#this knocked me for six OH MY GOD!

[screampied]

‘ IT'S A MATCH: LAST FRIDAY NIGHT ! ,

profile. girl, matching with your best friend on tinder is pretty awkward. hooking up with him, even more awkward. wanna know what’s even worse though? saying that word—i love you.

wc 4.9k

warnings. fem! reader, modern au, humor, size kink, mutual pining, loser boy gojo, unprotected, cheesy pick up lines, praise, touch starved satoru, cunnìlingus, overstim, créampie, i felt silly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

an. old old draft ;') based on the song last friday night. damn!

“mannn i’m so cooked,” gojo murmurs to himself, pacing back and forth. he’s dragging his feet against the silkened strands of the carpet before a soft pout spreads across his lips. “she left me on delivered for seven minutes…… seven.”

to be fair, in actuality you did. only because you were occupied with doing your hair. gojo being gojo was freaking out, thinking you were probably uninterested. albeit, once you finally did reply, his heart nearly fell out of his chest.

‘how does 7 pm sound?’

‘soid@:$:@) good’

‘um what?’

gojo mentally smacks his forehead, stupidly mashing on his keyboard, barely even letting a second go by once you responded. he was way too eager, he intakes a sharp breath before smiling — replying with a cheesy thumbs up.

he had the dumbest grin plastered on his face. after his best friend, you, advising him to give dating apps a try, he actually does. gojo matched with a lot of women not even minutes after installing the app onto his phone. how coincidental that the main person who caught his attention was you, the both of you matched and he made sure to text you first.

who knew though. that you’d be matching with the one and only satoru gojo. definitely not you, and of course, not him.

despite what everyone said, gojo was a bit of a womanizer, sure. but he was also a huge hopeless romantic.

he started fooling around on dating sites . . not looking for love necessarily but mainly to pass time. you mentioned it to him and he decided to give it a try.

pretty soon, time flew by quick. with a quick snap, it was just about to hit six o’clock pm.

gojo threw on grey sweats and ruffled up his hair a bit. he couldn’t lie to himself, first date and he felt a bit nervous. who was he kidding though, you told him to come to your apartment.

probably wouldn’t end up being a date, but still.

he read through your bio about three times, and your personality stood out to him.

you and him surprisingly had the same interests in lots of things, you loved sweets, and loathed scary movies. “…she’s so perfect,” he’d utter to himself, just imagining the sound of your sweet voice.

gojo abruptly snaps out of his thoughts—he didn’t want be too late, so with a quickness, he starts to make his way to your house.

with hands buried in his pockets, he gives a few hard knocks on the front of your door. about approximately nine seconds later, you open the door and his maw instantly drops. “y-you?”

“hey, y—satoru?” you mimicked the same reactions

the silence was practically deadly.

the two of you stared at each other for what seemed like centuries before you furrow your eyebrows. “satoru,” you mumble, bringing a hand towards your face to rub your forehead. “…you matched with me on purpose, didn’t you?”

“wha— noooo!” he protests, a cute pout tugging against the corners of his lips. he obviously did. you eyed him from head to toe. whilst his hands were buried into his pockets, you could tell that you made him a bit nervous. a light tint of color started to flush against his cheeks before he pulls on his sweater. “heh, is it gettin' hot in here or is it just me.”

“oh my god,” you suddenly spoke. “no wonder you didn’t have a profile picture,” and then you give him an abrupt glare. “satoru. why’d you even use the kfc logo as a profile picture anyway? idiot.”

“oh— it’s a long story.”

you deadpan, mentally face palming yourself.

gojo takes a good look at you, and he’s got a sudden sheepish grin. “woah,” he utters, and his eyes linger for a long time. he’s never seen you dress in such a formal pretty way. he felt a sudden heat rush to both sides of his face before without thinking, he murmurs. “you look kinda hot.”

“kinda? now i’m offended.” you scoff, tugging on your fishnets.

“all you’re getting from me,” he fake pouts. he then comes closer, closer . . all until he’s just inches apart.

one look at your dress and he just wanted to rip it off. you and him were so attached to the hip, he’s never expected to see you in this kind of light. if you were being honest, his gaze that ran against your entire figure made you a bit nervous.

throughout your long term friendship with gojo, he was known to be flirty every now and then. you figured that was just his personality but perhaps he started to view you different. “so,” he shrugs, bending down to your level as a way of mockery, “is this the part where we hook up?”

“well technically, yeah—” and you look right into his eyes.

he was just undressing you with eyes practically, cerulean bright irises roaming down your body before he hums. “…..oh,” and he awkwardly scratches his head. “so do i make the first move or—”

“you’re such an idiot. just kiss me, ‘toru.”

he snickers, and after what seemed like forever, gojo leans in for a kiss.

he was so pretty, he didn’t even have to try. long fluttering lashes that matched his snowy white strands flap closed. gojo tasted sweet, the moment his lips went against yours, you sink into his embrace. he was surprisingly a good kisser, not that you ever kissed your best friend or anything—but for some reason, it felt so warm.

so natural…

your heart, it starts to pick up a bit and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders.

gojo let off a soft grunt, your sweet aromatic perfume wafts right into his flared up nostrils. you shiver a bit, feeling his hands slowly drag up your body. minty, a good way to describe the brief taste that loiters on his breath. he was always chewing peppermint—an unserious guy with a sweet tooth, although this time maybe his sweet tooth was for you instead of casual sweets.

the kiss was passionate, you almost forgot you were literally making out with your best friend.

you did dream a bit about this moment, him holding you all close with his lips mashed against yours. his hand continue to wander, such big hands compared to yours. you slide your tongue against his before parting your lips just a bit further.

“….mhm,” he’d huff out in a muffled groan, and he made sure to focus his hands near your hips. his fingers brush against the thin fabric of your dress before he gives it a hasty yank.

steamy breaths collide against each other whilst each second passes—eventually, gojo’s leading you toward your bedroom.

no bother in asking you where everything was since he technically knew the layout of your house like the back of his hand. “wanted to do this for so long,” he finally speaks in shortened breaths—he’s panting, and you let off a soft gasp once he lifts you up. instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist and he slyly smiles. “you should really clean this place,” he murmurs, walking casually with you in his arms. “oh right, you can’t because you’re always at my house.”

“the point of hooking up is to not talk, satoru.”

“well excuse me,” he dramatically rolls his eyes.

at first you were a bit shy coming to the bitter realization that you ended up matching with gojo by pure luck. by now, things weren’t even that awkward—or at least awkward yet…

you didn’t wanna jinx it though, he leads you towards your bed before you plop down on your hands. you sit down, staring up at him and he starts to pull up his grey sweatshirt. you watch intensely, his abs peeking as he yanked it off before you spot a glance of his dark blue boxers hiding above his sweatpants.

so attractive . . .

you’ve seen gojo shirtless countless times but never completely nude. just imagining him, his glistening body presenting itself right in front of you… phew.

you intake a breath, mentally preparing yourself.

“awh,” he sneers, and you’re so secluded into your erotic thoughts that you don’t even realize he’s practically half naked now. all that was left was his wan-colored sweatpants. he was a tease, your eyes fixate towards his ripped chest—his abs, they were sublimely sculpted and chiseled.

sharp.

you felt like if you ran a finger down his perfectly structured v-line, you’d get a paper cut. his six pack flexed and you had to squeeze your legs shut. it was no surprise gojo had a daily work out routine. he’d even try to drag you to come with him sometimes. majority of the time, that’d go to no avail though. “enjoying the show, yeahhh?”

“shut up.” you grouse with a swift eye roll.

a smug grin curls up against his pink lips before he grabs your hand. “wanna feel me?” and you’re confused by what he wants you to feel until he makes you slowly slide your hand down his clenched pecs. you peer up at him, his body feels so warm— it was brick hard, exactly how you thought. your fingers continued to run down his ripped modeled chest before feeling against a scar. “cute fingers,” he teases, making it trail lower and lower until you spot his happy trail that was just about poking above from the very hem of his boxers. “you should pull them off of me.”

“fine,” you mutter with a puffy blow, bringing both hands towards his lower half. gojo stares, watching you pull down his sweatpants— then his briefs. you made sure to take your time, tugging on the stretchy aqua-blue fabric before within seconds, his length springs out. “you weren’t lying.”

“hm?” he says, watching your eyes continue to wander — he was definitely big, your memory suddenly refreshes of the pictures you exchanged with him, and the carpets very much did match the drapes. his shaft was . . turgid, at least the tip was. it was a pretty flashing pink, smeared with a few droplets of his own pre-cum. gojo was well trimmed, but had a few left over white specks scattered all across his base. he even had a cute mole down near the very edge of his length. specks of white hairs near his happy trail decorated his body, it was attractive. he had a left curve too, it was quite noticeable—a strikingly long vein that pulses at the sight of you, running down the very middle part of his dick and you merely moan.

as you move yourself closer, he’s stood standing while you’re sat on the bed and your glossy lips give his swollen tip a few chaste kisses.

“damnnnn,” he pants, feeling his cock twitch from the way your lips made instant contact with his tip.

the more you stared at his length from your peripherals—the more you observed its color. it had a rich rosy tan. slightly—still the same pinkish color with a brief tapered ridge. he was hefty, there was no question. inch after inch, he stood tall right in front of you. gojo claws a hand into your hair softly before sucking in his breath. “baby wait, i wanna do everything. ‘m already hard.”

you hum, amused—giving his frenulum a subtle lick before backing away, jibing out a, “oh really?” and then once he makes you lie back against the bed, you sit up with a sly grin. “do you even know how to eat pussy? and i’m not just talking about from your 'experience' from reddit or twit—”

“girl shut up,” his tone pitches an octave and it’s quite funny.

always sassy—you watch as gojo strum his fingers against your dress, taking his precious time to lift it up before feeling against your thighs. so soft, he’s always wanted to feel you—especially right here, take in every part of your curves, your gorgeous physique. his lips form into a cute scowl as he pulls you closer towards him. “i know what i’m doing.”

“yeah you do.” you sing along, and he shoots you a pout. you loved the banter between the two of you, toying along with him—he always made it so easy. it doesn’t take long before he starts peeling off your fishnets with his teeth, it was so dirty. you felt yourself throb a bit, edges of his teeth softly pricking against your skin as he yanks the thin nylon material made fishnets that stuck against your thighs.

your back lies flat against the bed and you intake a single breath. gojo rubs a hand against your tummy, you quaver a bit simply from his touch. he’s keeping eye contact the entire time too, irises never looking away for a split second—he mimics the same motion, peeling your panties off with his pearly canines.

it’s lewd, he doesn’t even pull them off all the way. instead, he just leaves it on you but has it rolled down to your thighs. “lotta back talk for a girl this soaked, to be honest.”

“ . . . . ”

you don’t reply, and he chuckles to himself. he finds your lack of an answer quite cute.

gojo stares between your parted thighs and your lips were all stretched—glistening with a sheet coat of your sweet arousal.

“so pretty,” he coos in a low voice, and you watch as he leans in—pressing a soft kiss against your entrance. immediately, his lips gets all shimmery from your own wetness and it’s hot. gojo purposely runs his tongue against his lips because he knows you’re staring directly at him. “my best friend tastes soooo sweet.”

“quit talking, ‘toru.” you moan and you don’t realize how your voice is becoming more and more shaky by the second.

“fine. fiiiiine, can’t have shit,” he grumbles playfully.

you stare as he prods two lengthy fingers against your slit. with a gulp, you prepare yourself. he gradually starts to insert two fingers inside, curling them up whilst it adapts to your warm walls and his arm shakes. “oooooh,” he whispers in a mere raspy voice. sweetened squelchy squelches came from your cunt and it was so loud it rang throughout your ears like church bells on a wedding day. “she’s quite— the talker, huhh.” he continues, and that’s right when he places his lips against your folds.

you swallow, feeling your back immensely arch from his hot lips.

gojo’s tongue swipes against your pussy. the middle part of his tongue skims down and it feels so good, he’s slow at first. he knows the exact direction to go and your toes curl. a free hand of his slides near your pubic mound, applying just the right amount of pressure—he does this so you can quickly feel your sweet g-spot. you do, and a gasp leaves your lips, it’s mindblowing.

already, he made you feel your forbidden g-spot.

you didn’t even know gojo—your dumb best friend had this kind of experience. as his palm presses down against the particular spot, his other hand is still occupied. lengthy fingers curl all throughout your walls, reaching every spot by prodding with just the right amount of deepness.

“f-fuckkk,” you whine, and suddenly your nerves make you shift your attention back towards his slick tongue. as his tongue was lolled out, a pretty clean pinkish tongue. he slithers it by using the back of his tongue, merely copying a sort of vacuuming type technique. the sounds that ran out his mouth was so filthy, your thighs start to twitch profusely and your hands found its way into his hair.

“s—satoruuu.” you’d babble and its only been a few minutes. a few long minutes, your squirming was cute to him. you tried focusing on your breathing patterns but that was no use. your mind went blank, empty like a canvas.

“mhm,” he groans, feeling himself get hard simply from your pitchy moans that reverberate and bounce across the thin walls. his fingers still went in and out of your cunt at a decent thrusting pace. the way you easily swallowed his two digits was just perfect, it didn’t take long at all for him to find your clit. “there she isssss,” he hisses cheekily, changing up his tongue strokes just a bit. it felt so good, heavenly. the way he drags it against your pussy. your jaw hung open with only sweetened sobs and whimpers leaving right past your spit-glossed lips.

whilst he’s rummaging through your vulva, he occasionally breaks away to spit right onto your cunt. it was no surprised gojo satoru was a messy man. he couldn’t help it, he’s fantasized about this exact scenario maybe once or twice. as his saliva trickles between your slit, he grunts as he watches. just all sopping wet just for him. he blows against your entrance just to make you squirm even more.

with his fingers still buried into your cunt, he does the ‘come here’ motion—a simplistically erotic motion where he uses not one but both index and his middle finger to flick back and forth inside of you. right there, oh you could have came.

