, not including you. ‘The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to Earth’.” He hoists Spencer’s chair upright, standing before him. “Tell me who you serve.”

“I serve you.”

“Then choose one to die.”

Spencer blanches, looking up at him. “What?”

“Your team members. Choose one to die.”

He doesn’t need to think when he responds, “kill me.”

Tobias jeers. “You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied.”

“Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies.”

Spencer breathes in as if it were his last. “No.”

Tobias pulls out a revolver from his jacket pocket, spinning the cylinder before aiming it for Spencer’s head. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.”

Tobias clicks the trigger and nothing happens so he repeats, “choose.”

“I won’t do it.”

The trigger clicks again and nothing happens. “Life is a choice.”

“No.” 

Spencer’s mind is racing. His first thought goes to you. He knows you would understand any and all references he throws in your direction, but it makes him sick just thinking about putting your life on the line. He needs something. He needs to think. 

“Choose.”

“I choose…” his voice stammers and he can barely see straight. “Aaron Hotchner.”

*** 

“We got him.”

The words echo in your mind as you pace up and down your hotel room, chewing on your destroyed nailbeds. It’s nearing two in the morning and you can’t sleep. The rest of the team are awake. Why should you be given the privilege of rest when none of them were able to? Why should you be given the privilege of rest when Spencer is out there fighting for his life? It’s not fair. Life isn’t fair.

When you hear the sirens outside you run out the door. Blood is pulsing in your ears and you’re still wearing the thin hotel slippers but it doesn’t matter. How could anything else matter? The car door clicks open and Emily helps Spencer out of the car. She whispers something to him and he looks in your direction. Those big hazel eyes stare at you with so much hurt and you can’t contain it anymore. 

“Spencer.”

His arms wrap around your waist, his nose pressing against your neck as he holds you, breathing in the smell of your vanilla perfume. He almost doesn’t believe you’re real. He pulls you impossibly closer, sniffling, and he can feel your fingers run through his hair. 

“You’re okay,” you whisper, trying to be reassuring, but he can hear the way your voice cracks. “You’re okay.”

“I should have listened to you,” He whimpers, feeling the cold wet rain soak through his shirt. “I should have– I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be, Walter.”

The moment he hears that name spill from your lips he begins to cry. He’s okay. He’s with you now. You’re right here. 

“I thought–”

You shush him for the first and last time, squeezing his arms. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

He wonders how a person could be so warm. Even in the cold Atlanta weather you’re still so warm. 

“Hotch wouldn’t let me work the case from the house,” you tell him quietly as you sit beside him on the bed. “Understandable. I screamed at him.”

He chuckles a little, flinching when you gently pull the bandage off the side of his face. He feels a lot better now that he’s clean, the shower more than necessary and he savours the feeling of warm water on his skin. The gash on his head is oozing sticky blood and you dispose of it accordingly, reaching into the first aid kit. 

“It’s gonna sting a little,” you tell him, pressing a damp cloth to the wound. 

He hisses at the contact, gripping your arm and he tries to change the subject. “Why did you scream at Hotch?”

You hum, continuing to clean the blood off his head. “I was mad at him.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.”

You smile at him, applying a new bandage to his head. “It’s okay. I was able to help the case from here, anyway.”

“Stay with me,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “Please?”

Your gaze softens. “Of course, Walter.”

He curls into your side, an arm wrapped around your middle and he breathes in the scent of your strawberry and honey shampoo. Your fingers curl in his hair, untangling the knots when your eyes flicker to your desk, the letter of resignation tucked inside your bag. He doesn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

*** 

You knock at the door of Hotch’s office, chewing on your bottom lip. You remember being in this office for the first time four years ago when you were an intern; the way you shook with nerves and anticipation as you handed in your résumé for the honours program and then again when you were hoping to take the job full time. It’s ironic that you’re back at his office again, but for a very different reason. 

“Come in.”

The breath that leaves your lips is shaky and you take a seat in front of his desk. “Hotch.”

“(Y/N).”

You place the pristine white envelope onto the desk,watching the way his face shifts from stoic to surprised.

“You don’t have to do this,” He says, not touching the envelope. “The situation at hand was stressful. No one blames you for reacting the way you did.”

“It’s not just because of that,” you say slowly. “You were right. I was too involved.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you say quickly, a humourless laugh slipping at your words. “I would have killed him.”

Hotch looks at you, his eyes meeting yours. “You wouldn’t have.”

“I would have,” you say surely. “After what he did to Spencer, if I had found him I would have killed him. And I would have– I would have slept well. I love this team, Hotch, but I can’t separate those feelings when I’m on the field no matter how hard I try.”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, rising from his seat. “I’m assuming it’s a two-week’s notice?”

You nod, also getting up from your chair. “Yeah. I– I don’t want to just leave, you know?”

“We’re going to miss you,” he says, walking with you to the door, “but this will be good for you.”

“I know.” You can feel the stares of the rest of the team through the glass and you can’t help but smile. “They’re horrible at being nonchalant.”

“They’re profilers,” Aaron chuckles. “Can you blame them?”

“I guess not,” you muse, pulling the door open. “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You always have a place here, (Y/N),” he says gently as you walk back down to the bullpen. 

It doesn’t take long before the overflowing dam of questions burst and in moments Emily is crossing the room and sitting next to you. 

“You’re leaving the BAU?”

You look at her with wide eyes before laughing a little. “You… are very good at your job, huh?”

“Oh…” Penelope tackles you in a hug, her arms tight around your frame. “We’re going to miss you.”

JJ sniffles a little, joining the hug. “Don’t forget us.”

“As if I ever could.” A bittersweet smile rests on your lips. 

Derek hugs you as well, his chin on the top of your head. “Look after yourself, kid. We’ll make these last two weeks the best you’ve ever had.”

“If you ever need anything…” Emily begins slowly, squeezing your hands. “I’m here, okay?”

Gideon pats your shoulder lightly, a sad smile on his face. “You’re a good person. Never forget that.”

You nod, trying to blink away the tears that fill your eyes. “I know. Thanks, you guys.”

The opening and shutting of the BAU doors brings you out of your thoughts and the familiar head of brown hair stalking away makes your face fall. Gideon meets your gaze, gesturing towards the door. That’s all you need to run out of the bullpen. 

“Spencer– Spencer, wait, please.” You tug on his arm desperately. “Please–”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asks, his voice cracking. It has only been a few days since the incident and he looks a little better. The scratches on his face are still visible, but they’re fading slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I–” you falter, flinching at the pain and hostility in his voice. “It was never a good time.”

He scoffs quietly, rubbing at his arm. “You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t just randomly tell you,” you say, frowning. “How would that be fair?”

Spencer rubs his eyes, the dark bags beneath them even more prominent. “Why are you leaving?”

“I have to,” you say gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I love this job but I can’t do it anymore–”

“Why not?!”

“Because–!” You exhale, trying to calm yourself down. “Because I swore an oath when I took this job that I will put this country above myself. And I can do that. I would die for this country to protect the people in it, I will hunt down the people who make this country so unsafe and I will sacrifice myself willingly, but you? I can’t– I can’t lose you. If I had to choose between catching the UnSub and saving you, I would save you in a heartbeat. Even if that meant letting a bad guy go. Even if that meant more people would get hurt I would still choose you and I can’t let that happen.”

Your words deem him speechless and he shifts his weight on his feet. For a moment, all he can do is stare at you as your reasoning sinks in. It makes sense. He hates that it makes sense. 

“So that’s it?” He asks quietly, finally looking you in the eye. “You’re actually leaving?”

“Not for another two weeks,” you tell him truthfully. “Besides, you can still text me. And call me. You know where I live so you can always visit.”

He bites the inside of his cheek anxiously, teetering on his feet before hugging you tightly, burying his nose into your hair. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

His grip is tight around you and if you paid attention you could feel him tremble. “I can’t do this job without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You can, Walter. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

There are so many things he wishes he could tell you. You’re right here. He doesn’t have to yearn for your touch anymore because you’re right here in his arms. He wants to tell you so many things. Like how he adores the colour of your eyes, or the way you smile, or the way your hair falls. He wants to tell you how much he likes spending time with you and how he feels so good with you but he can’t. The words are at the tip of his tongue so how can he not say anything?

“I–” love you– “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you whisper. “Me too.”

← previous part || next part →

full work

reblogs are always appreciated!

[vivmaek]

Transits that Enhance Beauty & Attraction

✰ my masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❦ Venus Hours

Click here to calculate planetary hours. I use planetary hours more so as a life hack, it's not something I would go out of my way to plan my days around. But, Venus hours are definitely worth being taken advantage of. All activities related to beauty, love, and the arts will have an especially heightened effect when occurring during Venus hours. Plan dates during these hours, and partake in beauty routines. Taking selfies and posting them during a Venus hour might result in heightened attention. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❦ Fridays

There's a reason why this is everyone's favorite day of the week. This is the perfect time to engage in pursuits of pleasure. Connecting with people comes easier on Fridays which is why it’s so favorable for social activities. Making an effort to relax is essential. Go shopping so you can buy yourself something beautiful. Eat good food, put effort into your appearance, and listen to music that makes you ponder about love. Wear pink or green if you can. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❦ Venus in the First House

People genuinely look GOOD when Venus is transiting through their first house. It is also natural for people to make adjustments to their appearance during this time frame, and it always serves them well in the end. When Venus is in your first house, you can look forward to a month full of good hair days and clear skin. That alone is usually all it takes to greatly boost one's confidence. Attracting attention, especially the romantic kind, also occurs during this transit. I always have encounters that leave me feeling really good about my appearance when Venus is in my first house. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❦ Neptune in the First House

Getting in touch with yourself allows for your inner beauty to radiate outwards, which is oftentimes the result of this transit. The most beautiful people you know are also always the kindest. Acting on compassion will enhance how attractive you appear to others. An air of mystery tends to hang around people when Neptune is transiting through their first house. It is common to have people yearning and fantasizing about you during this transit. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❦ Venus in the Fifth House

This transit brings a lot of fun into my life. There's always an uptake in invites to social engagements, and I’ve had lots of flings and short term relationships begin under this transit. I also tend to discover a lot of new music when Venus transits through my fifth house. My only advice for this time frame is to take full advantage of it! I think leaning into the spontaneity of this transit results in a carefree attitude. You won’t be caught up in appearances because you’ll be having too much fun to really care. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❦ Neptune in the Tenth House

I’m not going to get into all the situations that may occur during this transit. Neptune transiting through the tenth house doesn’t have much to do with physical beauty and attractiveness. But, it is a good time to try and capture photographs of yourself. You’ll look especially good on camera. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❧ Sun Conjunct / Sextile / Trine Sun

During these transits, people often find themselves feeling lively and rejuvenated. A general sense of excitement and love of life is felt quite deeply. This type of energy brings out the best in people and they glow from the inside out. An excellent time to throw parties and host celebrations. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❧ Sun Conjunct / Sextile / Trine Ascendant

You’ll be hard to miss with the transitioning sun positively aspecting your natal ascendant. The people you encounter during this time will find you especially attractive and will feel energized by your presence. Job interviews and first impressions are favorable under this transit. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❧ Moon Conjunct / Sextile / Trine Mars

Getting in touch with your sexual desires is common with these transits. Lots of passionate feelings arise. Insecurities are unlikely to hold you back, you’ll feel sexy and attractive. Being direct about your feelings will result in positive encounters. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❧ Venus Conjunct / Sextile / Trine Sun

It doesn’t take much for you to feel good when these transits are occurring. You’ll feel beautiful and will receive more attention due to this. Go out and have fun. Spend money. Be affectionate with your friends and loved ones. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❧ Venus Conjunct / Sextile / Trine Moon

A sense of security is generated through these transits. You’ll feel charismatic and easy-going. Emotional harmony is reached and affectionate feelings will be increased. Whatever has been causing you stress will dissipate for the time being and your physical appearance will reflect this. Sexual attractiveness is heightened and you’ll find it easy to connect with the more sensual aspects of life. This is an especially favorable time for haircuts.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❧ Venus Conjunct / Sextile / Trine Venus

You’ll be feeling downright gorgeous and will feel a great need to invest in your appearance. The clothing you buy during this time will be in alignment with your style. You might find yourself experiencing a streak of good luck. It seems as though everything comes easy to you when these transits are occurring. People will be especially kind and affectionate towards you, you’ll have many positive social interactions. Focus on the aspects of life that bring you peace during this time so you can use them again when life becomes more chaotic.  

