#the man did not question this decision for a single second

[nathaslosthershit]

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time. 

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family. 

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?” 

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

[unclewaynemunson]

"What. The. Fuck."

Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.

Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.

"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."

"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"

"Eddie, sit down."

"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"

"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."

"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.

"Then whose is she?"

"I told ya to sit down, Ed."

And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.

"Your dad was here earlier."

Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.

"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."

It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.

Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.

"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.

"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."

"Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."

Eddie swallows thickly.

"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."

Eddie nods.

"You wanna hold her?"

He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.

"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."

It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.

Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.

“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.

She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.

He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.

“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.

Wayne turns his head back to him.

“Bout what?”

“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”

Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.

[lovekt]

sleepy nights in november

pairing; lando norris x girlfriend!fem!reader

word count; 1.5k

synopsis; where practice goes on for a little longer than expected, and you’re extremely jetlagged. (based off of the las vegas gp fp2)

author’s note; this is my first completed fic ahhh! cant believe i actually finished something for once in my life this is a miracle

the library

LAS VEGAS WAS A BRIGHT CITY. So bright, and yet you were still battling with all-consuming darkness.

You’d arrived more than twelve hours ago. Cameras flashed, questions asked, your mind had been buzzing with excitement for the ever-anticipated Grand Prix at the new track. Hundreds of people; reporters, fans, drivers, bustled about. Drones and tripods followed your every move, microphones bursting your personal bubble, screaming people begging for their caps, shirts and babies to be signed. It crossed your mind more than once that you weren’t a driver, yet the cheers of sheer joy echoed when you walked by.

It was exhilarating, truly. You’d never imagined your life would turn out this way, your face being plastered onto live television, a banner across the bottom presenting you as Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

You’d arrived just in time for Free Practice 2, not getting a chance to find the man in orange before he was off and onto the track for the second time two hours later than scheduled. However, you were soon supplied with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and a chair to get comfortable with.

It was colder than usual. Your eyes were permanently fixated on the screen above you. No matter how many times you’d watched your boyfriend race, in person or in the comfort of your shared home, it was never any less terrifying. The noises of pure acceleration, the sparks that would occasionally burst from the back of the car, the knowledge of what could happen and what’s already happened several times before. All of it was enough to keep you on your toes, wide awake, and alert every time.

Every single time, except this one.

The low hum of the engine through your headphones did nothing to help you stay focused, time finally beginning to creep its way back up to you. Your boyfriend’s voice calmly updating his engineers, the muffled chatter of the garage, all of it caused your mind to numb and breathing to begin evening out. It was so late. So, so late, and cold.

Your head suddenly lulled to the side causing your eyes to snap open, saving yourself before you slipped off the plastic foldable chair. God, you hoped the live broadcasting cameras were not allowing thousands of eyes to see you right now.

There were some eyes, though, that had seen you. The engineers dressed in orange pottering around were chuckling, they themselves trying to stay awake by toying with tools and fidgeting with other mechanical things that you didn’t understand. Most of them you were quite friendly with by now as you were a frequent member of the McLaren garage, and they all knew you were the one to go to whenever Lando needed a break. They were grateful to have you. An angry Lando is never a fun time.

Which is exactly why they decided to make an executive decision to save you from the concrete floor below. It was only a matter of time before you ended up hurting yourself.

The screen above you began blurring once more, eyes drooping against your will when a hand placed itself onto your shoulder. One of the engineers that Lando was particularly close with was smiling down at you, softly nudging you forward and guiding you to stand up. You looked at him, eyes glossy and brows furrowed, confused.

He sighed amusedly, “I think it’s time for bed.”

Slight slurred protests began to slip out of your lips but were stopped when you wobbled and had to grip onto the top of the chair for balance. The engineer’s hold on your arm tightened and your exhaustion was too heavy to resist as he began leading you towards the driver’s rooms.

You glanced back at the screen showing your boyfriend’s perspective of the car, not wanting to leave but knowing that it’s probably for the best. There wasn’t any action going on, every driver was tired, nobody was pulling any dangerous moves. It was safe enough to walk away, just for a little bit, just this once.

The door to Lando’s driver’s room was opened and you settled onto the small sofa in the corner, wrapping yourself in a papaya-coloured blanket. Darkness enveloped the room as the engineer flipped the switch, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaving you to your thoughts for all of two seconds before a soft voice filled your ears. You’d forgotten to take the headphones off.

Lando spoke to his team, his voice calm and soothing, almost as if he knew you were falling into the depths of unconsciousness in that moment. He was safe. You felt safe.

The second he’d hauled himself out of the car, helmet removed, and interviews finished up, he was on the search for you. Often, you would wander off as soon as the car had been parked, for a bathroom break or to have a quick snack, refusing to do it during the race.

He walked back to his room as fast as possible, weaving between hundreds of people who he didn’t bother giving the time of day. Usually, he would’ve stopped and had a little chat, but it was so, so late and his whole body felt like it was about to crumble. All he wanted was to find you, get changed and make the small trek back to your shared hotel room.

The door was unlocked when he arrived, a sure sign that you were inside and waiting. But when he opened the door ready to be greeted with a sweet kiss, all he was met with was complete darkness. Weird.

His hand reached for the switch and light flooded the room. Sure enough, there you were, cuddled up in his bright orange blanket and sound asleep. Your face was half covered and smushed into the arm rest, knees curled into yourself and a set of headphones askew on top of your mussed hair.

The smile that had etched itself onto his face grew when he noticed the headphones. You’d fallen asleep whilst listening to him talk, even when he wasn’t with you. Even when you were jetlagged, cold, and exhausted, you still made sure he was okay. His chest warmed at the thought.

Lando placed the bottle of water he was holding down onto the table beside him, trying his best to be as quiet as possible as he changed from his suit to a hoodie. You didn’t move a muscle, only light breaths filling the silent space.

You looked so peaceful, lashes fluttering every so often. The urge to try and squeeze himself onto the sofa with you was strong, but the more logical side of him told him that it was finally time to head back to the hotel, and if you stayed in that position much longer then your neck would be unbearably stiff by tomorrow morning. He loved you more than anything in the world, so he knew you well enough to know that you would be moaning to him about it once you’d woken up, and not the moaning that he enjoyed hearing.

 Carefully, he brushed the tips of his fingers across your cheek, moving a few stray strands of hair. Your cheeks were warm, a contrast to Lando’s cool touch that caused you to pull your face away and tuck it further into the safety of his blanket. His lips twitched slightly. You would hate him for this now, but thank him later, he thought, as he swiftly curled his fingers around the edge of the blanket and pulled it down.

Your skin, exposed to the night air, broke out into goosebumps as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. Lando slowly rubbed his palm up and down your arm, bringing his lips to your forehead and kissing you softly.

Your eyelids fluttered open, pupils narrowing to the bright light of the room as an almost silent groan escaped you.

Your eyes darted around for a moment before landing on your boyfriend, crouched down beside you with his hand stroking your hair. He was smiling at you lovingly, eyes squinted and laced with a tinge of mischief. “G’morning, baby.”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to open your mouth in a yawn directed straight at his face. He chuckled quietly.

“I think it’s time we get you to bed, hm?”

You rested your head back against the armrest, closing your eyes once more, “I’m already in bed.”

“I’m sure you are.” He said, before rising back up to his full height and slipping one hand underneath your neck, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and the other around the back of your knees. Your hand instinctively curled around his bicep as you were lifted into the air, taking note in the back of your mind at how effortlessly he seemed to manoeuvre you.

As Lando began to carefully place you onto your feet, a wave of adoration filled you to the core. He’d just been working for hours straight, and yet here he was taking care of you. The love you had for this boy was absolutely unmatched.

And what better way to show him this than by using the little energy you had restored during your nap to rise onto your tiptoes and press a sweet kiss against his awaiting lips.

[teddybeartoji]

office au! with coworker!gojo

he's the type to always be a little late. by a little, i of course mean a lot. he always bursts in the door with the biggest smile on his lips and four coffees in his hand. he winks at his coworkers, who then always blush and giggle out a hi, satoru! and you always roll your eyes at that. satoru nods his male coworkers, who always try to dap him up and start a conversation but he doesn't have time for that. he has things to do. (as if he isn't literally Late smh)

he answers the guys' question while he's walking – his eyes set on his favourite coworker. you. sitting in your cubicle, you're trying to ignore him and his dramatic enterance. that he does every single day. how annoying can he be? before you can roll your eyes again, a cup of coffee has landed on your table, making you glance over your shoulder.

he's blinding you, his grin is stretched so wide it's almost a bit creepy. he's standing right behind you, leaning his hand on your table right next to where he just placed the coffee. he's way too close for a co-worker and you gulp.

ugh.

"aren't you gonna thank your favourite coworker for bringing you coffee? whew, tough crowd, huh." his smile doesn't falter and he just leans in closer, his cologne clouding your senses.

UGH.

and he really does do it every single fucking day. he brings you coffee and he annoys you and he makes your eyes roll so hard you almost go blind and you hate to admit that he's kinda cute... it's whatever.

back to the coffees. so one of them is for you – he knows your order because he dug out the receipt from your bag when you weren't looking on his second day there. he almost got caught, too. but he only did that because you didn't wanna tell him your order!! and he was so insistent on bringing you coffee that he just had to find another way. he loved the way your eyes widened and how you tried to mask your surprised expression but nothing gets past his keen eyes. when you asked how he did it, he just told you that he guessed it. yeah, right....

the second coffee is for him. it's an insanely sweet latte. how do you know? he made you try it. more liked begged for you to try it. you also hate to admit that his puppy-dog eyes worked on you... he only drinks the special latte from the corner coffee shop and he refuses to drink the office "coffee". he's fancy like that.

the third coffee is for his second favourite coworker – kento nanami! they sure make an interesting pair. kento is the main reason why satoru even got the job. the latter begged him to pitch for him to the boss; he was so excited by the concept of Office Work and just had to try it out. he, of course, passed the interview with flying colors and kento regrets his decision to "help" him out in the first place. satoru yaps his ears off whenever he isn't doing the same to you and he's constantly leaving little notes for the man. you once saw one and it just had a miniature penis drawn on it. very mature.

and the fourth coffee is for your boss. satoru isn't sucking up like you originally thought he was. you think he just wants to bring her coffee? your boss is cool – she's in her forties and she has a strong voice, everybody always listens to her and she really does make for a very good boss. your guess is that satoru has a crush on her. (you're wrong. he also just thinks she's super fucking cool. literally nothing else to it.)

he's always wearing a fancy white button-up with a black tie loosely hanging around his neck and a pair of matching black slacks that hug his thighs so nicely that the women and the men of the office are always finding it hard to not stare at them. he gets an obnoxious ego boost from this.

he's constantly leaning on other people's desks, pushing his hips out and it really is hard to concentrate whenever he does it. the pose and the smug smirk he sends you when he catches you looking is making you feel hot. he always catches you too, it's so annoying. why can't he just continue doing whatever he's doing so you can admire him in peace?

he's loud, he's annoying and he's so fucking good at his job that firing him couldn't even be a passing thought. he actually does his paperwork rather fast; often finishing before you and that gives him the time to tease you for being slow. he does that way less than you expected though. only a few times in a day – enough to annoy you but never enough to actually make you upset or angry. he actually helps you sometimes. he can tell you don't wanna ask and he doesn't wanna make you feel bad - he'd rather watch you roll your pretty eyes at his stupid jokes with a small hidden smile than roll them with a deep frustrated sigh. he learned that the hard way.

he loves your smile. more often than not you can't keep the straight face you try to put up with him, making your loud laughter resonate throughout the whole office. oh, how his eyes shine at that.

long story short. he's infuriating. he's funny. he's way too good at his job. he's way too handsome. you loathe working with him and yet, you can't stop smothering him in kisses whenever you two "happen" to meet in the printer room.

[lustfulslxt]

It’s You - Matt Sturniolo

summary : matt’s secretly in love w y/n, she bails on him and later realizes it was a terrible decision because it's him

warnings : very slight angst, fluff, smut

a/n : based on these texts (1, 2)

-

It didn’t take long for you to get ready and head over to Matt’s. If you were being honest, your nerves were wrecked. You felt so guilty for ditching him over a boy. Matt didn’t deserve that. He’s only ever been the best to you, and you were nothing less than selfish.

Sitting in your car outside of his house, you take a deep breath. He’s your best friend, you guys will figure it out. You shut the car off and make your way to his front door, deciding to knock rather than walk in as per usual. You’re not waiting very long when the door is unlocked and opened.

Seeing Matt feels like a breath of fresh air. However, at the same time, your guilt increases.

“Matt, I’m so sorry. I swear I wish I could take it back.” You immediately rush out your words.

“Why’d you knock?” He questions with a quizzical expression.

You falter a bit, “I-uh, I didn’t want to overstep in case you’re mad at me.”

"Come on." He says, nodding his head back for you to come inside.

He steps aside, holding the door open for you. You quickly walk inside, your hand finding his almost instantly. You can't help it, the fear of losing him urging you to bring him in closer. He looks down at your connected hands, his heart racing at the simple touch. He squeezes your hand tighter, pulling you up the stairs with him.

Your stomach flutters at the gesture, your mind racing with so many thoughts, yet nothing at the same time. You follow him back into his room, shutting the door behind you. He kicks his shoes off and lies back on his bed, beckoning you over. You copy his action before sitting beside him.

"So." Matt mutters, shooting a quick glance at you.

"About before." You start, a frown immediately pulling to your lips at the thought. "I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I was just so caught up in the fact that he was into me, I tried to do whatever he wanted to make it work. So, when he wanted to get together that weekend, I did. I never should've cancelled on you; I regret it so much. I'm really sorry, Matt."

He looks down at the floor, biting his inner cheek. "You really upset me."

Your frown deepens from his words, "I know, and you have every right to feel that way. I wish I could go back and undo it. You didn't deserve that. There's not much I can say, because I don't want to just give you excuses. It was wrong of me. I know you worked hard to get those tickets, and I truly am sorry."

"So, you're not seeing him anymore?"

You shake your head with wide eyes, "No, definitely not."

He gives you a small smile, "Good."

You squint your eyes at his response, before he's spreading his arms for you. You grin, crawling over and lying in his arms, squeezing for dear life.

"Any tighter and I'll explode." He chuckles in a low whisper.

You softly loosen your grip with a sheepish smile, "Sorry, I just don't want to lose you."

He sighs, "You're not gonna lose me, kid. Not now, not ever."

“I’m sorry, Matt.” You whisper, glancing up at him. “Honest.”

He brushes the hair from your face, staring down at you with a gentle look on his face. “I know.”

The two of you are met with a silence, but a comfortable one. Being with Matt always washes your worries away. He makes everything better without even having to put much effort, yet he always does. He gives you his all every single second of every day. You don’t know what you’d do without him.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened with your date?” He questions, running a hand through your hair as your head lies on his chest.

“I guess I just realized he’s not the man I want.” You admit after a moment of pondering.

“What does that mean?”

You turn your head, meeting his gaze. He has a curious expression and you can’t help but stare, lovingly. You’ve always found him so beautiful.

“I don’t know.” You lie, laying your head back down.

His hand moves around your face, grasping your chin to turn you back towards him. “Tell me.”

You’re so close that you can feel his breath fan against your face as he speaks. His bright blue eyes bore into yours with such intensity you find it hard to catch your breath. It’s like he’s put a spell on you. You’re suddenly in this trance and you feel the need to spill everything.

Your hand meets his cheek, softly caressing it as you contemplate admitting your truths. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for possible rejection. “It’s you.”

His heart starts beating faster from those two little words, but he needs confirmation. “Me?”

“You, Matt. You’re the man I want.” You finally say out loud, almost feeling a literal weight taken off of your shoulders for finally letting it out.

Matt feels like he's dreaming. He never would've guessed you'd ever say that, but he can't help the cheesy smile that plasters itself on his face. Your worried eyes glimmer at his reaction, hoping it's something good.

"Why do you think I tried so hard to get you those tickets?" He whispers, his lips almost grazing yours with every word.

"Say it." You whisper back.

"You know, Y/N." He breathes.

"I need you to say it."

"It's you." He repeats your previous words, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. "It's always been you."

Your lips turn upwards, flashing your pearly whites as you smile at him. Without another thought, Matt's hand tightens around your jaw, pulling you into him. His lips meet yours in a hard kiss, like any second you'll disappear. Your lips tingle from the feeling of his on yours, metaphorical sparks flying.

Your hand meets the side of his face, your fingertips brushing through his hair as your palm caresses his cheek. The kiss deepens as he slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring it like it's all he's ever known.

His hands trail down your body, squeezing every curve, making you softly moan into the kiss. He breaks away, his eyes wide and suddenly a lot darker than before. He swiftly flips the two of you over, hovering over you with one leg in between yours and holding himself up on his hands. He drops to one of his elbows, using the opposite hand to trace your bottom lip. His hand travels lower, closing around your neck in a soft grip as his lips meet yours again.

His tongue glides over yours so deliciously, humming into your mouth at the taste of you. You can feel his erection growing against your thigh, igniting a fire in your stomach. The desire that was put off for so long burns brighter, heat forming between your legs.

His lips part from yours, instantly trailing down your jaw and to your neck. He licks and sucks, nibbling the sensitive skin, eliciting soft whines from you that go straight to his dick. His hands slide under your shirt, gripping your warm skin, slowly moving upwards towards your breasts.

He pulls away with red, swollen lips, "Do you want this?"

"So bad." You beg, frantically nodding your head.

A smirk pulls to his lips as he continues working on your neck, letting his hands roam your body. They slide over your plush skin, gripping your boobs through your bra. You arch your back into his touch, heavy pants falling from your mouth. He pulls away and tugs at your shirt. You slightly lift yourself, allowing him to remove it, before he's pushing you back into the bed.

His bruised lips meet your skin in open mouthed kisses, leaving specks of saliva in his wake. Your skin burns beneath his touch, and you can't help but whine at the sensation, desperate for more. His teeth bite down on the skin of your collarbones, leaving marks behind. He continues doing this all over your torso, licking over said marks.

"Matt, please." You whine, bucking your hips up into his.

"Shh, I got you, baby." He hums into your skin as he pulls your bra straps down.

He nips at your shoulders, littering your skin with little bites and kisses. It's safe to say, you're drenched from his touch alone. You feel hot and bothered, needy for more stimulation at your core. His fingers grasp the little clip at the front of your bra, sliding it apart, freeing your breasts.

"Mmm." He groans, engulfing the soft mounds in his hands. "Always knew you had perfect tits."

His lips wrap around one nipple, tweaking the other with his finger. His tongue swirls over the sensitive bud, letting his teeth graze it, sensually. Your mind is hazy, and you're stuck in a daze as he repeats that action on your opposite nipple.

He grabs your waist, guiding you up to fully remove your bra, discarding it with your shirt. Before you lay back down, your hands are pulling at his shirt. He quickly lifts it over his head, tossing it aside, bringing you back into him, eager to feel your bare skin on his.

You bring his mouth to yours, feverishly kissing him as his hands continue feeling out your body. They travel lower and lower, grazing over the waistband of your pants. He glides over the fabric, moving to your thighs, squeezing the plush skin. You clench around nothing, craving to be filled.

He pulls away, eyes boring into your face as he gauges your reaction. His hand slowly trails up your leg, pressing into your covered heat. You close your eyes, taking your bottom lip in your teeth, holding back the sound that threatened to slip. A cocky smirk plasters on his lips as he works your bottoms down, leaving you bare as he pulls them off your feet.

He spreads your legs, admiring your glistening pussy on display just for him. The thought of you being just for him makes his cock throb with need. His fingers prod at your folds, your juices instantly drenching him with how aroused you are. Soft moans emit from your mouth as he slides his hand up and down your center.

"Need you inside me, please." You breathe, your hand latching onto his wrist.

"Are you sure?" He asks, eyeing you up and down.

"Please." You beg once more.

He nods, his hands immediately working his belt off. He unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down, along with his boxers. His hard cock bounces back up, throbbing for attention. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, your pussy clenching once again.

Matt scoots forward just a bit, getting between your legs with ease. He places his hand by your head as he hovers over you, holding his member in his opposite hand. He drags it through your folds, coating it in your arousal. He aligns himself with your sopping entrance, easily slipping in due to how wet you are.

"Oh fuck." You whine from the sensation, your eyes squeezing shut.

His breathing gets heavier as he slowly sinks deeper into you, filling you up so perfectly. Your hands grip his biceps as he bottoms out, feeling as if he sucked the air out of your lungs. Your pussy hugs around him so tightly, he's struggling to keep it together.

As soon as you adjust, he's slowly pumping in and out of you, pulling numerous moans from your lips. His strokes are deep and hard, yet slow and sensual.

"Been wanting to make this pussy mine for so long, fuck." He moans in a raspy voice as he continues thrusting into you.

He turns his head, kissing your wrist as your nails dig into his shoulder. He takes your opposite hand and intertwines it with his, squeezing hard. Euphoria overtakes your body with every thrust, eyes rolling into the back of your head from the feeling.

Your mouth falls open, lewd moans slipping from it as the pleasure builds. The knot in your stomach forms quickly with the way he's fucking into you so deliciously, leaving you clenching around him.

"Feels s-so good." You cry out, your face scrunching up in pleasure.

Your skin feels hot beneath his, it's almost hard to catch your breath. You feel a way you've never felt before.

"Tell me I make you feel better than anyone else, baby." He groans, snapping his hips into yours. "Say it."

You whine out from his words and his hard strokes, unable to form coherent sentences. "Feel better, oh my god. You, it's you. Fuck, I'm so close."

He moans at your words and continuous clenching around his cock, his hips sputtering from the feeling. He's been yearning for this exact moment for as long as he can remember, and it's better than he could've ever imagined.

"You're mine. All mine." He grunts with every thrust, driving you over the edge.

"Yes, yes, yes." You cry, as you come undone. "All yours, baby."

His mouth falls slack as he feels your juices pour out of you, producing a squelching sound with every pump. Your grip on his hand tightens as he continues fucking into you. He stares at your face, the way you furrow your eyebrows and bite your lip in overwhelming pleasure bringing him to the edge.

He lets out a guttural moan, shuddering as he empties his load into you, filling you up with his seed. He continues pumping, pulling out when it becomes too much for you both.

His hair slicks to his forehead as he leans back on his knees, watching his cum ooze out of you. The sight alone makes his dick twitch. Both of you are panting heavily, trying to compose yourselves from the exertion. You both lock eyes with goofy grins, instantly giggling with one another as if he wasn't just buried inside of you.

"I'm yours, huh?" You mumble with a dopey smile.

"And don't you fucking forget it."

—

a/n : shucksss, lazy ending i'm tired. not proofread, what's new? sorry for the wait, i lack motivation sooo much. anyways, hope it didn't disappoint. if it did, ig go cry ab it idk. smut one the poll bc we're all sluts, so that's what you got!

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @mattsfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @knowingnothingnoel @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @strnlsblog @ilovethesturniolotriplets @sturnolio-luvs @chrissgirlsstuff

[hearts4zoro]

kiss count ? r. zoro. ᧔♡᧓

pairing: roronora zoro x crewmate gn! reader

syn: you decide to ask zoro a silly question- one he still has not answered to this day.

word count: 717.

“what the hell.”

you heard from the green haired man beside you, causing you to roll your eyes in advance. the four of you were patiently waiting for ussop to make a decision after luffy excitedly asked him to join his crew. of course, he couldn’t choose without some pained goodbyes from his beloved kaya, the two of them suddenly locking lips in front of all of you. you glanced at grinning nami, and a confused luffy with a puzzled look on his face.

“he knows that i’m the captain, right?” luffy asked, pointing at himself.

“let em have this one.” you heard nami say, before luffy started to question the pair. you chuckled turning to the side to face zoro, your eyes meeting for a quick second, his orbs boring down into yours before he turned to look away.

“what? never seen two people kiss before?” you mumbled in annoyance, jabbing zoro in the stomach with your elbow, failing to get some sort of pained grunt from the man. but, you did get him to stop complaining.

“shut up.” he uttered, allowing a scoff to exit your mouth, the two of you staring at the smiling couple ahead. until, a silly assumption popped up in your head. 

“hey mosshead,” you spoke, trying to get his attention. he replied with an annoyed “what”, eyeing you from the side.

“have you ever kissed anyone?” the sole set of words was enough to get the man beet red, his attention focusing on you quicker than ever, a scowl present on his face. you swore you saw his nostrils flaring. 

“what the hell? what kind of question is that?” he replied, looking almost embarrassed. you did your best to hold in a laugh.

“damn, is "what the hell" your reply to everything?" you mumbled under your breath. "no need to get defensive, it was just a question!” you raised your hands, shaking your head. zoro eyed you, still irked by the sudden ask, as a smirk formed on your lips.

“a question that you didn’t answer…” you continued, tapping your chin. “so, then does that mean, that the roronoa zoro hasn’t kissed a single person in his life at all?” you grinned at the man before you, whose ears were burning red, eyebrows furrowing at your statement. he opened up his mouth only to shut it closed, unsure of what to reply. his silence was enough of an answer for you.

“ha! so it’s true!” a teasing look took over your features, you poking at his toned bicep continuously, glancing at his three swords. “what a loser.”

having enough of your playful antics, zoro gripped your arm and harshly tugged you towards him, the two of you now facing one another.

“alright then,” he finally spoke, tone deep as you noticed the way his flexed biceps were almost about to rip out of his t-shirt. raising his eyebrow, he opened his mouth.

“have you ever kissed anyone, y/n?” and your smirk widened. but before you could reply to the brazen man, luffy called out to you guys to get on board the going merry, his voice cutting the tense atmosphere into a thin slice of bread.

turning your attention back to the swordsman, all you did was lazily shrug in reply. suddenly, you leaned in dangerously close, your plump lips almost touching his chapped ones. zoro froze, immediately cursing you in his head due to the close proximity while still keeping a hardened expression on his face. you caught the way his eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, the action engraving itself in your memory. you were definitely going to tease him about it later. but for now…

“i guess we’ll have to find out.” you whispered, your breath tickling his own. all zoro could hear in that moment was the clicking of your heeled boots against the wood as you backed away and  retreated from the scene before the fazed swordsman could utter a word. of course, you couldn’t leave without slyly blowing him a kiss. 

“since you’ve never gotten a real one before!” you yelled with a grin before strutting away onto the newly sailed ship. zoro shook his head, feet finally able to move out of the warmed space, the once tight air suffocating his chest now dispersed into the salt water below the docks. oh, he was definitely going to get back at you for that.

©𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝟒𝐳𝐨𝐫𝐨. on tumblr. please do not copy, repost, or plagarize. please comment or reblog! taglist is open <3

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of a Fight, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Ahh thank you for 1,000 followers!! I don't even know how that happened!! Anyways, I think it's a little anticlimactic? I just feel like since I am definitely not the kind to raise my voice, a shy reader wouldn't either. Besides, disappointment hurts more than anger, right?