“o-oh my goddd,” you whimper, his warm breath colliding against your arousal. “i-i’m close, satoru. think ‘m getting close.”

“aw,” he purrs in a sweet tone, using the flat of his tongue to lap up against your clit even further. you’re so soaked—his chin starts to drip with your slick and it’s so attractive. he pulls himself back to grin at you, a dumb pussy-drunken smile and nothing but your slick arousal running down his chin, so sheeny. “suck a little harder, she says?”

you nod, although you were sure your inevitable orgasm was quickly approaching.

your favorite part was when he sucks deeply against your clit, practically tongue fucking you. he had quite a long tongue so it did wonders, it made sure to reach every particular crevice imaginable. “nah don’t run from me now, gorgeous,” he utters sweetly once you squirm a bit more—he grabs on your hips, removing his two fingers just to hold you steadily in place. “give it to me, baby. show me how much of a messy girl my best friend can really be, huh.”

his dirty talk was just the icing on the cake. gojo’s just coaxing you towards your incoming release, all the while—it felt so good. the way your legs quavered, a trembling mess.

gojo’s holding your jerking hips against his mouth so he doesn’t miss a single taste. your mouth forms into a surprised 'o' and it’s like he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment—to be fair, he could have just asked a long time ago.

he was shy though, he didn’t wanna ruin the friendship—yet now that he’s propped up between your legs, eating you out like a starved man, you don’t know how you could continue to be just friends. not in a negative way, but after this—every time you’d stare at gojo, you’d just see his face that was right between your legs that one friday night ago.

once your orgasm comes, you whimper out— a ripple surging out of you and you’re so squirmy.

it was so intense, you fell into a trance, feeling that familiar spark combust and you’re slump back. your maw still hangs open and you’re so cute—only inaudible whimpers, cacophonies of his name, the repetitive whiney, “s—satoru, ‘toru.”

his nose brushes against your entrance before he pulls away—he grows quiet for a brief moment before sitting up, you’re out of breath before he leans in for a kiss. you moan right into his mouth, running a finger down his cute undercut and that makes him whine into your mouth. his undercut, he’s always liked the feeling of you running a finger down there—it hypnotized him in a way, the entire scene was so salacious. tasting yourself on his damp tongue, your legs wrapped around his waist and his dick brushes against your parted legs.

“you’re not that bad of a kisser, you know.” gojo mutters as he finally breaks away—a stringy shiny trail of spit departs and he sits up. “why can’t we do this more often?”

“you never ask,” you breathe, still getting over your recent release—he talks so much, you almost forgot how much of a blabbermouth he was. literally seconds ago his face was buried between your thighs and now he’s rambling to you about a sale he spotted on one of his favorite candies. “. . yeah yeah, lie back now.”

he lies back against the bed and watches as you make your way towards him. he lands backwards with an ‘oof’ before raising his eyebrows in amusement. “oh? you’re gonna be on top? what if i wanted to have you bent over—”

“i’d rather die than let you see me arched over.”

“heh, woah now angel—that’s just mean. after i gave you that teeth shattering orgasm,” he says with a dramatic eye roll. you align yourself with gojo, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and for a concise moment he grows quiet. “hm. don’t really care though, you’re still hot. straddling me like this and—”

you lean forward, silencing him with a kiss because he just wouldn’t stop talking—it was cute in a way though, gojo would literally talk your ear off. he kisses back immediately, feeling you hover against his leaky tip before lowering yourself further and further down. “mhm,” you’d gasp at the current stretch. it was hard to ignore, he was big—no secret about that. due to how sopping you were, it made it easy to just sink right down. gojo’s jaw tightens as he brings a hand towards your waist, another near your ass. with a tight squeeze, he continues to fall into sinful bliss at your cunt holding him hostage. your walls hugged him tightly the more you sank down. his breath was heavy, he heaved and heaved before you’re finally all the way down.

parting away once more, he utters out a needy, “touch me.”

“ask nicely,” you whisper, starting to rock your hips swiftly in place—you were so hot, especially in his eyes. you’re so warm inside, feverish, tingly. gojo swallows thickly, a breath getting caught in his throat as his white lashes flicker towards your waist. you brush a thumb against your best friend’s lips before humming. “touch me pretty please, say that.”

“how about i tell you a joke—” he cuts off, yet moans once he feels you grind your hips in a specific rotation—so good. he’s at a loss of words before his eyebrows curl up and furrow, head throwing back in pleasure. “heh. uh, check, please! know what’s on the m-menu? me ‘n you.”

“…………………..”

“…..you’re right, i should just shut up,” he puffs out, his cheeks burning with such heat. he holds onto your hips before he swallows his pride, speaking in a cute pout whilst avoiding eye contact. “touch me pretty please.”

you smile, trading a finger down his chiseled chest—so muscular, he was perfectly sculpted.

his loved your touch, it makes him ten times harder. your fingers roam against his body and he merely folds into putty, his abs—they clench as you’re being stuffed by full of his thick inches. gojo made sure to go slow, he didn’t wanna hurt you—especially considering how big and how much of a damn packer he was. so big you almost drooled.

he was mesmerized by the way you moved, with a single pivot of your hips it didn’t take long for him to locate that spot. you moaned, feeling a surge of haziness overtake you before you lean in to kiss near the crook his neck.

“man,” he croaks, and each time he speaks—his voice gets more raspy and out of breath. “uh, keep ridin’ me like that ‘n i’m gonna die. your pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous—shit.”

again, he rambles while you’re riding him in the same constant rotation. he falls in love with the jerks, the way you grind and delve your hips even further into him.

it’s amusing to study his facial expressions though, the way his blue irises would roll back into the very depths of his cranium—his pink sheeny lips parting, even his irregular breathing patterns. he was so whiney, your cunt swallowed him whole and he starts to feel fuzzy. hot, you felt so hot inside. it merely gives him whiplash once he feels your hands trail up toward his chest. his chest, more so his pecs—abs, his nipples.

“s-sensitive there…” he pants, and with his same grip against your hips he drags you closer—back and forth, it was so slow. you’re grinding against his body and he thinks he’s feeling a certain type away. you know, that word. this entire view, seeing you top him like this—gojo was about to lose his mind, a fiery sensation pools low into his abdomen. you had him all hot and bothered, it didn’t take long before his thigh starts to bounce.

“are you?” you tease, leaning in to run your tongue against his perky nipples—oh, his reaction. it was priceless, he grips onto your hair this time, moving a few strands away from your face while you’re still riding him before he whimpers. with shaky lips, he begs for you to suck harder. you didn’t even know if he was into something like this, perhaps your best friend was a freak.

a freak in bed.

you wondered if he’d be like this if he got matched with some other random girl on tinder. being this whiney for them, but since you two were close maybe you had an exception.

“angelllll,” he drags out his words, and it’s cute. his tongue rolls a bit and beads of sweat start to race down the side of his forehead. “i’m gonna—”

suddenly, he grows quiet once his cock that was buried into your folds abruptly slips out.

he slowly looks up at you with a head tilt, and you’re staring right back up at him—he’s still panting with his hands attached to your hip. “oops,” he sheepishly laughs, trying to ignore how he was so close to shooting right inside of you. it squelched, you break away from his chest before kissing near his neck. he moans, aligning himself back against your entrance. “f-fuck that was kinda hot.”

“i can’t tell who sounds like the girl more,” you start to pant yourself, and you feel yourself coming close right with him—you briefly bite your lip before feeling such nerves sneak its way inside. his girth, it never failed to leave you speechless. with gojo, he was a bit thick but more so lanky—thin, yet he made sure to reach every crevice of your cunt. you felt him deep, the more his hold against your hips tighten—the more he’s pumping you full. you’re constantly leaning forward, cupping his face before sneaking a few kisses near the corners of his lips.

“shut up,” he rasps, and he’s close. you’re about to milk him dry—his breathing picks up and he presses his fingers right into your hips. strands of his hair runs through his face before he whines, head throwing back in pure bliss. “god, you do it so good—so good, ‘m gonna cum,” and then with pretty hooded eyes, he swallows before reaching between your legs. he runs a hand against your sopping wet cunt that was a sheer mess itself before sighing lowly, “where do you want it, angel? tell me if i should—”

“inside,” you whisper, and your voice was so close up to his ear that he could have just came from your voice and your voice alone. shivers ran through his body, your chest presses against his and he’s maneuvering quicker circles against your pussy. “f-fuck, ‘toru. ‘m gonna cum too.”

his ruffled hair was all in his face, it was cute. you’re being stuffed full—he’s so hefty you’re dizzy, approaching that release before seconds pass and you gush out. it comes out slow, a shockwave ripples out and you whimper—softly nibbling your teeth deep into the inside of his neck.

“oh f—fuckkk,” he babbles, and his voice ends up cracking, its adorable. both of his ears burn with radiating heat before he finishes, dumping a sloppy load of velvety ropes into your cunt. you literally did milk him, you bring your hips to a more slow stop—deeply grinding against him still and he slumps back. he pours so much into you he’s speechless himself, a hand hooked around your waist as you continue to swivel. “i just— i need you—shitttt.”

you stare at gojo and he’s all dumb, panting heavily. his chest heaves and tightens, loving the warmth of your plush thighs wrapping around him. “i.. i think i love you,” he abruptly says, and with his tone—it’s like in more of a question, he watches your shocked stare peer into him and he sighs. “i don’t wanna use dinder anymore, i— i just want you.”

“it’s called tinder, satoru,” you kiss near the side of his lip. “and i love you too, dummy.”

“really?” he looks at you, still smothered with a look of fatigue—he could go for more rounds but he needed a minute—plus he may or may not have a cramp in his leg. “soo when’s the wedding then?”

you deadpan and he sheepishly smiles at you, he’s still got a firm grip on your waist.

the feeling of gojo’s remains of cum just seeping down your thighs as you straddled him—still with his twitching shaft inside made you kiss your teeth a little. “i’m sure you’ll get cold feet, you’re scared of literally anything.”

“pft. girl, that’s not even remotely true. do you realize who you’re talking to?”

the arrogant gojo came back — you roll your eyes and he slyly grins, yet all the meanwhile he’s holding you close against your chest. you let him kiss you once more before you both pull away once his phone suddenly beeps.

a loud screeching notification . . you were assuming it was a text. he feels you shift a bit, turning to see what it was but pulls you closer towards him, deepening the kiss. you give up, locking your arms around him once more, preparing to start up your hips again.

oh, he tastes candied, sweet…

you moan straight into his mouth before the phone ends up beeping again and again.

consistently until it starts to get annoying, gojo grunts, departing from your honeyed lips. “who’s texting me, angel? thought i turned tinder notifications off.”

you grab his phone, it brights up from your fingertips hovering against the screen before you squint. “uh, it says . . . suguru geto?”

he repeats. “suguru ge—” and then he timorously runs a hand through his hair with a raised eyebrow. “oh. eh, what’d he say?”

you pause for a long moment before reading the message, by long—seven consecutive seconds to be exact, your lip twitching, slowly realizing as you skim through the text by this ‘suguru geto.’

“. . . he says that he had fun last night.”

“oh!”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Teach Me How To Play Coach Miller

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Austin Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,275 Summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball... maybe he can teach you a thing or two? Warnings: smut, porn with very little plot, age gap (reader's college aged, Joel's in his 30's), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, baseball terms, Joel's a filthy liar but it benefits all of us, mentions of voyeurism and masturbation, big balls Joel Miller in gray sweatpants, no use of y/n, not beta read.

Masterlist

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It’s another famous hot September afternoon in Texas. Too damn hot to do anything besides walk outside, roll your eyes at the sweltering temperature, turn around and walk back inside. The thick humidity and overbearing heat makes your skin slick and clothing stick in all the wrong places– or maybe the right places– it depends on who’s looking. 

A ring of the doorbell interrupts your lazy day movie marathon. The house is yours for the weekend, your roommates are all gone for a festival and your coursework is all done, so naturally you’re laid on the couch taking a reprieve from the overbearing temperature.

Another ring.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble. 

You open the door, your knees buckling at your bad luck.

GOD DAMNIT. OF COURSE IT’S JOEL MILLER. *THE* JOEL MILLER. The hot DILF you and your roomies all lust after. The broad, golden skinned GOD of a man that you all argue over who’s going to get to bed one day. 

“Joel? H-hey,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment over how you look. It’s 4 PM and you’re still wearing what you woke up in… an oversized Rangers shirt of your ex-boyfriend’s over a pair of lace boyshorts… it’s too freakin’ hot for actual clothes. 

“Afternoon–uh–so my cable box just stopped working and it’s the clenching game for the playoffs,” he nervously huffs, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “I know it’s crazy to ask, but can I watch the game on your TV?” He lifts a six pack of beer enticingly, “I brought this as payment.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen in surprise. Joel Miller… on your couch? Yes! Joel Miller on your couch! You open the door wider and step aside to let him in. “Of course, make yourself at home.” 

He walks into your house… this is a dream come true, he’s in GRAY SWEATPANTS and they hug his thick body perfectly. 

You take a precursory look around your living room, silently thanking yourself for picking up the house yesterday. Now the hunk of a neighbor you’ve touched yourself to while watching him mow his lawn is closer to you than he’s ever been.

You quickly stroll over to the coffee table, picking up the remote and handing it to him. 