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❧ Venus Conjunct / Sextile / Trine Ascendant

The only downside that occurs with these transits is having to deal with a sense of laziness. You’ll want to forget all about your responsibilities. Luckily, you’ll be very well received and can get away with more than you normally would under ordinary circumstances. You’ll find yourself stuck, staring into the mirror because you look THAT good. You might catch yourself constantly making adjustments to your appearance. Warmth and affection will follow you throughout daily life. This would be a good time to take a vacation. 

[foreveralbon]

“my model, my inspiration, my muse, my everything” - ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader

in which lando becomes a stranger’s muse and more

word count: 3.5k

content warnings: swearing, i am not an art girlie so very limited (and crappy) descriptions of artworks enjoy!! <3

masterlist

lando doesn’t want to be there. sure, he’s never going to turn down an invitation to go to the club with oscar and the rest of the team, but is he always going to want to be there? not really.

because between what felt like a shit sprint, an even shittier race and the shittiest weekend he’s ever had with the car in qatar, he’d rather be at home, wallowing in his own self pity, half asleep while watching friends reruns. but things don’t always go his way, so being dragged out of the hotel by oscar and the others to a club he doesn’t want to be at against his will seems quite on brand for lando norris. 

he’s decided to make the shadows his hiding spot, sitting at the corner of the bar where he can drown himself in enough shots and self-pity that it could rival charles’ mood after a dnf with ferrari. he makes it through five shots, seven songs, and manages one pathetic rundown of the race in his head before two bodies slide up to the bar beside him. he’s known max too long to not be able to tell when his best friend is to the left beside him, so he instantly assumes pietra’s to his right.  

“p,” he says, not turning to look at the girl. “do you reckon we can-”

there’s a small pause before an uncertain, “me?” is said in his direction. the unfamiliar voice has him raising his head to see a girl who is definitely not max’s girlfriend staring back at him. it takes him an extra second to register that it’s a very pretty girl staring back at him. 

it probably must be the alcohol giving him a boost of unexpected confidence because it takes just the smallest of glances at her before he’s blurting out, “can i buy you a drink?” 

he can hear max sputter behind him because where the hell did that come from, lando? yeah, definitely the alcohol. 

but her eyes can barely hide her amusement and she can barely contain her giggles, a bubbly laugh that’s music to lando’s ears. “i’m sorry, but i don’t even know your name.”

with his cheeks tinged pink, the man holds his hand out. “i’m lando.”

her grip is strong in his, the rings on her fingers cool against his warm skin. “y/n. you don’t look like you’re having too much fun, lando.” she jerks her head toward the exit, turning back to him with a smirk that has lando’s insides melting. “how do you feel about ditching?”

her hand never leaves lando’s as he tells max he’ll call him when he gets the chance and then she’s leading him out the bar and onto the main street. he finds himself questioning whether he should trust some random girl he just met to take him around in a foreign country but the voice of reason in his head shuts up when she looks up at him with a smile that instantly has his knees weak and his dimples on full display. 

maybe this weekend might not end so bad after all. 

— 

they converse over sodas and shawarma because nothing else is really open at that time of night in qatar, and with every passing minute of their “date”, lando finds himself more intrigued by her than he ever thought could be possible. 

maybe it’s the way her hair falls over her shoulder when she leans forward to listen to him and give him her utmost attention. or it could be the way her eyes soften whenever she makes him laugh. maybe it’s the way her lips curve up into the most beautifully cheeky smile whenever he says something so out of pocket that it makes her head drop down as her shoulders shake with silent laughter. 

“so, what do you do?” 

her question comes as a surprise to lando. not that he expected her to really know, but qatar is a small country and he wouldn’t think much would happen at the same time as the doha grand peix. 

“i’m a formula one driver,” he says. 

“that is so cool,” she gasps. “i wish i could have a cool job like that. i’m an artist, and i guess there’s not much to say about that. i’m in a bit of a slump though, that’s why i came to qatar, for inspiration.”

“and have you found any? inspiration, i mean.” 

“not yet. but if you want, maybe you can be my muse.”

he just laughs and moves the conversation along, but his mind doesn’t stop racing, keeps screaming, yeah, maybe i can. 

— 

lando decides it quickly: he’s had y/n for two weeks and he would go to the ends of the world and back for her. 

after their late night date in qatar, they exchanged numbers after finding out they both live in london, under the promise they would see each other again when they were both back home.

since then, they’d spent hours messaging each other. lando talks about his driver friends, his childhood in karting and his favourite places to visit. she talks about her art, university and her favourite foods to eat. she makes him promise her that he’ll take her all around the world, and he makes her promise him that she’ll never make him eat any foods with fish.  

he tells himself it’s not normal to feel like this, to tone it down a little bit. when, really, all he wants to do is just giggle and swing his legs like a little schoolgirl with a crush. 

“guys, i’m in love,” he announces two weeks later, falling onto the couch of oscar’s driver room in the austin gp.

“are you now?” oscar muses, pushing lando’s legs from off the couch so he can sit down beside him. lando throws him a snarky look but continues talking when he realises the aussie’s on his phone and paying him no attention. 

“no, seriously. her name’s y/n, she’s from england too. she’s funny, kind, smart, talented, artistic. she’s a painter and all that.”

“a painter?” oscar looks up. “where’d you go that you met an artist?” 

lando quickly fills oscar in on the last two weeks, from leaving the celebrations early to their nightly conversations. he even mentions her creative slump, how he’s trying to help find ways to inspire her. 

he doesn’t register the look of affection oscar’s giving him, but when he does, he stutters to a stop. “oi, why are you giving me that look?” 

“i’m glad you’ve found someone, mate.” he stands up and heads toward the door before stopping slightly. “just don’t fuck it up, yeah?” 

the door swings shut behind oscar and lando slumps back onto the couch, a smitten look on his face. “me too, mate. me too.”

and when his phone lights up with a photo of her smiling face taken the night they met, he’s never felt more lovestruck. 

— 

lando asks her to be his girlfriend over the phone in oscar’s driver room in texas. he could’ve sworn his heart doubled in size hearing her laugh out the sweetest chorus of “yes” he’d ever heard in his life. 

he spends the next four weeks leading to the winter break on the phone with his girlfriend - his girlfriend! - and his first day off on a plane to see her. she greets him at the airport, practically jumping into his arms when she sees him.

from the moment he gets her in his arms, he knows he’s never going to let her go. and he quite literally doesn’t the first few days. his hand is glued to her thigh in the car, his arms wrapped around her shoulders or waist whenever he can get behind her, or he’s got a hand in her pocket as they walk around. it’s only until she has to go to art studio that she manages to peel him off her.

“listen, lan, baby,” she says between the kisses he presses onto her lips, “i need to go now, but i’ll be back to pick you up later.”

“but i don’t want you to go,” he whines. she presses her palm to his cheek lovingly before walking out the front door of his london home and leaving him alone.

but true to her word, she’s back a couple hours later, urging him into the car, and when he asks where she’s taking him, she simply says somewhere.

it doesn’t take long for them to pull up in front of a small building, and he doesn’t question it when she tells him to close his eyes before she takes his hand and leads him inside.

“promise me you’re not looking, lan.” her own hands now cover his eyes as she guides him through the building.

“promise, love,” he says.

it’s not until he feels her hands moving away and the creak of a door swinging open that he opens his eyes and is meant with a paint-splattered room full of used and empty canvases. but then she turns his attention to a certain corner of the room, a display of canvases stood on easels staring back at him - it takes a moment for him to notice that it’s his face staring back at him. multiple portraits of close up shots, to him on the podium, to even a formula one car going around a corner of the track.

“i have an art exhibition coming up and i didn’t know what to do, but when i saw you, i just knew i had to paint you,” she explains, following him closer to the paintings. she lets him brush his fingers across the fabric, watches him trail every detail along the curve of his painted faces, the glint of his p2 trophy from his podium in brazil, the shape of the car - max’s, he realises. he tears his gaze away just as she continues talking.

“i know it’s not a lot, and it might seem a bit creepy because i did go through pinterest for a bunch of good photos of you, and i took screenshots of you whenever skysports showed you on screen. but you’re just so pretty, and i really, really wanted to paint you and-” she registers the look he’s giving her, arms crossed, head tilted to the side as his face stretches into a smile so big his eyes squint. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you think i’m pretty?”

she scoffs and pushes him back, a laugh bubbling out of lando’s mouth as he grabs her wrist and hold her to him. she loops her arms around his neck before saying, “you know, i almost forgot why i loved this.” she pauses, and he gives a look, prodding her on. “but you’ve reminded me why. it’s like being with you makes the world seem different. brighter. better. happier.”

lando wishes he had his camera, wishes he could be a painter like her just so he could capture the pure joy in her eyes and keep it forever, because even if her face in that moment was the last thing he saw, lando’s sure he would die a happy man.

he doesn’t know what to say, so he just kisses her instead, letting her know all he was trying to say with that one sweet motion. and when he rests his forehead on hers, he grins cheekily and says, “looks like i became your muse after all, huh?”

—

the gallery is bustling with noise as he pushes past the double doors into y/n’s art exhibition four months later. four months of late nights and long days, multiple stress breaks and even more mental breakdowns. though most of the work took place during the winter break, lando wouldn’t have traded it for the world, because no matter how he spent it, there was nothing better than being by his girl’s side.

oscar stands to his right, a woah of appreciation escaping his lips as they take in the gallery.

paintings in shades of orange, pink and yellow hang along one wall - her perception of him watches everyone from its place on the wall opposite. oscar and lando stand tall in their own separate large frame, and it’s hard to miss the signature colours of mclaren, but dimmer, almost warmer, a style lando would recognise anywhere as y/n’s having spent so long around it.

the way everyone marvels over his girl’s artwork is music to his ears and he can’t help but flush when people recognise him as the man in the portraits.

“young lando norris,” someone booms from behind him. he recognises y/n’s art professor emerging from the crowd and greets the older man with a firm handshake.

“sir! good to see you,” lando says politely.

he gestures around him. “your girl’s done well, lando.”

lando nods. “she has. i’m very proud of her, i always knew she could do it.”

“have you seen her yet?”

“no, i haven’t, actually. i came with oscar, so.”

the older man ahhs, giving him a knowing smile. “well, don’t let me hold you up. go get her.”

lando leaves them with a gracious nod, moving through the crowd to his girl, all the while accepting handshakes from supportive friends and small wishes of “congratulations”, “well done” and “tell her we’re proud of her”. he finally spots her, hair pinned to perfection and dress perfectly hugging every curve of her body, making small talk with a well-dressed couple in the corner of the room.

he catches the exact moment she realises he’s there, revels in the grin that splits her face as she excuses herself. it’s barely a minute between that moment to when she’s barreling into his arms, head furrowing in the crook of his neck as she mumbles, “you made it.”

he presses her tighter to his body. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world, love.”

their moment short-lived though when someone kindly taps on her shoulder. y/n pulls away from him and, with one glance at the woman, turns back to him. “i have to go make a speech, but i’ll be back right after.”

he lets her go with a quick kiss to her lips and forehead and never takes his eyes of her as she makes her way through the crowd to the front of the room, his cheeks flushing when she catches sight of him and blows him a quick kiss. he feels oscar come up beside him, handing him a glass before resting his now-free hand on lando’s shoulder, muttering a low, “simp.”

shut up he shoots back, just as y/n taps the microphone in her hand once, twice, getting the guests’ attention.

“hello everyone, i just wanted thank you all for coming out here tonight. it means so much to me.” she pauses for the ‘you’re welcome’s’ before continuing, “i know i’ve already addressed everyone here and said my thank you’s, but i’d like to mention two more people. oscar, who was patient enough to pose for me for one of my paintings. it means the world to me, thank you, osc.