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 4:

Leon really did like you, honest. You were such a sweet girl, so innocent and clueless. Maybe it’s because he never gave his one night stands the time of day, or maybe it was just the sheer amount of time he had to spend with you to get this close, but now he knew he was a pretty terrible person for taking that bet

In the beginning he didn’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt due to the words the frat spewed at him. He knew all the right questions to ask, all the right things to say, the sweetness of it all had you under a spell.  It was also such a menial thing to get, a single pair of panties… You probably wouldn’t even know it was missing!

But as time went on, it got harder and harder for Leon to stomach just what he was doing. You’d opened up so much to him about your home life, how stressed you were, how much pressure you were under. Doing this would absolutely ruin you so he did his best to convince himself that he was being the nice one by waiting to complete the bet until you had finished all your finals. All that time spent together had him second guessing, triple guessing, even quadruple guessing his decision to go through with this. The good grades were important to you, he didn’t want to draw your focus away from that.

It was a shame his friends couldn’t keep the damn thing to themselves even if their life depended on it. He’d explicitly told them that it’s done and there was nothing more to it, yet of course they just had to snicker and make snide little comments to each other the next day when they saw you in passing.

Leon wouldn’t admit out loud that you’d really grown on him over the months, so he could only brush his friends off whenever they’d tease him about getting angry whenever the topic arose. Chris was the worst out of all of them, being his best friend, it seemed like his mission was to dance on Leon’s nerves any chance he got.

“Delete that.” A scowl graced Leon’s features as he glared at Chris, who’d stepped back from the agitated man. Almost the entire frat had posed with the panties Leon stole from you, all of them making some form of exaggerated pose and face. What was only meant to be goofy on their part was making the man responsible furious.

“Relax, it’s just a picture. I thought you’d find it funny.” Chris chuckled, bringing his phone back in to look at it again himself. “You’re acting real sour for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re all acting like a bunch of fucking idiots and I’m sick of it. Now delete that damn picture before I smash your phone with a hammer.” The nonchalant attitude from Chris was driving Leon up the wall. He already knew he’d fucked up big time, and with the way everyone was acting would only get him into bigger trouble.

“Shut up, man.” Chris laughed, like this was all some big joke. Everything was a joke to him. “Acting like you’re gonna explode or something.” This man was an actual dumbass, never taking a moment to actually think about what consequences having photo evidence with the entirety of the frat’s members posing with something stolen would have.

Leon scoffed, holding his hands up before letting them fall dramatically to slap against the tops of his thighs. “No fucking way..” One hand came back up to cover his mouth, breathing out sharply through his nose. It was a sad attempt to keep himself from pouncing on the other man, seeing as not barely five seconds later he tackled Chris, hands scrambling to rip the phone from his hand.

Chris was a few inches taller than Leon, a bit stronger too, so the scuffle didn’t last long. Some punches thrown here, a few kicks there, and Leon had the wind knocked out of him at some point, thrown to the side and left to struggle to get up off the floor while Chris decided to make his way to a different part of the house, muttering under his breath all the while.

“God dammit-” Leon wheezed, on his hands and knees, one hand against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Sure he reacted purely on instinct, but Chris could stand to be knocked down a few pegs in his opinion. The guy is an ass.

After finally collecting himself, Leon slowly spun around to rest his back against the foot of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. He coughed a couple times and let his eyes fall closed, eyebrows furrowed as he silently seethed. Chris was most definitely going to send that picture around since he obviously thinks it’s the funniest thing to ever grace this planet. You were going to see the picture. That thought alone had his head falling forward in defeat, breathing out a weak sigh and a few more coughs. 

If he had just followed his own shitty advice, he would’ve taken a second to think about it. Why didn’t he just tell you in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to the store and buy a random pair of panties? Why did he follow through on such a meaningless bet?

Now that Leon thinks about it, he was the dumbass in this scenario. A royal one.

He probably sat there for an hour with his eyes closed, mind racing a million miles a minute. Trying not to make another stupid decision, he decided the best course of action would be to tell you before you saw that picture. You should hear it from him and not a total stranger. It was the right thing to do. Right?

He let out a few more strangled coughs and wheezes as he stood up off the floor and threw his coat on, beginning the walk of shame to your building. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but the snow and sludge on the ground made it a bit more dangerous, he needed to tread carefully. In more ways than one.

The extended walk left him alone with his thoughts, seeing as he didn’t grab his own phone to bring with him. With every step his mind grew heavier, an involuntary grimace scrunching his face up as he mulled over what exactly he’d done. He was mentally beating himself up over how easy it would’ve been to avoid this situation if he’d just thought outside of himself for one singular minute.

What had he done? 

Leon stomped the excess snow off his boots once inside of the dorm building, hands hidden in the pockets of his jackets as he meandered over to the stairs to get up to the second floor where your dorm was. He took his sweet time, practicing what he wanted to say under his breath as he stared down at his feet while walking up the steps.

Your dorm was down the hall around the corner, allowing him the few extra seconds it would take to get there to get his heart under control. You would be mad, rightfully so, but would you forgive him? Is it selfish to hope that you would?

He stood in front of your door for a minute longer, hand hovering just in front of it, trying to bring  himself to knock. Licking his dry lips, he quickly hit the knuckle on his index finger against the door three times, his eyes downturned. As much as he wanted to be the bigger person, it scared him to no end. He’s never cared this much before, so why was he so worried about it now?

Leon’s eyes shot up at the sound of the door opening, immediately showing his confusion when it was Sky on the other side. They didn’t say a word, but they looked mad, or at least very irritated. “Hey, I really need to talk to-,” they cut him off by simply holding up the palm of their hand to him, taking in a deep breath. “We saw it.”

Those three words made his heart drop to his stomach, his eyes quickly darting to look through the opening in the door to see if he could see you. “Please, if you would just let me explain I can-”

“Don’t embarrass yourself. Just go.” Sky was just about to close the door before they quickly looked over their shoulder, shutting the door almost all the way. Leon could hear them whispering to you, and though he desperately wanted to listen in, he decided to take a step back from the door and wait patiently. It was the least he could do.

He looked side to side to make sure no one was walking through the hallways, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on such a sensitive situation. The door reopened, only this time it was you standing in the doorway. You looked so sad, so disappointed.

Leon hesitated before opening his mouth, yet you cut him off before he could even get a word in. “I trusted you,” you rasped quietly, a shaky sigh passing your lips, “I-.. I trusted you… and this is how you treat me..?” His shoulders slumped as he listened to you. He didn’t think he could feel any worse about this, but here you were, reminding him just how much of an ass he’s been.

“All that time we spent together.. all those kind, encouraging words you told me.. were all a lie?” You sniffled, arms slinking around yourself tightly. Sky was standing out of his view rubbing your back, knowing you wanted, no, needed to confront him yourself.

“No- I-..” Leon stuttered, trying to find the best way to explain everything. And no matter how many times he formulated it in his head, the explanation would never justify his actions. Instead he settled on something that would probably mean and do nothing for you. It was worth saying, though. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry,” his voice fell to a whisper as he repeated himself, eyes remaining on yours. What else could he say?

Silence fell between you as you only stared back at him with glassy eyes, your every breath shaky as you held back sobs. Crying in front of him would only give him more fuel, was your thought process. In your mind, he couldn’t even be trusted with your trash. 

By now, Sky had walked over and grabbed your suitcase, rolling it over next to you. You were leaving a day earlier than you said you would, Sky having offered to drive you back home since your hometown was only a couple hours away from where theirs was.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, instead taking the handle of your suitcase from your friend before silently walking out of the room, past Leon, and down around the corner. He only stood and watched you walk off with a deep frown, head turning back to look at Sky when he heard them lock the door behind themself. 

“You’re only sorry that you got caught.” They grumbled as they walked past him, giving him a quick yet harsh glare. They soon disappeared around the same corner you had, leaving him all alone in the now quiet hallway. 

You were the nicest, most considerate person he’s ever had the pleasure to know and he blew it. The worst part about it all was you didn’t even seem mad, just heartbroken. Disappointed in him.

You had put so much of your trust into him, even after he’d been so nasty towards you in the beginning, and what did he do with it? He basically spit on it, lit it on fire, and then flushed the remnants. He was only annoyed with you the first few times he had to help you study, the bickering the two of you shared easily becoming one of the things he liked about you.

Leon honestly liked you from the start, so determined to pass a class that you’d put up with what was basically harassment from him. When he told his frat buddies about you, they were quick to draw up that bet. Unfortunately, he’d known most of these guys since middle school, and you were just a girl he met on chance. His friends’ words blanketed his own morals, and because they saw you as a target, so did he, that subconscious need for peer approval leading him to make one of the worst decisions he’s ever made thus far.

If he was in your shoes, he’d raise hell, so your decision to leave was completely understandable. For some reason you’d let him off easy and he knew he didn’t deserve such light treatment. 

All he could do now was hope you’d come back next semester. He’d be fine just getting to see you in passing since you most likely wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him anymore, your friends would certainly keep him at a distance away from you. 

Would writing a message be okay? You need time before he approaches the topic with you. Should he leave you be? No, you deserve an apology, even if you don’t want it, nor accept it. 

Someone brushed by Leon, breaking his train of thought. He was still standing in the hallway in front of your dorm room. He needed to go and try to make this right, or at the very least rip everyone at the frat a new one. He wasn’t sure, maybe it was because he was angry at them and himself, but leaving the frat sounded like a pretty good way to start righting his wrongs. Not before he made sure that the picture was wiped from everyone’s phone and the panties he stole were kept far away from everyone there. 

Chris sent the picture to you, which means it was sent to a bunch of other people too. He’ll spend all winter break tracking down every last person it was sent to, tell professors what he’d done just so it didn’t spread any further. And if it meant he’d lose his scholarship, then so be it.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik @animesnowstorm @lexi-zsy09 @mylifedoesntexist @ifeellikedying @yourmommylol04 @ravioli19 @dakiniii @papichulo120627

(few of your blogs won't work, i tried though 😭)

[cranberrymoons]

a love to last past saturday night

here's the first 3,500-ish words of the coffee shop au i've been working on!

—

There’s a little cafe at the end of Steve’s block that he’s only ever been in once. 

It’s called Corroded Coffee and it’s dark in there and maybe a little pretentious, but not pretentious as in… people reading classic novels or having discussions about French Cinema. Pretentious in the sense that there’s an intimidating collection of vinyl records taking up half an entire wall and they use single origin arabica beans and the scary baristas look at you sideways if you order regular milk in your latte. 

He knows this last part because the one time he did stop in, shortly after he moved to the neighborhood, he asked for an iced vanilla cold brew with cream, and the redheaded girl behind the counter looked him up and down as she punched his order into an iPad. 

“Okay,” she said slowly, disdainful and bored like she was barely concealing an eye roll. “I guess that’s eleven dollars, if you’re sure that’s all you want.”

Steve was sure. He was also sure that he’d never forgive himself for spending so much on a single cup of coffee that he could probably make at home for about fifty cents, but… support local businesses? Use his company card? Also, he was too embarrassed to tell her to cancel the order. 

So. 

Anyway, it’s about three months later when he goes in there for the second time. This time, it’s because his coffee pot broke (a shitty off-brand Keurig that he bought on Amazon for about twenty bucks, which for the record is less than the cost of two iced coffees from this place), and he really has to get to work, and the coffee at the office is – fine, actually, but – whatever. 

Whatever.

The coffee in the office is fine, but he’s walking toward the train feeling like his hair and his tie are somehow both on sideways, and a customer pushes out of the café and into the street, bringing with them a wave of caffeinated air, and before Steve has the chance to make a conscious decision one way or another, he’s standing inside the shop, eyes adjusting to the sudden shift to dim lighting.

When he comes to his senses, there’s a brief moment where he considers just turning around and walking right back out, but before he has a chance, the guy behind the counter leans an elbow against the shoulder-height glass pastry case and says –

“Hey man, what can I get you?”

Too late. 

Steve blinks and focuses on him. He’s tallish with long hair that’s been pulled back into a puffy knot on top of his head, dish towel slung over his shoulder, indecipherable band tee, nails painted black, a flock of bats and a long line of perfect crescent moon phases running up his forearm, and – yeah. Steve, in his crisp Brooks Brothers button-up and ironed slacks, is definitely not the right kind of cool to be coming in here.

“You do want coffee, right?” the barista prompts. He raises his eyebrows in question. “I just watched you Pepe Le Pew your way in here, so.”

In spite of himself, Steve laughs. Call it the exhaustion. He takes a step closer to the counter. 

“You saw that?”

The man grins. “You’re hardly the first exhausted corporate zombie to stumble his way through my door.” He reaches for a paper cup, pen in hand. “What’ll it be?”

“Just – coffee?” Steve suggests, then he flushes. “That was dumb. Sorry. I uh – I don’t really know much about coffee. Just a normal one with milk?” Then, remembering last time, he says, “Oat milk. I guess.”

“One drip with oat milk, coming up. You want a muffin or anything with it?” He taps the glass case with the end of his pen. “These just came out of the oven. The cranberry orange.”

“Oh, I –” Steve eyes the muffins in the case, crystalline sugar on top, shiny and perfect-looking. He does kind of want one, but he pictures himself juggling it and the coffee and his phone and – “No, that’s fine. Just the coffee, thanks.”

The man shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He punches a few things into the iPad then flips it around for Steve to pay. “Three seventy five.”

Steve narrows his eyes. That… can’t possibly be correct based on his last experience with the place, but he taps his card and punches in a tip, then nods to the barista as he shuffles off to the end of the counter to wait for his drink. He sends another look toward the muffins, and his stomach grumbles; maybe there’ll be leftover bagels in the office from the morning’s sales meeting?

By the time his coffee is ready, he’s lost in a very detailed fantasy about veggie cream cheese, and the barista has to wave to get his attention to pass him the cup. When Steve takes it, the man produces a little brown paper box and wiggles it in his direction. Steve frowns, confused.

“Oh, that’s not mine. I didn’t –”

The man raises his eyebrows and holds it further toward Steve. “On the house," he says. "Take it.”

Steve sets down his coffee on top of the case and accepts the box, flipping it open to reveal a cranberry orange muffin wrapped in crinkly parchment paper. He closes the lid and gives the barista a smile. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Obviously I didn’t have to,” the guy says. He rolls his eyes, but it’s not – it doesn’t make Steve feel stupid the way the other girl had. “You looked like you wanted one, so you got one. Now be a good boy and say thank you."

Steve feels his face heat. “Thank you.”

The barista nods in approval then gives him the ghost of a wink before turning to help another customer, and Steve reclaims his coffee, retreating to the door and back out into the cold.

—

He doesn’t really mean to go back the next day, but – well. The coffee had been good, okay, and the muffin had been really good. And it’s Friday, and he’s allowed a treat, and he obviously hasn’t had a chance to replace his own broken machine yet, so.

He doesn’t really have a choice. He’s here by necessity. That’s it.

“You’re back,” the barista says, eyeing him up and down when he gets to the front of the line. “Was my muffin that good, that you had to come crawling back for more the very next day?”

Steve, more alert this morning than he’d been yesterday, manages to smile like a normal human being. 

“Your muffin?”

“Our muffin,” the barista says. He spreads out his hands in front of himself. “New York’s muffin. The world’s muffin.”

“No, I meant –” Steve laughs. “You made them? It was good.”

“I know it was.” He shrugs, then taps the stack of cups on the counter next to him. “Coffee?”

Steve glances at the menu on the wall. He has a suburban Starbucks level of knowledge when it comes to this stuff, which basically means he knows the difference between like… a cappuccino and a latte, sort of but – not really?

“Just the same again, plain with oat milk,” he says. “That was fine yesterday.”

The barista narrows his eyes. “Fine?”

“Good,” Steve corrects. “It was good. Like I said, I don’t know a ton about –” He waves a hand through the air vaguely. “Whatever.” He fidgets under the barista’s continued scrutiny, then adds, “Maybe sweetened this time though? I added sugar when I got to my office yesterday.” Then belatedly, “Sorry.”

“Tell you what,” the man says at last, apparently taking pity on him. He picks up a cup. “I’ll make you something that I think you’ll like, and I won’t even charge you for it. That way if you hate it, you can just – dump it down the drain or something. No hard feelings.”

“I can pay,” Steve says, frowning. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for giving me a bunch of free stuff.”

“Oh, I won’t. The owner likes me,” the man says easily, already busy behind the espresso machine. A burst of steam comes shooting out in a cloud, and he offers Steve a smile. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Steve,” he says. He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder where it’s slipping down. “Sorry, you probably needed that for the… the cup, or whatever.”

The barista’s smile widens, and he gives Steve another up-and-down look as he waits for the espresso to finish bubbling into the cup. “Nope. Just wanted to know.”

“Oh,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets to keep himself from fidgeting even more than he already is. “Okay, what’s yours then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Kind of why I asked.”

The man places the cup on the counter and presses a lid into place, sliding it toward Steve along with another little paper box that, when Steve peeks inside, contains a single croissant. He takes a sip of the coffee, and it’s… delicious, unfortunately, vanilla and caramel and maybe chocolate too? And he’s pretty sure that’s real milk, thank god.

“Come back tomorrow and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“We’ll see,” Steve says mildly, taking another sip. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He gets a teasing little wave in return. 

“Have a good day at work, Steve.”

—

Robin is aghast when he tells her at drinks later that night.

“You’re saying he’s been there this whole time, and you’ve just been – what, walking past and not noticing?!” she asks, leaning forward in her seat. She takes a distressed sip of rosé and widens her eyes at him. “This whole time?”

“Maybe not,” he says defensively. “Maybe he’s new. Maybe – I don’t know.”

“You don’t just give out free coffee on your second day, Steve,” she says, exasperated. She picks up a fry and jabs it into the little pat of mayo on the edge of the plate, gesturing wildly with it before stuffing it in her mouth. “Free coffee and free pastries! He’s totally been there this whole time, and you were just too chicken shit to go in there and see him for yourself.”

“I literally met him by going in and seeing him.”

“Still.” She groans in frustration. “Ugh, I can’t believe you’re getting seduced via baked good. Literally if I could find one single solitary woman in this city who would give me free baked goods as a mating ritual, I’d let her step on my throat.” She places a hand on his forearm and gives him a very serious look. “My throat, Steve.”

He laughs and shakes her off. “You don’t know he’s trying to seduce me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right,” she says. She finishes her wine and sets the empty glass on the bar with force. “The hot tattooed barista who keeps winking at you and giving you free shit for no reason is totally just trying to drum up a loyal customer base for his coffee shop.”

“I didn’t say he was hot.”

She gives him a contemptuous look. “Is he hot?”

He pokes at the lime wedge that’s floating in his gin and tonic and doesn’t meet her eye. “Maybe.”

“You’re blushing. He’s obviously hot. I hate you so much.”

“Okay, don’t – we live in the Village. It can’t possibly be that hard for you to find a lesbian who likes to bake.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t stereotype. Just because we’re ladies and we have breasts.”

“I’m not stereotyping. I’m just saying: go to any plant store, pick a girl with a choppy haircut and a canvas tote bag.” He finishes his own drink and signals to the bartender for another round. “Odds are seventy thirty she’s a lesbian with a chocolate chip cookie recipe.”

“Literally every word out of your mouth just now was a stereotype. I’m breaking up with you.”

She turns her barstool away from him abruptly, and the guy seated on the other side of her blinks in alarm, looking at Steve over her shoulder with wide eyes. Steve gives him an apologetic look and places a hand on Robin’s arm, tugging her back around to face him. 

“Alright, come on, you’re scaring the public.”

She huffs, then gives the stranger a tight smile, then turns back to Steve. “You’re going back tomorrow, right? I’ll forgive you right now if you promise me you will.”

He sighs. “Why do you even care?”

“Because he’s hot,” she says, widening her eyes, “and he has tattoos, and he obviously wants to take you back to his place and do filthy, filthy things to you, Steve, and he knows how to make really good muffins.” She shakes him again. “Steve!”

“Yes!” he laughs, wrenching his arm free of her hold. “Fine, okay. Yes, I’ll go back tomorrow. I don’t even know his name yet. He said he’ll tell me if I do, so – I will.”

“Oh my god.” She buries her face in her hands. “I swear to god, if you fuck this up.”

—

Steve has always been a relatively confident guy. It’s not that. He’s not normally awkward or even shy. 

If anything, he’s better than average at blending in, even managing to convince his parents that he’s still the same person he was when he was a sports star back in high school: he finished his MBA without flaming out like half his class, he got a good-paying job in the city, he even goes back home to Indiana once or twice a year for Thanksgiving or Christmas. 

He’s normal. He’s… acceptable.

Just – he also knows when he doesn’t know something, and that’s when he gets flustered.

Like now, Saturday morning. He’s been standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom and staring at himself for a long time – probably too long – fiddling with the cuffs of his jeans and the swoop of his hair and the weird little… thing his sweater is doing where it bunches up around his waist. 

Maybe he should change. Or just… not go? Robin would forgive him, right?

Robin absolutely would not forgive you, says a horrible little voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like the woman herself. She absolutely would not, and then she’d come directly over to your apartment and let herself in and drag you there herself.

Fine. Just go. 

He takes a deep breath and releases it in a sharp huff. He can do this. He can totally, obviously, absolutely do this. It’s literally just leaving his building, walking three hundred feet down the street to the corner, and entering a coffee shop. That’s all he has to do. That’s all.

He does it.

When he walks in, he casts a curious glance around the space since, for the first time in here, he’s not in a hurry. It seems like no one else is either: it’s busy in a different way than it’s been for the past few mornings, fewer people calling out orders and pushing back and forth through doors, more occupied armchairs and tables with laptops. There’s a record playing in the background, something scratchy and smooth, interrupted by the sound of occasional jets of steam issuing from behind the counter.

And behind the counter is – Steve feels disappointment curdle in his stomach. 

Oh. 

The scary redhead. She’s sitting on a barstool with a knee drawn up to her chest, studying her nails and pretending like she hasn’t seen him. He steps closer to the counter, too close to ignore, and she sighs, looking up at him like his very presence is an affront to her. In spite of himself, he feels a little bubble of nervous laughter crawl up the back of his throat, and he swallows it down.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Just, uh – a coffee?”

“It’s all coffee,” she tells him in a bored voice. “Are you asking for a drip coffee?”

“Yeah, just that, with oat milk,” he says, then adds, “Thanks.”

She jabs at her iPad then flips it around for him. “Eight dollars. Oat milk’s at the end of the bar, you can add it yourself.”

He gives her an awkward smile as he pays, and she just stares back at him impassively. He’s slipping his card back into his wallet and preparing to run away with his tail between his legs when the door behind the counter pushes open, and Steve’s barista – the nice one who gives him real milk and doesn’t glare at him – backs through it, balancing a tray of cinnamon buns in his arms.

He turns, then spots Steve, and his face breaks into a smile. He sets down his tray.

“Knew you’d be back,” he says, tilting his head with a teasing smile on his face. “Max, this is Steve. We like Steve.”

“This is Steve?” She gives him a once-over, then turns to make a face at the other man. “Seriously?”

Now that’s – “Okay,” Steve says. “I’m literally standing right here.”

“Yes. This is Steve, and today Steve would like a white mocha with two pumps of cinnamon.”

“That’s disgusting.” She makes a face. “Anyway, he paid for a plain drip coffee.”

“I didn’t ask what he paid for. I told you what he’s going to get. Can you make it for him, please?”

She glares at Steve’s barista then slips off her stool with a groan and the deepest eye roll Steve has ever seen in his life. 

“Whatever. It’s your shop.”

“Ignore her,” he tells Steve in a voice loud enough for her to hear. “Max likes to think she’s funny, but she’s actually just judgmental.”

She sticks her tongue out at him then sets about ignoring them, disappearing into a cloud of steam. He lifts up onto his toes to lean forward over the top of the pastry case and get a look at Steve.

“You’re very comfy casual today,” he says, dropping back to his own side. He raises an eyebrow. “Cute sweater.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, feeling himself flush. He tugs at the hem of it as he casts another look around the room. “This is your shop? I didn’t realize when you said the owner liked you, you meant…”

“Yep, all mine,” he says. “I can shamelessly flirt with as many customers as I want. No boss to tell me to get back to work.”

Steve widens his eyes. “Flirting with me, and he won’t even tell me his name.”

The man grins at him, resting his face in one hand. “I guess you’ve earned it.” Steve feels his stomach do a flip. “I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie,” he says, trying it out. It suits him, Steve thinks. “Nice to meet you. Officially.”

“Likewise,” Eddie says as Max passes him the coffee and returns to her stool with a huff. Eddie slides it to Steve across the counter. “Your very disgusting sugary coffee, handcrafted with love by our sweetest barista.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, accepting the drink. He pries the lid off to peer inside. “Is this the same as yesterday?”

“Nah, I’m still figuring out what you like,” Eddie says. He waits for Steve to take a sip – another winner, maybe even better than yesterday – then says, “Are you busy tonight?”

Steve looks up from his coffee. Eddie is watching him with an amused tilt to his smile. Steve swallows.

“Am I busy tonight?”

“That’s what I asked. Are you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve clears his throat. “No.”

“Okay,” Eddie says as he folds a cinnamon roll into a box and nudges it in Steve’s direction. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

Steve accepts the box, and before he can second guess himself he says, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is slow and easy. “Good. I wrote my number on the inside of the lid. Text me your address? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

—

When he gets home, he calls Robin, freaking out.

“I didn’t fuck it up,” he says by way of greeting when she answers on the third ring.

“What?”

“Hot tattooed… barista guy,” Steve says, pacing frantic circles around his living room and ripping a hand through his hair. “I didn’t fuck it up. His name’s Eddie, and he gave me a cinnamon roll, and it was really good, and – okay, so it turns out he owns the shop, he doesn’t just work there and –” He stops, staring out the window at the building across the street, unseeing. “And we’re having dinner tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, then a shout, then more silence, and then she says, “Holy shit. What are you going to wear?”

—

After much debate and two facetime calls and eventually Robin just physically marching the three blocks over to help him decide in person, and then him forbidding her from sticking around to interrogate Eddie – when the buzzer goes at seven sharp, 

When the buzzer goes at seven sharp, no games played, he stares at the box on the wall in alarm, half expecting it to come to life and bite his face off. When it doesn’t, he recovers (barely) and jabs at the button to let Eddie inside. 

[monsterinmyboxers]

KINKTOBER! day 1. — cockwarming & belly bulge with VIKTOR.

you always thought viktor worked too much. anyone would, if they knew how many nights he stayed up, setting his health aside to work hours and hours on end for hextech. you understood and admired his passion, but shit. he could at least give himself a few hours of sleep, or something.