“Thanks for this, appreciate it sweetheart,” Joel says, sitting on the couch, taking up a whole cushion with his broad body. 

Ohhhh, sweetheart. His eyes darken at the sight of your breath hitching, before his eyes gaze lowers to your bare legs. 

“Yeah, o-of course,” you nod, feeling very underdressed with your handsome neighbor taking a seat on the couch you were just laid out on a few minutes ago. “I’ll go get an opener.”

Joel turns the game on and settles his back against the couch cushions, “Thanks sweetheart.” 

__

The ceiling fan chains clang against one another, it only does this on high, it drives you crazy but the soft breeze it sends down is worth the annoyance. Your skin’s too overheated sitting only a couch cushion’s length away from Joel. Your foot nervously taps against the carpet while you try to focus on the book you’re reading. You’re overwhelmed by his presence, hearing his lips form around the beer bottle and taking a swig, the movement of his body against the couch cushions, the smell of wood and coffee he’s brought into the house. You sigh, turning your attention to the game, maybe today’s the day you’ll learn about America’s pastime. 

“Why is it called a shortstop? Do they have to be short?” You ask putting your book down. 

“No,” Joel chuckles, “s’just what the position is called.” 

“Ah, and every team has one?”

“Yes,” he shakes his head, “what exactly do you know about this game, sweetheart?”

“Um, I know I like their tight pants.” 

“Oh really?” Joel looks over at you, crooking his eyebrow up. 

“Yep, and the guy throwing the ball is really tall and cute.”

“That’s called a pitcher sweetheart,” he shakes his head at your ignorance.

“And he throws to the…” your finger taps your cheek while you mock contemplation, “catcher?” 

“That’s right,” he nods, his voice dropping an octave. “What else do you know?”

“I know there’s bases and home runs, adorable mascots and Cracker Jacks.”  

“What bases?”

“Hmm. First base, second base, third base, and home.”

“Good girl,” he grins, “you’re a smart girl.”

“I know I am,” you smugly smile at him. “First base is kissing. Second base is above the waist, third base is bel—“

Joel’s laugh cuts you off. “Is that right? Seems you know all about baseball, you’ve… ‘played baseball’ before?” 

“Mm,” you lean towards him, “I like playing baseball… I just haven’t in a few months… you know besides practicing with myself.”

He shakes his head, a devilish smirk lights his face as he angles his body towards you. “You practice a lot?”

“Yeah, especially when my hot neighbor is outside mowing his lawn and he gets all sweaty. My bedroom window looks right out on his lawn.” Joel’s eyes widen at the realization that you’re talking about him. “Sometimes he lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes his brow, I get to see a peek of his stomach, it’s super hot.”

“Funny,” he puts his beer bottle down and licks his lips. “I have a hot neighbor too. I’ve, uh, ‘practiced’ before while thinking about how good she looks running in her tight shorts and tiny tank top.” 

Your core begins to pulse at his words, desire lights inside your body. Joel Miller has noticed you *and* gets off to the thought of you?! And now, he’s on your couch, sending you a lascivious look. Let’s ball. 

“Can I play?” you ask, head tilted with a smirk before scooting closer to him.

“Yeah?” his eyebrows crook up. “You want to play with an old man like me?” 

You nod. “Put me in coach.”

“Batter up baby,” he growls, grabbing and lifting you to straddle his lap. You’re thankful for your measly lace panties, less layers between you and Joel’s dick. “You wanna show me first base?”

You gulp, pouty lips agape begging to be kissed by Joel Miller. “First base,” you nuzzle your nose against his, “is kissing.”

“Mm,” he nips at your bottom lip, “then kiss me, pretty girl.”

You pull away, angling your head to look at the TV. “But what about the game?”

“They’re losing by four,” he grabs your chin, turning your head back towards him. “Plus, I don’t think it’s possible to care about the game when a pretty girl like you is on my lap.”

Leaning forward, you plant a soft kiss and suck his plush bottom lip into your mouth. Your heart flutters inside your chest when his mouth opens inviting you to lick into it as he lifts the hem of your shirt. 

You swipe his hand away, “Not at second base yet.”

“Fuck,” he pants. “Been wanting to see you since you moved in last year.”

His confession rolls through your body, sending waves of want through your limbs. You want to rock your hips against him, you want to feel your bare skin against his, you want to feel him inside you, but you also love the game you’re playing and it’s not just every day your hot neighbor comes over to watch a ballgame and winds up with his tongue in your mouth.  

You deepen the kiss, moaning against his lips as your tongues collide and explore each other’s mouths. Raucous shouting of the announcers on the TV interrupts your makeout session.

“Mmph, will you look at that? Rangers just hit a grand slam ’n tied the game. You wanna celebrate now?” Joel grabs the hem of your shirt and angles his eyebrow up.

“Show me second base Joel.”

Your shirt is lifted and tossed aside, your nipples pebble under the cool fan air and Joel’s attention. He stares, eyes wide in astonishment as he takes your bare chest in. 

“Second base is above the waist stuff,” you direct. His large, calloused hands mold around the weight of your flesh. 

“Mm, knew you’d be soft,” he rasps in awe. His touch drives you crazy, just an hour ago, you were dozing off on the couch to Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion, now Joel Miller is holding your tits in his hands. He rubs the tips of his thumbs back and forth across your nipples. “Can I use my mouth on you baby?” he asks, his gaze moving from your chest to your eyes pleadingly. 

“God yes,” you pant, rising up to bring your chest to his mouth. He clasps his lips around your nipple, sucking and pulling, swirling his tongue around the peak before letting it go with a pop. Your back arches, your weight settling firmer against him when he nips his way across your chest, taking your other breast into his mouth and suckling. Your hands snake underneath his shirt and run across the plush of his stomach petting your hands across the smattering of hair across his belly. 

Joel buries his face between your breasts, breathing you in and groaning against your skin, his hands grab your hips and push your body firmer against his half hard cock still clad in his sweatpants.

He’s fully dressed, your teensy pair of lace panties do very little to stop your cunt from dripping onto the light gray fabric of his sweatpants. Your hips begin to grind against the shape of him, begging for contact. He ruts his hips up to tap against your core pulling a moan from you. 

He snickers teasingly, “We goin’ to third base already baby?”

You whimper a measly yes, rocking yourself harder against him. Fuck the pace of game, it’s going to be a quick one. You’re so needy for him, you can’t believe this is happening with Joel “hot dad” Miller. Your roommates are never going to believe you. 

You reach for the hem of his shirt, bunching it up before he chucks it off and throws it across the couch. You lean back, eyes widening at the sight of him. Good LORD, he’s perfect. His skin glows in the late afternoon light beaming in from the front window. His shoulders and arms are toned from all of the manual labor you always watch him accomplish. Your hands roam his soft muscles, exploring the plains of his body. He’s the whole fucking package. He looks at you with a smug smirk while you take him in. 

You want to taste him and see if he tastes like the sweat and sunlight. Your lips find his collarbone, licking and sucking, tasting the slight salt of the sweat the heat leaves on everybody’s skin on days like today. Delectable.

His throat groans against your tongue, he shivers underneath you, you’ve never wanted someone so badly before. 

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, “please.”

“Not yet, not yet baby, we’re still at third, you’re still learning all about baseball. I need to enjoy a game as sweet as you,” he implores, sliding a hand between your legs and petting your soaked panties. “This all for me?” 

“Yesss,” you hiss, licking your way up through his scratchy beard to his mouth. 

You gasp against his lips when he slides a thick finger inside. He chuckles a deep breath against your mouth, “So fucking wet aren’t you pretty girl?” 

Your only answer is a garbled moan and a clench around his second finger that stretches you. 

His fingers languidly fuck you while his thumb teases soft circles against your clit, you’re writhing from his touch, breathing mews into the air. He licks into your mouth swallowing every shattered breath that escapes from your throat. So many nights you’ve fallen asleep to the thought of this moment laying alone in your bed, gazing out the window at the Miller household. What would Joel Miller’s overworked hands and plush mouth feel like against your body? Well, now you know, and it feels even better than you could have ever imagined.  

He licks his way down to your neck, asking “Can I taste you?” against your skin. 

“Yes,” you cry out. 

Joel lifts you with a grunt and lays you down against the couch cushions. He stands over you, running a hand across your body, mapping his way from your breasts down your stomach to the trim of your panties.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muses, his eyes turning black as he pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to him. You spread your legs open encouraged by the possessiveness of his stare. He tosses your underwear behind him before settling on the couch between your legs with a deep growl. Your legs are lifted over his shoulders. “Fuck,” he sighs, planting a kiss against your thigh, “you’re so fucking hot. Let’s get to third base sweetheart.”

His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of you when he parts your folds with his tongue. Everything about Joel Miller is wide- his fingers, his shoulders, his chest. Right now, his wide tongue is driving you crazy as it swirls against your clit. He devours you, licking and laving all over your drooling pussy, drinking you down and savoring you like you’re his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the whole time, watching you fall apart against his mouth. Your fingers wrap around the dark waves of his hair pulling him in closer, hips undulating against his mouth getting yourself off on the feel of the bristle of his beard against your sensitive flesh. His tongue flattens and runs up and down the shape of you before he dips two fingers into your entrance and buries them knuckles deep. Your back curves at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your clit as your soaked walls clench around his thick fingers. 

“Mm, close,” you whimper while your feet thud repeatedly against his strong back. He nods against your core, dark brown eyes still focused on your face. Your heart races at the way he watches you under his thick eyebrows creased in concentration. Of course Joel Miller is good at eating pussy, he’s a hard worker. You wail his name out when you orgasm against his mouth, your body tightens as you flood his fingers and throb for him. He kisses your swollen clit gently, letting a deep moan and chuckle out while you spasm underneath him. 

Joel’s face glistens with you when he lifts his head up, “Welcome to third base.” 

“You haven’t gotten here yet,” you arch an eyebrow and lick your parted lips, still panting for air.

He kisses each thigh with a loud smack before getting up. 

He looms over your blissed out body on the couch and yanks down his pants and boxers, a gulp rolls down your throat at the sight of him. So fucking thick and engorged with a sweet drop of precum rolling down his shaft.

“Wow,” you gasp, rolling to your side to bring yourself eye level to his twitching cock. Your eyebrows rise in awe when he wraps his hand around himself and strokes.

“Yeah?” his voice smolders through you. 

“I’ve thought about what you looked like naked, and now that I see it… wow.” You can’t believe the confession just left your mouth.

“Funny,” he collects a drop of precum on his fingertip and rubs it against your bottom lip,” I thought the same thing.”

Your tongue darts out to taste him, salty, bitter, so fucking manly. You want to taste more of him. 

You bring your lips to the crown of his cock, kissing the tip and running your tongue along the length of his shaft. He gasps, leaning forward to rest his hands on the sofa back. 

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s good,” he drawls when you suck him into your mouth engulfing the thick length of him in the wet heat of your mouth. 

You cup the heft of his balls in your hand… thick cock, big balls, of course Joel Miller has big balls. 

“You’re good at this sweetheart, really fucking good,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as you hollow them and suck him to the back of your throat. 

Your eyes flutter up to watch Joel snarl down at you while his hips buck into your drooling mouth.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that sweetheart, or else we’re not going to get to homebase.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, begging to be filled like your mouth. It’s as if Joel can read your mind, his hand lands in between your thighs and begins petting your aching cunt. 

“Feels like she needs to have my cock in her, doesn’t she?” he says, tapping his fingers against your entrance. “Think maybe we should get to homebase?”

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and lifts you off the couch into his arms, he’s so fucking strong. 

He leaves a searing kiss on your lips before settling on the couch, still holding you close to him. 

“You ready for homebase?” he asks, gazing into your eyes. 

“Put me in coach, I’m ready to play,” you smile, giddy at the anticipation of getting fucked by Joel Miller.

“Go ahead sweetheart, fuck me,” his drawl drips in arousal as you slowly sink yourself down on him, gasping at the feel of his thick cock stretching you. 

Your hips rock back and forth to adjust to the size of him spreading you open. 

“Knew you’d feel so good sweetheart, knew it as soon as I saw you,” he says, peppering kisses across your face and neck. “So pretty, so soft, feels so fucking good.”

Joel Miller always seemed too intimidating, too closed off, too attractive to ever be interested in a neighbor much too young for him, and yet here he is ignoring the baseball game he wanted to watch, instead burying his cock into your pussy.

You ride him, your pace turning more frenzied and desperate the more he chants your name.

The ticks of the fan chains clanging against one another accompanies the sound of your pussy bouncing up and down on his dick. Hips meeting hips, skin hitting skin, breath gasping breath, chain knocking chain. Your fingers wrap around his curls pulling his head up to kiss you. Your breaths puff against his, you can’t hide the blissed out smile that lights up your whole face as he pounds into you.

Your body begins to tingle and quiver when his cock hits the gushy spot that makes you see stars. 

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Joel grits against your neck biting and sucking, marking you with his mouth and owning you with his cock. 

You scream a choked sob when your orgasm lights through you, your walls clutch Joel’s cock as you come undone. He grips you harder, pushing you into his chest and holding you as close as he can with his tense muscles as he lifts you and pulls out painting your pussy lips with his cum. You collapse against him, gasping for air against his sweaty skin, darting your tongue out to lick some of the sweet salt so you can always remember the taste of playing ball with Joel Miller. 

“Can I tell you something?” Joel asks, his voice radiates through your ear resting against his chest. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” you sigh.

“My TV still works,” he sheepishly says. You sit up at the shock of his words. “I just really wanted to watch the game with a pretty girl.” He sends you a sultry, guilty smirk that you cover with your lips. 

___ Tagging people who showed interest in my WIP a couple weeks ago for this. Along with my camp coven friends who helped.