“and to lando, the boy who inspired me to do all this. if you don’t know who he is, just look around, you’ll find him, he looks really similar to the big guy on the wall.” a chorus of laughter rings out. “without you, lan, i couldn’t have done any of this. thank you for sitting there on facetime so that i could sketch you because i was scared i wouldn’t do you justice from memory, thank you for bringing me takeout when i was stuck in the studio late at night, hyper-fixating on the smallest of details and so much more. i love you, so so much.”

and as the crowd erupts into applause, he just raises his glass in the smallest of gestures to her, and whispers, “anything for you, baby.”

—

it’s later that night when they’re both in the comforting darkness of their room, still tipsy off too many glasses of champagne and each other. he runs a hand through her hair, her naked body warm against his. they’re already so close he can’t even tell where he starts and she stops, but he needs to be closer. he tugs her toward him, bringing her leg over his hip and tucking her face in the crook of his neck before wrapping his arms around her torso. 

“lando, i can’t breathe,” she laughs, but she still furrows closer to him. 

“it’s a great way to go, don’t you think?”

“mmm, the best way.”

“baby?”

“yes.”

he knots his hand through her hair once more, pulling her away from his neck and forcing her to look at him. “you know i live for you, right?”

“do you?” her voice is incredulous, like she can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. 

“only you, because of you. no one else.”

she’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of their even breaths filling the room. and then she’s pressing the softest kisses to his face. his eyes - “my model” - cheeks - “my inspiration” - nose - “my muse” - and then his lips: “my everything.”

“i love you, lando.”

“i love you, too, baby.”

“only me?”

her voice is small and muffled and he can’t help but laugh. “yeah, darling, only you.”

—

author’s note: helloo, firstly, thank you soso much to @disneyprincemuke for encouraging me to finish this mwah <3

secondly, i don’t normally write fics, i mainly write other original works and my main genre is normally thriller and suspense so this is very far off what i normally write. feedback is so appreciated so please don’t hesitate to critique :)

[pamsimmer]

LUNAR PHASES CHALLENGE

My very first challenge and I'm excited? haha

When I was looking for occults challenge to play I found a lot of witches and vampire type of things, but I don't quite remember seeing a werewolf one.

These three occults are my favorites (unfortunately I kind of ignore the others because you know... meh, not as fun to play with them. But maybe one day I'll try to make a mermaid challenge)

Down here you're gonna find the rules and guidelines for each gen. You don't have to follow strictly the rules if you don't want to, I know it can be annoying sometimes. And also I made it short for those who prefer shorter challenges (like me).

I just hope you have fun!

[edit: a friend made the graphic rules and it looks amazing. if you prefer it like this: HERE]

Rules:

You must reside only in the occults’s worlds, but preferably in Moonwood Mill (You can always kick your family out and pretend you’re living in another place hehe)

Start as YA, any gender

You can use cheats if you want.

Heir must be a werewolf

Normal or Long Lifespan

You don’t have to max all these skills, but it would be nice if you at least worked on them all your sims lives

When I put ( / ) is because you can choose what you prefer or if you don’t have said pack you can choose the base game one.

Requirements: Werewolves, Snowy Scape, Get Together, Get To Work

GENERATION 1: Waxing Crescent

You grew up close to the Moonwood Collective, they are basically your family and you learned how to be a good sim and not hurt others. You prefer to lock yourself up than to behave like an animal in front of others. You always loved art/writing and your hobby is to play piano. You don’t like the spotlight because of your werewolf tendencies, so you chose a more “reclusive” career.

Traits: Proper/Snob, Bookworm, Good

Aspiration: The Emissary of the Collective

Skills: Charisma, Piano/Painting, Writing

Career: Painter or Writer (It can be the freelance career if you prefer)

Volunteer with family (or alone) at least once a week

Your partner can be any gender, can be human or even another type of occult, as long as the heir is a werewof.

Get married to your partner and never divorce. You two were made for each other

GENERATION 2: Waning Gibbous

Your parents wanted you to be as perfect as they are, but you’re not them. You have your own personality and your own desires. You’re a rebel. You love being a werewolf and you feel powerful when you show others who you are. The only thing you got from your parent was the love for music, but you are more of a guitar type of sim. And you want to be the leader of your own pack.

Traits: Mean, Active, Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Wildfang Renegade

Skills: Mischief, Fitness, Guitar

Career: Criminal or perform only odd jobs and have a part time job

Meet your friends at the bar every weekend

Have a “fight club” club

Get pregnant/get your girlfriend pregnant as a teen (if your sim is a boy: don’t assume the responsability / if your sim is a girl: give the baby to someone else. you can keep the child close to you if you want to play with them later, in case it’s a werewolf)

Get married as a Young Adult and divorce before become an Adult. You can find love again, but if you don’t, that’s okay. (preferably die alone :)

One day your sims is gonna teach their teen kid (the heir) how to fight. You’re take them to Greg and let them fight Greg… alone.

GENERATION 3: Full Moon

You never got along with your parent. You actually hate them. You prefer to be alone, you’re like a hurt puppy that attacks others who tries to come closer to you. But you’re very sweet on the inside. And finally one day you find the love of your life and you have a beautiful family together.

Traits: Loner, Gloomy, Hot-Headed

Aspiration: Lone Wolf

Skills: Gardening, Handiness, Fishing

Career: Gardner or Fisherman (and perform odd jobs)

If you chose gardner: go fishing every weekend, if you chose fisherman: have a garden

Live off the grid, at least until you get married (after that you can go back to society again if you want to. But it’s not mandatory)

Have at least two kids

GENERATION 4: New Moon

You grew up in a loving family. You have so many plans for your life, but you don’t want to be a werewolf forever. You spent your teenager years reading werewolf books and you got the Lunar Epiphany and learned how to make the cure. Maybe you’re the one who breaks the family’s curse, right? and you want to be a super parent because your own parent inspired you.

Traits: Genius, Family-Oriented, Loyal

Aspiration: Cure Seeker

Skills: Logic, Parenting, Baking/Gourmet Cooking

Career: Doctor/Astrounaut

Find love when you are already a human and be the best parent you can be!

Go out on dates at least once a week with your partner, and when you have a child go out at least once a week with your family.

[libraford]

I'm having... thoughts about my inconsistent employment.

I didn't like having a 'permanent full time job' when I had it because it felt like a trap. Like I know it was something that I wanted for a long time because I wanted something with benefits. So I got it and they treated me like shit so I left. But it seemed like everyone around me was having careers that they were going to be in for the rest of their lives. People kept assuring me that I would 'find my place.'

Well I mean, my place is 'artist.' That's my place in the world. This is where I fit. Unfortunately that isn't a 'permanent, full time job with benefits.' So I have to find other jobs that can complement that.

I kind of like the whole 'work fall and early spring as a photographer and spring to summer as a parks employee' situation because they both inspire the art brain in different ways. I wish I was paid better. Don't we all.

My mom is desperate for me to find permanent work because she worries that I'm not making enough and that I'm miserable. I'm not making enough, but I'm not miserable. There are some situations that could be improved somewhat with more money.

Everyone I know, who thought that they had it figured out, who had permanent jobs with savings and took multiple vacations, the best health insurance in the world and full dental-

-is quitting their job. Because there was a culture change, or the workflow changed, or the investors got involved and it ceased to be fun anymore. They're miserable.

If they're not quitting, then they're being let go.

I don't think permanent jobs exist. Like... not really. I think we need to get rid of that expectation and the stigma around weird work histories. Like mine- which has a million jobs in the past few years and they're not exactly in the same field, but also like people with big gaps.

Like who gives a shit if they didn't work for two years? You don't need to know why. Maybe they were getting over an illness. Maybe they were traveling. Maybe they were looking for jobs that whole time. Maybe they laid around and smoked weed all day. None of your business. Times are tough, be reasonable- your company isn't that big of a deal.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Rsa vs Nrc

Riddle vs Alex ( twst Alice Leddle )

Crewel daughter and Riddle are together in town and talking about something they both can relate, as in art and history and Crewel stay closed to Riddle

Malleus + Disomia vs Price Phillips ( twst of that price from sleeping beauty)

Crewel daughter invited Malleus and his friends/bodyguards as she needs help as she have a client of a foreign land to asked to restore agroot ( decorative gargoyle) and needed his help on stone materials that are uncommonly used and she feels very uncomfortable around the human prince for obvious reasons

Idia vs Heracles ( twst of Heracles)

Crewel daughter and Idia are getting some new video games to play together ( legs say Crewle daughter is a secretly a gamer and otaku because y not? ) And she is off putting with Idia cousin and prefer to hangout with the recluse as he's more interesting to be around

RSA vs NRC w/ Crewel Daughter | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Riddle Rosehearts vs Alix Lidwelle

“As the rules state: on the designated day we shall be in attendance of the latest additions of Art in all of Twisted Wonderland.”

“And as the rules state: on the designated day we will devote are time to one another and our enjoyment to Art!” 

This is the closest Riddle equates to being a fan of anything

Its one thing to have a textbook based knowledge on images

Than to be with (Y/n) Crewel as she tilts her head at world renowned paintings

“Based.”

“Based? Why?”

“I don’t like the vibe I’m getting.”

There was nothing he loved more than looking at art with you

So much so that he even made it a rule that you two travel to different art museums together

If anything this was his day

That is until he sealed the deal…but until then this a thing

Our thing 

Now its almost ruined when the blonde comes skipping in you two’s direction

“What’ya guys doing?”

He can explain or rather you can since the student isn’t even looking at him to answer

“We are carrying out a tradition that we have done for years.”

“Tradition? That sounds..kindof boring? But you can join me for some tea if you want a break at least.”

“Tea but it isn’t even ti-”

“Come on (Y/n)!! Besides why would you want to follow the rules on a lovely day like this?”

HOW DARE HE!?

If his respect for the arts and your non reaction he would have lit the blonde on fire

Better yet behead that arrogant, stupid, idiotic–

“No. I enjoy traditions and its a shame you don’t seem to respect that.”

“W-what?!”

“Come on Riddle we have seven hours left on our ticket. Let’s not waste anymore time.”

“I agree.”

Riddle delights in the red that over takes Alix’s cheeks

And the stomping feet as he prepares to throw a tantrum

The prefect sticks a tongue out from behind your back

Smirking as he offers his arm

“Shall we commence on our adventure on the designated day?”

“As the rules state it, we shall.”

Malleus Draconia vs Prince Paul w/ Restoration Crewel Daughter Reader

You are quieter soul 

Opting to work in the silence as you restore and refurbish antiques

That’s probably why you get nervous about accepting a job at the Royal Sword Academy

So you bring support 

And who better than the one fae who enjoys gargoyles and you+

So you’ll invite him with you and he’s glowing with happiness

An invitation!

From his beloved no less 

You selfishly are quite grateful that he’s a people deterrent

Able to work on your work in peace 

That is until Paul comes

“The sound of such lovely sounds!”

“W-what?”

“Ah, and a beauty is the maker! You’ve entranced me with your sounds–”

“Sir, I don’t really–”

“But alas I have yet to introduce myself! Woe is me! The me being Paul Phillip, it has been to long since I–”

“Oh and your just going to keep talking, great.”

But leave it to your resident guard dragon to swoop in and save you

“Ah the Prince of Briar Valley what a surprise to see you here!”

“My mate…friend is uncomfortable with your presence.”

“But she hasn’t-”

“Go now.”

Be sure to convince him not to go full dragon on him

Smile and thank him 

And he’s happy 

Gargoyles, (Y/n), crushing his rivals, and courting (Y/n)

Its all the great and good times

Now you know you can trust him to protect you

Lilia says that will be enough to proves you

Aww and he was looking forward to deliver a blooody head

Idia Shroud vs Huckman  

You’re no gamer 

But your naturally skilled at everything you touch 

A perfect accessory to Idia’s high-level for multikills 

“You have three hours to beat the level, Idia don’t waste it shuddering in the corner.”

“Y-Y-YES MISTRESS!”

Once he gets in his groove your plowing through 

And since your actually lasor focused on the game

You don’t notice the way he focuses on your features

Just inches away the lips he’d dreamed of being graced with touch at the very least was so close

If he could just pretend to–

SLAM

“Whoops sorry cousin about your door.”