“viktor,” and despite you expressing your concern over and over, he continued this. “viktor.” but tonight, you’d change that. one way or another.

the man couldn’t hear you, not while he was focused on his work, he seemed to be able to block out everything whenever he was concentrated. even his own boyfriend.

no one else was here, not at this hour, except for you and him. which was good, for what you had in mind.

walking up to his desk, you slam a hand down in attempt to get his attention. you succeeded, for a moment, gaining a mere hum from him and nothing more. it pissed you off.

when you didn’t move, or say anything, he paused. he was contemplating what to do, curious and somewhat annoyed, as you did just interrupt him. rightfully so, but he thought otherwise.

finally, he looks up at you, and from this angle, his eyes looked so soft. they almost made you forget why you were here. “..what is it?” he questioned, and you scoffed. he knows damn well why you’re here, unless he was so zoned out that he hadn’t realized what time it was. that wouldn’t be so surprising, actually.

you cocked your head towards the single clock in that room, viktor looking at it and letting out a small, “oh.” you sigh, crossing your arms. “c’mon, let’s go to my place. you need to sleep.”

and, almost immediately, “i will come to you when i am done.”

he’s said that plenty of times before, and none of those times held even a hint of truth.

you pause, for a moment, before sighing and forcing him out of his seat. it was easy to do so, simply pulling him off his chair by his arms. and before he could speak, or protest, or tell you off, you’d take his spot and give him an alternative.

your lap.

something similar to a choked gasp left him once he was atop your thighs, which were twice the size of his own, body instantly going stiff.

“what’re you doing?” you hum. “if you won’t go, then i won’t either.” and he scoffs, “you’re acting childish.” and he wasn’t? staying up night after night for this little project. if you said such out loud, he’d take offense, saying this will be revolutionary, once he’s done. you would roll your eyes.

he was going to say more, to insult your decision, but you weren’t going to let it happen.

“viktor, do your damn work.” that shut him up much quicker than he’d like to admit.

and after a brief moment, he did. even when you started to kiss his neck, and when you started moving your hips beneath him, and when he felt your bulge press against his ass.

though, his concentration wavered the second he heard you unzip your pants. though, he stayed stubborn, continuing to take notes; despite how sloppy his hand writing had become.

this didn’t last long.

and neither did the process of getting inside him. he was always impatient when it came to these things.

he sunk down, on shaky legs, allowing you to help as little as possible by merely holding his hips to steady him. once he took you to the base, he’d let out a long breath, leaning back on you. a chuckle leaves you, seeing how he fell limp against your body.

but, your demeanor changes the moment viktor starts moving. quickly, you fingers search for somewhere sensitive, to make him stop. that place just so happened to be on his abdomen, and it takes you not time at all to realize what it was. the head of your dick was pressing against his lower stomach, forming a visible bump. you press down onto it, earning a soft moan from the man, all motion stopped.

“what’re you doing?” it was your turn to ask that question now, viktor letting out a quiet, confused sound while you gesture towards the many scattered papers in front of him.

“you have work to do.”

[lth3auth0r]

Ryujin X Male Reader - Choose Love FF

Day 1:

I arrive at the location of the experiment I signed up for at it's first day.

As I get into the Lobby some other boys who have already arrived are looking at me.

"Hey, you must be Y/N I suppose." one of them says.

"Yes, thats correct." I say and we shake hands.

"Whats your name?" I ask him.

"My name is Paul and this right here is my brother Simon." he responds and points at the other boy sitting next to him.

"Nice to meet you." I say smiling.

"Pleasure is all mine." Simon says and we also shake hands.

We sit down at one of the big sofas.

"So, why have you guys signed up for this?" I ask them.

Both of them are thinking for a couple of seconds until Simon answers first.

"Both of us are tired of dating apps and when we tried to find somebody in public it always ended toxic." he says looking at his brother who nods.

"How about you?" Paul asks.

"I am single for quite a while now. My last relationship did not work at all, she just basically used me and we always fought until she cheated on me with my cousin. So, I hope to find a real and honest relationship here. Thats why I signed up." I respond.

"That is a hard story. Hopefully this works out for you." Paul says.

"I hope so too." I say.

Then a door opens at the host of the experiment comes in.

He looks at us smiling and clears his throat.

"Hello everyone, thank you for taking part in our experiment Choose Love. Let me quickly introduce myself. My Name is Mario and I am the host of this Experiment for the Male department. The rules of this are very simple. All of you will be seated in a room. The number of it will be chosen randomly. At the other side one of our Lady Candidates will be seated. But the point is that you will not be able to see each other. You can just talk to and get to know each other by hearing the voice of the other Person. You have to get to know the person as good as possible for the next three days and the target is to fall in love just by hearing each other. At the last day you will decide for one the candidate you like the most or you already have fallen in love with which would be the best and ask for a relationship. Then if the decision is made, you will be revealed to other Person. Are there any questions concering this?" he says and looks at us.

Nobody gives a response and Mario nods.

"Great, then you can come over here and introduce yourself quickly before choosing your room number. Who would like to start?" he asks.

"I can go up first." a boy says and gets up. He wears a red shirt and has longer black hair.

He looks at us and then starts his introduction.

"Hello guys, my Name is Robert and I am 24 years old. I have signed up for this experiment because I got a divorce not long ago and I would like to be happy in love again." he says and seems a little bit sad while talking about the divorce Part.

We start clapping and Mario offers him a box.

"Please choose your room number without peaking." he says and Robert puts one hand into the Box while looking into the other direction.

He pulls out a little paper and looks at it before sitting down.

Then the next one of our group stands up to introduce himself. He seems to be from Spain of Latin Amercia.

"Hello everyone, my Name is Fernando and I am 25 years old. The reason I signed up here is that I have never been into a healthy relationship at all and I would like to find someone to spend my life with." he says and we start clapping again.

He also pulls a little paper with a room number and sits down.

The next ones to introduce are Simon and Paul. They tell the stroy about their reason for signing up for the experiment which they have also told me before. I smile at them while they do their best to perform in front of us.

After they pulled their room number and sat down next to me again, Mario looks at me.

"And last but not least, we have this handsome young man here who would also like to introduce himself to us." he says and I get up to the front.

I clear my throat and take a deep breath.

"Hello everyone. My name is Y/N and I am 23 years old. I signed up for this experiment because my last relationship did not work at all and I would like to find someone to have a real and honest relationship with." I say looking at the others.

"Thank you for introducing, you may also please pick the only room number we have left now and then we will move on to the next step." Mario says and gives me the last paper in the box.

I sit down next to Paul and Simon and unfold the paper. It is room 1741. An interesting number what could that mean? I ask myself.

"Which room number do you have?" I ask both of them.

"We have not seen it yet." Paul asks while he and Simon unfold their papers.

"I have 2170. " Simon says with a bright smile.

"And I have 561. I am so curious how she will be" Paul says in a happy but also quite nervous tone.

Then suddenly Fernando and Robert appear.

"Is it okay if we have a seat?" Robert asks.

"Of course." I say and we offer them a space at the Sofa.

"We were just talking about our room numbers. Have you seen yours yet?" I ask looking at them.

Both shake their heads and unfold their paper.

"Mine is 9123" Robert says and looks at us.

"Interesting, mine is 2650." Fernando says while showing us the paper.

"Okay, boys are you ready for the next step?" we suddenly hear Mario's Voice behind us.

"Yeah, we definetly are. What will be next?" I ask him.

"Next you will be going into your rooms to meet the voices of our female candidates for the first time. If you may follow me." he says and we get up to follow him to the end of the Lobby where a big door is located.

"I hope you enjoy the first day, you all know your room numbers. If you have any questions or wishes, please do not hesitate to talk to me." Mario says before pushing a little button at the door. It slowly opens revealing a corridor with doors at the left side.

My heart is pounding faster as I look for my room number.

Then nearly at the end of the corridor I find the door with the room number 1741.

I look around to check for the others. All of them have found their room numbers.

Then the door shows a green light and you can hear a little clicking sound. I slightly push against the door which is opens and reveals a cozy little living room Design. Right in front of the Sofa I can see the part of the wall Mario has spoken about.

The door closes behind me and I sit down at the Sofa. I am still a bit nervous about what will happen next.

Then I suddenly hear a door sound behind the wall coming from the other side. Someone is entering the room on the other side of the wall.

The door on the other side of the room closes which means that the person is now inside the room. I hear footsteps behind the wall and a sound as if you sit down.

"Hello, who is there?" I start speaking first to gain the person's attention. I also take out my College Block to write down some informations the person will may give me. My heart starts to best faster as I still wait on the person to respond.

"Hi" the other Person suddenly says in a soft tone and I hear that she smiles. Her deeper voice sounds so soothing in this first Moment that I immediately want more of it. "Whats your name?" I ask smiling. "My name is Ryujin. And yours?" she asks back. I immediately write down this beautiful name. "I have to write your name down because it sounds so beautiful." I say before I get to the point. "My name is Y/N." I respond and Ryujin also seems to write that down.

In these first minutes I clearly feel that my heart wants to tell me something about this girl sitting on the other side of the wall in front of me, so I listen to it and take the iniciative.

"Ryujin, I have a question for you." I say while preparing what I want to say next in my brain. "Sure, go ahead." she responds. "I would like to know why you have signed up for this experiment." I say and Ryujin starts to tell me.

"So first of all, my previous boyfriend treated me unfairly. He did not listen to me, neither he talked to me normally. He was just ignoring me all the time. He took me to every Party and just talked to his friends while drinking with them." Ryujin says and I listen to her words. "I am sorry for that." I say. "Thats okay. Now he thankfully is out of my life since three months and I thought an experiment like this one can help me to find someone new." she says and I clearly hear how revealed she is to be away from this guy. "But what about you?" she asks me.

I think about if I should tell her the story about my last relationship which is the reason I am single for quite a while now. "You can tell me." Ryujin says behind the wall. So I take a deep breath.

"In my case, the reason that I am single for quite a while now is that my ex girlfriend cheated on me with my cousin. One day I came home and they were laying on the couch together playing with themselves." I say while remembering this awful scene. "Ugh, that is mean." Ryujin says. "Definetly, I will never forget how my cousin looked at me with that wide smile on his face what made me throw them out of my appartement." I say and a little bit of anger starts building up in me as the memories come back. "So thats why I signed up here." I finish my story.

"So we have something in common." Ryujin says and laughs. "Yeah, I really like that." I say smiling. "It is very nice that we can talk with each other in this open way." I say with a warm feeling inside of me.

The way she laughs also makes me feeling attracted to her even more. I always liked it, when a kind girl has a sense of humor and she definetly seems to have that. Can it get even better? I ask myself while taking some notes. I seriously would like to pinch a hole in that wall in front of me, just to see how she looks like.

I just hope that this experiment works.

"What are you doing for work?" I ask her then after a little break. "In a sense, I am musician. I wonder if you might know some of my songs." Ryujin responds. I think for a quick second but nothing comes to my mind. "No, unfortunately not but that sounds quite nice." I say, while imagining myself standing in a crowd of her concert but maybe it is even better if I do not know her music yet, so that makes this experiment more interesting. "You should listen to it soon." she says while I write down the Information about her Music. "But what about you?" she asks then. "I am working at the reception of a nearby 5 Star Hotel." I respond. "How do I have to imagine that? Ryujin asks quite interested. "You have to check your guests in when they arrive and check them out if they leave. And during their stay you are there for them to help when they have questions and sometimes they also complain about something they do not like. But that part really can let your personality grow because you gain a lot of experience through such situations." I finish my explanation. "That sounds quite exhausting." Ryujin says. "It definetly can be but let me add that you know what you have done after such a stressful day." I respond while still thinking about Ryujin's music thing. I really would listen to one of her songs.

Her voice is so lovely already, so her songs can just be masterpieces. Then I cannot bury my curiosity anymore.

"Would it be okay for you, to show me one of these songs?" I ask her friendly.

"Hmmmm, maybe.." she says in a playful voice.

Our chemistry gets better all the time and I start to feel something inside of me, the longer we talk. And that feeling grows within me. I think about if I should tell her but maybe it is a little bit early for that. On the other hand, to fall in love is the main goal of this experiment. But no, it is to early. What if she does not like me at all? Maybe because of my Job or something else? All of these questions fly around inside of my head and I do not have an answer to them what also makes my stomach cramp.

I already adore her so much that it is nearly scary. This deep voice is so soothing that I could listen to it all day. Her sense of humor and also her kindness mixed with the incredible knowledge of life. I more and more think that heaven sent her to me directly. But what if I tell her about what I think? How will she react? Oh come on Y/N, you have signed up for this, so you have to go a few steps closer to your target.

I take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds. That is harder than I thought.

"Ryujin.." I start my sentence.

"Yes?" she responds. Now I am caught in that situation of her waiting for me to finish my sentence.

"I just would like to tell you, that you seem very sympathic to me and it makes me really happy that I got to know you here." I feel my heart racing as she says quiet for some seconds which feel like hours.

"That is so kind of you and I must say the same about you in this situation." she then finally responds. My eyes get big since I do not thought that she would respond like this. "Thank you so much." I say while feeling like winning an award show. Ryujin just told me that she likes me. Can you believe that? A maybe famous musician just told me that she likes me. If this experiment works and we choose love, nothing will be left to oppose us. Everything will be ours and maybe we will create a song together, since I like good music as well. How good would that be?

I just want to say something as I hear knocks on my door. "Someone just knocked on my door, I just have to see who it is." I say and get up. "Sure, take your time." Ryujin says

I slightly open the door to look into Mario's friendly face. "The time is over for today." he says. "Oh okay, then let me just say goodbye." I respond and he nods. I get back into the room, packing my College Block. "Unfortunately I have to go. I will see you tomorrow." I say in a sad tone. "See you tomorrow then. It was very great to get to know you and I am looking forward to get to know you even better." Ryujin answers. "Same here." I say and go to the door.

Together with Mario I walk down the corridor until we reach the lobby where the others already are seated on the couches with glasses of Champagn. I also grab myself one and sit down next to Simon.

"How was your day?" I ask him while taking a sip of my Champagn. "Oh it was great. She is so cute, her voice is so angelic and the best is that she has experiences in living abroad. I love that. How about you?" he asks me. "I personally believe that this experiment works now. We kind of share the same story from our past when it comes to relationships. And she is a musician, how good is that?" I say with a bright smile on my face. "Yeah, that is really nice." Simon says and we look at the others energetically talking about their experiences. Then Mario sits down to us. "I am going to leave now, please enjoy the rest of your evening. I see you all tomorrow." he says and gets his coat.

We keep sharing our experiences until later in the evening. But then we get tired and make our way into the sleeping area. I change into my pyjamas and get to the bathroom to brush my teeth. During that Ryujin comes to my mind. Oh how I wish to be with her now. It would be just us laying on her bed and she would sing one of her songs into my ear with her soothing deep voice. Or we would just have talks and laughter together while cuddling.

Instead I have to share one big sleeping area with four snoring guys. And one of them is infront of the bathroom door right now. "Hey, Y/N open up. It's me Fernando, I have to do my Buisness and cannot hold it any longer." he says ripping me from my thoughts. I put my toothbrush away and slowly move to the door. "There you go, it's all yours." I say and get into the bedroom. After laying down I start thinking about tomorrow. What should I ask or tell Ryujin. Maybe some more sexual questions to melt her ice in that kind of topic. I would really love to find out more about her in that section of her mind. Maybe we also are a Match when it comes to that.

Day 2:

My Alarm is the first thing I hear in the morning. I slowly open my eyes just to see that I am the second one who is awake. Paul just occupied the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Suddenly I hear a yawn next to me and Fernando stretches his arma. "Good Morning" he says. "Good Morning. Have you slept well?" I ask him. "It was okay. How about you?" he says. "Never better." I respond and get up from the bed. After Paul gets out from the bathroom, I also greet him before starting my morning Routine. As soon as I am done with showering and getting my clothes on, I go to the breakfast area where a Buffet is served for us.

After we finished the breakfast, all of us get to the Lobby where Mario is already waiting for us. "Good Morning everyone." he greets us. "Good Morning." we all great back. "I hope you all are ready for day two of our experiment." he says and gets up from his chair. We all nod.

I feel how my heart beats faster when I think about hearing Ryujin's voice again today. The conversation I had with her yesterday were so great that I nearly would say get her to me, we are a match. But I have to stay patient, even though I slowly start to feel something inside of me. Then Mario starts speaking.

"I would like to tell you about the schedule for today. First you will get into your rooms again and you will have another 45 Minutes to talk to our girl candidates on the other side of the wall. Maybe you will get to know each other on a bit more deeper and intimite side because we all know that tomorrow is the day of the big reveal where you will going to see you for the first time in this experiment. And then you will see if you can be able to be together or not. The rest of today will be free time for you." Mario says and presses the button at the door to reveal the corridor with the doors again.

"Lets go." I hear Fernando's voice next to me. I wink at him. Paul and Simon are also stepping into the corridor again and I see how nervous they are to hear the voices of their potential girlfriends again. "I am so nervous to talk to her again." I hear Simon's voice shaking a little bit as he steps infront of the door with his room number.

I also reach my door with the number 1741. Like yesterday the little green light illuminates and I open the door to step in the room. My heart starts pounding again. I sit down at the sofa and take a deep breath. Then I hear the door opening at the other side of the wall.

"Good Morning." I say after hearing Ryujin's steps on the other side of the room.

"Hey, how are you today?" she asks. Her voice is so beautiful, I cannot wait until tomorrow when I am going to see the face of the woman with this soothing, deep voice.

"I am great, thank you. Did you had a good sleep?" I ask her smiling already.

"It was okay, sometimes I stay awake longer. But this is quite known to me, since I had this habit during my trainee days." she says and immediately has my attention.

"Sometimes I also have my struggles with that. What do you do, if you cannot fall asleep?" I ask, waiting for her response.

"Back in my Trainee days, I took long walks at the Han River to clear my mind. Somedays when the walks became longer, I watched the sunrise with one of my best friends." she says while being in her Memories.

"What was that training about?" I ask her interesed.

"It was all about dancing, singing and studying the choreographies from day to night. Sometimes 13 hours a day." she answers.

I start to imagine how she is in the training room with all the others competing in this program which seems to be hard for everyone. But the main thing for me is, that she likes to take walks, so I write that down immediately onto my College Block.

"Do you also like to go for a walk?" Ryujin asks. "Oh yes, I really do. Sometimes if I need to get my head free or just need some air, I go out for a walk. I often took my dog with me but he is now at a better place. My ex girlfriend and I went to a forest near our house when we had the time. It was beautiful." I answer while a Vision of me and Ryujin being together in this forest starts playing inside of my head.

Again I begin to think that we are a match and I would like to break this wall in front of me immediately.

"Maybe we could go on a walk together." I say hoping for a positive answer. "Oh yes, that would be so great." Ryujin says and I silently celebrate with a wide smile on my face.

"So Ryujin, what are you doing when you have free time at home?" I get on to the next question. "I really like to read while listening to music." she says. "The music of your group?" I ask her. "Not exactly. So, when I read I really like to listen to Jazz." she says making me smile again. "Oh thats so nice. Same here. It really calms me down and my concentration gets better when I listen to music like Jazz or Lo Fi." I say while writing down "Likes to listen to Jazz while reading" in big Letters onto my College Block page.

[confused-pyramid]

There Is More When You Let Go | s2

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 18.8k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, kidnapping, torture, drug use, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 2x01, 2x05, 2x06, 2x13, 2x14, 2x15, 2x16, 2x18, 2x23

a/n: here's season 2 of the anchor series! I had a lot of fun writing this one (hence why it got so long lmao), and I included a lot more direct show content in this part, so I hope you like it. Also more flashbacks:) Title is from Benediction by Luke Sital-Singh

series masterlist

A gunshot. That's the last thing you hear before Elle's front door flies open, almost throwing you back onto the stairs. The shock of seeing the Fisher King standing right in front of you almost makes you miss the puddle of blood that has started seeping across the floor to your feet.

"Elle," you gasp, your moment of distraction enough time for the man to push you behind him and make a break for it. You fall forward with the force of his shove, but he's much slower than you are. If you ran after him now, you could almost certainly catch up to him, but the sight of Elle bleeding out in front of you makes you immobile.

Making the split second decision to abandon the chase, you throw yourself forward and press your hands against her wound to control the blood flow.

"You're gonna be okay," you tell her, even as her blood trickles out from below your palm. "I need to call for help."

Pressing one hand down harder, you try to ignore the sounds of her gasping in pain as you reach behind you for her house phone. After dialing 911, you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder and bring your hand back to apply more pressure.

The paramedics arrive within five minutes, and they pry you off of her as they pull out a defibrillator. You had been so focused on stopping her from bleeding out that you hadn't even noticed she had stopped breathing. How could you have missed that?

"Charging to 200."

You lean back against her couch as tears leak from the corners of your eyes.

"Clear!"

***

"They took her into surgery," you say when Hotch meets you at the hospital. Your eyes keep darting around, like you're looking for something, but you don't know what.

"What happened?" he asks, placing his hands on your shoulders to regain your focus. The pressure calms you down.

"I think he was waiting for her," you whisper, your throat tightening. "He had to have been. It all happened so fast."

His eyes stay on yours, as though trying to predict your next movement. "I'm glad you're okay."

More agents filter into the hospital and he begins to turn away to talk to them, but then you stiffen under his hands. "I had him, Hotch."

"What?" he frowns, looking at you again. "What are you talking about?"

You lift your hands to your face to brush away a strand of hair, barely noticing the stains all over your skin. "He was right there. The unsub. I could've grabbed him...but I didn't."

Anderson walks over with a question, but Hotch doesn't take his eyes off you. "You went to Elle. It's okay, you made the right choice."

"But the girl he took," you protest, shaking his hands off, "this could have lead us to her, but she's still-"

"You did the right thing," he cuts you off, waving Anderson away to speak with someone else. "It's not your fault."

You grit your teeth, your voice still tinged with guilt. "How do you know?"

"Because," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "it's mine. I sent her home."

You open your mouth to tell him how unfair that is, but he cuts you off with an order to go wash up before he leaves to explain the situation to the other agents.

The only bathroom on that floor of the hospital is at the end of the patient ward, so you trudge down the hallway and into the single family restroom, trying to avoid the worried glances from all around.

You haven't seen your reflection since before leaving with Elle, and you know it can't be a pretty sight, but the face staring back at you in the mirror is still a shock.

The bottom of your shirt is matted to your skin, and your hands are covered in now-dried blood that looks flaky and dark. When you look up, you see a streak of blood smeared over your nose from when you swiped at your face earlier.

Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, you run them under the faucet before scrubbing at your face and peeling your button down off to rid them of any trace of Elle's blood. When you're sure there isn't anything left, you turn the faucet back on and stretch your hands forward, watching the warm water turn a muddy red color as it swirls around the drain.

Eventually, the water runs clear, but you can still see the blood in your mind. You are suddenly ambushed by a memory you thought you had pushed down long ago. Red blood, cold skin.

How was there so much blood in the human body?

Your department-mandated therapist told you at the time that you would be in denial for the first few weeks, but you weren't denying anything. You had seen his body, seen the blood pooling around him as the coroner snapped photographs for the crime scene report. You knew he was dead. You just couldn't get that question out of your mind.

The memory shifts and suddenly you're seventeen again. You're seventeen and you are reaching for your first aid kit for the second time this month as Hotch sits on your bed with what feels like a permanent wince fused to his lips.

"Hold still," you whisper as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and press it into the cut on his hand. There's also blood under his nose and in his teeth, but he doesn't seem to notice.

He hisses as the alcohol makes contact, but he doesn't pull away. He's used to this routine now. You both are.

"I'm sorry I came by so late," he whispers through gritted teeth as he watches your fingers peel open a bandage. You want to berate him for apologizing, for feeling so much guilt all the time, but it's fruitless. It's like he was born with it inside of him, always clawing its way out at the slightest inconvenience.

"Don't be." You shoot him a look that he knows to mean 'be quiet and let me finish this'. He heeds your unspoken order, but after a few minutes, it's you who breaks it. "How did this one happen?"

He looks down and you immediately want to take it back. "You don't have to answer."

He's quiet for a beat. "He was drunk and I cleared his bottle away before he was finished with it."

Your lips thin and you press your hand to his knee, desperately needing to connect yourself to him in some manner.

"I tried to keep him in the kitchen, so Sean wouldn't hear, but I guess the noise woke him up." He takes a deep breath, and you can almost feel the determination entering his body as he sits up straighter. "I couldn't let him get to Sean, so I finally did it. I fought back."

He looks down at his bandaged hand then, and you can see pride accompanying the blood etched into the lines of his face. "I finally fought back."

Your eyes refocus and when you look at yourself in the mirror again, there's no trace of Elle's blood on your body anymore.

***

When Elle is discharged from the hospital, you spend the rest of the break helping her move out of her house and into a new apartment. When you drove her back home, the blood had been cleaned off of her floors, but you could see in her expression that it wasn't enough. This place would always be a reminder of what had happened to her.

The apartment search was quick, only a week between finding a place she liked and signing the new lease, but she saved the actual move out for the last few days of your break, instead hopping between sleeping in your guest room and a motel in town.

That's why you find yourself in Elle's old bedroom on the final Saturday before you're due back at work, packing some of her clothes into a suitcase while she works on clearing her bathroom. She tossed out almost everything she didn't absolutely need, only packing up her basic clothing and a few other sentimental keepsakes from her past.

"What about these?" you ask, holding up a pair of dark wash jeans that you remember her wearing to the bars with you a few months ago. God, has it really only been a few months?

She peeks out of the bathroom for barely a second. "I told you, I don't care. Keep it, toss it, your choice."

You don't know how you feel about being in charge of her future wardrobe, especially since you tend to live in loose jeans and old tee shirts when you're not at work, but you can understand where she's coming from. The instinct to hand off every decision to someone else.

You remember how hard it was for you to even decide what to eat for dinner after Jeff died. You also remember Hotch slipping pre-packed meals into your fridge whenever he came over to keep you company.

It takes you a couple of hours to clear out her house, and another hour to drop her and her stuff off at the new place, with promises to visit whenever you can over the next months of her leave.

You don't realize how exhausted you are until your front door shuts behind you and you collapse onto your couch, still in your dirty clothes. The summer sun is completely below the horizon as you lean back into your throw pillows and grab the tv remote. You haven't used your tv in months, and you figure that a vacation from work is the perfect opportunity to dust it off.

The screen comes to life on a local news channel, where a young reporter with teased-up hair is announcing a recall on a vacuum cleaner brand you've never heard of. She finishes her spiel before handing the mic off to an older woman who starts reporting the details of a car accident that took place in a neighborhood a few miles from yours.

These reports don't usually get under your skin - you have seen enough to know that it happens everyday - but suddenly, you can't stand to look at the crime scene tape flashing on your screen. You don't wait long enough to see what caused the accident. Whether it was a simple mistake, or if it was a drunk dri-

Grabbing the remote, you turn the television off and stand up, shaking your limbs out in an effort to rid yourself of the anxious feeling that's been growing inside of you.