@luxurychristmaspudding, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @sawymredfox, @magpiepills, @yxtkiwiyxt

@beefrobeefcal, @ace-turned-confused, @yopossum, @mothandpidgeon, @bitchesuntitled

@maggiemayhemnj, @jennaispunk, @timelordfreya

[rafeandonlyrafe]

easter day

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dad!rafe, mom!reader, fluffy and cute, talk of pregnancy, p in v sex

“when are they getting here?” rafe questions, hands on your hips, leaning over your shoulder to look at the counter where you're finishing frosting the sugar cookies with various pastel colors.

“uhh…” you glance at the clock. “any minute now.” you set down the piping bag as you finish the last detail and turn to look at rafe, changing your voice to a whisper. “are all the eggs hidden?”

“yup.” he nods. “and i already told harper that the small blue ones are for her brother so to let him get the easy ones. the easter bunny told me specifically.”

“smart.” you chuckle, letting rafe pull you in and press your lips together.

“i do just have one complaint.” rafe says, hands moving from your hips to grip your bum. 

“and what would that be?” you look at your husband, one eyebrow raised.

“this dress.” rafe shakes his head. “you look too good in it, you're practically begging me to put a third kid in you.”

“not until elijah is two, remember?” you remind rafe.

“he's 18 months, that's practically two!” rafe lies through his teeth, his grin turning mischievous, knowing just how big of a difference six months can make in a baby's development.

“ill tell you what…” you run your hands up rafes chest. “why don't we sneak away when my parents get here? you know they act like we don't exist anyways.”

you can't blame them, harper just turned 5 and is a handful, which is only added to by elijah. while he's an angel, he's still a toddler and will get into anything and everything if you turn your back for even a minute.

“sounds perfect.” rafe gives you another kiss as harper runs into the kitchen, elijah still distracted in the corner in his bouncer.

“mommy!” she squeals, launching herself at you. you pick her up and easily turn her so she's on your hip. “mommy, mommy.” she continues. “the easter bunny came! i saw eggs in the backyard!”

“oh, yay!” you bounce her slightly as elijah giggles, reacting to harper's excitement. rafe heads to the bouncer and lifts him out.

“and look, mama made cookies.” you show her the frosted sugar cookie eggs and baby chicks. “and i left a couple unfrosted for you to do with grandma and grandpa!”

harper lets out another squeal and wiggles excitedly. “elijah, gammy and gamps are coming over!”

rafe chuckles at her mispronunciation. it started when she was first learning to talk and their names haven't changed since, even elijah calling them their nicknames.

there's a knock at the door and harper wiggles out of your arms to run towards the front, quickly followed by you and rafe, who unabashedly checks you out as harper opens the door to your parents.

“harper!” your mom steps in, wrapping her in a big hug, completing it with pressing kisses all over her face.

“and there's my little man.” your dad takes elijah from rafes arms, whose happy to give him up, itching to get that alone time with you.

you quickly usher your parents in, showing them the unfrosted cookies and other activities to keep your kids attention. 

“rafe and i are gonna go finish their easter baskets.” in truth you've had their baskets finished for a week now, but there's no reason for them to know that.

“okay, that's fine dear.” your mom says, barely glancing to you as harper grabs a butter knife covered in pink frosting.

you grab your husband's hand, and he practically sprints up the stairs, pulling you right along with him into your bedroom.

“god, you knew this would happen didn't you?” rafe questions, hands gripping at your dress, pulling it up as he backs you up towards your bed, keeping the door slightly cracked so you can hear if anyone comes up the stairs. “you know i can't resist this dress.”

you keep your sundresses at the front of your closet, wearing them whenever you find a reason to, purely because of how rafe reacts to them.

“stop talking and hurry up.” you chastise rafe, fingers swiftly undoing the buttons of his crisp shirt until your hands can delve in and feel his muscles.

“yes, ma’am.” rafe smirks, lowering you onto the bed as his lips find yours again, fingers coming to your underwear to feel the wet spot that has started to form. his fingers swipe over the material until you’re moaning quietly, eyes shut.

“god, need to get inside you.” rafe groans, standing to undo his shorts and grab a condom from the nightstand as you take your underwear off, tossing them in the general direction of your hamper. 

you use the moment of silence to listen, seeing if you can hear anything coming from downstairs, but all seems to be calm as rafe pulls your hips to the edge of the bed, lining up his cock with your entrance.

rafe sinks in slowly with a low groan as you gasp, gripping the bed sheets. its been far too long since you’ve been able to have a moment alone like this.

“so good, mama.” rafe wraps your legs around his hips as he begins to move, thrusting in and out of you, thumb already rubbing over your clit, knowing you both need to cum and get downstairs as soon as possible.

“yeah, feels good.” you whine, covering your mouth with your palm as you let out noises, rafe always able to get the sounds out of you even when you should be quiet.

rafe moves faster, cock pushing at your walls, stretching you open for his length.

“shit.” rafe groans. “we need to convince your parents or aunt wheezie to take them for a weekend.”

“mmm, that’s exactly what we need.” you nod. you know that you’d probably end up pregnant again if you had an uninterrupted weekend with rafe, you already feel the urge to reach down and pull the condom off of him, but the thought of dealing with elijah at his current age while pregnant has your mind clearing quickly.

“or we can start sending elijah to daycare once a week.” rafe says, glad that the conversation is helping quell his orgasm somewhat, not wanting to burst inside of you too early.

“fuck, whatever it takes to get more of this.” you push at rafes stomach. he takes a step back as you flip over on the bed, toes touching the floor as you turn onto your stomach.

“god, i wanna marry you all over again.” rafe pushes quickly back insides, thrusts now speeding up as his hands grip your ass, squeezing it and watching the way it jiggles with every thrust.

you push your hand below your body to touch your clit, rubbing it in pace with rafes cock pushing inside of you, pressing your face into the mattress to drown out your noises.

“gonna cum, baby.” rafe warns, cock swelling inside of you before hes releasing with one more deep thrust, triggering your own orgasm as your body shakes.

rafe pulls out, flipping your dress back down over your ass just in case someone sneaks upstairs as he discards of the condom and redresses before heading back to you, helping you turn over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“i love you.” rafe coos, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you lean against him.

“i love you too.” you take his hand in his. “and we should get back downstairs before they get suspicious.”

“absolutely.” rafe nods, following you out the bedroom and down the stairs, leaning in to whisper in your ear when he sees everyone is still occupied with frosting cookies, a smear of orange frosting across harpers nose. “and don’t think i forgot that you aren’t wearing panties anymore.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

[queers-gambit]

Two to Tango

prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.4k+

note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!

warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

part one: God's Plan

"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"

You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"

"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"

He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."

"What do you want?"

"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.

You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"

He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"

"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.

"Oh, someone's touchy."

"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"

He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."

You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."

"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.

"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."

"So, he needs his mother?"

Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."

"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."

You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"

"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."

"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.

"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "

"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"

Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."

"Sucks to suck."

"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"

"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."

"How is talking to the man you love - "

"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."

"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."

You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"

He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"

"To say... What?"

"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?"

"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."

"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."

Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"

"What?"

"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"

"It's not even seven in the morning!"

"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."

You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.

When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.

"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."

"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.

"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.

The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "

"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"

He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.

"Carmy, we need to talk."

"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.

"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "

"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."

"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."

"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"

"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "

"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "

"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."

"Nah, I'm okay - "

"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."

"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."

"I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."

"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.

"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.

"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."

"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."

"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."

"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."

He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."

"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

"Move in with me - officially."

Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "

"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"

He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."

You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."

"I'm fine - "

"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."

He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.

"Exactly why we're going back to yours."

Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"

You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"

You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."

He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.

"Okay?"

"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."

"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"

"I will be."

"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.

"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."

"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.

"Fair point - just one then - "

He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.

When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."

"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."

He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.

"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.

"We're talking it out."

He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."

"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"

He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"

"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."

Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.

When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.

"Why?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."

Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."

"It's okay, baby," you whispered.

"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"

"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"

He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.

You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.

"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."

You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.

"Why can't I get out?"

You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.

"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"

"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.

"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."

"Laid to rest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."

"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."

"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.

When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.

"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."

"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."

He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.

"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.

"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.

"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"

"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"

"I don't want you t'clean after me."

"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."

"Think you can handle that?"

He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."

You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."

"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.

True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.

You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.

Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.

You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.

They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.

You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.

Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.

And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[cutebat]

You know what, fuck it. I'm going to write my own neglectful yandere batfamily cause everyone else is doing it, but I'm going to do it in a different way.

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

Prologue (Diary Entry)

Warning(s): Mentions of yandere themes, neglect, emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse, forcing to drop out, attempted guilt tripping, reader is just venting out her feelings

(I made this in the reader's POV to make the whole 'diary entry' thing more sense.)

~~~~~

July 22, 2024

It's funny when someone tells their story.

Only to be told back that it's unrealistic.

Almost as if they're afraid to believe it's real...

Oh, God, that sounded dark.

~~~~~

For everyone who doesn't know,

Bruce is a billionaire who's also a shitty dad

Dick is a dick, like actually

Jason uses his trauma to let all his frustrations on me

Tim is a delusional bitch

Cass was okay until she knocked me to the ground

Damian is just a thing who you want to burn to ashes

Alfred... I guess is just Alfred

~~~~~

I was basically raised as what people would call a 'black sheep'. Kind of like... actually, I don't need to explain all that.

Basically, I was adopted by the infamous Bruce Wayne when I was ten for whatever reason. After the first day of living with him and the family and giving me the new role of Batgirl, everyone just pretended as if I didn't exist.

I tried to interact with every one of them and all I got were "sorry, can't talk right now" and "can you shut up".

Like, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO THEM?!

Is it because I'm prettier than all of them and had barely any trauma in my past? Seriously, why are people so jealous about these kinds of things?

Bruce really signed all that paperwork for nothing.

Of course, my little ten year old brain would think that if I tried to impress all of them with what I could do, maybe I could gain their attention.

So by the time I was twelve with my ten year old mindset goal in my head, I did nine different after school activities, won over fifteen awards for my achievements, and went out to patrol at least six nights a week.

And none of that worked! Those fuckers wouldn't even spare me a glance!

~~~~~

After a while, you don't see a point in trying your best.

I dropped out of most of the clubs I regret joining, I just laid back in my classes, and most of all...

I quit being Batgirl.

I didn't want to, but like I said, where's the point in that?

So with that, I just gave up on everything and just... stopped trying.

~~~~~

But then one year all of that almost changed?

For the first time ever, I found myself suddenly really pretty, and after a month I entered eighth grade, I was suddenly asked out by one guy, then two, and all the way up to ten!

It was like really cool!

The popular girls became my best friends, more guys would ask me out, and the teachers started pointing out that I was their favorite student, even the ones who weren't my teachers.

It felt like I was on top of everything. That I was special. The world is revolving around me.

Finally, I was in a place to build a great reputation.

And then life was like FUCK THAT!

~~~~~

After the first semester of eighth grade, Bruce was weirdly in my room and he said wanted to have a 'talk' with me.

So, during this talk, he was basically talking about the last three years of me being neglected by him and his family. To be honest, I forgot everything he told me, but honestly, I don't really care.

He also told the others about all this and now they suddenly feel bad which I don't give a shit about. But, I knew he was doing all this to guilt trip me, which was honestly so stupid.

Now, after he dropped that bomb, he told me that I had to drop out of school to do some "bonding time" with the others along with him and the people who actually cared about me didn't really matter at all!

I JUST GOT SETTLED IN!