“Noooooooooooooo!!!!!!”

“Quiet! I’m nearly there!”

He’ll play possum as his cousin insistently shakes him

“Hey i know your not actually dead. Idia? Idia?”

Its you that intervenes making his heart go: Doki doki!

“Retriever boy leave for now I’ll deal with you later. I need him in peak condition for the next hour I’ve granted him.”

He snaps to your side immediately

Keeping his eyes glued to the screen as his cousin let’s himself out

"T-thanks!"

Now which tech-terror will he send to make sure ‘later’ never happens

[uluvjay]

Prompts 80 & 131 from the smut list (I believe it’s the 2nd list) w/ Nico plz!! Maybe it’s photoshoot/media day & reader is the photographer & goes to fix his hair & make small adjustments to his gear etc. while it’s happening

80. “What? Does that feel good?”

131. “Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view”

Nico Hischier x secret relationship! Reader

Warnings?; smut, relationship is secret because reader is the team photographer, hand job(m receiving), oral(m receiving)

Sorry for any error! Hope you enjoy

—

Today was a busy day for the New Jersey devils, the season started in three weeks meaning all the media needed done was being taken today. Four media girls had been split up and each given an even group of guys to work with.

You had Jack, Luke, Nico, and Jesper. You didn’t mind working with any of these guys, especially Nico as he was your boyfriend.

There weren’t many people on the team that knew about your relationship but of course Jack did so he didn’t hesitate to tease you about it the whole time you worked with him today, media was annoying to him so he decided to annoy you.

After a good four hours of working with the other three guys it was finally Nicos turn to come into the little media room they had you in. You were thankful it was just the two of you in the room because after a summer full of Nico you were missing your man.

There was a knock on the door before you looked up and seen your boyfriend entering the room. “Hi honey” he greeted you after shutting the door.

“Hi Ni” you replied with a smile as he came over and gave you a kiss on your head.

He waited for your instructions before doing anything, not wanting to mess anything up.

“Okay so first we’re going to take pictures of you in your jersey, so take off your T-shirt and throw your jersey on” you told him pointing to the jersey resting on a little table in the room.

You should have been setting everything up while he got changed but you couldn’t help but stare at his back muscles flexing as he moved, and admire the healing scratch marks on his back from a few nights ago.

“I can feel you staring” he said turning around with a smirk.

“I was admiring my art work, now shush and go sit” you told him

“Yes ma’am” he saluted you before taking a seat.

You got your camera ready and began to take pictures of his front but a piece of his hair was out of place and it was driving you crazy.

“Wait, lean down here for a second” you told him before setting your camera down and making your way to him and fixing his hair.

“Am I runway ready?” He asked with a laugh

“Damn straight you are baby” you laughed with him.

You got the front and back shots of his jersey before having him sit down for his headshot, but before you could even press the button that stupid piece of hair was messed up again.

You let out a groan before once again putting your equipment down and making your way back to him again. As you stood between his legs fixing his hair he ran his hands over your body before letting them rest on your ass.

When you leaned back a little to double check his hair he pulled you right back to him.

“Nico! I have to take your picture” you laughed as he began to kiss your neck.

“Pictures can wait, need you” he said and grabbed your hand to guide it to the bulge in his work out shorts.

“Baby we can’t, your to loud” you laughed and stepped back a little.

“What if I promise to be quite?” He asked giving you puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck fine! But be. Quiet.” You told him before he pulled his shorts and boxers down just enough for his hard dick to pop out.

“Ohh you poor thing, look how swollen your tip is” you teased him and you looked down at it.

“Baby please” he whined

“So impatient” you grumbled before spitting in your hands and slowly jerking him off at.

“Ohh shiitt” he moaned quietly, head thrown back.

You sped up a little watching as he bit his lip to keep himself from crying out to loud. You moved your other hand into his pants to pull his balls out and slowly massage them as well but his hand quickly shot to grab your wrist as soon as you began.

“What? Does that feel good” you mocked him

“Yea-fuck you know it does” he groaned as you began to work him slowly. You just laughed before dropping to your knees and putting him in your mouth.

“Holy shit!” He moaned out a little too loud at the contact of your warm tongue.

You pulled off him with a pop and scolded him for his loud outburst. You put him back in your mouth, taking him as deep as you could and holding yourself there for a moment until you needed to come up for air. You took a deep breath and began to bob you head back on his cock, your hand working what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Your mouths so good” he moaned out in a hushed voice.

“Fuck my face Nico” you told him and watched his eyes light up.

He put a hand on the back of your head and used the other to guide his cock into your mouth before applying it to the back of your head as well.

His first few thrust were soft but they quickly sped up and he was telling you he was close, “shit gonna come down your throat” he told you and he looked down into your eyes.

One last hard thrust and you felt warm liquid run down your throat. He moaned before slowly pulling out of your mouth and tucking himself away as you cleaned around your mouth up.

“What?” You asked as you felt his eyes intensely on you.

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view” he replied with a smirk.

[itgetsdark-x]

If You Want It, You Can Have It

Summary: After a long day of work, your loving boyfriend, Pedro surprises you with baked goods and takeout (and some super intimate, high sex).

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v (established relationship), oral (m & f receiving), marijuana use / being high, just fluffy smut tbh, vaguely mentioned age gap.

Pairing: Pedro x f!reader

Word Count: 4K

A/N: I’ve never written for Pedro himself before and it felt kinda weird ngl buuuut I spoke about this with @jksprincess10 and I couldn’t resist writing it. I just know Pedro would be so clingy and cuddly when high, he would be full of bad jokes and holding you as close as possible (not to mention I just know this man eats pussy like his life depends on it, even more so when he’s high).

You sighed deeply as you entered your home, the one you lived in with your boyfriend, Pedro. It had been a stupidly long day at work, filled with meetings and arguments and setbacks at every corner, it felt like. Pedro had told you a million times that you could quit your job and focus on your art, he would support you through it but you weren’t wired that way, your money barely covered bills in the house but it made you feel like you could at least contribute in your own way. He admired that about you, most people would have quit their job at the first mention of it but not you. 

“Pedro? Honey?” You called out into the hallway of your home, you were sure Pedro had said he didn’t have anything on today and you were half expecting him to be curled up on the sofa asleep.

“In here, hermosa!” Pedro called out from the kitchen and you couldn’t help but smile at the pet name. 

You and Pedro had been together for a year or so now. You had been visiting New York for a work trip, your friends at work convinced you to not just sit in your hotel room all night and managed to drag you out to a couple bars; and my god, were you thankful for that now. It had all happened so quickly; you bumped into Pedro, physically bumped into him and split your drink down his, no doubt, expensive shirt and as they say, the rest was history. You spent the rest of the evening talking in a secluded corner of the bar, of course you knew who he was, you didn’t live under a rock but this man, he was so down to earth and caring from the get-go. You couldn’t quite believe he had shown such an interest in you, someone so normal, so plain, you thought but since that day Pedro had always looked at you as if you were the most exquisite piece of art. 

You wandered into the kitchen and dumped your work bag on the floor and your keys on the counter. Pedro was baking something, it smelled sweet and you couldn’t help but smile at the male. He was wearing baggy shorts, a black t-shirt which had flour stains on the front and as always, he was wearing those striped, coloured socks, the ones that he always wore, even with shorts, no matter how much you protested and told him they didn’t go or look right. 

He turned away from the oven and looked over at you, immediately he rushed to your side and brushed a strand of hair away from your face with a frown. Of course he knew when you had a long or bad day, he knew everything about you and anytime anything was wrong, he was there to fix it for you. He gently held your face with both of his hands and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before his plush lips placed a gentle peck to your own. 

“What’s happened, my love? You look exhausted. Beautiful… but exhausted. Bad day at work?” He asked with a frown, your hand came up to take one of Pedro’s and you gave him a soft smile, you still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him. 

“I am exhausted; yeah, long day at work, let’s just say that. I don’t wanna bore you with all the details.” You sighed, kissing the palm of his hand you were holding. “What are you cooking anyway? Still surprises me to see you in here, especially when everything tends to come out burnt.” You jested, nipping your teeth at the tip of his fingers. 

“You confusing yourself again, mi amor? We both know I’m the one who cooks and you’re the one… well, who burns.” He laughed softly, shaking his head fondly. “Anyway, I’m baking some brownies… you know, the special kind that helps you relax; I just had a feeling your day was going to be long so thought we could order in some takeout and get high together. If that’s something you want to do.”

You grinned at your boyfriend, his puppy brown eyes were soft and filled with such love as you gazed into them. You leant up to capture his lips in a slow, soft kiss and you smiled against him. 

“You, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, are truly perfect. Where would I be without you?”

Pedro laughed, it was a familiar noise that filled your heart with such love. 

“Probably in a dingy apartment, burning your food.” He teased, kissing your cheek before going over to the oven to pull out the hot brownies. 

“I take it back, you’re an ass.” You huffed. 

“You love it, now go upstairs, shower away the bad day, get into your comfy clothes and I’ll order in some Chinese. Happy with that, cariño?” Pedro spoke softly, placing the tray of steaming brownies onto the cooling rack. 

“Yes sir!” You grinned, saluting him before going upstairs to shower. 

—

After your shower you dressed yourself in some comfy pyjama shorts and one of Pedro’s old t-shirts, your hair was thrown up and you were comfy and content. The smell of the freshly baked brownies and Chinese food wafted through the air, inviting you into the living room; Pedro had spread out blankets and cushions on the floor, the curtains were drawn and candles were lit. It was the epitome of relaxation and home for you. 

“Pedro,” you sighed happily and placed yourself next to him on the floor as he handed you your favourite noodle dish. “You’ve done so much for me this evening… what’s going on? Are you about to tell me you’re leaving for six months to film again. I can’t take that news today, baby. Please tell me tomorrow morning.” 

Pedro waved a hand at you in a somewhat dismissive manner and he shook his head. “No, my love, I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working and I wanted to have a relaxing evening. Smoke a bit of weed, or eat those special brownies, relax and listen to some music and hey, I may even get lucky.” He teased, his fingers tickling into your side. 

You batted his hand away and sighed happily as you got stuck into your food, moaning in appreciation as soon as you had your first bite. 

“Still as good as the first time!” You said, a mouthful of noodles. 

Pedro grinned at you, he was just so pleased to see you eating properly again after the stressful past couple of weeks you had barely even eaten a full meal. He brushed some loose hair away from your face and kissed you before he started eating his own food. 

“So beautiful, even with your mouth full, mi amor.”

You rolled your eyes and let your back lean against the plush sofa cushions as you enjoyed your meal. There was one of your Fleetwood Mac records playing quietly in the background, the melodic music filled the empty space and it only relaxed you further, as if with every strum of the guitar strings more of your stress just melted away. 

—

You laid there, lazily as Pedro rolled you both another spliff to share. You had tried his brownies, of course they were amazing and already, you could feel the weed thrumming through your body. Your limbs were heavy and a dopey smile was plastered over your features. Your belly was full, your mind was relaxed and Pedro’s body was tightly pressed to your side. 

Pedro sparked up the spliff, the orange embers glowing in the darkened room and smoke filled the space between you both; he took a sharp inhale and held it for a few seconds before exhaling the herby smoke. You held your hand out slowly and made a grabby hand to take it, he obliged and handed it to you. You repeated the same motion as your partner before tapping the ash into a small ashtray between you both. 

“I fucking love you, have I told you that recently? I love you so much.” You mumbled, the words tumbling from your lips quicker than your brain could comprehend. 

“You tell me plenty, cariño. But I love you too, you keep me sane and I would be lost without you by my side and burning my food.” He grinned, it was boyish and handsome. 

“Oh my god, I get it, I suck at cooking. We can’t all be perfect, can we, Mr. Pascal.” You whined, slapping his arm lazily and passing him the spliff once again. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect.” He smirked. “C’mhere.” He mumbled, tilting his head to motion you over. 