You make yourself a quick microwave dinner and wolf it down in a few minutes, before trudging upstairs and hopping in the shower. You take your time washing the dust off of your body, and only emerge when the hot water runs out.

Even after cleaning yourself off and climbing into a fresh set of sheets, sleep doesn't come easily. The minutes tick by slowly as you stare at the ceiling, and before you can overthink it, you grab your phone off your nightstand and hit the first number on your speed dial.

It rings twice before the line connects. "Is everything okay?"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you ask, huffing out a laugh as you sit up in your bed.

Hotch grunts quietly. "Hello." You can hear the tiredness in his voice, but he sounds alert. You didn't wake him up. "What can I do for you?"

"So I have to need something to call you?"

"Y/N."

"Sorry for wanting to talk to my friend-"

He sighs so loudly, you can practically see his eyes rolling. "Are you going to tell me why you called or not."

"I helped Elle move out today."

That gets his attention. "How is she doing?"

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "As good as can be expected. We threw out almost all of her stuff, you know. She ended up with just a suitcase and three boxes at the end."

"That's just her way of coping, I guess."

"When we got to her house, it was..." You pause for a beat. You don't know the correct way to bring this up. "Well, it was clean. The blood was gone."

He doesn't say anything, and you know you were right. "Hotch, it was you, wasn't it."

He exhales quietly, as though he's trying to control his volume. Shit, maybe Haley's sleeping next to him. This is why you don't call someone after midnight.

"She didn't need to see a crime scene in her own home."

You wonder if he knows how he sounds right now. How caring and compassionate he can be when he doesn't try to tamp down that side of himself.

"You're a good unit chief," you say, leaning your head back against your wooden headboard. "I don't know why you keep things like this hidden."

You do know why, but that isn't what's important right now. There's a small creaking sound over the receiver and you imagine he's getting out of bed and crossing the room. Then the click of a door closing. "All that matters is that it's done."

You can't control the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. "Who are you trying to kid, Hotch? This is me you're talking to. I know how you worry that you aren't setting a good example for the team, but it's things like this that go a long way. It really wouldn't hurt for the team to see you showing some emotion."

"That's what they have you for," he says, his voice tightening the slightest bit. "They don't need that from me. When my emotions get in the way, I can't do my job properly."

You scoff. "And what job is that, exactly?"

"Keeping you safe."

He doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel his anger. "If I had kept my emotion out of it, I wouldn't have sent her home. I wouldn't have let you accompany her, and I wouldn't have put both of you in danger."

Your hand comes up, rubbing circles into the skin above your chest. "Aaron...that wasn't on you." You can sense his protests coming, so you try a different tactic. "It wasn't on me either. No one but Garner deserves any blame for what happened."

The line is silent for a few moments, and you take the little victory. "I'm sorry I called you so late."

"Oh, it's alright," he chuckles. "You know I was up anyway."

***

She came back too quickly. You can't get the thought out of your head as you watch Elle restlessly tap her foot on the ground as she waits for the final word on whether she will be acting as bait for the serial rapist.

You don't think she's ready, and you've made your opinion known to the team, but Gideon made up his mind quickly.

"You think Elle's ready for it?"

"We'll be there for her."

You watch her vigilantly from Hotch's SUV as she enters the house and drops her keys on the table by the window. She's wired, which is a small relief, but Gideon's instruction not to have her gun on her has you more anxious than you'd like.

"Why isn't she leaving?" Hotch says from next to you, echoing your thoughts.

A car driven by a man fitting the profile pulls up on the opposite side of the street and you hear Morgan dialing Garcia. After a few seconds, he's back on the line. "William Lee. It's him."

"Bingo," Gideon's voice exclaims through your earpiece. "She's on the move."

You turn away from the car and see Elle exiting the front of the house. She glances at the man on her way to her car in the driveway, and it's only then that you notice the gun stuffed in her waistband.

"Her gun's out," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "What's she doing?"

"She's panicking."

"We've got no reason to bring him in."

"Don't blow it, don't blow it."

A chorus of yells echo through your earpiece as Elle stomps down the drive and points her gun at the unsub. "FBI, put your hands where I can see them!"

You throw open the car door and run over to apprehend the man as he fervently denies all of her accusations. "I was just stopping to look at my map."

The police put him into an interrogation room back at the station, where Hotch and Gideon try to get him to confess by showing empathy for this motive. It seems to be going well until his lawyer shows up, putting an end to the conversation.

She's been tense all day, so you're not surprised when Elle blows up. "You're letting him walk?"

Gideon is the first to step in. "Back off, Elle."

"You don't know what he's done," she yells, as though trying to reason with the police. The pain in her voice is palpable, but you can't deny the truth, even if you aren't able to voice it to her.

Hotch doesn't face the same issue. "The only reason he's walking is because you panicked."

"I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?" she fires back, her anger redirecting to fly in his direction.

"What are you saying to me?"

"The last time you sent me home, Hotch, it got me shot."

All of the air leaves the room. You grab Elle's arm and pull her back, expecting more resistance than you get. "Walk with me."

She follows you across the hall and into a little meeting room that's scattered with evidence bags and files from the case. You let the door click shut behind her before you start speaking. "You need to take a breath. I know you, Elle. I know exactly what you're capable of. You just need to give yourself time to heal."

The fury in her eyes hasn't abated since you apprehended Lee a few hours earlier. You're not sure it will in this environment. "Take a walk. Get some air, and then come back."

She doesn't meet your eye as she pushes past you and storms out of the station.

***

"There's no reason for us to stick around anymore, is there?"

Gideon shakes his head and you purse your lips, glancing at the doors behind you. You haven't been able to shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen, but you suppose that's a common notion on this team.

"Wheels up at noon tomorrow."

You're walking out to the parking lot with the team when the feeling hits you again. The last time you felt this level of dread was right before you got the call from organized crime just over two years ago.

Your fears are confirmed when Hotch's phone rings with a call from the local PD that they have Elle at Lee's address. The drive over is silent, and even though you're always the first to call Hotch out on his guilt spirals, you can't get the thought out of your head that this is all your fault. You knew she had come back too quickly. Never mind that it wasn't your call. You should've fought it harder.

Lee's bullet-riddled body is like a beacon of your guilt as Elle insists it was cut-and-dry self defense. "I was having a conversation with him and he drew his weapon and I fired."

The police don't let any of you talk to her as they load her into the back of their cruiser, but you know what you have to do if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

"I'm going to the station," you tell Hotch before flagging down another one of the officers on the scene. He moves to stop you, but you sidestep him and level him with a glare that high school you would have been proud of. "I have to do this."

The station doesn't finish processing her until halfway through the night, but you couldn't fall asleep even if you wanted to. When they finally remove her cuffs and bring her out, you stand up from the plastic chair you spent the last four hours in and stretch out your legs.

She doesn't spot you immediately, but when she does, her body almost deflates. "I'm fine, L/N. You didn't have to come here."

She stops in front of you, her jacket hanging over her arm as she stuffs her badge back into her pocket. If you didn't know her so well, you would be surprised by how relaxed she looks. You wouldn't recognize the front she has had up since she stepped off the plane.

"What happened, Elle?"

That catches her attention, and you watch as the mask slips by a hair. "You don't believe me?"

You don't want to accuse her of something you have no evidence of, but you also can't ignore all of the signs in front of you. "Can you really look me in the eye and say you didn't go there hoping Lee would provoke you?"

She just looks at you, and you watch in real time as the mask slides back into place. Without another word, she turns around and walks out of the station.

***

The next case doesn't come until a few days later. Elle gets cleared by the bureau's internal investigation, but you can't imagine Hotch won't tack on a psych eval just to be safe.

"Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago."

JJ clicks her remote and the screen in the conference room changes, displaying the crime scene photos.

"God," you curse, averting your eyes for a moment. "He's just a child."

"Blunt force trauma to the head," she continues with a forlorn sigh. "He's the second young boy in Ozona to die the same death in the last 2 months. Local hunter found his body in the woods."

Morgan looks down at the case file. "First victim's name: Robbie Davis. Are these boys connected somehow?"

JJ shrugs. "Ozona's population's roughly 2, 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well if they weren't linked before, they most certainly are now."

Hotch and Gideon's absences from the conference room don't escape your notice, so you keep an eye out for them upon leaving the briefing.

You spot them discussing something in hushed whispers by the coffee station, and you wait for them to finish before you approach Hotch.

"You missed the briefing."

His eyes pinch, and you notice that the lines in his forehead are more prominent than usual. "What is it?"

"Elle missed her evaluation."

Your breath releases like a sigh. "I can check her apartment."

"No," he says matter-of-factly, with a shake of his head. "Gideon wants all of you in Texas for this one. I'll go look for her."

You would normally argue, but the horrific images from the briefing are still imprinted on the backs of your eyelids. "Okay. I'll see you soon."

He leaves you with a nod, and you grab your go-bag before following the rest of the team to the jet.

"You guys see Elle's cleared?" Reid pipes up as soon as the plane takes off.

Derek nods, his lips thinning. "Self defense."

"So it was a good shot."

"She hit what she was aiming for."

Reid frowns. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"If they cleared her how come she's not here with us?" You glance up and realize Reid is looking at you. "Or Hotch?"

You don't want to reveal more than is necessary, especially when the situation is this precarious and personal, but you're saved from responding when Gideon turns around and yells, "Focus on the case!"

JJ turns the conversation back to the unsub's motivations, and you all discuss a possible profile until a new female victim emerges that strays from the previous victimology.

Gideon doesn't waste any time delegating tasks. "When we land, Morgan and Reid, go to the new crime scene. The little girl."

He turns to you. "We'll look at the scene where Nicholas Faye was found."

The murder site is so far into the woods, that you can't help but imagine what it would've been like to be the little boy who was brought all the way out here with no hope of return. You can't believe that a young child would come this far out of their way unless they trusted the person they were following. "I think the victims knew their killer."

Gideon seems to be on the same train of thought. "They followed him to this spot."

"What makes you think that?" the local officer asks.

Gideon looks at you expectantly, and you take the invitation with a grateful nod. "Well I guess they went this deep into the woods because they trusted him. He probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. This means we're looking for someone intelligent, methodical."

The police officer accompanying you doesn't look sure of your assessment. "He bashed the kid's head in, it looks like a moment of rage to me!"

"I agree," Gideon muses, turning away and looking further into the woods. "It doesn't make any sense."

After informing the town's parents of the five PM curfew, and the children of the new buddy system in place, you excuse yourself to go call Hotch for an update.

"Anything new?" you ask when he answers the phone.

"I went to her appartment to talk to her," he explains, "but she was leaving with an overnight bag."

Your heart collapses in your chest. "She's running."

"I don't know, I hope not." He pauses for a beat. "I'm following her."

"All right," you sigh, wishing there was more you could do from here, "I really hope I'm wrong about this."

He's silent for a second, and you realize your slip up. "I just mean, I don't want to- I mean, fuck."

"I know," Hotch whispers. You can hear his car starting in the background. "But Gideon's right. She's innocent until proven guilty."

He ends the call with a promise to keep you updated, and you head back to the station, where another child has been reported missing. The missing boy's little brother draws your attention to a local legend that leads you to a Mr. Fennigan's so-called "haunted" house up in the hills.

***

"Garcia," you say into your phone before putting it on speaker and setting it down at the table you're sitting at. After establishing that Finnegan's house was empty, you and team have been searching the property for any indications that he's the unsub. "You got anything for me?"

"Only that Fennigan's house on the hill is like the Bates Motel of Ozona, Texas."

You roll your eyes, even though she can't see you. "We heard the legend from that counselor, Charles I think."

"Be careful, though," she says, her voice going lower as though she's telling a campfire story. "People that go into that house supposedly never come out."

"Garcia."

"But then there is that matter of his missing wife."

Deciding to humor her, you clear your throat and whisper, "Do you think she's still on the premises?"

"I got two words for you, my friend: 'rear window'. That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious bitesize pieces."

You suppress a laugh. "Pen, do you really think that's gonna scare me?"

She huffs and you grin, tugging open one of the drawers next to you and peeking inside.

"You're no fun. Reid was scared shitless."

"He's just afraid of the dark," you smile, before your eyes catch on something bright under the table beside you. "Garcia, I gotta go. And cut Reid some slack."

"No promises, Mama."

You tuck your phone away and reach below the table, where you find a small pink backpack with the last victim's name scrawled on top in Sharpie. "Guys! I found something."

The clues from Finnegan's house lead you back to Charles, the town's guidance counselor, and then to his son, who the police are able to catch in the act of luring away Tracey Belle, another young girl. You don't relax until she's back with her parents, and even then, there's still a tension in your shoulders.

Cases involving children never get easier, but you can't help the kinship you feel to little Tracey Belle, who had the same look in her eyes that you recognized in yourself when you were ten years old. You don't remember your mom's funeral much, mostly because you were so young, but also because the whole day was a blur. The few flashes that come back here and there are your father's eyes, red from crying, and the cold gray of the headstone that you visited with him every year on the anniversary until you graduated.

The plane ride back is morose, and no one looks up from their reading material until it's time to disembark. Hotch isn't at the office when you drop off your case file, so you rub the exhaustion from your eyes and drive home.

There's a figure sitting on your porch when you pull into your driveway, and you're a moment from panicking when her face comes into the light.

"I turned in my badge," Elle says after you lock your car and walk up the steps.

Something twists in your gut, but the one emotion you aren't feeling is surprise. "Do you want to come inside? How long have you been waiting?"

She shakes her head, and you give her some time to formulate her thoughts. After a minute, she meets your eye again. "You were kind to me."

You don't know what to say, but you can see the change in her since just last week. She already looks lighter, and you can't help but think about how heavy the job can be. It's a weight on each of your lives that never seems to let up, and while you're going to be sad to see her go, you understand. It's the right choice.

Elle presses her lips together before curving them into a small smile. "You supported me after...after Garner. I'm gonna miss you."

You smile at her, even as your heart fills with sadness. "i'm going to miss you too."

Her body shifts like she's making to leave but then she turns back one last time. "You're too good for him, you know."

You get the sense that you know what she's referring to, but it's not something you can acknowledge without sending a flare shooting up your spine. She nods once, like that's all she wanted to say, and turns away into the night. You blink your eyes closed, squeezing them tightly as though it will somehow make the last few months a nightmare you can wake up from. But that's not how this works.

You give yourself a minute to pretend, but when you open your eyes again, she's gone.

***

The case that takes you to Golconda, Nevada feels almost unique to Gideon, as he takes each of the unsub's decisions personally in a way you haven't seen before.

Once you give the profile to the local police, the sheriff, Georgia Davis, leads you to a woman with a story to match the previous victimology.

"Jane," she says softly as she walks into the holding area at the back of the station. "These people are from the FBI. I'd like you to tell them your story."

Her story takes you through a tale of alien abductions and young love, but the kernel of truth underneath sounds awfully similar to the unsub's M.O. Her eyes still shine with a childlike tenacity that you don't usually see in other victims of such prolific and disturbing killers.

"Her subconscious mind has created a delusion that she was abducted by an alien," Gideon sighs after Sheriff George sends you all out of the room to let Jane rest. "She didn't show him the fear he wanted, so he let her go."

When it becomes clear that he is still in town, you disperse around the local R.V. park in search of his vehicle.

Hotch pairs you with Emily Prentiss, the new agent who joined the team after Elle left, and you welcome the opportunity to speak with her more than you've gotten the chance to since she arrived.

"How have you been settling in?" you ask her as you both stroll along the edge of the R.V. park.

"The team has been very welcoming," she says as she continues to scan the vehicles around you. "I'm just glad to be joining such an accomplished unit."

"That's kind of you," you smile, noting the extreme focus in her eyes. Her intelligence and intense concentration on each of the cases you've worked made much more sense when you learned about her history. Her background must have sparked more than a few nepotism claims over the years, so you don't mind letting her overcompensate, if it means she will prove to herself that she deserves to be here. "Everyone seems to like having you around. I certainly don't mind."

She shoots you a smile that you return by patting her forearm comfortingly. You were worried it would be hard for another agent to settle into the space Elle left on the team, but Prentiss has made easy work of it. She has the same humor as Derek and Penelope, and you've seen how well she gets along with you and JJ. Even Reid has welcomed her with open arms.

"This team is kind of famous," she says after a moment, piquing your interest.

"Oh?"

She shrugs, turning into another row of vehicles. "You've all been through so much, but it just seems to have made you more of a family."

When you first joined the team, that was all you wanted. You were by yourself, completely alone, and the team had become your family in the blink of an eye. It was exactly what you needed. These days, you're not so sure anymore. More family just means more people to lose.

"Can I ask you a question?"

You look at her with a nod. "Yeah, of course."

"It's about Agent Hotchner."

You should've figured. Every new agent tries to vie for his approval, until they realize it's not something you can force. "Yeah?"

She sighs, and you can tell this isn't something she wants to be talking about. "I don't know if I understand him. You're the only person who seems to have his ear. I guess I'm just wondering how I can do the same."

"I got his attention and respect through decades of friendship," you say, watching her eyes widen as you speak. "But he's not the enigma you may think he is. Showing off won't help your cause, but working hard and doing your job well is all you can really do."

She nods, taking in your words. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

You smile, bumping her shoulder to lighten the mood. "Don't worry about him. He knows your worth, I can tell."

Prentiss leans against you for a moment before shaking out her legs and turning back to the lot. "I don't think the unsub is here. We should meet up with the rest of the team."

Once Gideon puts it together that the unsub is hiding out somewhere in town, Hotch suggests that you all turn in for the night, but the older man doesn't want to listen.

"We could wait till first light, Gideon," he stresses, turning his body to stand between him and the officers. "It's gonna be dark soon."

"Do what you like," Jason grunts, shoving past him. "I'm gonna find him."

Hotch starts to go after him, but you step forward and put your hand on his shoulder. "Let him go. Maybe the walk back to the station will help clear his head."

He sighs heavily, and you know it's all the agreement you're going to get right now. "Let's head over there too. He needs our help if he wants to crack this before morning."

The stress lines on his forehead are almost as noticeable as they were the day Elle left the bureau, and you grab his wrist as he tries to turn away. You raise your eyebrows, knowing he'll be able to read the question written in the ridges of your face. How are you holding up?

Hotch rolls his neck to the side, stretching it out after what has been a very long day. When he looks back at you, you wait for a nod that comes after a moment. Alright. Been better, but alright.

Back at the station, the work is slow going, and you don't feel like anyone is helping with how uptight Gideon is acting. The air inside the small building has started to feel suffocating, and you finally get your chance to escape when Sheriff George grabs her car keys.

"I'm gonna take Jane home," she tells you when you approach her at her desk. "It's been a long night, and she needs to sleep in her own bed."

"You need to rest too," you say, noticing the droop of her eyes from sheer exhaustion. "Go home, Sheriff. I'll take her back. I remember her address from earlier."

She doesn't look convinced, so you lean in with a smile. "It's getting really stuffy in here. I need some air too."

That's all it takes to satisfy her, and she pats your arm with a nod before handing you the keys to the cruiser and walking to the exit.

You only see Morgan as you pick Jane up from the holding area, so you tell him you'll be back in a half hour and head out to the back lot.

"How long have you been living in this town?" you ask Jane as you make the short drive to her house.

"Since I was a teenager," she says dreamily, her eyes gazing out the window.

"You never wanted to live anywhere else?"

She shakes her head profusely. "Why would I? This is where I can be found."

You frown at her words, but it's not the oddest thing she has said today. When you arrive at her house, you park the cruiser out front and lead her up the porch steps, where she slowly unlocks the front door. "Do you want to come inside?"

You figure it wouldn't hurt to scope out the place, so you accept her invitation and follow her inside. "This is a beautiful home, Jane." Trinkets are scattered everywhere, and rudimentary sketches cover the walls.

"Thank you," she responds from another room. "You're very nice." You follow the sound of her voice to her kitchen, where she is struggling to lift a pitcher of juice from her fridge.

"Here, let me help you," you say, taking it from her and setting it down on the little breakfast table in front of her stove. "Do you have any cups?"

She walks over to a cupboard across from you, and you unclip your side-holster and set it on the table until the sound of a footstep behind you makes you spin on your heels.

You're assaulted by the sight of a tall, white man, who you immediately recognize from Gideon's profile earlier that day.

"Jane!" you yell, inching toward the table where your gun is. "I need you to run."

"Come with me, Jane," the man says, ignoring you completely. You use the moment of distraction to reach for your gun, but he's quicker than you. A sharp pinprick of pain shoots down your neck as your hand knocks over the pitcher of juice and your limbs suddenly feel like they weigh a million pounds.

"Jane, he's a murderer," you yell, hoping your voice doesn't sound as quiet as it does in your head. Your vision is already blurry, and you wish Reid was here to distract you by spouting off a list of fast-acting drugs from memory. "Jane, run!"

The last thing you hear before you black out is the sound of hurried footsteps receding into the background.

***

None of this makes sense. As each minute ticks by, he can't shake the feeling that they are missing something that's right under their noses.

"JJ just called," Morgan says, walking back into the station with his phone waving in his hand. "Apparently an anonymous caller called the tip line and claimed they saw an R.V. driven by a man who fits the description we gave to the media."

Hotch frowns. "Claimed?"

"Well, not a single R.V. or trailer has passed through any of the roadblocks."

Morgan's words click in his brain, and he instinctively glances beside him as an idea forms, but you aren't there. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't seen you in over an hour.

"Who does the number belong to?" he asks, shifting his focus back.

Morgan is about to respond when Deputy Silo runs into the office, shoving past the other cops in his way. "We got a call from outside Jane's house. I think it was from the unsub."

Hotch stands up immediately, grabbing his jacket and gun, but next to him, Morgan stills, his face going slack.

"We need to head over there now," Hotch says, listing off a few instructions to the deputies nearby. Where are you?

"Hotch."

"And have some of your guys check in town," he continues, "in case he took her with him."

"Hotch."

He turns around. "What is it?"

"L/N drove Jane home."

His heart drops.

***

Just stay for a few more minutes, Jeff implores, his fingers dancing over your arm as you try to sit up.

You laugh as he tries to pull you back into the bed. I can't, I have to go into work.

Just five minutes, I promise. He pouts as you slide your legs out from under the covers. Three. One. One minute, please. I miss you.

I miss you too, you sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips. I'll see you tonight.

His hands reach up to caress your face, like he always does in the mornings. Cupping your cheek with his palm and running his fingers through your hair.

You settle into the feeling, wishing you had more time to just lay in bed with him. But you don't. Because Jeff's not here anymore.

Your eyes snap open right as the unsub tapes your mouth closed.

***

His hands grip the steering wheel as his SUV barrels up the small country road leading to Jane's house. He can't seem to press the gas pedal hard enough, and Reid's incessant foot-tapping in the backseat is driving him crazy, even though he understands the anxiety coursing through his body.

He beats Deputy Silo to the house, and flies out of the car without waiting for the other agents to open their doors. He's not sure what he's expecting to see inside as he pulls his gun from his waist holster, but he doesn't give himself a chance to think about it before kicking the door in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Morgan yells from behind him as he checks around the door and makes his way through the small hallway. The house is silent, aside from the footsteps of the agents behind him, but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears is almost deafening.

"Clear," he shouts after checking each room up to the kitchen. When he steps inside, there's juice all over the floor, and he spots the pitcher on its side beside the fridge. Juice, not blood.

His eyes flash to the table and his breath catches in his throat. He would recognize your holster anywhere, especially since he was with you when you bought it.

What do you think? It's not too bold, is it?

I definitely wouldn't mess with you.

"Why didn't she reach for her gun?" he wonders out loud.

"Because she couldn't." He turns around to see Reid holding up a large, empty syringe he found under the table.

He can't take his eyes off the juice on the floor, splattered everywhere as though someone had knocked it off the counter. The image of Elle's blood spilled all over her living room is still fresh in his mind, and he can't get over how easily the dark red cranberry juice seeping into the floorboards could have been yours.

Growing up, it was a common occurrence for you to patch him up and wash the blood off his skin, but there was only one time when he had to return the favor.

He still remembers the proud glint in your eyes after you had literally head-butted a man who had grabbed you in a college bar by Georgetown. Already a year into law school, he would've thought you'd have more forethought than to injure yourself in the hopes of getting back at the jackass, but once he saw your bloody grin, his annoyance had fizzled away.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he had asked as you stuck a scrap of napkin up your nostrils to control the flow after the head-butt broke a few blood vessels in your nose. He hadn't seen you much throughout undergrad, but he was glad that you hadn't changed too much, even if it meant you were just as wild as before. "I'm getting you ice."

A few minutes of angry haggling later, he returned to your side with a small bag of ice that he held to the bridge of your nose. Nothing he said could have ruined your mood that night, especially since the man had been kicked out of the bar and banned for life.

"Did you see the look on his face?" you had asked, your eyes twinkling behind the quickly melting ice.

"I did," he sighs, before breaking into a grin. "I'm just glad that your future law degree will give you another method of retaliation against scumbags like him."

You had laughed then, causing a few drops of blood to spray out of your nose, but all he could think about as he jerked back to avoid the mess was how happy he was that you were back in his life again.

Hotch flies back to the conversation happening around him, his brain refusing to let him imagine the worst case scenario.

"Those footprints," Morgan is saying as he starts listening again, "they got to be Jane's."

Reid nods, following along. "They go to the back."

"She escapes. The unsub knows the ketamine's gonna wear off, so he's got to act."

"No," one of the deputies says. "He hasn't got what he came here for."

His voice returns to him all at once. "So he took Y/N for leverage."

"He thinks we have Jane. Which means he wants a trade."

"Whatever he wants, we need to find Jane and your agent fast."

His agent. He feels sick at the thought of whatever that man is doing to you. "Garcia can track the phone number from the anonymous caller. You go to town, we'll find Jane."

***

Your eyes are blurry as you try to clear the fogginess in your head from whatever he injected you with. You can see the shape of the unsub moving around the room, and you squint your eyes to get a better look at the anatomical posters and drawings on the walls.

When your vision begins to focus again, the man comes toward you with a smile. "You're awake." He reaches forward to check the tape on your wrists and you try to jerk away from him, but your body is still flowing with the drug. You can't move as he brushes your hair behind your ear and smiles down at you, a sinister lack of emotion in his eyes. You stop trying to move, realizing it's no use. He's been doing this for years. Mutilating women. Cutting them to pieces.

You can feel your heart rate increasing, and you try not to look at the knives and saws littering the tables around you in an effort to keep yourself calm. Your team is looking for you. Derek knows where you went.

When he grabs your arms and starts lifting you off the makeshift operating table you were lying on, you try to scream, but the tape just pulls at your lips, tearing at the thin skin underneath.