All I said was "FUCK YOU" and just stormed out of my room with the only thing that I took was my diary that I had for quite a while that I never used before.

~~~~~

So, yeah. I'm currently in the attic, venting my feelings all out on this stupid glitter diary with a random pen that I found on the ground.

But whatever.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters...

My life is just a game.

A sick, hopeless game.

[starshideurfics]

Little Steve who gets lost on a shopping trip in Chicago once. He’s bored and wanders towards a window display while his mommy is at the perfume counter, everything is so neat and perfectly in place. By the time he turns around, he can’t see his mommy anywhere.

Steve takes a deep breath and starts walking, ready to go looking for her, only to realize just how big the department store is. He’s overwhelmed and ducks into the middle of a clothing rack, curling up into a little ball, his lip wobbling as he makes peace with the fact he will have to live at the department store. He knows there’s food there because they already had lunch, and they walked past a whole department full of candy. There are little beds in the home department that will be just the right size for him, even if Mommy always says he shouldn’t climb on them and not to embarrass her. There’s even a giant teddy bear in the toy department, so really, living here won’t be so bad!

“Steve! Stevie! Oh my god! Steven!”

Steve perks up. That’s his mommy. He crawls out from under the rack, through a curtain of suit coats.

“Mommy!” He runs to her and she crouches down to pull him into her arms.

She cries as she holds him and apologizes, words more for herself than for Steve. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I thought you were right next to me. Oh god! What if something had happened to you?”

He gets a new toy truck, a nice one with working doors, and Mommy holds his hand the rest of the trip. They get ice cream. It’s the best day ever, and Steve was only scared for a minute.

A month later, Steve is bored at home. Daddy is in his office and Mommy is on the phone.

Every time he tries to talk to Mommy she says, “Not now, Steve. Mommy’s busy.” Daddy’s office door is locked.

So, Steve decides to run away. If he’s missing, Mommy will want to find him and hold him close. He puts on his shoes, carefully tying the bows on his laces, and leaves.

The sliding door into the backyard is quiet as he closes it behind himself, and he sets off with a determined gait.

Steve makes it far enough into the woods that he can’t see his house anymore. Then far enough that he comes out on a field that he doesn’t recognize. Another little boy is in the field, very focused as he stares at a patch of clover. “What are you doing?” Steve asks as he approaches.

“Catching moths!” The boy points to an open mason jar with leaves and twigs inside, then to the clover, a handful of white and yellow moths among the plants. He smiles at Steve, a gap where one of his baby teeth has already fallen out, then turns back to the clover, taking slow steps and crouching, trapping a moth between his cupped hands. “Can you grab the jar?”

Steve does, holding it carefully as the older boy places the moth inside, holding a hand over the jar’s mouth. “Thanks! My name’s Eddie, what’s yours?”

“Steve.”

“Wanna help me catch some more?”

“Yeah!”

Together, the boys catch a few more moths (Eddie catches all of them, Steve keeps scaring them by moving too fast). Eddie puts them in the jar, closing the lid, holes already punched in the metal, and they watch the little insects walk along the twigs and languidly flap their wings. Then Eddie unscrews the lid, giggling as the moths fly away.

“Why’d you do that? We worked so hard!”

“Moths can’t live in jars. Mama always says I can look but I can’t keep ‘em,” Eddie answers with a smile. Then Steve’s stomach growls loudly, and Eddie looks up to see how low the sun already is in the sky. “I’m hungry too. It’s almost dinner time, so we should head home.”

“I don’t know how to get home,” Steve says softly, suddenly realizing he got pretty turned around in the woods and home could be anywhere.

Eddie takes Steve’s hand. “That’s okay, you can come with me!” Eddie knows exactly what to do, leading Steve with all the confidence of a six-year-old, ready to start 1st grade next month. They quickly arrive at the trailer park, Eddie knocking at a door before walking straight inside, tugging Steve after him. “Uncle Wayne!”

“Hey there, Bug, who’s your friend?” Eddie’s uncle is tall, with kind eyes. Even if Eddie hadn’t brought him there, Steve’s pretty sure he would like Uncle Wayne.

“This is Steve.”

“Steve’s folks know where he is?”

“He doesn’t know how to get home.”

“Ah, shhh—” Wayne winces, cuts himself short, and Steve’s pretty sure he was gonna say a bad word. “Steve, do ya know your phone number?” Wayne asks, crouching down to be eye-level with the boys.

“No…” That’s a lie. But he needs to make sure Mommy and Daddy are worried about him. If he gets sent home too soon, they’ll just be mad.

“Your address?”

“No.”

“How about your last name?”

Steve just shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. He had so much fun with Eddie, and now everything is falling apart. He should have stayed home…

Wayne ruffles his hair. “It’ll be okay, kiddo. We’ll get you home.” Steve’s stomach growls again. “How about we have a snack? Everything looks better on a full stomach.”

Eddie is still holding Steve’s hand, and brings him over to the little table, letting go so they can climb onto chairs. Wayne gives them chocolate-covered mini donuts and orange soda, asking them about their afternoon, Eddie doing most of the talking.

Then the phone rings, and Wayne answers. “No, he’s here, Bets, Eddie’s with me. — What?” He turns to look at the boys, staring at Steve, before continuing, “Nope, you saved me some trouble. You know Eddie, he picked up a stray. — Pretty sure it is. Yep, I’ll drop Eddie off after.” He hangs up, smiling again. “Hey, Steve, I think I know how to get you home now, so don’t you worry.”

Wayne loads the boys into his truck. He drives the backroads, quickly arriving outside Steve’s house, his mommy throwing open the door when she notices their arrival. “Thank you,” Steve says quickly, scrambling out of the truck and running to his mother.

She holds him close and cries, yells her thanks. Steve waves goodbye to Eddie as he is carried inside. Mommy kisses his hair and tells him he isn’t allowed to go outside without telling her, that he scared her half to death.

Steve just hides his face against her shoulder, snuggling close.

When Daddy gets home he yells, scolds Steve for causing so much trouble, for scaring Mommy and making them call the police. He gets a spanking before be sent to his room for the night.

Steve never runs away again.

[sebscore]

EXCUSE ME

pairings: lewis hamilton x driver!reader

warnings: LEWIS GOING TO FERRARI !!!!!! also there is swearing in this.

author's note: i have finally risen from the death. gzd is back, baby!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

The knocking on his apartment door confused Lewis, not expecting anyone that day. He walked over to the front, and looked through the peephole, frowning at the sight of his younger colleague.

He opened the door. ''Y/N? Hey, how are yo-''

The young woman didn't spare him a glance, walking right past him. ''You are going to fucking Ferrari?!'' She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Lewis stood there, momentarily stunned, as Y/N breezed past him into his home. He quickly closed the door, while shushing her. ''How do you know about that? How did you even get into the building? I didn't buzz you in.''

''Nico's daughter did, but that's not the point.'' She brushed his latter question off.

''Y/N, she's six.'' He stated, hoping his fellow driver was joking.

''Don't switch topics! You're going to Ferrari, it's actually true?'' She continued probing, absolutely in disbelief about the news she had received.

The man sighed, glancing around as if someone else was there that would be able to hear them. ''Yeah, in 2025.'' Lewis confirmed.

''Oh my fucking God…'' Y/N slowly sank down on his couch, in shock at the news of him leaving Mercedes the following season. ''Lewis, this is huge.''

He carefully nodded. ''How do you know this? I've barely told anyone, not even Toto knows.'' There had been a permanent frown on his face the moment she knocked on his door.

She smirked. ''Sorry, my sources stay with me.''

Lewis narrowed his eyes at her. ''I won't tell anyone. I'm excellent at keeping secrets.'' The Brit grinned.

''Yeah, clearly.'' Y/N teasingly scoffed, receiving a light push from the World Champion. ''But, dude, this is massive!''

The World Champion simply chuckled at her response, loving the dramatics.

''Lewis, this is like Zayn leaving One Direction! Like when this news drops, everyone will remember where they were on the day that Lewis 'The Great' Hamilton joined Ferrari!'' Lewis just watched on as he let the woman deliver her monologue, enjoying himself.

''Does Nico know?'' She asked him, the face of the German suddenly popping into her mind.

He shook his head, laughing in confusion. ''No, why would he?''

She shrugged her shoulders. ''To rub it in his face, I don't know.''

Lewis chuckled, feeling a tension that always resurfaced whenever his former best friend's name was brought up. ''You're a funny girl.''

She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms, still wearing that playful smirk. "Oh, come on! Picture this: you strolling into the Ferrari hospitality, shades on, and casually waving at Nico like, 'Hey mate, look where I landed.' That would be fucking epic.''

The Brit arched an eyebrow. ''I doubt he cares that much.''

Y/N's jaw dropped, exaggerating her response. ''Lewis, it's Britney we're talking about. The biggest yapper of all time. Of course he cares.''

Lewis burst into laughter at the ''yapping'' comment, unable to resist her infectious enthusiasm. ''Does Nico know you talk about him like this?''

She shot him a sly look. ''Maybe, maybe not. But I can just imagine all the articles already. Oh! Imagine he takes your Merc seat! Anything is possible at this point!''

He shook his head, but was still smiling. ''You're on the internet too much.''

''Okay, boomer, and you aren't on the internet enough.'' Y/N retorted.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. "Boomer? Seriously? I'm not that old.'' He gasped.

"Well, you're old in internet years, Lewis.'' She smiled, innocently.

''You're one insult away from being thrown out of my house.''

''Hey, Lewis.'' 

''Hey, Pierre. How are you doing?'' He greeted the younger man on the phone. 

Lewis could hear him scratch his voice. ''So, Ferrari, huh?'' Pierre smirked. 

''Not you too!'' The Brit exclaimed, sighing loudly, much to the Frenchman's amusement. ''Where did you get this from?'' He asked. 

Pierre snickered. ''I can't tell you that.'' 

''It was Y/N, wasn't it?'' 

''Yeah…'' 

[stevie-petey]

oh, you didn't know?

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.  “Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

Summary: steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 1.6k

Before you swing in: happy valentines day my loves <333 youre all my valentines, i didnt make the rules. anyways, pls enjoy this cute cheesy fic. dont ask how i thought of this: i simply do not know. however, its pathetic!loverboy!steve and i think we ALL deserve that today smh.

-

Steve has never had the best timing. 

When he first manned up to ask you out, it had coincidentally been the same day your childhood dog died. 

There he had been, flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face when he knocked on your front door, completely taken aback when you answered with tears streaming down your face. 

Immediately, Steve’s smile had dropped and he quickly pulled you close to inspect for any injuries or pain. “Y/N? What happened, is everything okay?”

“My dog died.” You wailed, even more tears spilling over. 

“Oh my god–”

“He… He didn’t suffer. He was old and–” You had sniffed, looking so small and frail in your heartbreak, before spotting the flowers in Steve’s hand. You gasped. “H–How did you know?”

Steve had been confused for a moment, but when he followed your gaze to the flowers that were originally meant to be “please be my girlfriend” flowers, his heart dropped. 

Well fuck. 

“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh. Had a hunch?”

You threw your arms around Steve, the flowers then crushed between you two, but he hadn't paid any attention to them as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. After a few seconds, you placed your lips by his ear and whispered, “You’re the sweetest.”

The sincerity in your voice had made Steve want to vomit. 

He hadn’t had a hunch that your childhood dog would die that day, but what else was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry your dog died, do you want to kiss now? Absolutely not. 

Steve is many things, and oftentimes he is an idiot, but he isn’t that much of an idiot.

So, instead of asking you to be his girlfriend, Steve had instead spent the next three hours at your house as he consoled you and watched your favorite movie to cheer you up. While it hadn’t been his ideal outcome, Steve had still been happy to simply spend time with you. Besides, you had needed him at that moment, so of course Steve was right there by your side. 

Life moved on, a few weeks passed, and eventually Steve decided to try again. 

You had no more animals to possibly lose, Christmas was approaching, and Steve was determined that this time he’d be able to ask you out. 

After buying you some chocolate and planning a fort building night on Christmas Eve, Steve had been sure that the night would go perfectly. There was a beautiful rose pendant bracelet sitting atop of his dresser in his room, wrapped and ready for you to open. 

Steve’s plan was foolproof. 

Build a fort, watch a cheesy Christmas movie, bake some cookies and drink hot chocolate, and then boom: Steve would ask you to be his girlfriend. 

However, Steve really should’ve known better. 

His parents had left that day and he had spent the entire time cleaning the house and preparing all the snacks before your arrival. At six on the dot, his doorbell rang and Steve eagerly ran over to answer the door. 

There, standing on his front doorstep, had been you with a smug looking Dustin Henderson.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Steve had asked, all his hope now coming crashing down upon him. 

You winced. “I know we made plans, I’m so sorry, but his mom asked me to babysit him and she offered me the rest of the money I need for your Christmas gift and–”

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank. 

“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

“Stevie, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” You groaned at him, and Steve knew you hated disappointing him. “Can we please just come inside? It’s cold and I was really excited for the fort.”

There are many times when Steve wonders just how he manages to get himself into obscure situations. That night, when he had Dustin Henderson wedged between you and him underneath a super romantic and cute fort that he had spent hours building, had been one of those times where Steve questioned his entire life. 

At that point, Steve was starting to wonder if he’d ever manage to ask you out in the first place. 

A few more weeks passed after that and you were still his best friend and nothing had changed between you two, but now Steve found himself constantly biting his tongue around you. He was so fucking in love with you, he had been for years, but after two failed attempts of confessing his feelings: it was becoming impossible to hold them in. 

Then, late January, your birthday came along. 

This time, Steve was sure that he had it all figured out.

You had wanted to grab some dinner at the local diner you loved, and Steve thought that a small, toned down proposal to date would be perfect. He’d give you your birthday gift (a matching set of earrings for the rose bracelet you now wore every day), he’d order you the strawberry shortcake you adored, and when you weren’t looking, Steve would ask the waitress to write “happy birthday, my love” on the cake. 

Steve was a goddamn romantic genius, honestly. 

Except that isn’t what happened. 

What actually ended up happening was the waitress somehow hearing “my love” as “Milo” and Steve had wanted to bash his fucking skull in. 

“Who’s ‘Milo’?” You had asked once the cake came out, confusion evident on your face. 

Steve, now used to nothing ever working out in his favor, had simply sighed and said, “Who knows, man. Just eat your cake.”

You had giggled, and the sound was enough to cheer Steve up a bit. Sure, it was looking more and more like the world didn’t want you with him, but at least he got to hear your laugh and admire the way your eyes shined whenever you looked at him. 

Now, a few weeks later, it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is terrified that he will somehow set your house on fire with his horrible luck. 