You happily obliged and quickly climbed into your boyfriend’s lap, your legs straddled his thighs and your arms loosely looped around his neck, your fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape. Pedro brought the spliff up to his plush lips, he sucked in a long inhale and held it for a few seconds before drawing you closer with this empty hand; you got the idea and parted your lips for him, he slowly exhaled into your open mouth and allowed you to inhale the smoke. It reminded you of being a teenager and trying weed for the first time with your ex-boyfriend and friends. Only now, you felt truly safe and you could entirely enjoy the high without panicking. 

Pedro stubbed out the spliff, discarding it into the ashtray and pushed it aside, his fingers held onto your hips and he let them dip under the hem of his shirt on your body. You smiled as his warm fingers danced over your delicate skin under the fabric of his shirt. You slowly dipped your head down to press a soft and sensual kiss to the male’s lips, Pedro sighed happily into the kiss as you shared the taste of the lingering marijuana between you both. Your tongue traced over his bottom lip before entering his mouth to be greeted by his tongue, you explored him eagerly as your body moved slowly. The kiss lasted, for what felt like, an eternity as your heavy limbs clung to Pedro for support. 

You could feel Pedro’s cock growing in his shorts and it made you whine, your mouth salivated with the thought of sucking his dick as his hands travelled further up into your shirt. His soft hands ghosted over your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake and your nipples hardened as you shivered in his lap. 

“I love hearing you.” Pedro whispered, his lips pressing soft kisses to the expanse of your neck. “Make some more pretty noises for me, please.”

Pedro gently grazed his teeth against your neck just as his hands found your breasts once again, his thumbs rubbed over your sensitive nipples and you moaned in wanton. He couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he elicited more moans from your lazy lips. 

“Pedro,” you gasped softly. “Let me show you how thankful I am for this evening.” You purred seductively, smirking as you shimmied away from his grasp and out of his lap. 

You knelt on the floor, grabbed the waistband of his shorts and gently pulled them down until they were discarded to the side of you both. His cock sprung up as soon as the material constricting him was gone, you licked your lips and gently wrapped your fingers around his hard cock. You gave him a few gentle strokes, your thumb swiped over the tip and you grinned when Pedro gasped loudly, his hips bucking up to meet your hand. You pushed his thighs apart until you were knelt between them and you quickly took the tip of his cock into your mouth, immediately your senses were flooded with Pedro, he’s all you could taste and all you could smell. 

Your tongue swirled around his head before you sunk your mouth down, he was big and you always struggled to take him in but it never stopped you from trying. You breathed deeply through your nose until the tip of Pedro’s cock was hitting the back of your throat, you gagged softly around him and Pedro stroked your hair in encouragement. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so good.” He hummed, his head lulling back until it hit the sofa behind him. 

You held back your smile as you heard the older male cursing above you and it only encouraged you to work his dick harder. You wrapped a hand around the base of his shaft and stroked him in time with your bobbing head; in a matter of minutes, Pedro was shaking above you, his tender hand held onto your hair for leverage. 

“Baby, stop. Fuck. Gonna cum if you carry on.” He mumbled, his voice shaky. 

You popped your mouth off his cock with a loud pop and looked up at him with a smug grin.

“Maybe I wanna make you cum, right in my mouth so I can taste you.” You whispered, climbing up his body again so you could kiss him. 

Pedro smiled back at you, his hand held your cheek and he kissed you back. 

“Nope, I wanna make you feel good, hermosa. I wanna hear your pretty little mouth as I cum deep in you. Maybe I should fuck a baby into you right here and now.” He said, his words making you shiver. 

“Fuck.” You cursed. 

“Gotcha.” He winked. “Lay down for me, beautiful. Let me make you feel good.”

“Wanna see you first, take off your shirt, please.” You whispered with your hands splayed out onto his broad chest. 

Even though you had seen Pedro numerous times before, there was something within him that was still insecure about his body, he was never forthcoming at removing his shirt. He always felt embarrassed by his slight tummy, you told him you loved it, you loved him. You had told him so many times how attractive you found him, and even if he wasn’t it wouldn’t change your feelings towards him. He always had the counter argument of you being younger and more beautiful, which in your mind, was absolutely ludicrous. 

He nodded slowly, his arms moved even slower to remove his shirt and suddenly you were greeted with the sight of Pedro’s bare chest; his tanned skin peppered with small freckles and hair. Your hands were on his skin immediately, hungrily exploring every perfect inch. Your dizzy mind found heaven within the expanse of his skin and you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss at his chest. 

“Uh uh, my love. Don’t get distracted.” Pedro warned with a smirk. “Your turn to remove your clothes for me, my pretty girl.”

You nodded and followed suit, stripping yourself of Pedro’s shirt and your pyjama shorts; since you were at home, you weren’t wearing any underwear. Normally, a small part of you would feel vulnerable like this, naked and on display so willingly for your boyfriend but the fact that you were high helped with it. 

Pedro gently pushed your shoulders until you were laid on the cushions on the floor, he protected the back of your head before he could slide a pillow under you. You couldn’t help but smile at the tender motion and your hands softly traced over the vague muscles in his biceps, you couldn’t get enough of him and your fingers wanted to drink in every inch of his body. 

The older male stroked his fingers gently over your face and trailed them down your body, they briefly brushed over your hard nipples until he was at your vagina. He dipped his fingers through your slick folds which caused your back to arch off the ground, Pedro was laid on his side next to you and he gave you a dopey, high smile. His fingers found your clit almost instantly and he rubbed quick circles around your sensitive bud, it had pleasure erupting throughout your whole body. 

“Always so wet for me, mi amor. Drives me mad.” Pedro groaned as his fingers pleasured you quickly. 

“Babe, please. I need you, need to feel you in me. Please.” You whined as your head lazily rolled to the side. 

Pedro would normally argue with you, he would pin you down and pleasure you until you were a wet, squirting mess but not tonight. The marijuana was making him feel more intimate and loving, he wanted to be as close to you as possible, just anything to please you and make you happy. He removed his hand from you and positioned himself between your legs, his gaze locked onto yours with no hint of breaking it. 

He gave in, without a second argument, he pressed himself to your slick hole and pushed in slowly, so tortuously slowly and all you could do was lie there and whine. You let out a small hum of appreciation as Pedro bottomed out in you, the older male groaned lowly and smiled down at your face. You drank in his features, he warm eyes and loving smile, his greying beard and his out-of-control curly locks. You felt so much love for the male, so wrapped up in your adoration for him that for a split second you forgot where you were or what you were doing, that was until Pedro slowly withdrew his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your head tipped back in pleasure and he gently held one of your hips in his hand whilst his other hand came up to cup your cheek tenderly. He brought your head back down so he could stare into your eyes again, he loved to see your face contort as he pleasured you further. Pedro rolled his hips sensually, with every thrust of his cock he edged you closer to your orgasm and he could tell, he knew every single one of your looks and with the soft gasps and moans falling from your lips, he knew you were already close. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs felt impossibly heavy but you held onto your boyfriend, his hand was still cupping your cheek and his thumb stroked over your flushed skin. 

“Look at me, hermosa. I wanna see you when you cum on my cock, look at me.” Pedro cooed softly, his voice like warm honey. 

You obliged to meet his gaze once again, his pupils were blown; from lust or from getting high, you weren’t sure but you knew yours were most likely the same. 

“Good girl. So beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, as he continued to fuck you closer to your ecstasy. Pedro finally removed his hand from your face to drop two fingers to your clit, as soon as his hand made contact with your clit you wanted to shut your eyes and let pleasure fully take over your body but you didn’t, instead you kept your eyes locked on his. It felt like a matter of mere seconds and there you were, cumming all over his cock; Pedro helped you through it, praising you and slowing his thrusts down further. 

He pulled out of you completely, you could see his hard cock glistening with your juices in the flickering lights of the candles as he knelt back. You didn’t even have time to protest before he was leaning down to lick a stripe through your wet folds; your hands immediately found comfort in his soft curls and you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the silent room. 

“God I love you.” He breathed into your core, his tongue lapping at your juices eagerly. 

You smiled, your body feeling as if it was floating in midair as Pedro pleasured you. Your fingers entangled further into his hair and you ground your hips down softly onto his face. Pedro smiled against you as your hips moved, he loved how eager you got to chase your high. 

“You’re so perfect. Taste perfect too, hermosa.” Pedro groaned, his voice breathy and rugged. 

Pedro wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud, his moustache tickled at you but you were soon pulled from that thought as he suckled at your swollen clit. The tip of his tongue flicked on it as he sucked at you, your head was swimming and your eyes closed shut as your hips bucked up to meet Pedro’s mouth further. 

“Pedro, papi… fuck. Gonna cum.” You whimpered as Pedro brought you closer. 

“Cum for me then, mi amor.” He whispered against you, resuming his previous position of his lips. 

One last final flick of his tongue and you were seeing stars, your fingers gripped at his soft hair weakly, holding his head in place as you found you’re high on his face. Your greedy hole fluttered weakly around air as you craved for Pedro to fill you once again. 

“Fill me up,” you breathed as Pedro lapped at your arousal softly. “Please.”

Pedro peered up at you, his soft brown eyes were blown with lust and his own highness. He repositioned himself and lined himself up with your hole, he bottomed out in you quickly with a deep groan. 

“I’m not going to last long, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. So beautiful, my love, you’re everything.” Pedro mumbled, his face was buried into your neck and he peppered soft kisses to your skin there. 

His hips rolled sensually, everything felt all too good and simultaneously not enough, you needed to feel closer to Pedro. Pedro’s hands You’re wrapped your arms around your lover and held him closer, Pedro hummed in appreciation at your embrace as he drove his cock into you deeply. 

“I love you.” You whimpered. “I love you so much.” 

You were shaking as you held onto Pedro, you could tell he was getting closer by the way his hips faltered and he kept his thrusts short and deep. He made soft noises into the skin of your neck, they were soft whimpers and it only made your heartbeat quicken, a sense of pride flushed over you as you were the one to make him feel this way, you were the one to have him falling apart at the seams in your arms. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum in me, please. Want all of you. Feels so good, I need it. Please.” You cooed. 

Pedro bit softly at the skin on your neck as he came, you felt the first hot spurts of his cum deep inside of you and you moaned at the sensation of finally having his release into you. Your arms held him tighter, his face nuzzled into your neck further and he kissed along your jaw as he worked himself through his orgasm. 

“Cariño,” Pedro sighed as he rolled onto his side with a soft wince. “Thank you. You’re amazing.” He kissed your cheek and held your face in his hand as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip. 

“You’re amazing.” You corrected him before you leant in to press a soft kiss to his lips with a dazed smile spread over your face. “I need to go shower again, I’m all messy and sweaty. Plus I need to come down from my high a little otherwise I’m gonna be a big mess for work tomorrow.” You laughed softly. 

Pedro continued to stroke your face, smiling at you the entire time. 

“Fine but afterwards we should get into bed and watch a movie or something. Something funny! And I want snacks! I think we have those chips you love from the UK in the pantry or those chocolates we both like. Maybe I have some of those Chilean cookies I love!” Pedro listed, his brain working quicker than his mouth could. 

“You’re such an excitable little puppy sometimes, babe.” You laughed and shook your head fondly at your boyfriend. “I heard The Bubble on Netflix is meant to be pretty good, kinda funny or something. All I know is there’s a super hot guy in it. Pedro something.” You teased, winking at the male as you slowly stood up from the floor. 

“I dunno… I heard that movie sucks.” Pedro grinned up at you and took your hand to follow closely behind you. 

The rest of your night was spent making out lazily in the shower followed by lying in bed together and watching a romantic comedy in bed whilst you continued your high-school make out session. The air was filled with ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings before you fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. 

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[yeonjuns-beanie]

Halo Pt.2

warnings: less plot, but still plot, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, biting, light blood(play), light hair pulling, body worship, oral(f receiving), light degradation, yandere themes, dub-con, think that's it

summary: in your free time you do freelance writing, doing interviews with people most would consider strand and unusual. when you recognize that one of the regulars in your coffee shop only visits in the evening, you pose the question of where you can interview him, upon his agreement, you realize this is unlike any other interview

a/n: holy shit, i am alive actually. i feel kinda horrible that i last posted in september. life got kinda crazy, i was slammed with uni and work, and had intense writer's block. anyways, i hope those of you who enjoyed the first part enjoy this one even more! i'm not entirely sure how active i'll be this semester, but i'm not going to make any promises lol. as always, i hope you enjoy and have a great day! :D ~nero

word count: 5.4K

Vampire!Seonghwa x female reader

pt.1

Seonghwa looked off to the side, inhaling a calculated breath before he spoke. 