Your eyes widen as he drops you into a metal coffin-like box, but he just looks at you with a shake of his head. "No need for that," he tsks before closing the lid over you, enveloping you in eery darkness.

***

Reid and Prentiss help him inspect Jane's house further for clues as to where the unsub could've taken you. The wind chimes of rib bone blowing in the breeze on the front porch catch his attention almost immediately.

His chest feels tight and he clears his throat. "He's obviously been here before and left these gifts for her."

"How romantic," Prentiss grimaces.

"Well, his version of romance."

Prentiss frowns. "What, are you trying to say you think he keeps coming back here because he's in love with her?"

"That's impossible," Reid interjects. "A sexual sadist can't feel love."

"Well," he says, "define love." He doesn't know if he can. He knows he loves Haley and Jack. He likes to think he always wants to be with them, but when a particularly excruciating case arrives on his desk, his desire to catch the bad guy trumps everything else in his mind. He knows he will always try to protect them from anyone or anything that wants to do them harm, but is that love?

It must be, because he feels the same instinct to protect you, but it manifests in him differently.

"Chemically, it involves surging brain elements called monoamines, dopamines, norepinephrine, and serotonin."

Of course that would be Reid's answer.

He continues rattling off a list of foods that contain these chemicals, and Hotch tunes him out, turning back to the house. They're missing something, they have to be. It's not until they spot a small trailer out back that it clicks.

***

You don't know how much time passes until the effects of the drug finally wear off enough for you to rub your wrists together to loosen the tape around them. The noises outside the coffin stopped a while ago, and you assume the man has left, likely to resume his search for Jane.

When the tape finally breaks, you let out a relieved gasp and let your arms rest for a few moments, before you begin slamming your fists into the bottom of the lid. It doesn't budge, no matter how hard you pound at it, so you change tactics, instead clawing your fingers at the seams in search of a hinge or screw you can loosen.

You're still trying to pry open the lid when you hear a muffled voice speaking outside the coffin. Despite your determination to stay calm, your heart squeezes in your chest as you bring your hands up to fight back in case he opens the lid. You feel someone slide your box across the floor, before opening the top and flooding your eyes with light.

When you adjust to the brightness, you see the familiar faces of Hotch, Reid, and Prentiss standing above you, and you almost cry with relief. Hotch reaches down with a small "thank god" and pulls you up and out of the coffin. Prentiss carefully peels the tape off your mouth, wincing as some of the skin of your lips comes away with it.

When you're standing up again, your legs give out as the fear leaves you, and you collapse into Hotch.

He catches you easily, holding you against him tightly as you shake from the sheer relief of being found before something irreversible happened. You're acutely aware of your teammates watching you hang onto your unit chief as though your life depends on it, but you can't bring yourself to let go.

It's only after your hands stop shaking that he finally pulls away.

***

When you return from Texas, most of the team heads straight home, but Gideon hangs back, calling you into his office.

"How are you doing after today?" he asks as you shut the door behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Fine," you say simply, looking him straight in the eye. You're not sure exactly what you're feeling, but it definitely isn't fine. The few times your eyes fell closed on the flight back, you could still feel Frank's fingers pressing the tape onto your face.

Gideon scrutinizes you for a moment, his brow crinkling as he waits for you to elaborate. You can appreciate his intention, but you really don't feel like talking about it right now. Not when the memory of the cold metal on your skin is still fresh.

"Okay," he concedes after a minute of silence. It's not really a concession - you can already hear him recommending you for a psych evaluation - but it's enough for the moment. "You don't have to do it right away, but you need to eventually fill out an incident report. I can get you the paperwork now, but I mean it, take your time."

He reaches into his accordion file folder and pulls out a sheet of paper that's mostly blank, except for a few lines at the top. "Just hand it in to me or Hotch when you're done."

You accept the paper and leave his office, with a promise to head home soon. You heard his suggestion to finish it in your own time, but you can't imagine coming back to this at a later date.

Dropping into your chair, you lay the paper down on your desk and read over the form. The first section is the same as every other form you've had to fill out at the bureau: name, date, badge number.

The second half is just one line of instruction before a vast sea of white space. Describe the incident in detail.

Images from Frank's workshop flash in your mind. A roll of silver duct tape. A bloody washcloth. A rusted scalpel. Nothing you can effectively put onto paper.

The words don't come, even as the lights in the hallway automatically turn off, and the hushed voices from the nearby offices go silent. You eventually stand up to shake out your legs and get another coffee, not because you need it to stay awake, but because it feels like the normal thing to do. The idea of sleeping just takes you back to the darkness of the coffin, and a shudder runs through you as you pour yourself a cup and dump the muddy remains of the pot in the sink.

You're about to head back to your desk to fruitlessly stare at the form for a little while longer, when your eye catches on a small lamplight from Hotch's office at the top of the stairs. Gulping back a mouthful of stale coffee, you toss the rest in the trash and grab your report before hiking up the stairs.

"You're still here?" he asks when you knock on his door and push it open. "I thought you left hours ago."

The same question Gideon asked you earlier is etched into his face, but you know he won't voice it just yet. He was always good about knowing your boundaries (and when to push them).

"I could ask you the same thing," you smile with a shrug, before flopping down into the chair by his desk. "You really need to replace this chair, by the way. It's horribly uncomfortable."

He snorts quietly. "It's a perfectly fine chair."

You laugh, the sound quickly turning into a yawn.

"Go home," he stresses, dropping his pen and fixing you with a pointed stare.

"You first."

"I have work to do."

"So do I."

He looks down at the paper in your hands. "Gideon gave you the form already? I was going to give it you in a few days."

"I'm glad he gave it to me today," you say, before dropping your eyes with a sigh. "I've just been having some trouble finding the words to describe what happened."

"You don't have to do it now..." he starts, but you cut him off.

"I do. I don't want to come back to this later. I need to finish it now, while I still can."

"Okay," he accepts after a moment. "Then take your time. I'll be here."

You fall into a comfortable silence as you bring your pen back down and start writing.

***

He doesn't finish his own paperwork until well after midnight. When he looks up from his reports, you're asleep, your head resting on your crossed arms over his desk.

He would normally wake you and tell you to head home, but you look so peaceful for the first time in too long. Haley and Jack would have gone to bed hours ago, so he figures it won't hurt to stay with you for at least a little while as you get some much needed rest. He can't imagine that sleep has been coming easy - he saw you shaking yourself awake each time you closed your eyes on the plane - so he lets you slumber.

He still hasn't gotten the image of you with your hands and mouth taped out of his head, and he doesn't know if he ever will. When your legs had given out, his arms had instinctively shot forward to grab you before his brain could catch up. He can barely look at the bandages on your wrist now, where the tape rubbed your skin raw.

Standing up from his chair, he slides his suit jacket down his arms and steps around his desk. Being extra careful not to wake you, he drapes it over your shoulders and lets you sleep.

***

Hotch gives you the next week off, but the quiet solitude of your house is too much to bear with all of the memories swirling through your brain. You know he would have called you if there was a case out of town, so a few evenings later, you find yourself in your car, driving over to the Virginia field office.

When you walk into the bullpen, it's empty aside from Reid at his desk and Prentiss at the coffee station. It's late, and you assume Reid is just taking some notes down from the last case, but you aren't sure why Emily is still here.

"Hey," she says when she sees you sit at your desk. "Don't you have the week off?"

She looks exhausted, but you understand where she's coming from. The urge to overcompensate for being new. For not being the agent you're replacing. You felt it with Gideon when you were transferred here. She likely feels it with Elle.

"I needed to get out of the house," you explain, adjusting your seat and settling back.

"I hear that," she says, before putting a lid on her coffee cup and grabbing her bag. "I should actually go home for once, but I'll see you in a few days."

Spencer doesn't look up from his notepad until the sound of the door closing behind Emily jerks him from his stupor.

"You're here," he states, as though he's not sure if he is supposed to be asking a question or not. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug, smiling at him. For a genius, he can be kind of clueless sometimes. "I wanted to see you guys."

"Oh," he says, placing his pen on his desk, "well, it's just me here."

You grin. "Works for me."

That makes him smile slightly, but it falls in an instant. "I'm glad you're okay."

Your heart leaps into your throat. "Thanks, Spence, me too."

You expect him to return to his notes, but he just looks down and back up again. "Are you? Okay?"

You frown, more out of a lack of understanding, but he starts backtracking immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't press-"

"It's fine," you reassure, pressing your lips together. "It's what everyone's thinking anyway."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you continue to fill the silence. "You just can't let the stares get to you."

"How, though?" he says after a beat. You're not sure what he's asking, but the confusion you're feeling must be mirrored in your expression, because he elaborates. "Ever since my mom came here for the Garner case, I feel like everyone has been looking at me, with all this...pity."

Your chest squeezes as you think about all of the lingering stares that followed him around in the week after Garner killed himself. Even Morgan couldn't hide his shock when Mrs. Reid showed up at the field office. "Have I?"

He shakes his head, and your chest relaxes with relief. Spencer glances up at you, and he looks so young for a second. "You're one of the few who hasn't."

"I guess I just understand the stares better than anyone," you sigh, feeling the familiar ache as your memories return to you in flashes.

You hear him suck in a breath as the realization dawns on him. "Agent Adler..."

You nod and Reid gives you a second to take a breath before he continues. "He was my instructor once, you know. At the academy."

You smile as your eyes shine with unshed tears. "Yeah, I know."

There's this kid in my hand-to-hand combat seminar.

Kid?

He can't be more than 20, maybe 21 years old. But the kid has guts.

You remember those nights before Jeff joined organized crime so fondly these days. The calm before the storm.

"He never treated me differently."

You look up with a sad smile, the memory receding as Spencer shares his own. "Hotch made me take a few physical training classes at the academy after I joined. All the other instructors acted like I was a joke, or a prank being pulled on them...but he never did."

That doesn't surprise you. Jeff was so nurturing and kind, much better than you ever were before you met him.

"I really miss him sometimes," he whispers softly.

You reach forward and press your hand on top of his. He doesn't pull back. "Me too, kid."

***

You can't remember the last time the team went out together. There was one night, what feels like years ago, when you all got dinner together after an especially cut-and-dry case that ended within the first day you arrived on scene. When the cases are long and hard-fought, it's not the same; everyone bolts the minute the jet hits the tarmac.

Tonight, something feels different. There hasn't been a new case in a couple of weeks, and everyone seems lighter.

"I'm back," Haley smiles, carefully setting two drinks down on the little high top table you are crowded around. "Spicy marg for Emily, and mojito for me."

You're still nursing the old fashioned you ordered a half hour ago, and Hotch is only halfway through his pint of Guinness.

"How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?" Haley asks, before putting the straw in her mouth and taking a large sip.

"She means is he being nice to you," you grin, cocking your head at Hotch as he shoots you a look of mock-offense. You know I'm right.

He flashes his eyes. And?

"Everyone has been incredibly nice," she says with a smile as a waitress approaches you with a drink in her hand.

She sets it on the table in front of you and glances behind her. "That man over there bought this for you."

Haley starts hooting before the waitress has a chance to leave the vicinity. She's definitely starting to feel her mojito, but you would never judge her on her one night away from the baby.

"That was weird," you say, hoping you don't look as awkward as you feel.

Haley leans forward and grabs your hand, an earnest smile on her face. "You should go talk to him! Only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah, it's your night off," Emily agrees, shooting you a smirk over the rim of her margarita.

"I don't know, guys," you say, sliding the drink to the center of the table.

You can tell Haley isn't done encouraging you to have a wild night, so you brace yourself for the pounce, but thankfully, Hotch stands up just as she's opening her mouth, and takes her hand. "Come on, honey, let's go show them how it's done."

"Oh!" she smiles, her face lighting up as she follows him onto the dance floor. "You ladies don't have too much fun without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you grin, before downing the last of your original drink.

Emily watches them shimmy into the crowd, her chin resting on her palm. "They are so sweet."

"They've been that way forever," you agree, glancing back over at them as they dance lazily in the center of the dance floor. Haley's movements are a bit looser as she slides through his arms, but he keeps a firm grasp on her hand, keeping her upright even when it looks like she may fall.

He still looks at her the same way he did in high school, when he saw her at that first rehearsal for Pirates of Penzance. There's so much wonder in his eyes, like he's seeing her for the first time, every time.

***

You should be happier right now. You're done with high school, sitting in a sea of green caps and gowns with all of your friends, but all you can think about is how soon he's going to be gone.

You're going to be at different schools next year. Him at Harvard, you at UCLA, opposite ends of the country, for four years. The gravity of what that means didn't sink in until this very moment, the worst possible timing, because you're supposed to be happy right now.

"High school couldn't end fast enough," the girl next to you grins, her cap decorated with the glittery letters of the school she will be attending next year. "I'm so ready for all of this to be over."

You're not. You force your lips into a smile and let yourself glance a few rows up, just for a moment. When it's just the back of his head, you aren't confronted by the confusing emotions that have been swirling around your brain for the last few months. Of course you would realize you're in love with your best friend a semester before school ends. But that isn't the only reason your timing couldn't be worse.

You wave at your dad in the crowd, you is wearing more school colors than even you are, and he waves back enthusiastically. It distracts you for a moment, but then you face the front again, and your eyes are drawn back to the same place.

He turns back then, with a grin meant just for you, and your heart flutters like it's in a butterfly enclosure. You smile back, more genuine this time, but his attention shifts behind you after a quick nod. You don't have to turn back to know who he's looking at in the stands.

You shouldn't be surprised they got along so well, you practically set them up. After their first date, he seemed lighter than air, giddy with the impatient brush strokes of a first love. The look in his eyes now is the same as it was that day.

How did it go?

I'm gonna marry that girl one day.

You don't know why you had just assumed he was joking around. Hotch never joked about things like this.

Eventually, he turns back around in his seat, and you stare at your hands as you clasp and unclasp them over and over and over again until you no longer feel the cavity in your chest where your best friend used to be.

***

The next case comes in as you're working on your second drink. JJ corrals everyone at the bar into taxis, and sends you all off to the airport where the jet is already fueled and waiting.

"You missed a fun night," you note as Gideon climbs into the plane, a few minutes after the rest of you arrived.

"I had a good time," he says simply, before sitting by himself a few rows over. He hasn't spoken to you since he gave you the incident report, but you know it's not about you. Being forced to let Frank get away was hard on him, but you don't know how to assuage his guilt about your kidnapping if he won't even look at you.

Derek flips open his case file and huffs out a breath. "Well, good time's definitely over."

"The Kyles," JJ says, beginning the briefing as the plane takes off, "Dennis and Lacy were murdered an hour ago in their suburban Atlanta home."

You look up, assuming you heard her wrong. "Only an hour ago?"

"Police were on scene unusually fast," she nods.

Derek frowns. "Why?"

"One of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims."

Prentiss lets out a humorless laugh from across from you. "You're kidding."

"From inside the house."

JJ scans the file again. "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."

Gideon enters the conversation with a confused frown. "Sinners?"

"Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed." She holds up a photo of a page that looks torn out of a book.

"Revelations, chapter 6, verse 8."

Gideon sighs. "They're on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing."

***

Gideon was right, as he usually is. The killings don't stop, and videos of the murders are posted online, spreading the killers' message for them.

"JJ, why don't you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr. Hankel and see if he remembers something."

"On it."

Garcia calls almost immediately after they leave. "There's a new video from our psycho."

Hotch stills. "Get it on the monitor here as soon as you can."

The police officer you met at the first crime scene joins you, Hotch, and Morgan in front of the computer as the video appears on the screen. The first thing you see is the dirty mattress. Then come the dogs.

You avert your eyes as the woman's screams for help fill the room.

"Jezebel's death," Hotch whispers, almost to himself.

"My god," Morgan grimaces. "You can turn it off."

The officer suddenly leans forward. "Oh, wait."

"You haven't seen enough?" Morgan asks, disgust coloring his tone. He has two sisters, both of whom he protects fiercely. You can't imagine what he's thinking about as he watches the screen.

"Those dogs," he says, his voice growing in strength as he speaks. "Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would have had them impounded, but the victim knew the owner."

"You have the owner's name?"

He checks his notepad, flipping through it rapidly. "Hankel."

Your blood runs cold. "Hankel?"

"Tobias Hankel."

You're on your feet before he can finish saying his name.

***

The drive to the Hankel farmhouse is filled with hand wringing and nervous leg bouncing. You keep catching Hotch glancing over at you, but you don't care. You just need him to drive faster.

When he pulls up in front of the house, you and Emily throw your doors open before he can come to a complete stop. Hotch and Gideon head toward the house, so you lead Prentiss and Morgan over to the barn, where you can hear the faint sound of panicked breathing.

Lifting your gun and flashlight, you push open the barn door and are greeted by the sight of JJ pointing her gun at you. "JJ, it's L/N, Prentiss, and Morgan. You're okay."

She looks frenzied, her hair and clothes covered in a layer of sweat and grime. When her flashlight comes down, you notice the dead dogs on the ground.

"Tobias Hankel is the unsub," she gasps, stumbling over to you.

"We know, honey," you whisper, taking her arm and leading her outside, before glancing at Emily behind you. "Call an ambulance."

She nods and rushes over to the clearing in search of better cell signal as Derek steps forward, his face still twisted into a worried frown. "JJ, where's Reid?"

"They just completely tore her apart," she babbles, her eyes still frantic even as you put your hands on her shoulders to steady her. "There's nothing even left-"

"JJ, look at me."

Her eyes snap over to Morgan, and he brings his voice down again. "Where's Reid?"

"We split up," she says, her voice still tight, but slightly calmer. "He said he was going to go in the back."

"House is clear," Hotch calls from behind you, making you spin around, your mouth twisting with dread.

"So where is he?"

JJ's eyes glance back at the cornfield behind the house, and suddenly you're running. You can hear someone calling your name, but all you can think about is Spencer with an unsub who's idea of torture is biblical and cruel.

There are two sets of footprints in the dirt by the edge of the field, but after a few feet, they turn to drag marks. Oh no, oh god no.

***

The whole team - except for Reid, your brain keeps reminding you - sets up in Hankel's house, with even Garcia joining you on the scene to limit communication time.

You can't sleep as you alternate between reading Hankel's journals and hovering over Penelope's shoulder as she pores through his downloaded images and videos. Even as exhaustion pulls at your eyes, you periodically splash your face with water from the bathroom to keep yourself up. If anyone can understand how terrifying it is to be taken by a psychotic killer, it's you. Succumbing to sleep feels like a defeat, like you've given up on him.

You don't find anything useful until after Emily and JJ return from meeting with Tobias's N.A. sponsor, but in the sixth hour of scouring his journal, your brain clicks with a realization. "Guys, some parts of this journal match his father's handwriting. But they were written after he died."

"The bedrooms upstairs..." Gideon mutters, his eyes shifting up like they do when he's thinking. "One of Tobias's personalities may be his father."

Your brow furrows and you look down at the journal in front of you even as your eyes burn with fatigue. "Then who is Raphael?"

"My guess," Gideon sighs, "a mediator between the two."

Hotch looks at you, and you can see the concern etched into his face. "We need to start profiling Tobias's father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

Morgan nods. "I'll get Garcia on it."

He leaves the room and Hotch comes over to the table, where you're still staring down at one of the journals. Your hands are covered in pink half-moon indentations where your nails were pressed, and he fights the urge to take you away from here, to save you from this hurt. "You should get some rest."

"I'm fine, Hotch," you whisper through gritted teeth. He can hear the worry in every word that leaves your mouth. The terror at the prospect of losing the team's youngest profiler.

"You didn't sleep at all last night," he points out gently.

"Neither did you."

You're not wrong. He didn't get a chance to shut his eyes either, but he's used to the sleepless nights. He supposes you are, too.

Your focus returns to the journal, and you don't notice as he slips out of the room and finds Gideon by the front of the house.

"Reid's brilliant," the older man sighs when he notices Hotch, almost like he's trying to convince himself. "He'll make it."

"I take advantage of Reid for his brain," he says softly, "but I never teach him how to handle things emotionally."

Jason shrugs. "Lead by example."

"What kind of example is that?"

For a bunch of criminal psychologists, you all still have no idea how to truly deal with losing people. Maybe that's just how life works. He thinks about the weeks after Jeff's death, when he wasn't sure if you would ever be okay again. Even as he held you while you cried, and promised that you would feel okay someday, he's not sure if he ever actually believed it.

But then one day, your eyes stopped shining at the mention of his name, and you no longer fell apart after each time you had to question a victim's widow.

Even after your mother's death, you were stoic. He remembers holding your hand at the funeral, but your grip was almost stronger than his, like you were holding him up with your sheer willpower to stay upright.

Seeing you now, he's not sure what will happen if Reid doesn't come back. He just knows he doesn't plan on finding out.

He and Gideon rush back inside when Garcia's voice frantically calls for everyone to look at Hankel's monitors. His eyes squint inadvertently as the video feed of Reid tied to a chair lights up the screens in front of them, almost like his brain is trying to block out the image.

Your hand flies to your mouth, but not before a small anguished sound escapes. "He's been beaten."

"This is for us," Garcia whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick," Morgan spits out, before turning around and slamming his fist into the room's wooden door.

Gideon leans closer to the screens, clearly trying to take in any detail he can from the scene. "Why can't you locate him?"

"He's rerouting to a different I.P. address every 30 seconds," Garcia explains, her voice thick through the tears. "I can't track him."

***

The screens shut off and the video feed of Spencer is gone. Penelope starts frantically typing away at the keyboard, likely in an effort to regain the signal, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Your body feels heavy, like there are weights on all of your limbs. Realistically, you know it's mostly the stress and exhaustion, but you can't stop thinking about the frightened look on Reid's face and how he must be feeling.

When you walk back through the house, the sound of a hushed argument in the kitchen catches your attention.

"JJ, what do you want from me?"

You recognize Morgan's voice, and you almost turn away to give them some privacy, but something in JJ's voice as she responds keeps you at the door.

"I just...I want someone to tell me the truth."

"The truth is one of you is here, and one of you isn't. You gotta figure the rest out for yourself."

You're walking inside before you can stop yourself. "Morgan, go help Penelope with the video file."

He looks surprised when he sees you, but he doesn't argue before leaving the room.

JJ rakes a hand through her hair as you approach her slowly. She doesn't shy away as you stand next to her, so you reach out and squeeze her forearm once before pulling back. "I was terrified when Frank took me in Texas."

She looks up with a shocked expression, her eyes finally meeting yours for the first time all day.

"I was terrified," you repeat, "but I never lost hope, because I knew you guys would come for me, no matter what."

Her eyes crinkle with sorrow and you pat her arm again, almost as much for you as for her. "I didn't blame anyone for what happened to me, JJ. Reid isn't blaming you either."

Her lip trembles, and you pull her into a hug as the tears finally come.

***

"Your team members...choose one to die."

Spencer gasps on the grainy computer monitor. "Kill me."

"Tell me who dies."

"No."

The back and forth continues as Hankel stalks toward him and lines his revolver up with Reid's forehead. "Choose."

"I-I choose Aaron Hotchner."

The room stills.

"He's a classic narcissist. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. 'Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.'"

Reid's words sink in and you unconsciously reach towards Hotch, but he's already walking out of the room. You follow him into the other room, the rest of the team on your heels.

"I'm not a narcissist," he says, his voice lighter than you're expecting. He grabs a Bible from the table and quickly flips through it, landing on the verse Reid mentioned.

"Come on, look," Gideon urges. "You can't think anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

He waves away everyone's concern. "No. Stop. Stop. All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?"

No one says anything. You can feel Morgan revving up, so you jump in to start things off. "You're a workaholic."

Your mind flashes back to your hometown's library, all the late nights where you would fall asleep in your chair as he worked away into the early hours of the morning. His home was a trigger after his father died, and you could see the guilt eating away at him as he realized he didn't miss his dad as much as he was supposed to. As much as Sean did. The guilt that wore him down as he struggled to figure out how to be there for his brother, when he couldn't understand his pain.

He nods at you then, and there's nothing but determination behind his eyes.

"You're a bully," JJ chimes in.

Morgan adds, "You can be a drill sergeant sometimes."

Hotch is still nodding. "Right."

"You don't trust women as much as men," Emily says, her voice wavering slightly.

"Ok, good," he says, tapping the page with his finger. "I'm all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever."

"Hotch, what's your point," you whisper, chewing your lip as you anxiously glance back at the screen.

He shushes you with a wave of his hand. "Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted Genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it."

You lean forward, taking the book from him. "'I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.'"

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose."

"Bury my dead," Morgan repeats, his eyes widening. "He's in a cemetery."

***

Hotch heads to the nearest cemetery with Morgan and Gideon, while you follow closely behind, with JJ in the seat next to you and Emily in the back. The drive is short, and you all throw yourselves out of the SUV when you park, as everyone spreads out to search the cemetery.

"Come with me," you tell JJ when you see her eyes flit around the darkness, a slightly panicked expression on her face. "We'll find him."

The wet mulch of the graveyard sinks under your quick footsteps, and you keep your eyes peeled as his name choruses around you, from all of the officers milling around.

The search ends with the sound of a gunshot, and when you get to the source, you nearly collapse with the relief of seeing Hankel on the ground as Reid kneels beside him.

"Spencer," you gasp as the other agents examine Hankel's body. He looks up at the sound of your voice and his face contorts for a second as you kneel in front of him.

A small sound leaves his mouth and suddenly your arms are crushing him to you, your panic ebbing away with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "You're okay. You're okay."

Hotch reaches out when you break apart and helps him up before Reid pulls him into a tight hug that surprises everyone. "I knew you'd understand."

Hotch tightens his arms for a moment, before they both pull back and JJ throws her arms around Reid. "I'm so sorry."

He pats her back, and for a split second, you can almost imagine he's comforting her, instead of the other way around. "It's all right. It wasn't your fault."

She steps away from him and he asks for a moment alone, so you all move back a few paces, allowing him the time to come to terms with the death of the man who somehow both tortured and saved him. You use the second of space to catch your breath as you will yourself not to let the tears of relief fall.

When Spencer finally stands up, you grab onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you, and you help him over to the ambulance that is waiting by the edge of the cemetery.

"Thank you," you gasp as he sits on the edge of the vehicle, suddenly unable to help yourself.

He frowns, his hair hanging in sweaty pieces in front of his face. "For what?"

"For staying alive."

***

The next case takes you to New York, where you find yourself hyper-vigilant as you watch Spencer try to acclimate to the job again. You can't help but notice the small changes in his demeanor, including the snappiness in his tone as he responds to everyone's questions, but you attribute it to the shock of his kidnapping.

After returning from the city, you decide to take some time to complete the paperwork you've been letting slide. Hotch managed to head home at a decent hour for once, and JJ and Prentiss are no where to be seen, but you spot Morgan twiddling his thumbs at his desk, his eyes darting over to peer at Reid almost as often as yours do.