He has spent the last two months trying to ask you out. Now, on the day of love itself, Steve is almost too terrified to even approach you. At the rate he’s going, if he tries to ask you out again, he’ll end up telling you he hates you or something. 

He’s miserable. 

Which is how he finds himself once again outside your door, except there’s no flowers in his hands, and he knocks. 

You guys haven’t made any plans tonight, but it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is so in love with you that it hurts. 

The second his knuckles leave the door, you swing the door wide open and jump into his arms. “Stevie!”

Surprised by such an affectionate reaction, Steve almost falls into the bushes in front of your house. “Woah, hey!”

He steadies the two of you and you simply squeeze him tighter and giggle. You’re in an exceptionally good mood, almost too good of a mood, and Steve’s hands are sweating. He hadn’t exactly come here with a game plan in mind. 

“Happy to see me, I take it?” He mumbles into your ear. 

“Duh,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my boyfriend?”

This time, Steve actually does fall into the bush behind him. 

“Oh my god,” you run over and quickly try to help the boy up, but Steve is staring up at the night sky, overcome with pure shock and fear. “Stevie? Steve!”

Steve lays there, motionless as you continue to tug at his jacket. “How long have I been your boyfriend, Y/N?”

At his question, you stop tugging and look at him, confused. “I don’t know, honestly. How long has it been since the fourth of July?”

“The fourth?” Steve sputters. “Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just now finding out you’re my girlfriend?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

“No!” Steve finally scrambles out of the bushes and grabs your face with his hands. He feels insane, his hands are shaking a bit as he holds onto you. “When did this happen?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “On the fourth. We saw the fireworks, cuddled on the picnic blanket you stole from your mom, you grabbed my hand, and then told me you never wanted this to end. I just… I assumed you meant our relationship?”

Steve blinks. “You… You are the love of my life, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, I’d hope so–” Suddenly Steve’s lips are against yours and he’s kissing you with everything he has within him. All those months of pining after you, all the times he’s failed in asking you to be his, and this entire time you had somehow been his all along. 

God, he is so stupidly in love with you. 

He nips at your bottom lip and you make a sound that’s so soft and sweet in the back of your throat that has Steve’s head spinning. He nips again, revels in the breathy sigh you release against his lips, and Steve’s hand tugs harshly against your waist. 

The kiss is perfect and everything he’s ever dreamed of. 

Then, a thought occurs to Steve. 

“Wait a minute,” he breaks the kiss and your love drunk expression almost makes him groan. He tells himself to focus, even though it’s incredibly difficult to do so. “If we’ve been supposedly dating since July, didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t kissed you yet?”

“Oh, I just thought you were shy.” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Then, with a teasing smile, you add, “And I guess I love you too.”

Steve decides, then and there, that you will be the death of him.

And he couldn’t be any happier as he pulls you in again for another bruising kiss. 

Afterall, Steve has about seven months to make up for lost time. 

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[eddiesxangel]

Fool Me Once | Eddie Munson x Reader

Anonymous Asked: Eddie being your first everything and first boyfriend and reader is like kinda awkward or something. Then Eddie gets really drunk and gets home to reader and starts yelling at her saying like “You’re only dating me because you don’t want to be a sad loser virgin.” and she gets really sad because she genuinely loves him so much and she starts thinking that he doesn’t love her at all… Then maybe the day after he can’t find reader anywhere and maybe she’s like with robin just crying her eyes out.

AN: IDK IDK it’s my first angsty thing I’ve done hope it’s ok 🫣

Cw: angst, hurt no comfort. Small bitty smut. Use of pet names, one use of reference to reader as “my girl”

“I love you, god, I love you” Eddie slowly pumped his swollen cock in and out of you.

You’ve never felt this wave of pleasure before; no wonder everyone was so hyped about sex.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”

“Baby, please.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but the feeling in your lower stomach was starting to build more and more and more until! Euphoria. Euphoria fuelled your body. The wave of pleasure that Eddie just granted you felt indebted to him.

“I love you,” you sigh as your body melts into your boyfriend.

You’ve been with him for almost six months and finally felt ready to give himself to him. You hadn’t slept with anyone until now, and you were so happy you waited. You never felt so close, so in love, so unbelievably happy in this moment. Life was amazing; nothing could ever break this feeling you have.

Ring ring ring

You were abruptly awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. You were fast asleep, and now feeling disoriented, you looked at the clock. It was already 3:38am. You wondered who could be calling you at this late hour. Maybe it was an emergency? Your heart racing, you rushed over to the phone in a state of panic.

"Hello?"

"You little slut"

"Eddie?"

"Who else would it be? Are you expecting a booty call? another guy you want to fuck?"

"I don't understand? What's wrong."

“What's wrong? I'll tell ya what's wrong! You’re only with me, so you’re not some loser virgin, that’s what! Do you think all the guys will want you to know that your cherry is popped? Well, guess what, honey? Now you're just a sad little whore.” He slurred.

“Wha-“

“You think you’re hot shit now? Getting with the freak of Hawkins? Gonna brag about how you fucked the freak?”

“Eddie, what are you talking about?” your voice wobbled.

He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but as they all say, drunk words are a sober man’s thoughts.

“I know how this is going to go… well, not if I beat you to it.”

“I don't understand?”

“I don't understand?” He mocked you in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll tell you what I’m talking about!” He yelled, and you cowered. He didn’t care. His voice got louder and louder. “You were a sad loooooser virgin before me! And now you’re just a sad loser who fucked the freak,” he laughed. He actually laughed.

"Eddie-"

“So we are don-”

You hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence.

You couldn't believe this was happening? You gave Eddie everything. You thought he was your everything up until this point. You slept with Eddie for the first time a week ago. Things were good, great, even. Until he went to the hideout tonight without you.

You stayed up the rest of the night because you were in tears about what Eddie said. None of this makes any sense? You always loved Eddie, and you thought he loved you back? How could he be so cruel?

You were woken up from your daze by a knock on your apartment door. You stumbled out of your room, still in your sleep shirt, with puffy eyes from crying all night. Robin was here to pick you up for work.

"Good Mor-" Her smile dropped along with the cup of coffee she was handing you as she saw your appearance. "Oh my god! What happened?" she rushed inside to wrap her arms around you.

"Eddie. He-" You could hardly get the words out. You just crumpled into a ball on the floor and sobbed pathetically in front of Robin.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch" She let you cry into her on the floor. "Come on, you need to get out of here. Get changed. We are calling in sick, and we can return to my place."

Eddie woke up the morning after with a terrible hangover. It was already 12:35pm, and he couldn't remember how he got home. He suddenly felt an intense wave of nausea, which prompted him to hurry to the bathroom, where he vomited uncontrollably.

After the fifth shot, things in his memory become a little hazy. He was pretty hammered by then, but he still kept drinking with the boys. He vaguely remembered Jason being at the bar and making some leud comment about you, but other than that. Nothing.

He stumbled over to his answering machine to find it empty. That's weird? You always call him before your shift, and at least try to catch him on your lunch break. Today was Wednesday, right? You always work the morning shifts today.

Eddie tried calling your number, but he had no luck, so he tried calling your work, and when they said you called in sick, he got worried. So he tried your number again, and it still went to voice mail. Maybe you were sleeping? He tried calling back to see if Robin might know more. But when your annoyed coworker picked up the phone to tell him Robin also called in sick, he knew something was up.

Eddie rushed to his phone book to find Robin's number and called it. he waited for four rings until...

"Hello?"

"Hey! Rob it's Eddie, have you-"

"We are not speaking to you."

"We? Who's we?"

But it was too late. All he heard was the sound of the dial tone.

He tried again, no answer this time. He tried once more before getting pissed and decided to just go over to her place because what the fuck?

When Eddie got to Robin's, he pounded on the door like the pounding going on in his head.

"Robin! Open the door, please."

The door finally swung open to a very angry-looking Robin standing before him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Munson?!" She stepped outside and closed the door behind her so he couldn't come in.

"Robin, I'm extremely hungover and do not have the patience for your riddles. Do you know where my girl is or not? I'm worried sick."

"Oh, you can relax now since she is not your girl anymore, buddy." she poked his chest roughly. "you made that abundantly clear last night.

"Last night? I don't remember a thing from last night!"

"Well, think harder because she has been in there sobbing her eyes out from your little phone call."

"Phone call? What pho-" Then it all came rushing back to Eddie. It hit him like a Mack Truck.

"Yo Munson, where is that little whore of yours? Is she usually dangling off your arm like your little pet?" Jason snorted. "I bet she's off sucking another guy's cock; realized what a loser you are."

Jason didn't say much more to antagonize Eddie and get in his head, especially with the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

How could he be so stupid?

"Robin, oh my god, I fucked up. I fucked up big. Let me apologize."

"No. not now." She's a mess, as you can imagine-"

Robin was interrupted by the creek of the front door opening.

There you stood, looking as small as ever. Your eyes are still puffy, and your hair is a mess in your pyjamas at 1:30 in the afternoon.

"Baby, I-"

"Don't!" you cut him off, and Robin leaves to give you two spaces. "Don't you dare come here and think you can just take back what you said to me!" You had done a lot of crying; your anger was showing through.

"You don't understand, Jason was-"

"Jason?! What the fuck does Jason have to do with this? You hurt me, Eddie! I gave you everything! And then you throw it back in my face, accusing me of sleeping around? Are you insane? I've been in love with you for the last year and give myself to you, and you just throw that all away because of Jason Fucking Carver?"

"Baby, please, I'm so sorry; I'll do anything!"

"You've done enough." You turn and slam the door. That's it. You were done. Your heart felt so heavy… like it was just smashed into a million pieces. You were so close to caving when you saw the look of sorrow in those puppy dog eyes. But he had hurt you so bad you couldn’t believe he felt an ounce of pain he had inflicted upon you.

You and Eddie were officially done.

You have been radio silent. You were held up in your room, and you refused to do anything other than go to work.

Eddie called you excessively. It was every day, multiple times a day. His messages made your heartache as you played them back. You could hear in his voice how broken he was. He had fucked up so bad you didn’t know if you should give him another chance. For two weeks, you refused to answer your phone. You were so sick of it ringing you eventually took it off the line.

Eddie did everything he could think of to try and win you back. He sent you flowers to your work every single shift. He called, wrote love letters, and just needed you to speak to him. He was a desperate mess without you. Eddie’s heart, like not, was ripped into shreds, and it was all his fault.

You’ve been in his life since high school since he met you in hellfire freshman year. Then, once you finally confessed your feelings for one another, he couldn’t believe his luck. You said you wanted to be with him, that you wanted him to be the only one you give yourself to. He never thought that he would be so lucky... And here he was, shooting himself in the foot. He even tried to go to your apartment a few times. But you would never answer the door. He would leave a note each time he showed up unannounced. It would say how sorry he was and how much he loved you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

The slurred words repeatedly played in your head, and you couldn’t make it stop. No matter how much he apologized, nothing he could say could make you forget. Your chest felt like it had a fifty-pound weight sitting right on your heart. Your eyes were permanently swollen from the continuous crying you couldn’t seem to stop. He had stolen your heart and then stomped on it until it seized to beat.

The first month after the breakup was rough, but avoiding Eddie seemed to be easy enough. He eventually got the message by month two and stopped trying altogether.

As time went on, you slowly started to heal. Eventually, your constant thoughts about Eddie subsided. Eventually, they stopped. You never thought you would get over the hurt, but the distance helped. You were getting on your merry way by month three. Finally, feeling like yourself again, eating regularly, sleeping regularly. You hadn’t heard or seen him, and you were finally freed from the prison sentence that was Eddie Munson.

Time spent with your friends and family was exactly what you needed. Even though Robin saw Eddie regularly, she never forgave him for what he did to you. Their friendship was strained, which strained his friendship with Steve as well as Nancy. They wanted to take his side, but once they heard what he had said to you, they couldn’t simply look the other way. So you would hang out with them when Eddie wasn’t there and vice versa. They made sure you never had to encounter one another for the time being. However, it was getting more and more difficult to have two separate schedules to appease you both.

You were to go to Steve’s for dinner with everyone, pizza and movie night. When you arrived, everyone was tense. Lines got crossed, miscommunication ensued, and as you walked through to the kitchen, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in his hand, almost slipping from his grip as his Bambi eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Oh shit!” You hear Steve curse when he realizes the mistake that has been made.

“I’m going to go.” You turn and sprint to the door.

“Not wait!l You can hear Eddie shuffle off the chair behind you, but you refuse to look back.

“Please! Wait!”

Threatening tears sting your eyes, and you rush out the front door.

“Sweetheart, wait.” You feel his hand hook your elbow as your body is jerked in the opposite direction in which you’re running.

“What!” You yell, but then you see his eyes. You really look at him for the first time in three months. He had bags under his eyes, and the dark circles extenuated the deep chocolate of his eyes.

“I-I uh,” he lets out a deep breath, “I wanted to say I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I was so god damn stupid, so so stupid, the dumbest guy on the planet. I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly; I love you. I love you so much. I can’t do this anymore without you, baby. Please.” He was on his knees, begging, literally on his knees, grovelling.

“Eddie, get up.”

“No, I don’t deserve it.” He was so pathetic, but he didn’t care. “I love you, please, just please. I need you in my life.”

“I don’t know Eddie…”

“So that’s not a no?!” He popped up like an excited little bunny, the silver oh hope he needed to get by.

“Eddie…” you sigh.

“No, no, you said maybe! You don’t know. You haven’t decided. Please, baby, I love you.”

“This is too hard.” Your lip wobbles as you try walking away again, but he interlocks your hand with his.

“Please, can I at least just hold you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You let your hand slip from his grip, and he unwillingly let go.