“The nightlife. Where I was before was too prosaic and mundane. It lacked character. But here? There’s a flame that ignites when the sun goes down.” 

You scribbled down his last sentence wanting to maybe use it as the title for the piece when you finished. Looking back up at him, you felt your body relax and suddenly everything felt easy. 

“Where were you before?” 

“Everywhere. I’m a bit of a nomad, you see? I can’t stay chained to one place for too long.” 

“Did you find your last locations to grow boring, or was it something else?” 

“Something else. Rather of my own doing, but needing to keep my needs satiated is a necessity.” 

You paused for a moment and glanced at your notebook littered with questions trying to find the next avenue you’d walk down. You hadn’t been faced with someone so careful in their speech. He was answering your questions, yes, but not in the full detail that you desired. He was making you work. 

“Being a nomad, you must have a flexible job. What do you do for work and what’s your haven for play?” 

A smirk formed on his face, like he knew he was stumping you. Running his fingers through his onyx locks, he went to lick his lips and you noticed the length of one of his canines peeking from behind his upper lip. 

“Ah, yes. For work, I was lucky enough to benefit from years of generational wealth, but I hated the fact of that being my only accolade. So I sought after art. I always rendered an interest in building things so I thought, why not extend that to an artistic field?” 

“What’s your medium?”

“Sculptures and charcoal portraits. I love capturing time in a piece. I don’t know how long this life will grant me so I enjoy partaking in affairs that allow me to immortalize that time. Remind me to show you some of my portraits.” 

Nodding, you remembered the busts you saw when you entered his home, the question crossed your mind if those were his art.

“Those busts that you have in your entryway, did you make those as well?”

“So you really were quite entranced. To answer you, yes, I did create those as well. They’re of my family who have since passed on. I don’t have many left in my life so it aids me in keeping the memory of them alive.” 

Moving your hair out of your face to look at him, you furrowed your brow feeling sorry for him as you processed his statement. 

“Are you all alone out here?”

The concerned look on your face quickly fell to anxiety as you feared you may be prying too much into his personal life. Getting ready to speak again, Seonghwa stopped you with the gentle raise of his hand and smiled. 

“You’re not overstepping any boundaries, my dove. When I agreed to sit with you, pen in hand with the recorder running, I alleviated all forms of privacy for you. You may ask me whatever you feel called to ask. I’m yours for the evening.” 

A soft smile pulled at your lips as you silently acknowledged him, and thanked him for being so tender with you. His velvet voice pulled you from your thoughts. 

“To answer your previous question though, yes, I am all alone. It was lonely at first, but after a while it became comfortable. Perhaps preferred. I did find that recently though, the exigent desire for a partner has been pulling at my heartstrings.” 

“With your interest in the nightlife here, surely it shouldn’t be too hard to find yourself a companion. Not to mention if you’re speaking romantically, I’m sure you’d find yourself plenty of options.” 

You regretted it as soon as it left your mouth, but it was already in the air now and you just had to hope and pray that he’d let it slide.

“What are implying?” 

Of course, he wouldn’t. 

“I’m just saying…that, you know, you are an attractive guy. It seems like you’d have a particularly easy time…weeding through people.” 

“You think I have a lot of suitors?” 

Seonghwa had his arms folded across his chest now, gaining pleasure from making you squirm. 

“I’m saying that I think you’d have a fair amount of people to choose from, not necessarily that they’d be worthy of your time.” 

You brought the pen up to your lips, feeling your anxiety swirl in your body as Seonghwa continued to hanker down on you. You glanced over at your notebook again, seeing what you could ask to divert the subject but before you had the chance to speak, Seonghwa was prying. 

“Worthy of my time?” 

“From first impressions, you seem…difficult to entertain. Not to be impressed by the bare minimum, which if considering this town, there is a lot of.”

Seonghwa leaned forward, smiling without showing his teeth. His aura radiated a slimy smugness that irritated you but also ignited a fire within you. 

“I’d beg to differ. There are a select few I’ve come across. I wouldn’t be so certain in your statement.” 

Your mind was swarmed with questions, most of them centering around who he was entertaining and if you even spared a shot with him. 

“Have you found a lover yet then?”

With Seonghwa still hovering over the desk, he looked so much larger than usual. He commanded even more attention and you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away from his as he stared you down. When he spoke, he raked his eyes over your form and was begging whatever deity was out there that you’d pick up on his hints. 

“I’ve found who I want to be mine, she just doesn’t know it yet. I’ve been leaving her clues, paltry I know, but I beg that she pick up my scent soon.” 

“Like a secret admirer?”

“You can call it that, yes. What I feel for her though is more than what a secret admirer could possess.” 

You felt your heart drop, not even letting the delusion have time to manifest to let you think that this “she” was you. You nodded your head and looked toward your notebook again scanning over your questions to see where you wanted to take the interview next. As you went to look up at Seonghwa again, you noticed that unabated gloss cast over his eyes again. The other thing you noticed was that his eyes seemed to change color. It was hard to tell for sure in the dim lighting of the study, but you swore you were seeing flecks of red in his irises. 

As you inhaled to speak, you felt your body freeze and an indistinguishable tingle ran rampant through your limbs. Panic registered across your pupils as you tried to move but soon recognized that you were glued to the chair. Your limbs were attached to the wood of the desk as if your skin were made to melt into the surface. Suddenly as you looked at Seonghwa, you realized that you recognized this feeling, the energy that was emanating across from you. It was all too familiar.

It wasn’t sleep paralysis. It was him.

“Ahh, yes it was, my dove. I’m disheartened that it took you this long. Thought the journal would’ve been clue enough.” 

Feeling that static in your fingers trail up your arm and down through your body, you felt control over yourself again. You pressed your back flesh against the chair, a feeble attempt at creating space between you two. Your vision was unfocused for a moment and in the blur created, you understood that the man across you was the figure in the corner of your room last night. Your breath quickened with fear, but something else mixed in with your emotions that you couldn’t quite place yet. 

“Y-you we’re in my room last night?… Why?” 

Seonghwa stood up slowly, his hands planted firmly on the desk. His frame which was at first sleek and inviting was now imposing and ravening. His eyes were boring into you making you feel so minuscule under his gaze. His tone was low, almost near a whisper, but his next words sent a chill down your spine. 

“Because I can’t bear to leave you alone.”

Your eyes blew wide in panic, fear present in your features. You wondered how you could find a way out of this, a way to remedy the situation but you felt completely and utterly trapped. You looked behind you to the door of the study and defeat enveloped you as you came to the conclusion that any attempt you made to escape would prove to be fruitless. As you returned your gaze to Seonghwa, he was shaking his head, a grin cast on his face. 

“How could you even think about leaving so early when we haven’t finished the interview yet, y/n? I’ve looked forward to this all day, I’d hate for it to end so soon.” 

Seonghwa furrowed his features into a pout, persuading you to swallow your fear and sit forward. Maybe, if you indulged in him he’d let you leave. As Seonghwa sat back in his seat, a new wave of questions ran through your brain. Whether or not you’d include this in the posted interview, you needed closure for yourself. Asserting yourself in your spot, you sat taller, your gaze piercing his as he did to you moments before. Your voice carried a dominance that hadn’t been present all evening. 

“How long have you been following me?” 

“Fiesty are we?”

“Hwa, how long have you been on my tail?”

“My dove, I’m disappointed. How could you not realize all those rotten feelings you felt when you stepped out of your car were because of me?” 

His face was sickening, he was enjoying this. The smile that painted his face was sardonic and it made acrimony bubble within you. All those weeks where you felt like you were going brainsick were because of him. 

I can’t believe him right now

“Better start believing y/n. At least you have the comfort of knowing you’re not demented.” 

“Stop doing that!” 

It was freaking you out that nearly every thought you had about him he had a response to. He was inside your head and you couldn’t place how he was doing it. 

“Doing what, darling?” 

“That! Being in my head! How are you doing that?!” 

Your fear was making you hostile and agitated. You felt completely out of control and you hated every second of it. You were in a stranger’s house, agreeing to come based on the hopes that you’d get something out of this and now you were shackled in this room with a stalker. You stared down at your notebook trying to fit the pieces of all of this together. The thought finally dawned on you that he knew where you lived, and it was no mere coincidence that the journal you found at your front door perfectly matched the pen he gave you. Your eyes landed on a bookshelf behind you and you noticed a horrifying similarity between what was sitting on the shelves and what was resting underneath your hands.

“Ask me.” 

Your head whipped to Seonghwa’s voice, not daring to disrespect him for you were fearful of the consequences. 

“Ask you what?” 

“Ask me how I know your thoughts.”

You inhaled a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the answer you were about to be given. Sighing you looked straight into his eyes, and that’s when you noticed the color of them changed. A deep carmine colored his irises now. Your eyes squinted, trying to understand his motive now. 

“How do you know what I’m thinking.” 

He inhaled a breath, mocking you. He smiled at you, something sickeningly sweet about it. 

“Vampirism. Vampirism is how I know. Vampirism is also how I’ve been able to stalk you without the thought of me ever crossing your mind. It’s the reason why I was in your bedroom, why I could never leave your thoughts, why you were entranced by me. By design, you were meant to be allured by me and you were. Which is why you’re sitting across from me.” 

You were stunned. You always entertained the idea of supernatural creatures, but never did you think that were actually real. Never in your lifetime did you think that you’d be face to face with a vampire and with that knowledge you were now more fearful of your situation. Your next words flew from your mouth without any chance to filter. 

“What do you feed on?” 

Seonghwa leaned forward and smiled, the tip of one of his fangs peeking out onto his bottom lip. 

“Whatever I can get my hands on. I have to say though, the more fear that exudes from my dinner makes the taste that much more delectable. And you, my sweet y/n, are absolutely intoxicating right now. Almost as sweet as last night. Gods, it took everything in me not to devour you then.” 

You held your composure, but something stirred in your lower stomach. Radiating heat between your thighs. 

Arousal. 

You were feeling aroused by his words, and you were ashamed by it. Here you were, at the mercy of a stranger and yet, you were aroused by the transparency of his truths. You tried to push the feeling to the back of your mind, but something was bringing your innermost fantasies about Seonghwa forward. His eyes were indulging in you in sheer gluttony, looking at you like prey and you couldn’t help but think that he was holding back on what his inner monologue consisted of. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” 

You leaned forward, asserting yourself now that a lustful wave crashed over your body. 

“So that’s what gets you off? Carnal urges, is it?” 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“While true, it is what I heard prior to you speaking.” 

Rolling your tongue across your teeth, you were through with the antics. 

“What’s on your mind now, Hwa?” 

He smiled flashing his teeth, his fangs on full display. 

“Truthfully, I’m running through all the ways I want to consume you. To make you mine. And it’s becoming quite painful to ignore.” 

You wanted to call his bluff, to catch him off guard even with the disadvantage of him invading the privacy of your mind. You stood up from the chair, the legs creating a painful scratching sound across the wood. You walked around the edge of the desk and positioned yourself in front of him, gently laying your hand on the table in front of his, your fingertips barely touching. Leaning down, you stared into his piercing garnet eyes damning yourself to cosset in the feelings that were licentious in nature. Wetting your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue, you felt your eyes blow in temptation and you knew he was aware of every second of it. 

“Then do something about it. Live up to this lavish vampiric character you’ve laid out for me.”

With the passing of a second, the roles of power drastically shifted. His body moved with a swiftness that you hadn’t experienced and before you had a chance to register what happened, you were caged underneath his frame with your hips nailed against the side of the desk. His slender hand snaked its way to your neck, wrapping his deft fingers around your face and forcing you to look at him. 

“Careful, pet. I don’t think you understand the gravity of your words.” 

Eyes darkening with lust, you smirked at him feeling a sense of power as you watched him lose control in front of you. Moving your body to sit on top of the desk, you rolled your neck, exposing your most vulnerable space of skin to him.