An hour into scribbling out a case report, you head over to the coffee station to refill your mug. It has cooled down since you made it a couple of hours ago, but it still tastes just how you like it.

Burnt, Hotch's voice grumbles in your head. Even when he's gone, he won't leave you alone.

Topping off your mug, you turn around to get back to work and end up bumping into Reid, who looks worse for wear than he did on the jet.

"Shit, sorry," you smile, trying to get him to meet your eye. "I didn't see you there."

"Watch where you're going," he snaps, before stepping around you.

You don't let him get away that easily. Grabbing his arm, you hold him in place as he tries to wriggle away. "Spencer, don't do that. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I'm fine," he says simply, his expression almost emotionless as he glances back at you over his shoulder.

"I'm serious," you say, putting extra emphasis on your words. "I know what you're feeling. I can help."

His expression shifts into one of animosity and something else you can't place. "You don't know anything about what I'm feeling."

His words are like a slap to the face, and he uses your break in focus to tug himself out of your grip and stalk over to the bathroom around the corner.

You press your lips together, willing yourself not to take it personally. He's just been through a horrifying ordeal. No one can expect him to continue on like normal, at least for a little while.

"Something is up with him," Morgan says from his desk, before spinning in his chair to look at the spot where Reid walked away. "He's acting...hostile."

"He's just adjusting," you say quickly, your protective instinct coming out in full force. You close your eyes for a moment to calm your voice down. "This is a normal reaction for what he went through."

Derek doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press the issue. You don't even know if you're convincing yourself, because you know why this kind of hostility and irritation manifests: when you're hiding something.

You weren't a particularly crazy teenager, so you didn't have much to hide from your parents, but there was one secret you held until you left for college that manifested in your daily interactions. One secret that changed how you acted around your best friend, how you spoke to him, how you even looked at him.

You push the thought away before turning to stare at the bathroom door as it falls shut behind Reid. You know Morgan's right. You just don't know what to do.

***

"Hey, Reid," Derek says, looking at him with a small smile. "What's going on up there?"

He shrugs. "Just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas, Ethan. Pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now."

JJ called you at home a few hours ago with the briefing and an instruction to pack for warm weather. Wanting to pack light, you threw on the tank top you planned to wear, and a button-down for the flight. A few cursory glances around the jet tell you that almost everyone else had the same idea. Of course, Hotch is still in his suit, and Reid has on a sweater vest that you're sure he won't take off, even if the temperature skyrockets.

"Really?" Derek asks. "You going to give him a call?"

Reid shrugs again, and you absentmindedly wonder if his shoulders hurt from the number of times he has used that motion over the past week. "We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything. Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau but first day at Quantico he backed out."

Emily, who is sitting next to you, looks up with a grin. "He probably just couldn't take the heat."

"It's not really for us to judge, is it?" Reid states, and her face falls immediately.

"Right. My bad."

He hasn't been as irritable in recent days, but sometimes a random response will rub him the wrong way. You find Emily's hand on the armrest and squeeze it once. She looks down at her hand and then at you, a grateful smile on her face.

JJ directs everyone back to the images that were recovered as you approach Louisiana.

"A slaughter like this takes time," you note as you examine the depth and shape of the wounds on the dead man in the photos before you.

"Andrei Chikatilo fantasized that the men he killed were his captives," Reid adds, chiming in from across the cabin, "and that torturing and mutilating them somehow made him a hero."

Gideon nods, looking up from his file. "This city's barely back to life. Something like this could cripple its psyche."

"So," you say, looking at JJ. "Where do we start?"

She sighs. "All of the records were washed away in Katrina."

"With no case files, there's only one place we can start," Hotch says, drawing your attention. "Square one."

The plane lands soon after, and you disembark into the midday heat, heading to the latest crime scene immediately after dropping your bags off at the station.

Instead of a body, there's a very alive man waiting for you all at the scene.

"You must be BAU," he says, reaching out to shake JJ's hand. "Will Lamontagne."

She smiles at him, accepting the handshake. "Hi, Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone."

The detective is looking at her so intently, you almost feel like you're interrupting something by bring here. "Okay, then. I pictured you different."

You glance over at Emily, who is already looking at you, a smirk on her face.

"These are Agents Gideon, Morgan, Prentiss, and L/N," she introduces. "This is Detective William Lamontagne Jr."

He nods at you. "Appreciate you guys being here."

"Of course," you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you shake his hand. Beside you, JJ has turned a light shade of mauve that you presently allow her to pretend is just from the heat.

***

"Morgan called," Hotch mentions when you finally meet him back at the station. He hasn't seen you since you got off the plane. "He and Prentiss think the unsub is a woman."

You ponder the idea, your eyes lighting up as the gaps in the profile get filled. "All straight male victims, killed while on a night out at the bars. Always in groups of other men, drinking. A woman would be able to lure them away. That makes sense."

He nods, turning back to the letters from the unsub. He's about to call the rest of the team back in when he notices your forehead crinkle out of the corner of his eye. You look up at him. "Wait, you said Prentiss and Morgan think it's a woman. What about Reid? Didn't he fly out with them?"

He sighs, mentally kicking himself for letting that slip. He doesn't want you worrying about Reid any more than you already have been, but he knows there isn't anything he can do to stop you. "Apparently he missed the flight. They couldn't get ahold of him."

"What?" Your brow furrows with concern, and he quickly interjects to keep you from spiraling. "They will be back from Texas any minute now, and Gideon said he spotted Reid heading over here a few minutes before you arrived. Nothing has happened to him."

"What are you talking about?" you exclaim, before bringing your voice down. "The worst thing happened to him. He's hurting more than any of us can possibly imagine. I just don't know how to help him get through it."

He doesn't correct you. He doesn't say that almost every single member of this team can at least somewhat relate to what Reid may be feeling, including you. Instead, he puts his hand on your arm and says, "You're doing all you can."

You sigh. "And what's that?"

"You're promising to be there when he's ready for your help." He sees the tension visibly leave your shoulders, and he pulls his hand back. "That's all any of us can do."

***

When another body is found in the French Quarter, the plan changes. Everyone disperses in pairs to cover the streets in the hopes of catching the unsub in action.

Even as night falls, the temperature doesn't, and you strip off your over-shirt, leaving you in a pale pink tank top. When you emerge from the bathroom, Hotch is the only one waiting for you outside, with all of the other pairs already patrolling Bourbon Street.

He gives you a funny look when he sees you tying your button-down around your waist, and you bump your shoulder against his with a laugh. "What are you looking at?"

He exhales in a quick burst, before meeting your eye. "You look different."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes blinking shut as he clearly regrets his choice of words, "no, it's good...uh, you look good."

Your stomach flips and you turn your face down to hide the smile that's threatening to appear. "Thanks, Hotch."

He huffs out a laugh before leading you up to the bars, where tourists are bustling around in large groups. The sounds of buskers playing their accordions at the street corners loosens a memory from your brain, and you turn to him with a bright smile. "Remember your first performance of Pirates of Penzance?"

He frowns. "I remember it being my first and last foray into the world of theater."

"No," you giggle, glancing around you periodically even as you continue the story. "I mean, do you remember how that one accordion player tripped and almost fell into the orchestra pit like ten minutes into opening night?"

His eyes light up at the memory and he laughs. "I thought it was hilarious, but Haley was so stressed out the whole performance. To this day, I've never seen that vein in her forehead get so big."

"You were pirate number four," you chastise him with a grin. "She was one of the leads. I hardly think you can compare experiences."

He shrugs, his eyes still scanning the vicinity. He looks like he wants to say something, but then you both notice Morgan and Reid rushing towards one of the side streets and your conversation halts. "Let's go."

***

With help from Detective Lamontagne and his late father, the team is able to catch the unsub right before she kills another man. Once she's in custody, you wait outside by the ambulances, watching from afar as JJ and Will talk by his car.

After a few minutes, she hands him something and walks back over to where you're standing. "I can't believe I just did that."

"What did you do?" you ask, trying not to laugh at how freaked out she looks.

She puts her face in her hands for a second, before looking at you with a sigh. "I gave him my number."

"That's good!" you smile, squeezing her arm. "That's good, right?"

"I don't know," she says softly, her eyes squinting as she looks at you. "He seems really sweet. And he's clearly great at his job. I think the distance just worries me."

"You can take it slow," you tell her earnestly. "This doesn't have to be any more serious than you want it to be."

"What if I want it to be serious? Eventually, I mean."

You can't help but smile at the look on her face. You recognize it on yourself from when you first met Jeff: the excitement of possibility. "Then that's up to you too."

She nods, and you let out a smile. "Let loose, JJ. He seems like a good one, and you definitely deserve something good."

JJ glances over at the police cars, where Will is talking to one of the paramedics. "I hope so."

***

You sit by yourself on the flight home, giving yourself a bit of time to unwind from the case. You don't encounter female unsubs often, but the ones that arise always have a tendency to get under your skin. Maybe it's because their motivations seem so different from the others. Or maybe you just feel bad for them.

You're so zoned out that you don't realize Spencer is sitting next to you until he taps your arm. "Hey."

"Hey, Spence," you smile, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn't think you expect too much. "What's up?"

He looks down for a beat before meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Your heart twists and you press your lips together to keep from speaking too quickly. "You never have to apologize to me."

"I do," he says, shaking his head. "Please just let me."

He looks so strong all of a sudden. You haven't seen him look so steady in months, and it makes your chest feel lighter. "Okay. I forgive you, Spencer."

He nods, making a move to get up, but you don't let him get away just yet. "Just promise me something."

He purses his lips, like he's unsure of how to respond, but eventually he dips his chin into another nod.

"Promise me that next time you feel this way, you'll come to me."

He looks at you with an expression you can't decipher, but it quickly falls into contrition. "I promise."

***

"What are you thinking about?" Hotch's shoulder bumps yours as he sits down on the edge of the desk next to you.

"Nothing," you say quickly. He's not sure why you're lying. He can sniff out your dishonesty from a mile away.

"I thought you and Reid got a chance to talk on the plane last week," he frowns, following your line of sight.

You sigh, turning your gaze away from the younger agent. "We did. I just keep thinking about what he said about the unsub at the last scene."

He's like a drug addict.

It would be almost impossible for him to quit without help.

"All of us knew," he says softly, his eyes turning up, searching for something he can't see. "To some extent, we knew. But he's doing a lot better now. We just have to give him time to trust us with the truth."

Your eyes find his. "How did you know you could trust me? When we were kids, I mean?"

Your question takes him aback. He wants to say something profound, to mention a specific moment when he realized that he could share the worst parts of his life with you without the fear that the world would end, but it wasn't that poetic. All he knows is that you were a kid, and he was too, and the first time you saw the splotches of black and blue painting his skin, you didn't turn away. You looked at him, not with pity or sorrow, but with a strength that he still draws from to this day. "I think I just knew you would always be there."

You ponder his words, your eyes traveling back to Reid, who is flipping through a book he brought with him. He knows there are a lot of ways you could take what he said, but he believes you'll take what you need, because he was telling the truth.

You really were always there for him. Even when you weren't - either because of physical distance or because you were in a fight - he never doubted that you would be there if he needed you.

"Come on," he says after a beat. "Let's head back."

You nod, your mind still a million miles away. "Okay."

***

Friday nights used to be your date night. Jeff would promise to be home by seven, usually with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, and you would cook something special together before watching a movie or falling into bed.

After he died, Friday nights became your least favorite time of the week, serving as a constant reminder of what you should have, and no longer do.

Today, for the first time in over two years, you think you might be ready to remember those nights you used to love. Grabbing a bottle of cabernet from your pantry, you pull out a thin-stemmed glass and pour yourself some wine. Your heart thuds heavily as you swirl the wine around, and you are willing yourself to bring the glass to your lips when your pager goes off. You feel a shameful sense of relief as you set your glass down and reach for your purse.

181 Arthur Street. Why does that look familiar?

You wrack your brain for a second before it clicks. It takes you less than a minute to toss your wine into the sink and grab your coat.

***

"Where's Gideon?" you ask when you spot Hotch and the team standing in his kitchen.

"He's not here," he replied. "It seems he left in a hurry."

Morgan looks at him with an urgency you recognize in yourself. "PD thinks he did this?"

"They have six witnesses who saw him running down the street covered in blood, wielding a gun."

"Okay, he was probably chasing the son of a bitch who did do this."

Hotch shrugs, and you can feel the momentary helplessness in the motion. "Either way, we're under strict orders not to get in the way of the investigation."

"Gideon's a suspect," Emily nods, "we're his colleagues."

"Conflict of interest," JJ agrees. "There's no way they'll ask for our help."

"Which he needs badly right now."

You turn into the bedroom to look at the crime scene for the first time. The mutilation of the victim's body brings a familiar nausea to your stomach that you swallow down. "Do we know who she is?"

Hotch comes in behind you. "An old school friend." He turns back to spout off a list of instructions to JJ, but you can't take your eyes off of the woman.

Evisceration of the torso. Removal of various organs. No defensive wounds.

Something in her hand catches your attention and your eyes flicker down to see what she's clutching. Using one of your gloved hands, you pry open her fist and reveal a broken piece of bone. A rib bone.

"Frank," you whisper, almost to yourself. "It's Frank."

"What did you say?" Morgan asks, stepping up next to you. You unfurl your hand to reveal the bone, and he swears under his breath. He turns around to address the rest of the team. "Frank's back."

After JJ snaps a dozen photos of the crime scene on her phone, you all head out into the night air to regroup and formulate a game plan. You hang behind the team on the walk out, your mind spinning with memories of hands and voices you still see sometimes when you're trying to fall asleep.

"Y/N." Your eyes snap up to Emily's as she strolls alongside you. "You okay?"

She looks sincere, and you find yourself wanting to talk all of a sudden. You nod, heaving out a sigh. "Yeah, it just feels very fresh all over again."

"I can imagine." She takes your hand and gives it a small squeeze. "You can come to me if you need a break from all of it."

She leaves you with an earnest smile, and you realize, not for the first time, how glad you are that she's on the team.

***

You aren't able to save Rebecca Garner this time. Frank kills her, and you once again feel that familiar bitterness of nausea rising in your throat as you see her mutilated body.

When you realize he's going to go after children again, you join Hotch and Morgan as they go to Tracey Belle's house.

"We need a crime scene team," Hotch barks into his comm when the home comes up empty, no trace of anyone inside.

"That's my house!"

You turn around and see Tracey's parents running up to the entrance, panic reflected in their eyes.

Hotch steps forward to block them. "Mr. Belle..."

"You have to let us in. My daughter's in there."

He turns to the mother. "Ma'am, you can't go in right now."

"Where's Tracy? Where is she?"

You can see the interaction pulling him down, like a ship anchored to the sea floor.

"What's important to know right now is Tracy is alive, okay? Your daughter's alive."

S.W.A.T. takes the parents aside to explain the situation to them in more detail, and you go to Hotch's side as a pained expression crosses his face. More than anything, you want to comfort him. To tell him that Tracey isn't Jack, that this won't happen to him...but how can you?

Gideon's girlfriend was murdered tonight. Jeff was killed while undercover. Your mother was killed by a drunk driver. No one is ever really safe.

Your eyes flash back over to Mr. and Mrs. Belle, and your chest tightens almost uncontrollably as you imagine how scared Tracey must be.

When Emily and JJ find Jane in a holding cell at the local precinct, her knowledge of Frank's backstory provides more clues about his whereabouts. You go with JJ and Reid to his mother's apartment in Manhattan, while the rest of the team heads to the train station to find Frank.

The idea of Tracey being all alone, frightened for her life, plagues your every thought as the three of you drive to the city. You try to clear your mind as you push through the front door and check for any sign of life. Instead, what you find is the dusty corpse of Frank's late mother.

"Guys, over here." Reid points to a latched door. Stepping around the bed, you immediately unlock the door and throw it open, revealing the tiny, shivering form of Tracey.

"Oh, sweetie," you gasp as sits up in fright, her posture only relaxing once she sees the FBI vests. "You're okay, honey."

You undo the ties on her wrists and she all but falls forward and into your arms. You pull her into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of any possible injuries she could have sustained. The feeling of her chest rising and falling against yours brings you a familiar comfort, and you squeeze her tighter, before finally letting go.

***

He finds himself in Strauss's office again as he explains what happened with the Frank case. How he killed himself and Jane, but he can't bring himself to take that as a failure, because he knows she never would've found the strength to leave him anyway. "Once again, the team has battled a monster and won."

"The future of the BAU is not in the balance here." Her eyes are brimming with scorn. "The residual impact as a result of the investigations into the crimes and criminals you pursue is. Every cause has its effect."

He almost scoffs. "You think I don't know that?"

"I believe you are no longer effective in your post."

There it is. He knows she never liked the way he handled his team. The next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "The modern furniture, strategically placed magazines, the framed diplomas, the art on the wall are all in conflict with your family photos."

Her eyes widen but he just continues, undeterred.

"You have three children, but you favor the middle one, your son."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Of course you love all your children," he shrugs, "but not like your son."

Strauss twists her hand into a fist. "That's enough."

"The bonsai that you obsessively nurture is to compensate for feelings of failure as a mother..."

"Agent Hotchner," she says, her voice bordering on rage. "I said that is enough. My position is not in question here. As your superior I am questioning your ability to lead your team."

"My team?" he scoffs, unable to keep the malice from his tone. "Let me tell you about my team. Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned and there are very few people he truly trusts.

"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair.

"Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team. She needn't worry.

"Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.

"Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.

"Agent Gideon in many ways is damned by his profound knowledge of others, which is why he shares so little of himself. Yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

"And Agent L/N," he pauses finally, taking a moment to find himself again, "she has taken the immense loss that life has handed to her and transformed it, not into cynicism, but into empathy, for her team, for the victims, for the world."

Strauss doesn't say anything, and he can't help the vindication that shines through his voice as he says, "I stand by my actions and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck."

"Agent Hotchner," she emphasizes, making him look back at her one last time.

"How do I know you favor your son?"

She simply looks at him, a mixture of irritation and shame on her face.

"I'm good at my job."

***

"What's wrong?" Hotch looks up in surprise as you sidle up next to him. He was staring at the portrait of the FBI director, hanging in the hallway outside the bullpen, and he only does that when he's professionally stressed.

He looks like he wants to avoid the question, but you fix him with a glare that makes him sigh. "We're being evaluated."

"Doesn't that happen every year?" you ask, still not understanding.

"It's six months early."

You take a deep breath. This past year has been tough for everybody, but you think the team has come through the other side better people. "So they're assessing our unit. It'll be fine, we did great work this year."

"The only file they didn't request was mine."

That sends a spike of anxiety through your bloodstream, but he doesn't need your fear. "They could never fire you. You stepped up to the plate when Gideon left. You helped make this unit what it is."

You're the reason I joined at all, you want to say. You made this unit my family. I can't imagine being here without you.

But that isn't fair. He doesn't need to carry this with you. This burden of having no one else.

So instead you just smile at him, bump his shoulder with yours, and say, "You're going to be fine. This team wouldn't be the same without you."

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @distortionbobble, @sanayikes (message me to be added!)

[softtdaisy]

hellu lando with it's okay, just breathe.

I LOVE your writing, you deserve all the celebration love!

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

Words: 1020

A/n: the fact i went over 1k words for a story i don’t feel confident about is crazy. I really hope you will like it, i’ve never write about Lando before so it’s a first try  

Dating Lando was like living in a new sitcom episode every single day. Even when he was away for the championship and you couldn’t travel with him, he found a way to make your day better. A call, a message, the stupidest joke ever or the cutest proof of love. 

There were some bad days, of course. But somehow, the sun always seemed to shine even in the darkest sky. 

You could write a whole book about your boyfriend. 

You really considered doing it these past days. Being away from him for too long was getting harder for you. It was really like missing a half of yourself when he was in another country or, worse, in another continent. No amount of calls was making for the lack of waking up with him by your side.

“You realize that one day you’re going to deal with me every day for the rest of your life? Shouldn’t you enjoy your free time while you can?” he told you on the phone after you admitted being sad about him leaving early for Canada. He hasn’t even been home since Spain and he was already leaving.

“Well right now, I miss you, idiot.”

“Well I miss you too, dummy.” 

It was probably one of the quickest decisions you’ve ever made. After waking up again feeling alone and sad without the man you loved, you booked a flight for Montréal during the afternoon to see him. You didn’t even tell anyone, except for Max, Lando’s best friend, to make sure at least one person would be aware of your trip. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend.

You had no idea that this would become one of the most stressful days for him.

When Lando woke up on the other side of the world, you were already up in the air. He didn’t question why you weren’t answering his texts. He knew that when you were working, you tended to be so focused that you forget about the world around you. He also knew that he could call you if he was worried because that was the only thing that would make you pick up your phone. 

Somehow, Lando felt like something was off. He could put his finger on what.

If he was a fan of media duties, he couldn’t focus on anything today. His laugh sounded fake, he wasn’t smiling as much. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.” Oscar reassured him after he had to handle every interview that morning.

But he didn’t say anything. Lando wasn’t the kind to cry on anyone’s shoulder for nothing. He didn’t want to bother his teammate for just a feeling. 

Then it became more than a feeling when he still couldn’t reach you. 

You were supposed to be home. Or heading home. Anyway, you would have answered Lando’s texts already. But you didn’t.

He tried to call you. But you didn’t answer.

He asked Carlos to call you too, knowing he was one of the few drivers to have your number. But you didn’t answer either.

“Something wrong?” Carlos asked him but he refused to say anything. If he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real, right?

So Lando did the worst thing he could have done, he knew that. He went to the practices with fear and stress. He couldn’t think about the race or the cars or his whole career. Fuck that. All he cared about was you. He did so many mistakes he couldn’t even imagine the number of comments on social media about him being done or whatever these stupid opinions were saying. The team was already giving him a hard time on the radio.

When Lando got out of the car, he felt like he saw a ghost. Expect it wasn’t one.

It was you. Standing in the middle of the garage.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t dreaming, that it wasn’t his mind giving him what he wanted to see. You were here. For real. Not home. But here with him.

Lando then ran to you and took you in his arms. “Oh wow I didn’t expect that to be so welcoming.” you laughed in his ears. Knowing him, you were convinced he would make a joke about you being here at the same time as his mistress. Or that you should take a shower, when he was the one dirty after racing. 

Not that he would hug you that tight. You felt him bringing him to his room and you followed him, quite perplexed on why he was reacting like that. 

It wasn’t until you were alone that you noticed he was shivering against you. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked him, moving your head to see his sad face. You barely ever saw him being that miserable around you.

“You’re here…” he replied, breathless. You took his face between your hands.

“it's okay, just breathe,” you put your forehead against his and felt him relaxed slowly. 

“You didn’t answer me and I thought something had happened. I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t reach you and I thought you were… I can’t imagine my life without you!” 

“I’m not planning on leaving you.” you replied with a sweet smile, giving him a soft kiss on his lips. Lando always said that your lips had some calming power. And he wasn’t wrong. You could feel relaxed after that, like it was the proof he needed to be sure you were really here.

You spent some long minutes together in the silence. Now that he was accepting that nothing had happened to you and that you were here, for real, he was enjoying your presence. You gave him small kisses in the hair, the one he loved when he had a terrible weekend. It felt quite the same for once.

“I’m taking notes that you don’t like surprises.” you whispered in his hair.

“Not the one where I think I’m losing the love of my life, dummy.”

“Love of my life and dummy in the same sentence? What a pretty love language, Norris.” 

[urrockstar-xe]

forgotten valentines - p.parker x gn!reader

posted feb 1st, 2024 8:14 am.

heres the first day of my countdown to valentines day! whether ur single or just love these silly characters, i hope u enjoy :)

summary: upon the couple stumbling home from working late, reader and peter both realize they've forgotten all about the heart shaped holiday. Not proofread, may have use of Y/n.

masterlist

wordcount: 1.5k

It was nearing 10 pm when you finally made it home, wanting nothing more than to sit down and use your boyfriend as a human-weighted blanket, but just as you opened the front door you heard shuffling down the hall of your apartment complex, turning to look who was coming and seeing the boyfriend in question, Peter sighed heavily once you both made eye contact, earning a chuckle from you as you entered your apartment, Peter following not too far behind. 

“That wasn’t planned?” you joked quietly, turning on a few lights so it didn’t feel so late that you’d have to whisper. Peter’s quiet laugh filled your ears as he headed for the fridge, opening it up with a sluggish movement. “No, fate just keeps on tugging us towards each other” He teased back, pulling out two sodas before shutting the door with his elbow. 

You pulled off your coat, abandoning it by the door and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Peter soon joined you after taking off his own coat and shoes, he handed you one of the cans, already opened. You leaned into Peter’s side, causing him to throw his arm around your shoulders happily. The clock read 10:12 PM as you flipped through the channels trying to find something to watch. 

“There is a lot of 50 Shades of Grey going on,” Peter said upon realizing how many channels had the 50 Shades movies playing along with every other channel playing romcoms and old romantic dramas. “Yeah, what’s this all about?” you wondered out loud, then the realization hit.

“Oh my god, Peter it’s Valentine's Day!” You sat up, looking at Peter with wide eyes as he checked his phone and his jaw fell, matching your expression now as the date confirmed it. 

“I didn’t even realize it was February” Peter whispered, thinking out loud as you stood up, his eyes following your movements. “Okay, well, we’ve got 2 hours left,” You said, watching him nod in response. 

“It’s too late to grab flowers and chocolate” Peter’s voice was laced with a guilty tone as he spoke, remorse-filled puppy eyes staring up at you. You smiled down at him, hands coming to rest on either side of his face, “That’s okay, it’ll all be on sale by tomorrow morning” Your reassurance and soft touch brought a smile to Peter’s face, “besides, you’re here and not out there” you motioned towards the window, exposing the city of queens who didn’t get the privilege of Spider-man tonight. 

Because you did.

“Will you be my valentine?” Peter asked with a goofy grin on his face, that only grew when you laughed, giving him the exact reaction he had wanted. You nodded, “I’d be happy to be your Valentine, Peter” He smiled at you in return, standing up and causing you both to be nearly chest to chest with the action. 

“C’mon, then, we’ve got a date to prepare for” Peter whispered, planting a kiss on your forehead before leaving the soft moment, walking back to the kitchen. You smiled, abandoning the two barely touched soda cans as you switched off the TV and went to look for a Vinyl to play on your old record player. 

Neither of you had the sharpest memory but that never stopped you from being a damn good team, and times like these always did so well at reminding you both of this sweet fact.

The soft and not-too-loud music filled your small apartment once you finally made your decision. You made your way into the small kitchen as Peter rustled around the pantry looking for something to cook, “we could do pasta!” he exclaimed, too excited about finding something to make, before closing the pantry door and setting the bowtie noodles on the counter, turning to look for ingredients for the sauce. “What kind are we making?” you asked with an amused look on your face, hopping up onto the counter as you watched Peter move around the room. 