Eddie felt you slipping through his fingers, literally. The hope he had moments ago was gone.

“I’m sorry”

“So am I…” without another look back, you walked away.

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.6k words

fic masterlist previous part pt six next part

mentions of injury; miguel be fantasising bout you guys; miguel makes you say spanish sentences that you don’t know the meaning of (i don’t think this is a warning but oh well); please also forgive if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes (I’m tired af) — after the incident you wake up at HQ, with a note saying your hired status. with confusion you go to speak to miguel. along the way there and back you get your friends acting suspicious. miguel finally begins to accept that he wants to keep you close.

Your eyes slowly blink open, bright light invading your vision. At first you just lie there, no thoughts really occupying your brain.

As you go to sit up, having realised that you're lying on a bed, a hand suddenly rests on your shoulder. You turn to see Hobie. "Careful there, mate, wouldn't want ya knocking out again."

"What..." You drift off, brows furrowing as you rub your temples. "Knocked out...oh." Thoughts, or more so memories, begin to flood your brain. The different universe. Miles. The masked men. The running...and then...Miguel. You remember seeing Miguel, he had helped you, asking you to stay quiet.

You remember the instant feeling of relief when he had spoken, and then the droopy feeling of your exhausted body.

You go to swing your legs off the bed, as you gaze around the medical room. But Hobie keeps his hand on your shoulder. "You've gone through some stuff over the past couple days, take it easy."

"I'm alright...thank you." You nod, giving him a small smile. "Am I back at HQ?" Then you further mutter. "I thought he'd send me home."

"Yeah, me too...but maybe your act of defiance changed his mind." Hobie chuckles.

You go to shake my head. "I didn't mean t-"

"Mean to go, yeah don't worry we knew not long after you disappeared." Hobie interrupts.

You nod, but then your brows begin to furrow. "Wait, how did you know?"

"Miguel actually found out. He got pissed you left a day early. Thanks for that, by the way." Hobie nudges your shoulder gently.

You softly chuckle, though your thoughtful expression stays. "How'd he found out? I could've just gone home. I planned to just go home."

"I think he went to your universe." Hobie says, a sly grin forming.

You stare at him. "Why? To tell me I should have worked that day?"

Hobie shrugs. "Maybe."

You shift your body, so that you're somewhat facing him more. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Hm?" Hobie hums, acting innocent.

"Hobie don't have that expression if you're gonna stay silent." You wave your finger in front of his face.

Hobie stands, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what you're talking about, y/n."

"Hobie."

But he's already walking out he door. "Oh." He pokes his head back in. "There's some lunch on that table there. Be grateful I didn't eat it."

;;

You stare at the note in your hand. It read 'You're not fired as of Tuesday'.

"Peter, hey. Have you seen Miguel?" You ask as Peter nears you, your hand now scrunching around the note. Another god forsaken note.

"Y/n, hey. Glad to see you look less pale." Peter smiles, but you're persistent.

"Apparently I'm not fired?"

"You got your job back, nice." Peter at first doesn't notice your blatant narrowed gaze. But when he does, his smile turns to a frown of confusion. "You don't seem happy about that."

"I'm confused. He isn’t one to mess with people…right?"

Peter tilts his head to the side. "Eh, part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he did." He mutters.

"I mean, not even a day ago he was wanting me gone. Not that much has happened to change his mind." You say.

"Actually a lot has happened."

"Yeah, but that stuff shouldn't change his decision about me working here."

Peter shrugs. "Maybe it did."

"Your elaboration there is great, Peter, thanks." Your sarcasm is clear.

Peter smiles, fixing the spider beanie on Mayday's head, as she babbles on about something. "Go talk to him. Most of the time I can't read him, so I wouldn't have a clue."

"That's why I'm trying to find him." You say, to which Peter answers with "I think I saw him heading to the top floor."

And so you make your way to the stairs to heaven (hell). You had just walked down them in an effort to find Miguel, now you were walking up them...in an effort to find Miguel. This fact only seemed make you even more annoyed with him.

Great, you got your job back, but at this point you needed to know why. You needed to know what made him change his mind that quickly. Nothing else ever has. Miguel has always been one to make final decisions, with not much there to sway him.

You think back to Miguel’s reasoning for his initial firing, as you walk up the steps. It was because of the attack. So why would he re-hire you because of another one? Or more so because of the same masked men who had attacked. Were they even the reason?

Does Miguel think you know something, and is wanting you back to tell him? No—you think to yourself. He wouldn’t re-hire you for that simple reason.

When you reach the top, your gaze gets caught up in a decision of what direction to take. None of his offices were up here. The only place you can think that Miguel would go is his room.

But you pause in front of his door. Did you really want to go in there? He’s clearly not working if is in there. God, but you had too many unanswered questions, so you knock.

It’s silent for a moment, besides your breathing and the distant chatter of spider-people. You go to knock again, but the door creaks open. It’s darker inside, the dim lighting reminding you of one of his past requests. You can remember the feel of his broad shoulders when giving him that massage. The small groans he would let slip.

You had pushed aside that memory, not liking the way it made your entire body buzz. “Miguel?”

Then he opens the door wider, staring down at you. His position was surprisingly relaxed, one arm leant against the doorframe, as he wore those monotoned clothes that brought out his red eyes.

Speaking of those red eyes, you caught them scanning your body, a little too slowly and for a little too long. You gulp, not meaning to come across so nervous.

You hold up the severely scrunched up note. Miguel shifts his gaze to it. “I see you decided to take your annoyance out on that this time.” He comments.

You narrow your eyes. “Why am I not fired?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see that note.” He says, relaxing more against the doorframe.

“No. I’m not happy to see any note.” You say, lowering your arm. “Why couldn’t you just tell me in person?”

“Because I wanted to avoid this.” He gestures to you in general.

“You can’t expect me not to be a little curious at the sudden change of heart.” You say, trying not to let your gaze drift down his body. When he had shifted his shirt rose a fraction, letting you see part of his hips and abs.

Of course he had abs. You weren’t blind to how built he was, but the small visual still seemed to make you blink too many times and your brain re-wire.

“You don’t need to be curious.” Miguel states, his tongue running along his fang as if he were bored, but the expression in his eyes begged to differ.

“But I am.” You say, tucking the note in your back pocket. “Look, it’s beneficial for you if I know the reason. Then I can work on what made you want to fire me and continue doing what made you re-hire me.”

“Don’t do what made me re-hire you.” Miguel quickly answers.

Your brows furrow. “You’re saying that like what I did was bad…Why would you hire me for something you don’t want me to do again?”

“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot more in my head for you.” You smile.

Miguel shakes his head, looking away with a clench to his jaw. The tiniest of smiles edged the corner of his mouth, but with his turned away head you weren’t able to catch it. And when he glanced back it was gone.

“Can’t I do something without being questioned?” Miguel asks. “I mean, you got your job back, you should be happy…and any other sparkly emotion.”

“You should use those ‘sparkly emotions’ more often, O’Hara. You know people who can lead with positivity usually get more people on their side.” You tilt your head with a raise to your brow.

“You do realise going off track isn’t gonna make me tell you anything.” Miguel says.

Your smile falls as you press your lips together with a sigh. Miguel darts his gaze up your form again, checking your injuries. Your ankle was only partially sprained so no cast was needed, but his gaze kept on getting caught up on the small cuts that littered your body. Some faint, some more prominent, like the one on your bottom lip.

Before he knows it he’s grabbing a belt loop of your pants, pulling you slightly closer as he tilts your head how he wants. Your eyes widen at the action as your heart begins to pick a quicker pace. Two of his fingers stay under your chin—keeping your head tilted up—while his thumb hovers over your cut lip, his gaze narrowed in inspection.

“You should make sure that that doesn’t get infected.” He says in a whisper.

You scoff, though it comes out softer than intended, you having to gulp immediately after. You had been right—having him this close was going to give you a heart attack. “That’s rich coming from you.” Your voice has turned to a mere whisper also.

“You keep seeming to forget that you’re only human.” He mutters. “Weak.”

“You forgot annoying.” You mutter back. Miguel meets your gaze and you freeze. He was close. Too close. Because your mind was beginning to fog over as you stared at Miguel’s intrigued eyes.

Then suddenly he says “We’ll continue our Spanish lessons in a few hours.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.” You say, to which his eyes narrow, his hold still keeping your head tilted up.

“Really?” He sounds disbelieving. “So, you manage to say one Spanish sentence, and that’s it? you’re done?” He tilts his head his eyes darting. “I thought you were more determined than that.”

You narrow your eyes in turn. “And I learnt that sentence from my phone. So, yes, I think I’m fine.”

A small sneering smirk began to curve his lips. “I thought I took your phone.”

Your mouth opens and closes. “I…got a new one.”

“Or…you stole it back.” He counters, raising a brow.

“It’s easier this way. I don’t have to bother you with lessons.”

“But I liked getting something in return.” He answers smoothly.

“You were asking for things anyone could do.” You say.

“But I’d have to pay for someone to give me a massage.” He mocks sadness. “When you were there being oh so nice and generous.”

“I wasn’t being generous. It was apart of the deal.”

“And it still is.”

“No. You firing me, got rid of the deal altogether.” You say, moving to step away, wanting to breath in air that wasn’t getting mixed in with his.

But he pulls you back, tightening his hold on your chin a fraction, one of his fingers dragging to rest on the in-between of your jaw and neck.

“But I re-hired you, which means the deal’s back on.”

“What if I say no to the job?” You suddenly ask.

“Chaparrita, you’re not gonna say no.”

And you hated the fact that he was right. No matter what people said you did like this job, being around all these spider variants. It settled for an interesting life.

Miguel’s finger—that rested by your jaw—started to subtly caress back and forth. It had soon grown into a habit of his, when he got the chance to touch you.

There was almost something soothing about it for him. Being able to feel your soft skin against his claws, that he would usually only use for violence. A contradiction that silently said to him ‘Not everything about you is violent. Not everything has to be’.

And those words only seemed to come up in your presence. At first he had been annoyed by them and that fact. He doesn’t have time or the energy for “feelings” and such. He had to stay focused.

But over—especially—the past few days his annoyance had fizzled away, slowly but surely. Shifting to a feeling that he much preferred, one that made his body buzz with heat. And of course—only in your presence.

So, yes, maybe he did re-hire you so that the masked men wouldn’t be able to find you in your home, but maybe it was also for selfish reasons. Not liking the idea of not seeing you, even if his scowl was still present.

He liked being around you, even just listening to you talk. It all still confused him, but he finally recognised his want for you to stay. To make him feel settled, calm even.

At the end of the day, both his ‘reasons’ for re-hiring you are selfish and he knows it. He wants you close and in his line of vision, and he was going to make sure things stayed that way.

“Alright.” You say, finally agreeing to continuing this deal with Miguel. “But please don’t make me run around endlessly.”

“Have I been?” He shakes his head for you. “No. I’ve only given you easy tasks.”

You don’t why he has but you are definitely grateful. “Don’t use your phone again.” He suddenly says.

“Many people use phones for different thin—“

Miguel cuts in, sparing you an annoyed look. “For Spanish lessons.”

You finally manage to step back, holding in your sigh of relief until you were alone. Miguel watched you intently, catching onto the way your hand began to fiddle nervously with the very same belt loop he had been holding onto.

“I’ll uh…see you in a few hours then.” You say, beginning to step backwards down the hallway. “In the tech room?”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s still being repaired. Just come back to my room.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, as you nod. “See you then.” Then you swiftly turn and head towards the stairs.

Miguel watches you go, his lips curving up into an easy smile.

;;

A few hours later—those hours having been filled with back and forth thoughts—you were walking past all the different spider variants, heading towards Miguel’s room.

You narrowed your feelings down to nervousness, having gone in a roundabout of thinking ‘it’s fine’ ‘I’ll be fine’ to ‘im starting to sweat’ ‘why the hell am I starting to sweat?!’

“Y/n!” A voice stopped you, and you turn to see Miles, Gwen and Hobie.

“Miles.” You smile. “So sorry for practically leaving you back there.” You did feel bad.

“Please don’t. I would have told you to run anyway. Those men were scary.” He made a face which made you chuckle. “They had like….real large claws.”

“Yeah…would much prefer never to see them again.” You half chuckle.

“How are you?” Gwen asks, taking her hood off.

You nod. “Good. Better. Yeah…a lot better.” You glance down at your ankle. “Wish I wasn’t so accident prone though.”

“Nah.” Hobie begins, swinging his arm around your shoulder. “You jus’ have a running theme of bein’ in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” You scoff.

“Where are you headed anyway?” Hobie asks you.

“Oh, just to Miguel’s—“ you pause. You were gonna say ‘Miguel’s bedroom’ but then realised how strange that would sound. “To speak to Miguel.”

“I thought you already did?” Gwen asks, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Yes…but…we have more to discuss.” You nod.

“Like what? Does he want to talk to you about his strange display of worry the other day?” Hobie asks with a sly smirk.

You glance at him, brows furrowing. “Coz that don’t really sound like him.” Hobie continues.

“You’re doing that face again.” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“Am I?” He again prays innocence.

“Yeah, you are. And it’s beyond annoying.”

“Jus’ like I thought he found you.” Hobie mutters almost smugly.

“What?”

In response Hobie just smiles at you, putting his hands in his pockets. You shift your gaze to Gwen, who is looking away.

“Why are you guys acting so suspicious?” You ask.

“We just find it…strange is all.” Gwen says.

“Find what strange?”

“Well…Miguel was the one to bring you in…which isn’t strange, but it was just the way he was acting.” Gwen begins, making your brows furrow further.

“I’m not following.” You say slowly.

“He didn’t really let any of the doctors touch you up.” Gwen continues.

“Then how….?” You’re confused. Because you had woken up with clean cuts and a fixed ankle.

“Ay, what are we all talking about, you guys?” Pav appears, swinging down from a different ceiling path.

“Jus’ about Miguel’s strange actions in medical.” Hobie says.

“Oh yeah!” Pav nods quickly. “He was acting really different. Wouldn’t let anyone near you, y/n.” He gestures to you, to which you raise your brows in disbelief. Then Pav chuckles. “It was almost like he was—“

But Gwen cuts him quickly. “He was just acting different. That’s all.” Gwen spares Pavitr a small glare.

“Okayyy.” You drag out, eyeing them all again. “Right now Miles is the only one seeming to be acting normal. Which I appreciate.” You had begun to back up down the path. Miles spares you a small smile in response.

As you begin to head to Miguel’s room, their words circled your head. What did they mean by ‘didn’t let the doctors touch you up’ or ‘didn’t let anyone near you’. They’re right—that is different from Miguel. So far different that you just can’t seem to believe it.