“You reek of luxuria, have you any shame?” 

“Not any more than you.” 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you trailed your hand up to the nape of his neck, goosebumps forming in its wake. You curled your fingers into the hair resting on his neck feeling fulfilled as you watched his body shiver in unabashed desire for you. His chest heaved heavy breaths as his lust for you was becoming harder to control. Seonghwa let his head fall into the conjunction of where your neck and shoulder met, his breath creating an intense humidity that only aided your arousal. 

Pulling at his hair, you positioned him to look at you head-on. His eyes were blown wide, the red of his irises nearly covered up by the black of his pupils. His breathing was still heavy and you could feel a small bulge prodding at your inner thigh. Rolling your hips into his, you watched his eyes roll to the back of his head, only the white of his sclera showing. As he breathed out, a small whimper was swallowed in his throat. Pulling at his hair, he opened his eyes to look at you. 

“Devour me, Seonghwa.” 

Any suppression of his feelings turned into a zealous carnal display of affection. His lips were on yours in a second, hot and impassioned. His hands roamed over the exposed flesh of your thighs, indenting the skin with his fingers each time he squeezed. Your head was squirming with floating ideas and wrestling with the plain fact that you were getting exactly what you wanted. 

As Seonghwa swiped your bottom lip, silently asking for permission, you parted your mouth just enough to grant your tongues the freedom to fight for dominance. With one roll of your tongue into his mouth, the side of your tongue was swiped by the point of his fang. It sent a chill down your spine but excited you even further. Feeling bold, you closed the space of your lips and bit down on his bottom lip, pulling away from him as you watched him with hooded eyes. 

Letting your hands snake down his torso, you hooked your fingers into his belt loops pulling him closer to your clothed center. Gently rolling your hips, you were thankful that you wore a skirt as your aching cunt ghosted over his jean covered cock. Looking up at him, your eyes were blown and you could feel the sexual adrenaline raging through your body. 

“I want you, Seonghwa. I want you to make me yours.” 

Seonghwa looked down at you, a knowing smirk painting his mouth as he gingerly put his finger under your chin. 

“Aww, how sweet. But darling, you were mine the moment I laid my eyes upon you, don’t you get that? I just needed that sweet invitation to fall from your pretty lips.” 

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa’s hands found their way underneath the fabric of your shirt. His hands were like ice, but the contrasting temperature soothed the raging heat dancing across your skin. There was an uncontrollable need and you felt like you couldn’t get close enough to him. Your body kept rolling into his and you couldn’t quell the small moan that escaped your throat. 

“Excited, hmm?” 

Your eyes were pleading, needing to feel something other than his hands roaming your body. 

“Do something, please. I’m begging you.” 

Seonghwa brought his face to the side of yours so that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. He was breathing slowly, almost methodically and it made your heartbeat race. When he spoke, your eyebrows furrowed at his lower tone.

“Just something?”

You mewled at him, tired of the teasing, but what he did next was not what you expected. One of his fangs made contact with the sensitive skin of your neck and you moaned out as the tip of it impaled your skin. Seonghwa pulled away, his tongue swiping at the tiny drop of crimson staining his tooth. His eyes darkened as he smirked at you and indulged in your metallic taste. You felt him roll his hips into yours, his cock growing harder as he imagined how it would feel to feed off of your naked body. 

Growing impatient from the wanton ache that settled in your cunt, you pushed Seonghwa away from you and your body off of the desk. Making yourself as big as possible, you guided his body backward until his knees met the lip of the couch in the study. As his form gracefully plopped into the cushions, you tore your top off throwing it on the floor behind you. You straddled Seonghwa’s thighs, grinding your hips down into him as you made contact with his lap. You cupped his face as you let your body control your actions rather than your mind. Pulling him close, your lips danced a dangerous waltz of spit and tongue as he began to feel dizzy from the intensity.

Seonghwa was enjoying this obscene side of you, his nimble fingers gripping at your skin any chance he got. Pulling away from his lips, his mouth chased yours not ready for the kiss to end so soon. Placing your hands on his chest, you allowed yourself the time to admire his form. His perfectly sculpted body that was encased so delicately by the mesh he wore. You sucked your bottom lip behind your teeth as you gripped the fabric into your fist grinding down into his erection. 

His hips rolled up into yours and his breathing quickened as he devoured you with his eyes. 

“Enjoying yourself?” 

“More than you know.” You panted out

Seonghwa patted your thigh and nodded his chin behind you. 

“Up.”

You pushed yourself off of him, suddenly hyper-aware of your insecurities. They didn’t have long to manifest as his voice pulled you from your thoughts. He grabbed your hand leading you out of the study, down the hallway, and guided you into his bedroom. 

“Never. Think such dreadful things about yourself, my dove.”

Seonghwa gently placed you down on the edge of his opulent bed, his bedroom far too extravagant for you to fully appreciate right now. Nodding his head behind you, you understood his cue to scoot back and your eyes never left him as he crawled over your body. 

“It’s simply just, if I’m going to ravage you in the ways I’ve dreamt so vividly, it wasn’t going to happen on that vapid couch.” 

He placed gentle kisses on your jawline, nipping slightly at the skin near your earlobe. Seonghwa then dragged his nose down the valley of your breasts and stopped at the hemline of your skirt. The heat and your arousal turn near suffocating under the constraints of your panties. 

“You deserve to be tasted, worshipped. To be given a night of passion. And I, my sweet y/n, am going to give you all of that and more.” 

His voice turned more gruff the more his sentence trailed on. What you failed to realize was that due to the angle he was at, your arousal was like his personal parfum and it was dreadfully intoxicating. He acted with no haste as he dragged your skirt down your legs, taking your underwear with it. You felt embarrassment quickly wash over your body as you felt the stick of your arousal stretch between your needy lips and the ruined cotton. 

Now fully exposed to him, you had nowhere to hide and it excited you. He pressed his nose against your clit, the action sending a savage bolt of lust through your body. Your body shivered as he took a deep inhale of your scent, his tongue following soon behind with a flattened lick across your folds. The moan that left you was covetous and echoed off the walls of his bedroom. 

Seonghwa lapped at your folds like a ravenous dog and your sounds only egged him on. Your hips were riding his face, unable to get enough of him. When your hand found refuge in his inky locks, he moaned into your pussy, the vibrations bringing you to the precipice of your orgasm. With one hand gripping at his hair and the other fisting the sheets, you were moaning like a rapacious whore. 

“Hwa, fuck! Hwa I’m gonna cum!” 

Seonghwa gripped his hands tighter around your hips, shoving your cunt as close as possible to his mouth. Seonghwa focused on your clit, fluttering his tongue against your sensitive bud before sucking your orgasm right out of you. 

“Fuckfuckfuck!” 

Seonghwa didn’t give you a chance to ride out your first orgasm, instead, he continued sucking on your tender rosebud and let the aftershock of your second climax wash over you. Your body shook in intervals of vibrating lust. Chillis littering your body as you relished in the feeling he just bestowed upon you. Lifting himself from between your legs, he hovered over you with a satisfied smirk plastered on his lips. Soon his lips were on yours again and the tangy taste of yourself swept across your tastebuds. Pulling away from you, he began unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You taste even better than what I dreamt of.” 

You couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that he wanted you just as bad and your mouth moved quicker than your mind. 

“Y-you’ve dreamt of me?” 

An airy chuckle left his throat. 

“Darling, if you question my likening for you one more time tonight, I’m going to have to chain you to my bed and fuck any trace of doubt out of you.” 

Your hole squeezed around nothing and courage found itself in you again. Flipping your bodies over, you sat on top of his lap, your arousal spreading all over the top of his jeans. Undoing his belt, the sexual tension was fervid and it was as if you couldn’t move your hands fast enough. His cock was straining against the layers of fabric and you needed it straining against your walls. 

Pulling his jeans down his legs with his underwear, you knelt down, prepared to offer up all your oral skills known to man. Before you could ghost your lips over his tip, Seonghwa’s hand found your chin and titled you to look up at him. 

“There will be plenty of times for you to taste me, tonight though is about our collective ecstasy. To lose ourselves in one another.” 

His hand pulled you closer to him and you straddled your legs over his. His leaky and libertine cock teasing your entrance as you hovered over him. His hair lay disheveled across his face all thanks to your hands and he somehow looked even more desirable than before. With puffy lips and heavy eyes, you needed him in every way imaginable. 

Lowering yourself down onto his cock, you weren’t prepared for how big he’d feel as you took him in inch by inch. He thickened as you reached his base and made you feel so full. As you bottomed out on him, both of you moaned in harmonious synchrony that made you wish you could have it on repeat. 

“Hwa~! You’re so—so big.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you squeezed his length inside of your velvety walls. You placed your hands on his shoulders needing something to ground yourself on. Seonghwa’s hands purchased themselves on your hips awaiting your movements. 

“Call me that again.” 

You rolled your hips, your walls fluttering as you looked down at him. 

“Hwa~” 

You let your forehead rest against his as your body began to ride his perfect cock. Your moans creating the quintessential licentious atmosphere. 

“Hwa, baby…you feel so good.” 

Your mind was racing, not really paying attention to the words that left your mouth. But you wished you did. 

In seconds, the use of the pet name rendered you at his mercy. Only for a moment did his cock leave your seraphic cunt as your bodies were flipped once again. Seonghwa entered you with such a force that you could only describe as concupiscent and raw. Your nails immediately dug themselves into his back and the sounds that left him were more obscene. 

“Oh, God!”

“God is nowhere in this room, nor will he ever be, Pet.”

His moans were tantalizing, hypnotizing you even more so under his spell. His thrusts were deep and calculated, abusing your G-spot with every hit. If God wasn’t in this room, all that Seonghwa was making you feel definitely felt like it. You’d never felt euphoria like this before, it was sinful in every sense of the word and made it feel like there truly was a reason for Him to have died for our sins. Feeling a pool of heat begin to settle near the bottom of your stomach, you wrapped your legs around his waist caging him to you. 

“Y/nnn, I can’t hold myself back much longer.” 

As your walls fluttered around him one more time you shook your head, your voice coming out with more air than you anticipated. 

“Me n-neither.” 

You kissed him again, impassioned and frenzied. Panting against his lips, your nails found solace in his back again. His breath was creating humidity in your neck and you enjoyed every second of it. Looking into his eyes, there was more swimming in them than just lust. 

“I want all of you. I want to feel every part of you Hwa. I need you. I need you so bad, H~wa!” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nails dug deep crescents into his skin. As you begged him for all he had to give he did just that as his mouth snuck its way to your neck and his fangs sunk into your skin. 

The feeling of the puncture was just what you needed to peer over the horizon of your orgasm and crash into the sea of its entirety. Seonghwa was still pumping his hard cock into you and then you felt a familiar warmth flood your walls. Your body squirmed underneath him and slowly your vision began to blur. Before you had the chance to completely lose consciousness, you watched Seonghwa slice his tooth into his wrist and felt the crimson drain over your lips as he pressed his wrist to your mouth. 

“Drink, my sweet dove.” 

His voice was so sweet. Like a siren’s as you drifted into a slumber that was filled with nothing but pleasure. 

~*~

When you awoke, you were still lay in his massive bed, but your body was covered in a black silk nightgown and you smelled faintly of sandalwood and frankincense. You turned your head to the left and then to the right only to find that the bed was empty. 

Where did he go? 

You pushed yourself up to sit in the bed only to be met with the worst headache in your life. It felt like your entire body was pounding in pain and the drumming of it only kept getting louder. Wincing, you heard the handle click open on the bedroom door, revealing Seonghwa with an assortment of food, water, and a glass of red liquid. Wine maybe? 

“I could hear you worrying from across the house. Trust, I’ll never be far from you. Now—I know you’re probably in a decent amount of pain right now, but it’ll soon fade in the next few days. Your body can still take normal food just not in large quantities. Here.” 

His voice trailed off as he tore a piece of the croissant laying on one of the few small plates on the tray. Holding it up, he raised his eyebrows encouraging you to open your mouth. Obliging, you gently took the piece of bread from him, chewing slowly as you tried to make sense of your reality. 

“Did you…did you turn me?” 

“Yes.” 

You nodded. 