“Whichever kind we have the ingredients for,” Peter said, laughing with you as you slid off the counter despite having just barely sat down. “I’ll boil the noodles” Peter hummed in acknowledgment of your announcement, the sound of him clumsily moving behind you filled your ears and blended perfectly with the music, this was perfect. 

“Spaghetti it is!” Peter mumbled to himself before turning around, standing directly behind you as he went to turn on the burner beside the one you were using to boil water. You couldn’t have missed his hand resting on your side if you tried, even if he didn’t squeeze lightly every few seconds. Peter stood there longer than he needed, watching the flame on the left burner while you poured noodles into the pot on the right burner. 

“Just makin’ sure you’re doin’ it right, doll,” Peter explained with a small smirk on his face as if he was reading your thoughts. You scoffed, smiling, “Why don’t you start the sauce so we can have dinner before midnight, yeah?” You asked in a similar teasing tone, not even attempting to hide your heart eyes as you glanced at him. Peter laughed in response, nodding and turning to continue his job for dinner, leaving the spot where his hand sat on your side feeling cold and empty despite your hoodie covering it. 

You both stood wordlessly as you worked, eventually stopping the right burner and allowing Peter to help you drain the water with a strainer before mixing the noodles in with the sauce, “10:57, I think we’re doin’ pretty good on time, what do you think?” Peter smiled at you as you pulled out two bowls, “I think you’re gonna burn our only food option if you don’t turn off the stove” you teased, before smiling back. “We just make a good team” Your second response was more genuine, earning a nod as Peter looked away to turn off the left burner, his smile softening. “Yeah, a great team.”

Together you both set up the table, giggling when Peter ran off to get the candle before setting it down in the middle. “There’s just something missing,” Peter mumbled, watching you sit down at the small table just enough for two people, which is all you needed. 

“I’ll be right back” Before you could argue Peter had run off again, this time to your shared bedroom before stumbling out a few moments later tugging on his suit. “Peter, what are you-” “Don’t start eating yet!” he pointed at you, pulling on his mask with one hand, ignoring the sound of your laughter as he struggled. You watched with an amused expression as he left out the window, the clock now reading 11:09, it’s still early enough to wait so you took it upon yourself to get up and light the candle, along with getting out anything you had to make the rocky road ice cream in the freezer more fun and setting it on the counter.

The sound of the window closing caught your attention, “Look! Ice cream bar!” You said, smiling proudly at your presentation before turning back to your boyfriend just as he pulled off the mask, out of breath and a proud smile settled on his lips too. 

“Look!” he imitated your tone, pulling flowers from behind his back, a little droopy and absolutely taken from your upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Baker’s windowsill, but still perfect. “Flowers!” he finished, both of you laughing before you pulled out a mason jar, filling it with water, and setting it beside the candle. Peter put the 4 dainty white daisies in, smiling at you as he pulled your chair out for you. 

“I love the ice cream bar,” He praised your work, sitting across from you while immediately reaching for your hand, and you happily gave it to him. “I love the flowers,” You responded, honey dripping off the words with how sweet you spoke, blissfully happy in this moment.

“This is perfect! Who needs plans for Valentine’s Day when we’re as great as we are!” Peter said, almost moaning as he finally took a bite of his food. You laughed at his reaction before trying your own. “Last minute dates are our thing, so.” You teased, earning an unserious glare from your guilty boyfriend. 

“I love them though” You reassured, squeezing his hand. 

Peter squeezed back and leaned forward as if to tell you a secret as he softly spoke, “I love you” His gaze was as loving as ever and it was all yours, it was as if he was telling you with his eyes that it always would be. 

“I love you more”

“Impossible”

His immediate response was too cute to argue no matter how badly you wanted to, but instead, you leaned forward just enough to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Peter sighed at the sweetness of it all, closing his eyes and shaking his head as you sat back down. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart”

[cod-dump]

Invincible Like I’ve Never Been - Teen!Ghost AU

AleRudy

featuring trans!Rudy, Alejandro, and Alejandro’ father

TW: mentioning of domestic violence

This takes place when Rudy is 15 and Alejandro is 16, before Simon and Johnny start dating and before Farah comes to live with Simon and his family.

———

He felt like he had to choice on what to do. He couldn’t go to Valeria’s house, her parents would call his in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t be safe there. He couldn’t go to the police, they wouldn’t listen to him. So he went to Alejandro’s.

He walked on the wood’s line behind the houses to avoid being near the street, hand gripping his phone in a tight grip as his eyes darted between the woods and the houses. He was terrified of his father finding him, dragging him back home and sending him off somewhere. So scared that he’d never see Ale again, only see Valeria when his parents allow him to attend dinners with their friends.

Rudy stopped when he finally came to the house he was looking for. He shook as he walked around the house, knowing better than to knock on the back door. He had to breathe for a moment before he knocked, hand still gripped on his phone he had long powered off. He wasn’t sure why he still had it at this point.

Rudy flinched when the door opened and Alejandro’s father greeted him with his famous friendly glare. It softened the moment he saw Rudy.

“Lina? What are you doing out so late?”

Rudy swallows, heart hurting and voice small, “Can I see Ale?”

Leonardo looked him over before stepping aside, “‘Course, mija. Come sit.”

Rudy walks in, flinching when he feels Leonardo touching his shoulder as he passes and his hand immediately leaving when he feels Rudy flinch. Rudy mindlessly goes to the living room to go to the bedrooms down the hall, but he stops and turns to look at Leo.

“Please don’t call my parents… or tell them I’m here.”

The man’s jaw clenched before he nodded. Leonardo was a good man, very rough around the edges and tended to talk with his hands more than his mouth, but he was good. Rudy trusted him to not say anything if anyone came poking around or to make the right decision for the situation. So he left it up to him what to do if someone came knocking… he hoped no one did.

Rudy knocked lightly on Ale’s door before opening it. Alejandro was lying in bed watching TV. He jerked up into a sitting position when the door opened, blinking owlishly when he saw Rudy.

“Rudy? What are you doing here so late?”

Every ounce of composure Rudy had shattered and he started crying, Alejandro jumping off his bed to run to him, wrapping his arms around the boy as he cried. They were on the floor in seconds, Rudy clinging to Ale as he sobbed, unable to speak or stand. Ale said nothing, just held him, confused and worried.

He wasn’t sure how long they were there or how long Rudy cried, but he cried until there were no more tears, just an empty numbness. Alejandro held him the same and rubbed his back in a soothing manner that helped Rudy feel at ease.

“I told them.”

Alejandro was quiet, squeezing Rudy a little tighter which was the only thing showing Rudy he heard him.

“It was stupid. I should’ve known better,” Rudy muttered, wanting to cry but he didn’t have it in him.

This closeness between him and Alejandro is what led to the incident. His parents questioning him dating a boy like Ale, a boy who lived in a single parent household and worked with his father at his and his aunt’s store, his father being a felon with a bad history, with a gang of fellow criminals often in his company. They didn’t approve, didn’t like Ale or his father. It made Rudy angry, he felt the need to defend them both.

And other things came to light.

“He hit me.”

Alejandro tensed, “What? Your dad?”

Rudy just nodded, “He said he was going to ship me off, get me ‘fixed’. I got scared and ran.”

They were going to come looking for him, they were going to take him away and ship him off to some conversion therapy clinic and not let him out until he’s their ideal daughter. They don’t want him, they want their perfect little girl.

“They won’t get you, I won’t let them,” Alejandro growled, lips in Rudy’s hair and arms secure around his shoulders.

Rudy wanted to believe him, that he could keep them away.

Eventually Leo knocked on the door, stirring Rudy from where he laid against Alejandro. He didn’t open the door just spoke through it.

“I have some blankets for you, mija.”

Rudy blinked and Alejandro got up, going to the door. Rudy watched him step into the hall and hear quiet muttering between him and Leo. Rudy trembling as he stood off the floor, sitting on the bed. He wasn’t afraid of Leo calling them, not afraid of being kicked out. Yet he was still shocked by the man quickly determining he was staying the night… or maybe longer.

Alejandro steps back into the room with fluffy blankets, Rudy feeling honored getting something so soft looking. Knowing Ale and his father, that was a treasured blanket.

“I’ll get you something you can change into.”

Rudy took the blanket silently, words escaping him. He wanted to say so much, but he was so tired. So he took the soft shirt and pants Ale handed him and went to the bathroom to change. Rudy was used not looking at the mirror too long, used to ignoring its presence and what it shown. He just put the clothes on that smelled like Ale, thrown the ones he worn in the trash and went back to Ale.

And he laid in his arms, safe. He feared no one would take him in his sleep.

When they woke, it was to Leo banging on the door.

“Ale, get up!”

Alejandro just groaned as Rudy flinched away, sitting up and looking at the door, expecting it to swing open. But it didn’t, and Ale took his sweet time getting up. Rudy stared at him, Alejandro blinking before he even noticed.

“Sorry, Dad Alarm.”

Rudy huffs out a short laugh and Alejandro turns embarrassed. They left the room, Alejandro leading way to the small kitchen where Leonardo was, standing in front of the stove staring at a cooking pancake.

“Whoa, Dad at the stove? Is the world ending?”

Leo turns as Ale passes, swatting his shoulder. He then turns to Rudy, offering him a plate of fresh pancakes.

“Sorry for the fright, mija. Have to wake up that one somehow,” Alejandro glares, Leo matching it with a glare of his own, “Fix that face, boy.”

Alejandro only scowls deeper, Leo pointing his spatula at him in warning. Ale huffs before he goes to grab the orange juice out of the fridge. Rudy stood there awkwardly for a moment with the hot plate before he went and sat at the table.

The Vargas house was much different then the one he grew up in. Smaller, messier— But it felt so much more homey. Old wallpaper whose original color was long faded, old cracked tiles, the carpet in the hall with stubborn stains. Everything in his house was perfect. It had to be perfect. Not a single imperfection was allowed, nothing was allowed to be unique or dare to be different. A single hair was not allowed to be out of place.

Alejandro sits down with a grunt, a plate with a mountain of pancakes before him. Leonardo finally joins them after cooking the rest of the batter, plopping down across from Rudy. Rudy looked at the pancakes, the syrup in the middle of the table, the melting butter that Leo placed on top of the stack-

“It’s box mix, nothing special.”

Rudy blinks and looks up, meeting Leo’s gaze, “R-Right.”

“Bisquick, not allergic are you?”

“No, sir.”

Leonardo was undeniably an intimidating man. The tattoos, the muscles, the scars— He was terrifying. Narco, his mother called him. Rudy never was afraid of him, though. He was rough, but gentle. He loved his son, his community. Though tough love tended to be the way he showed that, according to Ale. But Ale never once doubted that the man cared about him, even when he was yelling at him, dragging him by his collar home after catching him running the streets. He didn’t want Ale to end up like him, even though that’s what he desperately wanted to be. Just like his father.

“Lina-,” Leo began but Rudy cut him off, though he wasn’t sure how the mumble that barely escaped his lips managed to do that.

“Rudy.”

Leo blinked, “Rudy?”

Rudy swallowed, nervously glancing at Ale. He didn’t look nervous, just taken aback by Rudy’s boldness. After last night you would think he would be more cautious with opening up to another adult… but Leo wasn’t his parents. While they stared in confusion, he just stared like he understood. And that gave Rudy confidence to continue.

“My name is Rudy, not Catalina.”

Leonardo hummed, “Rudy.”

He said the name like he was testing it, looking at Rudy like he truly saw him.

“I… My grandfather was Rodolfo…”

“Good name.”

Rudy swallowed and looked down, it was really too early to start crying.

“Rudy, why are you here?”

Rudy looked up, “I-… wanted to see Ale.”

Unconvinced, Leo stabbed his fork into his pancakes, “And you didn’t want me to tell your parents that? Be honest with me.”

Ale was silent and Rudy wanted him to not be. He wanted him to say something, anything, to get the attention off of him. Leo wouldn’t go to the police, he wouldn’t force Rudy to go back. But he didn’t want to repeat what had happened, it was hard enough telling Ale.

Like an ironic miracle, there was a knock at the door. Leonardo stuffed a piece of pancake into his mouth before he stood up, going to the front door to answer. Rudy felt his heart start beating fast, anxiety creeping up on him as Leo answered the door. He saw his father and he scrambled out of the chair, trying to dart into the hall and into Alejandro’s room. But he wasn’t quick enough and the man spot him.

“Catalina Ortega! Get your ass over here!”

The moment the man tried to shove his way inside was the moment Leo decided he wasn’t going anywhere but on his ass outside. It was a quick motion of him grabbing Rudy’s father’s shirt and throwing him out the door, Leonardo marching out and slamming the door behind him. Rudy felt Alejandro come up and hold him, the shouting from outside was loud but muffled.

Rudy just held onto Ale, turning and burying his face against his chest. After a moment the front door opened and Leo stepped inside.

“I’m calling the police!”

“Go ahead! I dare you.”

Leonardo’s voice was threatening, a fire in his throat as he spoke. Rudy didn’t look, just let Ale lead him to his room. The fear was making him shake to the point he was sure he wouldn’t be standing if he didn’t have Alejandro’s support. They stayed in his room, in silence, for a while. Rudy just leaning against Ale as he stared at the door. They could hear Leo talking, but it definitely wasn’t to his father. He was on the phone, with who Rudy wasn’t sure. But Ale knew.

“The old man won’t let anything happen to you,” he assured him.

“Who’s he talking to?” Rudy muttered, resting his head on Ale’s shoulder.

“Probably to some… friends.”

Alejandro used the word lightly, Rudy understanding what kind of people be was referring to. But he wasn’t worried about them… or his father or mother. He felt secure where he was. Safe. The Vargas were good people, and Rudy trusted them to help keep him afloat.

———

[daydreamgoddess14]

Red Card

MASTERLIST

Roy Kent x F!Reader

It's the first time in 135 years that the Premier League has allowed a female referee to official a match... Remaining neutral is absolutely key. Plenty of fluff and smut and flirting 😏

The anticipation was at a whole different level. For the first time in history, a woman would referee a Premier League football game. The FA had played a blinder from a marketing perspective - a local girl from Richmond itself - refereeing a Richmond vs. Man City match - the top two finishing teams of the previous season. Sky Sports, BT Sport, Match of the Day, ESPN… every single football broadcaster or news outlet was on site. It couldn’t get any more high profile. It had been all anyone had talked about for weeks on end. Roy was sick of hearing about it, talking about it, and reading about it.

“New Trent?”

“What do you think about a woma-”

“Reffing the next match? It’s about fucking time. Should have been done years ago. The league might be saying all the right things and making a big deal out of it, but it’s only disguising the fact that they haven’t bothered utilising female referees until now.”

“And what do you think of the referee chosen for the match?”

“Did I offer you a fucking follow up, New Trent? She’s a fantastic ref, and has a great eye. I’ve seen her run some lower league matches and it’s high time she had a role in the Prem.” He looked around for his next victim, “You with the… bald spot?”

“And will you be saying the same thing if she books one of the lads next week or a decision doesn’t go your way?”

“Course I fucking will. I don’t suddenly change my opinion of any of the other refs? We’ve all got jobs to do and roles to play. I don’t think we can ask for anything more than for any of the referees to be fair and equal. I don’t give a shit who we’re on about, that applies to all of them.” He looks around for any other burning questions, “Right, fuck off then you lot. I’m done for the day.” He rose from the desk and left the bustle of the press conference. In the office, Beard and Nate were looking over plans for the next week while the team milled around the gym and treatment rooms.

“Tough presser?” Beard asked.

“No more than fucking usual. All anyone is talking about is the new-”

“Female ref? The news is everywhere. As if the match wasn’t high profile enough as it is.” Nate filled in, a bundle of nervous energy.

“Yeah, well we’ll be fine. Just gotta make sure the boys keep their heads down. The new ref isn’t their problem, they don’t need to even be thinking about that.”

“But they will, because that’s all they’re hearing about. We haven’t had this much press coverage for ages, the match sold out months ago. They may not have to think about her, but the whole situation does impact their whole build up to the game.” Beard declared.

“Right, get ‘em in here.” Roy grimaced. Nate dashed off to assemble the team. “Alright lads?” There were a few murmurs and replies. “I know there’s a lot of noise around this one - some of it is to do with us and the City game, some of it is none of our business. I suggest you steer clear of the news for a few fucking days. There’s no need to watch it at all. No Twatter or whatever you fucking use. Just stay off that shit for the rest of the week, yeah? Any news you need, you hear from us. I want to keep the positivity we’ve got for the new ref, so if you’re asked about it by the paps on the car park, be fucking nice. Otherwise, you don’t watch or listen to all of the fucking fuss about the weekend, alright?”

“Coach.” Isaac nodded in agreement, the other players followed his lead.

~~~~~~~

The noise was deafening, the stadium packed to the rafters. You hovered at the side of the pitch with the other officials, warming up until it was time for the meet and greet of the team managers. The two managers were like fucking titans of football royalty. You were about to meet Pep Guardiola for god sake. And if you even think for one second about meeting Roy Kent, you might just pee your pants. Pep is great, wonderful - the boss! But you grew up not twenty minutes down the road, so Roy is firstly, the literal definition of local hero, and secondly, the big crush of your early 20s. You spent many Euro Championships and World Cups in the pub singing his chant and ogling his legs. Fortunately when the Premier League and media ask about your neutrality, they don’t ask whether you’ve experienced sexual fantasies about any of the players or managers. At least you’d only be admitting that about one person and not, like, a whole team. And you would never admit it publicly. The home crowd roars as the Richmond team is announced, you make your way to the space between the two dugouts ready to greet the players. They all shake your hand as they pass you, with a few nods of encouragement and words of support. The same applies to the Man City team, you’re determined not to be starstruck in front of Pep Guardiola so you shake his hand with a big smile and wish his team luck. You turn to Roy Kent and his large hang engulfs yours. You whack on your big smile and offer the same affirmation as you did to Pep. On the pitch, you speak momentarily with the two captains and blow your whistle for go time. 

The trouble with Premier League football is just that, it's Premier League. Top flight. The best of the best. Keeping pace with these players was a job in itself, being in the action without impacting it or getting in the way was another, and being the all seeing, all knowing one was… yet another. Your mind (and body) are pulled from goalpost to goalpost, and it's really no surprise that the referee is often blamed for poor decisions. It's impossible to see every single thing that happens on the pitch. You're making good decisions so far, nothing out of the ordinary. Shortly before halftime, one of the Richmond defenders nearly dislocates his shoulder, going in hard on Haaland. It feels cruel to punish him, but it's part of the job, so you have to award Man City the free kick. From the other side of the pitch, you can hear Roy Kent over the sound of 60,000 people screaming the same thing. Haaland scores, of course. You hang back while the teams leave the pitch at halftime, but he's waiting for you in the tunnel. 

"The fuck did you give a free kick for?!"

"You shouldn't be collaring me out here, but to answer your question, the tackle was too much."

"Bullshit, it was a fair tackle and McAdoo would have hurt himself more than Haaland."

"Bullshit. Haaland has got about 5 inches and half a stone on McAdoo."

"5 inches is fucking nothing." He smirks.

"Really?” You arch an eyebrow at him, “did you seriously choose today to make a dick joke?" Utter disbelief is written all over your face, you shake your head and leave him cursing himself in the tunnel. Halftime was supposed to be a moment to catch your breath, not waste it on fighting with Roy Kent. You knew better than to get into it with managers. They saw the action from the sidelines and only had so much impact and influence. They took their lack of control out on officials all the time, it was supposed to be your job to stay calm and walk away, not engage. You ignore him on your way back to the pitch, he's just inside the exit of the tunnel and he could be there to apologise but he could very much be there to shout at you some more. The second half is just as eventful, Richmond are pushing hard for at least an equaliser, and Man City are loath to let them get it. When Obisanya has a shot on goal, which goes wide, City are pleading for a goal kick, but it's not. You award the corner, and Rojas sweeps a beautiful pass into Tartt, who sends the ball straight into the corner of the net. City scores again shortly afterwards, and you have to keep your head to make sure no one is deliberately trying to cause injury to anyone else. When Tartt goes down just outside the area, you request VAR footage to aid your decision before calling for a free kick. He scores, but it's an immediate offside and Roy Kent looks like he might explode. When play resumes, Colin Hughes gets a goal straight away. The game ends in a 2-2 draw, but the fans and teams both seem appeased. 

~~~~~

By the time the press conferences are over, Roy's had more than enough. He (respectfully) disagreed with your first free kick decision, but praised your other choices and overall declared you "No better or worse than the other pricks." The stadium is starting to clear, and the Man City bus has just left. Richmond players make plans to get food at Ola’s. When Roy sees two of the officials only just leaving, he sends the others ahead and makes his way down to the away team and visitors facilities.

“I hope you’re here to apologise.” She states dryly as he approaches.

“Yeah,” he looks bashful, “the dick joke was a dick move. Sorry.” She looks so serious, he’s not sure the apology is accepted until he spies a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Was pretty funny. In alternative circumstances.”

“Noted. Congratulations anyway, noise from the press has all been good so far.”

“Nice to know my performance will be scrutinised forever while every mediocre male referee gets a pass for another week.”

“I’m sure your performance will only improve.” He inwardly groaned. She was going to laugh in his face. A dick joke and then godawful flirting? It was only what he deserved.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll pass that direct quote on to The Sun.” 

“They’ll have a fucking field day. Richmond manager does shit job at flirting with the only female ref in the league? They’ll probably go and interview the poor woman I called my girlfriend when we were in year 6.”

“Flirting?” 

“No,” he scoffed, “no, course not. I didn’t mean that. Just a joke.” You cocked your head at him,

“Should we start again? Hi, you must be Roy Kent, I’m the first female referee in a Premier League game in 31 years. Well, actually it’s more like 135 years but the FA are trying to make themselves look marginally better.”

“Nice to meet you. Great job on the match, I respectfully, completely, disagree with that fucking free kick in the first half but other than that… no complaints.” He steps closer, you’re showered and changed but he can still smell the fresh grass mingling with the citrus and spice of the products you use. The combination is incredible - like summer and sunshine.

“I wouldn’t give a shit if you did have any complaints. Looking after your feelings isn’t in my job description.” You take in his height, broad shoulders and dark eyes and the long dormant crush rises to the surface immediately. You hadn’t taken much notice since you stopped having posters on your walls all those years ago, you’d only caught a few of his appearances as a pundit. He’s gorgeous, despite his surly appearance there’s an unmistakable twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Like he’s having fun with whatever this tension is that bubbles between you. And when he does smile at your commitment to fairness, it takes your breath away.

“Good to know the FA can rely on you staying neutral then.” He says quietly. Anticipation crackles in the air and fizzes in your stomach. You match his playfulness in your response, and step into his personal space,

“I don’t think there’s anything here that could sway me to any team in particular.” You smile, “not yet, anyway.” He waits until you’ve definitely left the room before he lets go of the breath he’s been holding. 

~~~~~

You’re dragged out by your friends to celebrate that night, even though your legs ache like you’ve done a 10km run. It wasn’t so much the running, you specifically trained for that, it’s the constant change in direction and the intensity of having your attention focused on so many things at once. If the FA thought they could throw you under a bus by giving you such a high profile game, you’re pleased you proved them wrong. The bar is crowded and noisy and you’ve already spotted a couple of the Richmond players - it was bound to happen in a relatively small town if they couldn’t be bothered to go right into the city. You’re at the bar ordering when you feel a hand on your hip and someone standing very closely behind you, a hand raises above you holding a credit card, and gestures to the barman. You’re about to lose your shit when you hear his voice rumble behind you,

“I’ve got these, mate.” He steps to your side when the person next to you moves, but his hand lingers, “I hope buying you a drink doesn’t make you question your bias?”

“Not at all, I’m afraid you’d have to work much harder than that.” He looks even better than he did a few hours ago, desire coils inside you and you instinctively draw your thighs together. It doesn’t help when he noticeably looks at your mouth, red lipstick is your ‘go to’ for a night out.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Your drink is put on the bar next to you and you lick your lips before taking a sip. Neither of you has broken eye contact. You hear your name from a few feet away at the edge of the dance floor.

“Excuse me,” you raise your glass to him, “thank you for the drink.” 

“Bruv, is that the ref from today?” Isaac steps up beside him.

“Yeah, yeah that’s her.”

“She’s fit. You gonna ask her out?”

“Dunno Isaac, bit fucking old for that shit now.”

“Nah man, I just seen the way she looked at you-” he shakes Roy’s shoulder, “ooooh! Get it boy!” Roy rolls his eyes and smirks, watching you get dragged to the dance floor. He knows he must be old because he’s only been standing pitchside for the match and wouldn’t be caught dancing. You’ve run your legs off and then still managed to get them into that sequined mini skirt and up dancing. You can feel his eyes on you but you’d rather keep your back to him and try and carry on as casually as you can, if you turn around you know you won’t be able to stop staring. At least with your back to him, you can ignore him. Plus you know your arse looks great in this skirt, it was literally the sole reason for buying it in the first place. With all the running and training you do, you’re conscious of your strong thighs and hips but sometimes, just sometimes, they make you feel powerful. Eventually, you have to duck out of the dancing - mimicking a timeout to your friends. Roy is exactly where you left him at the bar and the alcohol makes you bold. You squeeze back in next to him and take a sip of his drink, yours is long finished. 

“Help yourself.” He smirks, his hand moving to your hip again, hidden by the darkness of the bar. You put a hand on his thigh and lean in slightly, taking some of the pressure off your feet. You’re close enough that he can see your breath hitch as his thumb finds a patch of exposed skin at the waistband of your skirt. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” You ask quickly, pushing your nerves down. He nods and finishes most of his drink, offering the last of it to you. Outside, word has gotten out that half a football team is at the bar and everyone is out for a glimpse of Jamie Tartt. You push past the photographers with Roy’s hand at the small of your back and into a nearby taxi.

~~~~~

“Please tell me there aren’t any fucking rules about this,” Roy mumbles somewhere in the valley between your breasts.

“I have no fucking clue, and I don’t really care right now.” You gasp, breathless as he leaves a mark on your soft skin.

“No? No danger of a red card?” You laugh and it’s musical and magical and neither of you have had this much fun in ages.

“No red cards for Roy Kent. Probably makes a fucking change.”

“Oi, cheeky. I never got that many.” He’s moved down again, unzipped your skirt and thrown it behind him somewhere.

“Fucking liar. They literally use you as an example of trouble players. Oh, fuck-” he bites your thigh.

“A good example or bad example?” His tongue sweeps over your clit and you nearly rocket off the bed until he hooks his arms over your thighs and pulls you back down to him.

“Oh god, bad example,” You feel him hum against you as he works you to your peak,

“Shame, I’m a changed man.” 

“Uhuh, ok,” you whisper, unable to think or speak any more coherently.