“So that means, I’ll be like this forever? Like you?…With you?” 

You saw something like fear flash in his eyes for a moment. Or maybe it was regret?

“Yes. And if you’d like to spend your days with me then it does seem that way my sweet dove. If you feel otherwise I will not hold you back. Although, I will admit I will have a hard time staying away from you.” 

He smiled, almost jokingly in a way that softened your heart. 

This must be who he is behind that mask

“Forever with you doesn’t sound so bad.” 

You blinked up at him, a smile spreading across your own face. 

“I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

taglist: @blackswann-53098 @tunaasan @bellamuerte1987 @seonghwasstar

[hajimehaga]

!! hello !!

here i am making my /official/ return, super for real this time.

i’ve been able to have the luxury to quit my job and start focusing on my art again full time! this means i can start posting again regularly and working on the projects i’ve had backlogged for so long. if you’d like to support me in this journey i do have a patreon and a kofi set up where you can get exclusive looks at a bunch of wips and other things available if you do (:

no pressure if you don’t, as i will still post here just only with fully finished pieces. Commissions are still closed until further notice, but with time will reopen again so keep your eyes peeled for that if you’re interested.

thank you all so much for your continued support despite me nearly disappearing off the face of the earth for a good couple years there. i appreciate you all so much and as always— stay safe and sane.

patreon

kofi

[fandomsoverlife]

Tangerine x sweet!gn reader headcanons

Authors note: I watched bullet train and have noticed the fanfic department is lacking, here is my lackluster take on possibly slightly ooc Tangerine with a sweet gender neutral partner. And also bookstore meet cute, sorry I don’t make the rules.

~

- Tangerine didn’t expect himself to be locked down and in a relationship. He was always out and about, looking over his shoulder, getting bloodstains out of his shirts, and hoping for the best.

- he found you at a bookstore though, perusing the aisles and holding a stack too big for two arms, which he immediately found cute

- it wasn’t until you’d reached for another book that your whole pile came down and he found himself helping you out, stacking the books up carefully into your arms but then deciding to walk with you and help you carry your load to the till when you’d found the book you were reaching for

- he asked you to get a cup of tea with him almost immediately, surprising even himself when the question slipped his lips

- every date you went on, he asked about a different book from the ones he had seen in your stack

- and he kept it classy too, sweet little dates with no overbearing physical contact

- after your cup of tea he had taken you to an art museum, and then to a butterfly garden, and then to a lovely little picnic in a very secluded part of a park where you’d jumped his bones and let him have you against a picnic blanket during sunset (quite a charming first time)

- he didn’t tell Lemon about you until the picnic incident had happened, when he’d called him the next morning after you had left his home

- he lied to you for the first three months of going out, about his job and what he was doing every time he left

- the guilt ate him away at the insides, every time he’d look into your shining eyes, wide with adoration and trust, and when he kissed you goodbye

- when he came clean it was after a hard job. Lemon narrowly escaped death and he himself was doing pretty bad

- he came to your home and knocked on your door, hugging you tight and whispering that he wasn’t who he said he was and he was so sorry

- when you pulled away and looked up at him, laughing, he was scared.

“Why are we laughing when I’ve just told you I’m a contract killer, love?”

“It’s funny because you thought I didn’t know something was wrong. I figured out the crime a long time ago.”

- it turns out using a code name and going on frequent business trips that mar you with bruises leaves a little bit up to question

- he is grateful you’re understanding

- treats you like you’re a prize and he’s never won before in his life

- dotes on you constantly in his own way

- acts annoyed when you forget a jacket but he’s shrugging his own the second he sees you shiver, before you can mention being cold

- you don’t go to the gas station anymore, your tank is always filled the second it gets below half full. You don’t even have to say anything, he just checks.

- your favorite snack is always in his cabinet, your favorite drink in his fridge

- pet names galore

- bird, pretty, love, sweetheart, babe, poppet

- he will steal things for you, completely “accidentally” sometimes - the things he nicks just happen to be something you’d like.

- loves to hear you talk about whatever interests you

- is not great at saying how he feels out loud

- his affection is more physical

- hand on the lower back in a crowd, clasped in yours as you walk down the street, pulled into his side if it’s dark or chilly

- he likes to watch you get ready in the mornings

- will not let you shave his face and/or trim his mustache

- will let you play with his hair at any point

- will give you shoulder rubs

- when you finally meet lemon, tangerine is a little floored when he sees how well you get on

- he’s not too happy when you both get to teasing at him the way he does to everyone

- he is happy the person he loves makes everyone else just as happy as they make him

[showstopper35]

HII this is my second time using an ask box so,, here goes!

could you pretty please do the tfp cons n how they'd like act w/ a neurodivergent masc person? your stuff is really cool btw!! keep up the good work :D

thank you so much, darlin'! i hope i did alright with this request! I only decided to do these few, sorry!! I wanted to finish it 😅

Megatron

-He's quite busy (being intimidating is a full-time job, after all), but he doesn't mind if you accompany him on his bridge, chattering away about your interests or quietly entertaining yourself in some corner of the ship while he commands his troops.

-He does ask questions from time to time about your hyperfixations and special interests. If it's something he happens to like or be knowledgeable about, he will gladly talk to you about it and share a lot of information on the subject.

-He mostly leaves you alone during a meltdown or if you are overstimulated. It's not to be rude, he just doesn't really know what to do. He will be a bit more kind to you afterward, though.

Starscream

-Like Megatron, he mostly just listens to you ramble about things you like. He replies sometimes if it's something he happens to have an interest in. These conversations mostly happen when he takes you on flights.

-Privately does a bit of research with Kockout's help so he can better understand neurodivergence. It actually helps him better understand his own mental state and his brothers' as well.

-If he notices you are struggling, he might take you to a quiet room. He doesn't say anything if you thank him, but he is secretly glad he could help someone.

Soundwave

-The perfect partner to ramble to. He has recordings of all the times you've info-dumped to him, and he listens to them often when he's alone.

-Sometimes fidget toys or plushies of things you like will randomly appear. He doesn't mention it, and neither do you. You don't even know how he got them, but you appreciate it.

-After an outburst or meltdown, he lets you play with Laserbeak and plays back a recording of a time when you talked to him about one of your interests. It helps surprisingly well.

-Dissociates with you.

Knockout

-Literally showers you with fidget toys, sensory items, anything related to your interests, any physical affection you need, and literally any item you may ever need.

-Kind of gets upset if you don't make eye contact with him, but then jokes you are blinded by his finish and that's why you aren't looking at him.

-Seems to be always judging your haircut. Makes low-taper fade jokes. You don't know how he knows what that is. You threaten to give him a low-taper fade. He does it in a joking manner, though.

Breakdown

-Be ready for his golden retriever energy, because he can be a lot. He will respect your boundaries, but you might have to remind him a few times.

-Creates a sensory-safe place for you on the Nemesis. Lots of soft pillows and blankets, a few fidget toys, and even a pair of noise cancelling headphones. You’re still not sure how he even got ahold of them. -Has already fought anyone who even looks at you the wrong way or is too loud. He will do it again.

Dreadwing

-Honestly, he’s probably nuerodivergent himself. You take turns talking about your interests. He shows you his weapon collection and starts training you in the art of explosives, whether you like it or not.

-Often, if you need calming down or just want someone to talk to, he tells you stories about his twin. You are positive you know more about Skyquake than you do himself.

-Entirely picks you up and moves you to a quiet room during breakdowns and just sits with you and waits.

[ruija]

Well I really love your art, may I ask how do u color? I struggle with coloring turtles and I wasn't to know how do u do that?

Hi anon! That's a very broad question, so you've given me a great excuse to ramble anything I want about my coloring, eehehehee~! This will be in two parts and I'll start with talking about my simpler coloring style.

As in, when I color characters on a white background, with a limited or light palette.

The driving force behind this style is me being lazy. My time, energy, and attention span are pretty limited, so if I want to finish anything, I gotta do it fast. And with fanart, I'm usually just doing it for fun and relaxation, so there's no need to push myself to polish it too much.

Despite that, I rarely post just black and white sketches or line arts. I always try to add at least a little bit of toning or shading, because that makes the image easier to read. The characters and their shapes pop out and catch the eye of the viewer better.

However, in this particular example, just the couple toning colors don't quite do the job. The way Don and Leo are entangled makes the center area of this illustration very busy and hard to read.

As a comparison; this pic has only one tone + mask colors, and it works. This is because all the characters are standing separately and their poses are very stationary and simple.

So for the Don + Leo pic, adding some shadows helps in bringing out shapes and depths. Also in general, if you don't feel like drawing BGs, it's good to at least add a shadow below the characters. It grounds them and makes them feel like they exist within a space.

Sometimes if the posing looks too complex and busy, it might just be best to color in the characters fully.

However, even if I do full flat colors, I tend to use a lighter palette. Putting characters in their neutral/default color on a white BG can look a bit jarring as if they're floating in a void. It feels less immersive and like the picture is unfinished.

Using lighter colors makes the image more cohesive, and fits the characters into the white environment a bit more naturally.

If I'm too lazy to draw a BG, I prefer using stylized and limited colors. It feels deliberate and that the whiteness is just part of the palette, whereas the character-accurate colors on white don't match as well, even if they're more pastel.

That being said, there's nothing wrong with just slapping the flat-colored characters on a white background. As you know, I do it too. I'm just exposing my 'fancy coloring style' for what it is; me being lazy, hah!

Limited and monochromatic palettes are a nice shortcut even when you do actual backgrounds. It's faster and you don't have to worry about clashing colors. And you can still convey atmosphere and mood.

Also, on the topic of conserving your time and efforts; I think it's very common among younger/less experienced artists to think that the amount of time you spend on your art piece = how good and well received that piece will be.

Which has some merit to it of course, but it can lead to putting too much effort into areas where it's not necessary. E.g. filling the piece with tons of details and clutter that don't serve an actual purpose, but rather make the image hard to read. Or doing really complicated shading for a meme/comic, where simplicity would deliver the joke better.

So whenever I'm drawing something I intend to publish, whether it's a quick doodle or a more polished piece, I try to follow these two principles: Make it easily readable and do the bare minimum that needs to be done to convey what I want to convey.

Putting time into practice is important, but if you draw for work, it's also crucial that you know how to prioritize and use your time efficiently!

Anyway, thanks for reading! In the next part I'll go into how I do my fully colored pieces, so stay tuned for that!

[hersurvival]

1. Born in a hospital that's no longer around

2. Louisiana hurricane drills, my mom wasn't watching and I put a cockroach in my mouth

3. Stomach aches, leg cramps, unexplained bruises - cancer

4. If I don't make it, at least my parents have my sister and our brother

5. Remission, I started school, I walked there on my own

6. My best friend and I were separated, he knew nothing but domestic abuse

7. I had to meet weekly with a teacher, learn to control my anger

8. The new kid, making friends somehow has gotten harder

9. Middle School, in the presence of teenagers

10. The new kid, my step-dad tried to trap me upstairs

11. Depressed, the first time I held a blade to my arm

12. I'd like to leave this world now, my parents read my journal, told me I should kiss prettier girls

13. The new kid, my mother left, broke our promises, broke my heart

14. The new kid, I changed schools twice, new step-dad, all my parents do is drink, my first cigarette, my first relationship

15. We broke up, word spread, somehow now I'm a slut

16. The first time I ever got drunk, a friend of a friend of a friend assaulted me after I threw up

17. I'm found bleeding and crying on the ground away from the party, I skipped school until graduation, staying sober never lasted

18. I ran away to California, to my dad, but he only knew how to look at me with immense sadness

19. I rent my first apartment, I have a full-time job, my mother and my siblings followed me north

20. I'm a full-time student, culinary arts

21. I work all summer, trained as a cake decorator

22. I skip the ceremony but I receive my degree, find work in a restaurant

23. Quarentine, lock down, a global pandemic

24. My grandmother passes, bought a house with my partner

25. New job, new direction, certified as a forklift driver

26. I think I'm ready to get help, I'm just so scared and always so tired, who would I be if not this, though, it is all I know

27. I started medication, perhaps I'll quit smoking, I wonder if I can be good now, I want to be good now