“How's your neutrality holding up?” Your hands tangle in his hair,

“Fuckkk, sooo good.”

“I’ll have to fucking try harder then,” he chuckles. You’re about to beg for mercy when he pushes two fingers into you and curls them to just the right angle that has you seeing stars. When he comes back up to kiss you, you rock your hips against his and he helps roll you both over, sitting up so he can still kiss you. His kisses are rough and needy, making you grind down against him. When you nip his neck, he pulls gently at your loose hair, whimpering and god, you’d do anything, anything to have him make that sound again. It only makes you rock harder against him, desperate to feel him inside you. When he finally pushes into you, your body clenches. You rise and fall onto him over and over, grateful for those powerful thighs he can’t keep his hands off. When he brings a hand between you both and circles your clit, you drop your head into the crook of his neck and bite down to stifle your moan. You feel his hips stutter under you as you both come, making you drop your own rhythm. You collapse in a tangle of limbs and sheets against him. 

“If you ask me again if you’ve swayed me yet, I’ll bite you.”

“You’ve already fucking done that,” he laughs. “Still need to try harder?” 

“Hmm, there’s no harm in trying again. You might win me over.”

“And over and over?” He kisses you again, so slowly it’s intoxicating. 

When you wake in the morning, it’s to the sound of his phone ringing. He tears himself away from where he’s curled behind you, the length of his legs against yours, his chest against your back and his arms around you.

“Yeah,” his voice is low and rough with sleep and it’s enough to have you roll over and press your body back into his. You can’t hear the other person, but he hangs up quickly and opens a link they’ve sent. It’s a picture on Twitter of the two of you leaving the bar together with his hand on your lower back with the headline “RED CARD FOR KENT?”

“Told you you were fucking trouble.” You laugh.

FIN

[onlymingyus]

blame it on me

pairing; yoon jeonghan x f reader

genre; smut, fluff, humor

warnings; brothers bestfriend!jeonghan, joshua's sister!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, banter, pet names, hair pulling, eating food, alcohol

w/c; 5.4k and some change

requested; no

a/n; i am honestly in love with the brother's best friend trope and it had been a while since i had written it myself.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Listen sis, I swear that I won’t miss a single month of rent and I’ll even follow your rules. No naked chicks in your apartment.” 

You were hearing Joshua’s words in your head as you stood in your kitchen at 6 o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday staring at a half naked man sitting at your kitchen table. Granted it wasn’t a naked girl, but a naked human nonetheless. 

Furrowing your brows you let out a whine that causes the man to look up from his cereal. His eyes brazenly move along your bare legs to the end of your nightshirt before he smirks against the spoon resting on his pretty lips. 

“Hi, Y/N. Long time, no see.” 

The naked man—well, half-naked man—knew your name. How did he know your name? Before you are able to question him, you feel Joshua push past you in a hurry, a scoff falling from his lips as he sees the man for himself. 

“For fuck’s sake, Jeonghan. Put on a shirt, this isn’t your house. Have some respect for my sister. Speaking of, uh I told Jeonghan he could stay with me…or well, us, until he got back on his feet. His lease fell through, but he’s going to get something in a couple weeks. He swears.” 

Blinking at the rush of information, you lift your hand to argue but Joshua just whines at you seeing the look in your eye. You knew he was already late to work. He was trying hard to get back on his own feet, hence the living situation you already found yourself in. 

“Jesus…fine. Just for a couple weeks, and he lives in your room. He uses your bathroom, he eats your food. Speaking of which, that is my cereal. Teach him what he can and can not eat, Joshua or else.” 

Grinning, Jeonghan lifts the spoon to his mouth savoring your cereal knowing this was going to be fun. He had always liked you. You were like some restricted treasure that he could only admire from afar before, and now? Now, you were a stunning grown woman standing in front of him in nothing but a sleep shirt. 

“I can be a good boy, Y/N. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll even buy you some cereal for my bad behavior.” 

Rolling your eyes, you watch the man smirk before he tips the bowl back drinking the milk. Joshua groans in disgust, a full body shiver taking over him as he turns to his friend throwing up his hands in question. Jeonghan can only raise his brow as if he had done nothing wrong, leaving his best friend wondering if this was the worst decision he had ever made. 

“It will only be a couple of weeks and then the moron will have his own space. I love you very much for tolerating me and him, sis. Thank you. Now, I have to go to work before I lose this job for being late, fucking again.” 

You and Jeonghan watch Joshua rush out the front door only for you to feel eyes on you once again. Taking a deep breath, determined not to let the boy that you had known for years have any sort of affect on you, you moved past the kitchen table towards the coffee maker going up on your toes to reach for your favorite mug. 

Jeonghan grins, his head tilting to watch how your shirt lifts to show the end of your short sleep shorts. So you weren’t just in a sleep shirt, that was somehow disappointing to him, but he was still pleased with his view. 

“So, Shua says you have some fancy job now?” 

Hearing the sound of the spoon hitting the bowl causes you to jump slightly as you drop back down your heels on the tile floor. Jeonghan had been so quiet for a few seconds that you hadn’t expected him to start up a conversation so quickly. Glancing over your shoulder, you find the man smiling at you, his brow raised. 

“I don’t know about fancy, and I haven’t talked to you in what, like…two years? A lot has changed in my life, Jeonghan.” 

Shifting his eyes over your body once again, Jeonghan mutters, “clearly” under his breath before sliding out of his chair to bring his bowl towards the sink only to slide behind you closer than necessary. You furrow your brows to the feeling of his warm body so close to yours and the smell of his cologne that overshadows the coffee in front of you. 

“I–look, Jeonghan. I’m going to give you the same rules that I have given Joshua, okay?” 

Turning to lean against the counter, Jeonghan raises his brow again in amusement waiting for you to continue. You only pause for a moment as your eyes move over his lean frame stopping at his defined abs before you look down and away to keep speaking. 

“Clean up your own shit, eat your food or in this case Joshua’s. Respect my space and don’t have naked girls walking around my house. Got it?” 

Lifting his bowl, Jeonghan shows you as he washes it and puts it into the drainer as if he just completed some impossible task. 

“Got it. I told you, I can be good.” 

Taking a deep breath you let it out slowly, tipping the coffee pot towards your mug to fill it up. This was going to be the longest “couple of weeks” of your life. 

“Jeonghan! Close my door!” 

Your hands over your breasts, you stare at Jeonghan in disbelief as he stands in your bedroom doorway with an amused look on his face. It was the third time he had opened your door “on accident” in a week. 

“I’m sorry! I swear to God, I thought I was going into Shua’s room!” 

“Close it!” 

Hearing him chuckle, you wait until Jeonghan has closed your door before you walk over to it, clicking the lock into place swearing that the next time you will remember to actually do that. You hadn’t had to worry about it with Joshua. He would have freaked out seeing you naked but for some reason his best friend seemed keen on it. 

Smirking to himself, Jeonghan pushes Joshua’s door open to find his best friend with his brow raised as he pushes his headphones off his head. 

“What the hell are you doing? There are four doors in this house. How can you possibly forget which one is mine?” 

Jeonghan shrugs flopping down on the bed behind Joshua causing the other man to grunt in frustration. 

“I just did. It’s fine, she’s fine. It’s not like I saw anything.” 

Making a face of disgust, Joshua pushes his elbow back against Jeonghan’s ribs causing him to groan out a laugh before he turns over to rest his head on his arm watching whatever video was playing on the man’s laptop without sound. 

“So…is she seeing anybody?” 

Joshua stares at the screen of his computer as if Jeonghan had just asked him a question about quantum physics. Clearly the man wasn’t speaking to him or he had fallen on his head on his way back to his room. 

“Are you drunk? Did you get into an accident today? There has to be something wrong with you, if you are asking me that question.” 

Jeonghan laughs at Joshua’s dramatics. It wasn’t like they were teenagers anymore. Hell, they were in their late 20’s. It was a perfectly reasonable question to ask. 

“I’m just curious! Is she? She never has anyone over. She is never really on her phone except with some girls from work.” 

Sliding his headphones off his head completely, Joshua presses pause on his laptop before narrowing his eyes at his best friend. He knew this routine. He had seen Jeonghan be interested in people before. 

“No, not that I’m aware of. But, I don’t ask about my sister’s dating life because I don’t care. It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours Jeonghan. How do you know it’s “girls from work” on her phone, anyway?” 

Shrugging, Jeonghan picks at a loose string on Joshua’s comforter avoiding his best friend’s eyes. 

“Cause I asked, and she told me.” 

Joshua scoffs and nods at Jeonghan’s words. That made perfect sense. That was a completely reasonable question to ask your best friend’s sister. 

“Whatever.” 

Jeonghan mocks Joshua as he pulls his headphones back up, placing them securely over his ears. He knew that Joshua was probably right. He probably should leave you alone, respect that unspoken bro code, but fuck if you didn’t make that difficult. 

“I didn’t know it was your favorite mug. I thought it was like a household mug.” 

You stare at Jeonghan as he holds your mug in his hand. The same mug that you have used every single day for years, and specifically the same mug he has seen you use since he showed up to stay with you and Joshua two weeks ago. Lifting your hand towards him, you whine dramatically because not only is he drinking from your property, he is once again half naked in your kitchen. For the past week it seemed like Yoon Jeonghan was doing his best to break you. 

“Why do you hate me? Seriously? What have I done to the universe to deserve you?” 

Jeonghan smiles into the mug taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes following you in your cute little pajamas as you walk past him into the kitchen. He couldn’t help himself when you got close enough. Reaching out, Jeonghan pokes at your side causing you to gasp and jump at the contact. 

“Oh, you! I’m gonna…” 

Sitting the mug down next to you on the counter, Jeonghan grins at you, stepping towards you to push your back against the cabinets. Your brows furrow as you feel your stomach tighten and your heart beating quicker at how close he is to you. 

“Gonna, what?” 

Jeonghan watches you swallow hard. Your fingers move to grab at the lip of the countertop for stability when the man leans in closer to you and you feel overwhelmed with the scent of his cologne. 

“Slap me? I might like it. Yell at me? Call me names? I could give you a few options.” 

Opening your mouth to speak, you find the words are harder to come by than you would like. Jeonghan looks like he is about to speak again when both of you hear Joshua’s voice causing the man in front of you to step away grabbing your mug once again. 

“So, I just found out I have to go out of town for the weekend. My boss wants me to represent my division at this meeting. It’s kind of a big deal.” 

Finally looking up once he is in the room, Joshua seems to feel the tension furrowing his brows. 

“You guys okay?” 

You weren’t sure if you could answer that question so instead you just nod as Jeonghan lifts the mug in his hand as if he is offering Joshua a toast. 

“Good luck man. Know you’ll kick some ass.” 

It was the first day that you and Jeonghan were alone in the house together. Joshua had left for his business trip early Friday morning promising to be home as soon as he could Monday night. You had tried to ease his concerns by telling him that you could handle Jeonghan’s bullshit just fine on your own, but could you? 

Now it was Friday night and you had hoped that Jeonghan would want to go out. Maybe you could avoid the feelings that had been growing between the two of you over the past couple of weeks. 

The house seemed quiet as you walked into the living room, your favorite mug securely in your hand. You had decided to use it to hold your wine despite having perfectly good wine glasses. Ever since Jeonghan had stolen it from you, it felt more important to use it at any given opportunity. 

With the man nowhere to be seen you let out a soft sigh deciding to flop down on your sofa and turn on the television. It had been days since you had let yourself relax in your own house. Every time you had tried either he or Joshua would find a way to include themselves. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy their company, but it was Jeonghan’s lingering glances, the way he was undressing you with his eyes. It was the way you were enjoying it that made it impossible to stay in the same room as him. You couldn’t let yourself fall for your brother’s best friend. There was an unspoken sibling rule. 

“Oh, there you are. What are we watching?” 

Jeonghan sighs lazily as he sits next to you, his body resting far too close to yours than necessary. Glancing over at the man, you furrow your brows and slide your legs closer to yourself under your body as if you are giving him more space on the three seater sofa. 

“I was going to watch some trash television, but I can do that in my room. Here…you can watch whatever you want, Jeonghan.” 

Offering him the remote, you watch Jeonghan’s face fall before he lets out a sigh taking it from you. 

“Y/N, did I offend you or something?” 

You purse your lips and shake your head starting to slide off the sofa when Jeonghan grabs your hand to stop you. 

“Jeonghan…no, you didn’t. I just–whatever it is…I can’t. It’s not that you aren’t great, I’m sure you are, but –” 

“I’m Shua’s best friend.” 

Jeonghan watches you nod causing him to sigh and furrow his brows. 

“But we are also both adults, Y/N. I mean…fuck, I have liked you since I was in high school, if I am going to be completely honest with you. I know I have been a bit of an ass while I’ve been staying here, but why does Shua get to say what we can and can’t do?” 

Leaning your head back as Jeonghan talks, you can’t help but to close your eyes and whine a bit at his words. It was unfair, this was all unfair. He couldn’t pull the high school crush on his best friend's sister card on you right now. 

“Y/N, seriously…look at me.” 

Finally looking back down at Jeonghan you sigh when he takes your mug out of your hand to sit it on the coffee table so he can hold both of your wrists. You can’t help the way your skin erupts with chill bumps to the feeling of his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on the inside of your arm near the heel of your hand as he waits for you to talk to him. 

“He will be upset with me if this happens between us.” 

The man in front of you smiles and you can’t help the way your stomach tightens to the sight of it. His handsome face was something that had always made you swoon since the two of you were teenagers. Jeonghan laughs before biting his lip and pulling you back towards the sofa to sit with him. 

“Then just blame it on me.” 

You scoff softly, feeling Jeonghan’s fingers brushing along your arm briefly as he leans towards you speaking. It isn’t until his lips finally touch yours that you speak once again. 

“Oh, I will.” 

Jeonghan grins before capturing your lips for the first time with a soft groan. He had been wanting to kiss you since the moment he saw you that morning in the kitchen. Sliding his fingers along your neck, Jeonghan brushes his thumb along your jaw as his other hand moves to pull you closer to him by your hip. 

A soft moan slips from your lips as you slide over his thighs and onto Jeonghan’s lap on the sofa. You feel his lips pull up into a smile against your own, causing you to pull back to look at him as his hand slides under your shirt over your back. 

“Sounds so pretty, baby. Why are you looking at me like that? Hmm? You like how I feel between your thighs?” 

Shaking your head, you can’t help but to whine out your answer feeling Jeonghan’s fingernails scratch along your skin. 

“You are insufferable.” 

Laughing, Jeonghan rolls his hips upwards to press his growing erection against your soft shorts. He was loving your reaction to him. Every little whine and whimper. Every time your body jerked to his touch. 

“You like it, I think."

Shaking your head, you lean your head down to rest your forehead against Jeonghan’s. Your own hips roll down to meet him as a shaky breath slips from between your lips when you try to speak once again. 

“I–maybe. God, just touch me already, Jeonghan.” 

Still smiling, Jeonghan raises a brow to your demand. His fingers slowly explore your skin just below your shirt. 

“I am, Y/N. Why don’t you be a good girl and tell me exactly what you want, huh? I think you’ve been wanting this for just as long as I have.” 

Cursing him under your breath, you can’t help but to whimper when you feel Jeonghan’s lips press to the column of your neck as his fingers press into the top of your shorts waiting for you to do as you were asked. 

“Fuck you…ah! Take my clothes off, Jeonghan. I’m so wet, don’t you want to feel that? I thought you had been thinking about this since high school? Wasn’t I some wet dream for you?” 

Jeonghan groans into a laugh at your words, his mouth pressed against your collarbone before he nibbles at the skin. Pulling back the man stares up at you, his hands sliding under your shirt to push it upwards exposing your skin to him little by little. 

“You have no fucking idea. Used to get in trouble all the time for staring at you. Wondered what it would be like to have your attention back then, but baby…I know what I’m doing now.” 

With your shirt discarded into the floor, you let out a soft moan feeling Jeonghan’s lips press to the center of your chest just above your breasts. Lifting your hands you run them through his soft hair arching your chest towards him feeling his fingers sliding up your spine towards the clasp of your bra. 

“You did have my attention. I…oh god…your mouth.” 

The moment your bra is on the floor with your shirt, Jeonghan’s mouth finds your breast. His teeth, tongue, and lips moving over your soft skin as if it will sustain him for months while he listens to your sweet moans between words. 

“Mm, tell me, Y/N. ‘Cause it didn’t feel like it. I was just your brother’s stupid friend. You were this Goddess, even back then. Untouchable…” 

Shaking your head, you whine out Jeonghan’s name causing the man to thrust his hips up towards yours. He finds himself wishing his sweatpants and your shorts were out of the way already. 

“No…fuck, Jeonghan. I wasn’t anything special. I’m still not.” 

Lifting you up, Jeonghan laughs quietly against your sternum before he shakes his head and moves to stand pulling you into his arms. 

“You got no idea how special you are. I’ll show you in time, but right now...I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve.” 

Smiling against Jeonghan’s lips, you wrap your arms around his neck feeling his fingers pushing at your shorts and panties before he lets gravity pull them to the ground. 

“Oh yeah?” 

Nodding, he smirks against your smile before nipping at your bottom lip walking you out of your clothes towards the hallway and your bedroom. 

“Yeah, fuck you so good you won’t think of anyone else. You gonna be a good girl and let me?” 

Walking backwards into your bedroom, you can’t help but you laugh at Jeonghan’s words even though they cause heat to rush to your cheeks. Pushing your thumbs into the top of his sweatpants, you push them down with his boxers only feeling a bit of resistance when his hard cock springs back towards his stomach. 

“Thought you were my good boy, Jeonghan? Now you want me to be your good girl?” 

Jeonghan grins at your words, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he takes a step forward pushing your knees against the side of your bed causing you to be pinned against it and him. A gasp forms on your lips when you feel his hard cock press against your lower stomach smearing it with pre-cum. 

“That what you wanna call me, your good boy? I can go by that? Or daddy, sir, master, baby…” 

“Shut the fuck up…” 

Jeonghan’s laugh stops short and turns into a groan when you wrap your hand around his length and twist it from his base to his tip, letting your thumb glide over his head to collect some of his pre-cum. You enjoyed rendering the man speechless, though you knew it was short lived as Jeonghan opened his eyes, his body shuddering at your touch. 

“Call me whatever you want, just as long as I am inside of you. Lay down for me, baby. Spread these pretty legs for me.” 

Pushing you back with his body, Jeonghan watches you fall back on your bed, your body bouncing once as he smirks down at you. His eyes wander over you, taking in every inch of you that is visible to him now until he stops between your legs with a groan. 

“So pretty, and all mine?” 

The man was possessive but you weren’t complaining. Instead, you were getting off on it. You could feel the way you were getting wetter with each word from his mouth. Sliding your hands along your bedding, you nod to Jeonghan’s question causing the man to smile at you. His hands work their way along your legs to help you spread them as his mouth waters for you. 

 “Can I taste you? You are so wet, Y/N. I might die if I don’t get my tongue on this pussy.” 

Your face felt like it was on fire at Jeonghan’s words, but you nod and whine out a yes, giving him permission to go down on you. You weren’t sure you had ever had a man talk to you like this before. You weren’t sure you could think of a time when someone had looked at you the way Jeonghan was, like you were everything he had ever wanted. 

Lifting your leg to his shoulder, Jeonghan shakes his head in disbelief at his luck before turning his head to kiss your calf. You watch as your body trembles to the feeling of his kisses working their way to the center of your legs as he moves from either thigh taking his time. It’s only when his mouth is level with your pussy that Jeonghan looks up at you again and smiles. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

Jeonghan laughs at your question, his warm breath causing you to arch off the bed slightly as you feel his left hand sliding under your hip so that his fingernails can scratch at your skin lightly. 

“Just admiring the view, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, my god..just do it or…ah!” 

Jeonghan causes you to gasp mid sentence as he uses his hand against your hip to pull your pussy against his mouth. You moan his name, feeling Jeonghan’s tongue circling your already pulsing clit as he groans to your taste. 

Digging his nails into your skin, Jeonghan can’t help but to smile against your pussy, feeling you roll your hips against his face. He loved that you were enjoying being with him this much already. He loved how your moans would go higher when he would press his lips together around your clit and suck at it like you deserved. 

Jeonghan was doing his best not to rut into your comforter to the feeling of your slick around his fingers, as he teased your tight entrance. You were clenching and dripping so much as you whined his name. Jeonghan wondered if you were getting close, but as he slipped a single finger into you, his tongue running flat along your soft folds he knew his answer. 

Your body arched almost violently, feeling Jeonghan’s index finger slide into you. The moment it curled back against your spot and the man’s lips sealed back over your clit you were a goner. Your fingers found Jeonghan’s hair drawing a long deep groan from him as he worked you through your orgasm. 

Taking a breath as he pulls back from between your legs, Jeonghan groans out your name looking up at you while you catch your breath. He had never wanted someone as much as he wanted you at that moment. The afternoon sun catching the sweat forming on your skin, your breasts rising and falling with each breath, the way you whimpered his name and reached for him. Everything about you was driving him crazy. 

Sliding from the bed, Jeonghan ran his hand through his hair glancing around the room before looking at you again. 

“Condom?” 

Shaking your head, you reach for him once again and the man furrows his brows letting you pull him back down to the bed on his side. Your lips meet his in a slow, languid kiss before you speak to him explaining yourself. 

“I’m on the pill, I’m okay. Long as I can trust you, can I?” 

Jeonghan groans to the idea against your lips, his fingers pressing against your side as he rolls over on his back pulling you over him. Nodding the man slides up the bed with you until his lean is against the headboard. You feel his knees slide up under you causing you to whine to the feeling of how his cock rests against your stomach. 

“You can trust me, baby. Here…” 

With one hand, Jeonghan guides you to your knees while the other strokes his length slowly. Your eyes move from his hand moving over his cock to his face making Jeonghan smile when he teases his head between your folds. 

“I’d tell you to sit down slowly for your sake, but that’d be a lie. Sit down slow for me, darling. You are so tight and wet…I might lose it too quickly if you aren’t careful. As much as I’d like to watch you fuck yourself on my dick…” 

Shaking your head, you lift your hand, putting it over Jeonghan’s mouth, feeling the man laugh before he kisses your fingers, getting the idea to shut up. Your hands moving to his shoulders, you let Jeonghan guide his cock into you as you lower yourself over him slowly like he had wanted. 

Letting out a soft moan of his name, you lean your head forward once you are sitting over Jeonghan’s cock completely, your knees resting on the bed. He wasn’t so big that the stretch was uncomfortable, instead he had a length that hit you perfectly. 

Swallowing hard, feeling you clenching around him, Jeonghan leans his head back. With a groan he rests his hand that had once been on his cock on the bed so that he could lift himself and you up slightly to thrust into you once feeling you push down to meet him just like he had wanted. 

“Fuck…just like that, Y/N. You’re perfect, baby.” 

Jeonghan’s words cause you to whine, your eyes finding his as he watches you roll your hips over his cock to meet each deep, deliberate thrust. You could already feel the coil inside of you once again winding tightly. Your velvet walls hugged Jeonghan’s cock so tightly that he was seeing stars with each movement. 

“Please…please…” 

Your words are whispered, but Jeonghan hears them and can’t stop the smirk that crosses his lips. His eyes watched your pretty thighs beginning to shake and even though he knew he was so close to following you it was more important to him now than ever that he pushed you over that edge before him. It was as if he had something to prove to himself at that moment, listening to you beg him for your release. 

“Yeah? Baby? You wanna cum for me? Hm? Be a good girl and cum on my cock.” 

You knew that you should be annoyed with Jeonghan’s words, but instead they just cause you to whine and nod. You did want to cum for him. You wanted to be good for him. God you hated how much you wanted it. Letting out a loud moan you fall forward against Jeonghan’s chest, feeling his hands slide along your back, his hips pistoning against yours as your orgasm washes over you once again. 

The feeling of your cum around his cock was like nothing Jeonghan had felt before. He had slept with other women before. He had made other women cum with his cock, but it had never felt like this. He had never wanted it this bad, so when your mouth rested against his shoulder and you cried out his name during your release, Jeonghan was a goner. 

Fingers dig into your skin, small half moon divots imprint themselves where Jeonghan’s nails find purchase at your hips as his mouth rests against the side of your head when he cums into you. Thick, warm cum paints your walls and mixes with your own release with each hard thrust as Jeonghan fucks you through his climax. 

Breathing hard, Jeonghan collapses against your mattress with you laying on top of him. His legs fall flat under you out of exhaustion, but his hands hold you close like a man afraid to lose something important. 

“Jeonghan…” 

Your voice is soft and almost angelic as it cuts through Jeonghan’s post climax haze. The man smiles, his fingers finally relax and brush over your hips as he lets you go, letting out a groan to the feeling of you rolling from him. It’s only when you start to sit up facing away from him, that panic ripples through Jeonghan. 

“Wait…where are you going? Did you not like it?” 

Feeling his fingers wrapping around your wrist, you can’t hide your smile as you glance over your shoulder at the handsome, sweaty man on your bed. Leaning back down you press your lips to him drawing a smile from him and causing him to furrow his brows in confusion before you finally speak. 

“I liked it, baby. I’m just going to start the shower and use the bathroom. I’m not leaving you. Remember, you said I could blame you. None of this is my fault.” 

Grinning against your lips at your words, Jeonghan finally lets you go watching you slide from the bed to move towards the bathroom. 

“You called me baby.” 

Waving your hand, you dismiss his words and Jeonghan laughs, turning back on his back to look up at your ceiling and the patterns from the sun going down. He knew that Joshua would be back in a couple days and that eventually he would have to explain this to him but he was determined to make the most of the time he had with you before that. 

“Explain this to me as if I were five. You two are what?” 

Joshua looks at you and Jeonghan from his chair to the sofa. Jeonghan’s arm on the back of the sofa, his fingers trailing along your shoulder. 

“Dating. Going out. Making sweet love on the regula–” 

“Jeonghan I will fucking kill you if you don’t stop talking.” 

Putting your head into your hands, you listen to your brother threaten his best friend. It isn’t until you hear your brother whine out your name that you look up, raising a brow when he seems like he’s looking for an explanation from you. 

“He said I could blame him, so it's Jeonghan’s fault.” 

Hearing a betrayed gasp, you meet the eyes of Jeonghan as you stand up with a laugh pulling his hand from your shirt. 

“Nuh uh, baby. You said and I quote, “then just blame it on me”.” 

Gesturing towards your brother, you blow a kiss at your new boyfriend as he playfully narrows his eyes at you. 

“It was rhetorical!” 

“What, you can’t take the heat but you wanna date my sister? Some boyfriend you have, Y/N!” 

Walking away you laugh listening to the sounds of Jeonghan and Joshua’s playful banter as the two dissolve into laughs. You knew they would be fine. 

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.