Maybe they were playing some prank. But even though you can see Hobie and Pav coming up with that joke, you can’t see Gwen getting in on it.

But those thoughts soon drift away as you near Miguel’s door again. You knock, feeling your palms increase in sweat.

Miguel opens the door. Upon seeing you he tilts his head, asking for you to come inside. You do, slipping past him and into the cozy, dim room.

“I hope you’ve come up with some helpful phrases.” You say turning to him. “Because I gave up my phone for this.”

Miguel pulls out a desk chair, taking a seat. You look around, seeing no other chair to occupy. “Use my bed.” He says, gesturing to his ruffled sheets.

You turn your gaze to it, holding down the small hitch of your breath. Why was it hitching? It was just a bed.

You walk over, carefully taking a seat at the edge, facing an already seated Miguel. “And yes, I am better than your phone.” He says, meeting your gaze.

“You sure?” You question. “My phone is pretty helpful.”

“And you’re saying I’m not?” Miguel asks with a small tilt his head. “That hurts.” His dry humour was something that had grown on you. Whether you liked it or not.

“Quiero ir a la feria.” It was a simple beginner question that you repeated effortlessly.

“Quiero ir a la feria.”

“It means ‘I want to go to the fair’.” Miguel explains.

After a few more simple sentences, a idea pops up in Miguel’s head. He probably shouldn’t execute it, but of course he still will.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” Miguel says, waiting for you to repeat it.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” You repeat, your flow having gotten a lot better.

Miguel’s breathing hitches upon hearing the words. You had assumed he got you to say something simple, along the lines of ‘I am a farmer who plants trees’. But he instead made you say ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.

And Miguel should probably stop and move on, but he doesn’t particularly want to. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me what the other sentence means?” You ask.

“Repeat it.” Miguel doesn’t budge.

You sigh. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?” (Don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets, Miguel?) You tilt your head, staring at him. All you know is that you asked him a question, but that’s about it.

Miguel breathes heavier, giving you a once over. “Tan bonita.” (So pretty.) He murmers.

“Do you want me to repeat that too?” You ask.

Miguel chuckles. “That’s fine.” Your words staying trapped in Miguel’s brain, seeming to repeat…over and over.

Miguel’s gaze kept flicking to your lips. Conflicting emotions resided behind this action. He could see your cut, which reminded him of the fact that you got dragged into a mess you didn’t particularly ask for, resulting in you getting injured and down right hunted.

The other emotion veered closer to his reasoning for getting you to say those sentences. He wanted to feel them. Lean closer…and see what they felt like. Maybe he wanted to soothe your cut with his tongue…

“Miguel? Are you gonna tell me what I just said?” You ask, leaning closer to get his attention.

Miguel meets your gaze. “I’ll let you try and figure it out.”

“That’s not very good teaching.” You mutter.

He just shrugs. “Then I guess you‘ll never know.”

“And don’t translate it on your phone.” Miguel says pointedly. “That would make you a bad student.”

You clench your jaw but nod. “Fine…” your gaze shifts to the window, seeing the dark sky.

You quickly stand. “I didn’t realise it was this late. I should go.” You begin to head to the door.

Miguel watches your every movement, until you glance back giving him a small nod. “Thanks for somewhat of a good lesson.”

Miguel just hums with a nod, as you turn shutting the door and leaving. Leaving Miguel to gaze back at his bed and where you were seated.

He had already begun to decide on what he wants in return.

ok, this post isn’t letting me add the colours and now I’m sad

this part was a little less action, coz i wanted focus more on miguel’s fEeLiNgS. coz boy does he have them

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[musaslullaby]

I would marry you

Charles Leclerc x reader x Arthur Leclerc (platonic)

Summary: Yn helps Arthur cook for a dinner with an unexpected guest.

Warning: Just fluff.

Masterlist

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I parked my car in Arthur's driveway, my childhood friend, with a smile on my face. It had almost become a routine for us to spend time together, especially when it involved cooking. Arthur, despite being a disaster in the kitchen, wanted to prove to his friends that he could cook something without burning it all, and I could never say no when he asked for my help.

"Arthur, it’s me!" I called out loudly as I rang the doorbell. I heard his footsteps approaching, and a moment later, the door opened, revealing his smiling face.

"Hey, star!" he greeted me affectionately, wrapping me in a warm hug. I felt the heat of his arms around me as I blushed slightly from embarrassment.

"Please, stop with that nickname," I replied, trying to maintain a firm tone, though I knew the blush on my cheeks gave away my discomfort. He’d been calling me that since I was six years old, a nickname I hated, but despite my protests, Arthur continued to use it.

He burst out laughing, his laughter infectious. "Come on, I know you still have that blue dress with the stars!" he joked, referring to that silly princess dress my dad got me for Christmas. I gave him a playful slap on the chest, trying to pout, but he just smiled at me, and the warmth of his affection reflected in his eyes.

Once inside, we headed straight to the kitchen. Arthur followed me like a puppy, eager to know what we were going to cook. "How about lasagna?" I suggested, starting to lay out the ingredients on the counter.

Arthur’s face lit up. "Can I help? I feel guilty letting you do all the work," he said, using those sweet eyes that I knew he reserved only to convince me. He put on an apron with a panda face drawn on it, and the sight made me burst out in loud laughter.

"Oh my God, where did that come from?" I asked, still laughing as I tried to catch my breath, clutching my stomach that was starting to hurt.

"A relic from my mom," he replied, pretending to pout. "Now stop laughing, seriously, it's not funny," he added, turning around with a mock-offended look. With a smile, without thinking twice, I hugged him from behind.

"Don't be like that," I whispered, trying to hold back tears from laughing. I felt his arms gently tighten around me.

"I’ll forgive you just this once," he said, his tone now lighter and sweeter.

Cooking with Arthur was always a mystical experience, a blend of chaos and affection. Even though he was clumsy, his presence made everything more fun. As we prepared the lasagna, every layer of pasta, sauce, and mozzarella was an opportunity for jokes and laughter. But his clumsiness led him to play a silly prank: he threw a bit of sauce on my nose.

I looked at him in disbelief, my eyes wide open, while he whistled, feigning innocence. "I hate you," I said, rolling my eyes, but the truth was that at that moment, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I wiped my nose on his apron, provoking a disgusted cry from him.

Our bond was so special, full of little complicities and jokes, an affection that went beyond mere friendship. There was an intimacy between us that few could understand, and it was something I cherished dearly in my heart.

Just as we finished preparing the lasagna, someone knocked on the door. Arthur offered to go open it, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the smell of freshly baked food. When he returned, his face was serene, as if nothing had happened.

"So? Who was it?" I asked, curious. But Arthur, with his usual nonchalance, only replied, "Charles."

That name sent a chill down my spine. A rush of adrenaline surged through my body, and my heart began to race. "Why the hell didn’t you tell me he was coming too?" I blurted out, maybe a bit too loudly. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

"Look, I forgot, okay?" he muttered, his tone guilty, but I didn’t have time to respond because just then the door to the house opened with a loud click.

"We’ll deal with this later," I hissed, giving him a look that left no doubt about my displeasure. I saw Arthur’s face pale slightly.

"Hey, guys," Charles greeted, walking in with the usual confidence that characterized him. He hugged Arthur with a smile, then turned to me, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He approached and hugged me, and my heart skipped a beat. That contact, so simple and innocent, ignited a fire of emotions within me that I desperately tried to control.

By now it was known to everyone, even the walls of that house, that I had a massive crush on Charles, my best friend's brother. But he had always been out of my reach, dating girls who seemed to shine much brighter than me.

We sat down at the table, and Arthur brought out the lasagna. The dish was perfect, golden and crispy on the surface, with a soft, gooey inside. The smell filled the room, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.

Charles took a bite and smiled. "Okay, I bet Yn made this," he said, looking at me with approval.

Arthur pulled me closer with a knowing look. "Yeah, you know she’s amazing with Italian dishes."

"How are you, Charles?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm as I cut a piece of lasagna, avoiding looking into his eyes for too long.

"The races are going as they go," Charles began, choosing his words carefully, "but I have to admit, ever since I broke up, I’ve been feeling a lot better."

Those words took me completely by surprise. "You broke up?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief, my fork stopping halfway.

"Oh, yeah, and for a while now. I thought they had told you," Charles replied, throwing an accusatory glance at Arthur, who nervously scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

"Why did you break up? You two seemed… madly in love," I asked, trying to shift the focus away from Arthur and his awkwardness.

"Well, you know, she was a bitch who only cared about money and fame," Charles explained with a bluntness that surprised me. "And then… I realized I want a lighter, more playful relationship. With her, everything was too heavy." He paused and added, "She would never have cooked for us. You know, I’d marry you just for that."

In that moment, my world stopped. His words seemed to echo in my head, as his eyes stayed fixed on mine, filled with an intensity I had never noticed

before. My heart was racing, and my breath suddenly became short. I tried to figure out if he was joking or if there was something deeper in those words, but his serious and slightly embarrassed look confused me.

"You’re joking, right?" Arthur intervened, trying to lighten the mood with a nervous smile.

"Of course," Charles replied, but there was a hesitation in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed. He kept looking at me, and even though he tried to keep the tone light, his cheeks turned a faint pink, as if he were torn between saying something important and wanting to keep our relationship as it was.

The silence that followed was dense with unspoken emotions. Arthur, perhaps realizing the tension, stood up abruptly, breaking the spell. "So, who wants some wine?" he asked, heading to the kitchen with a haste that betrayed his desire to divert attention from the conversation that had just taken place.

I remained still for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. The idea that Charles could even vaguely consider the idea of being with me filled me with a pure and innocent hope. But at the same time, I knew how complicated the situation was. He was my best friend’s brother, and our bond, as deep and sincere as it was, had never crossed that fine line that separated brotherly affection from something more.

As Arthur returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses, Charles and I exchanged one last look. He smiled at me, a small smile that seemed to say many things. And for a moment, I let that smile warm my heart, forgetting all the complications for an instant.

Arthur poured the wine, and we sat down again, trying to steer the conversation back to lighter tones. But the atmosphere had changed.

As we sipped the wine and enjoyed the last slice of lasagna, I couldn’t help but think about how strange fate was. Sometimes, it makes us go in circles, it makes us take winding paths, only to bring us back exactly where we were meant to be from the beginning. Maybe that lunch, with its simplicity and surprises, was one of those moments that mark a turning point, a new chapter that opens, even if we didn’t yet know where it would lead us.

And as the evening went on, and the laughter and jokes filled the room, I couldn’t help but glance at Charles from time to time, wondering if he felt that change too, if he was thinking about what could happen between us if only we had the courage to explore that possibility.

Maybe, I thought, while smiling at Arthur’s jokes, that some things just need a little more time to mature. And maybe, in the end, fate would find a way to connect those dots that seemed to have been left hanging for so long.

[waywardxrhea]

loml - a Spencer Reid one shot

pairing: Spencer Reid x former BAU!fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: ~15k (this one's a beast whoops)

You left behind the BAU years ago and have been working as the captain of the police force in small town Montana when a string of murder-suicides catch your attention and you start looking into them. The BAU is called in and you become overwhelmed by feelings surrounding your ex-boyfriend Spencer Reid as you attempt to investigate this case and clear the air between the two of you.

content: canon-level violence, blood, swearing, anxiety, idiots in love

now playing: loml by taylor swift

not my gif, dividers by @firefly-graphics, and once again shoutout to my bestie @westernbitch for helping to come up with case details for this one!

A sharp knock broke the silence of your office and you looked up to see one of your reporting officers at the door with a look on her face that told you something terrible happened. “What's going on, Kate?” you asked, placing the file you were holding down onto the desk to give her your full attention. 

She sat down in the chair across from you and taking a shaky breath, she whispered, “There’s been another murder-suicide… It was Natasha and Hayden…” 

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do for you or your family right now?” you asked, getting up and making your way around the desk to give the younger officer a hug. 

Kate’s sister and her boyfriend had taken off nearly two months ago for their freshman year at UCLA and weren’t due back until Thanksgiving. Maybe the pair didn’t agree on their majors like they originally decided or got spooked by the big life changes and decided that this was the best course of action. He did have a history of prior juvenile battery charges… Nonetheless it just wasn’t sitting right with you… Not after two other murder-suicides within the last four months. So after sending Kate home to be with her parents and remaining sibling, you went to investigate the crime scene. 

When you got back and had some time to do some thinking, you called one of your detectives into the office. “You wanted to see me?” came his voice as he stepped into the office a few minutes later. 

You stopped your fast-paced writing of theories to offer a polite smile as he sat down across from you after closing the office door. “I wanna see if you can connect the same dots that I am, Josh.”

“Okay, shoot,” he says, leaning forward with an eager smile. Josh had joined your squad a few months ago as a rookie detective and he was always ready to look into anything that came across your desk. 

“Six months ago the Fenways went away to mourn his cousin’s death in Florida. Then before anyone even knew they were back home, they both turn up dead in what was ruled a murder-suicide,” you started, tapping your pen along the paper sitting on the desk in front of you. “Then the Greenwoods turned up in the same situation a couple months later after going away on an Alaskan cruise.”

“Maybe that was the breaking point for both men. Everyone knew their marriages were on the rocks for months before that happened,” Josh said in a contemplative voice as he leaned back into his chair. “Losing a relative and driving all the way down to Florida and back could have caused some tension that made him snap. Same with being stuck on a boat for a few weeks. I heard they weren’t allowed to dock and were stranded on board for a week or so because of a conservationist protest. That would make anyone’s temper short.”

“That’s what I thought too,” you agreed. “However, Natasha Quinn and Hayden Welkins just turned up dead in another apparent murder-suicide.”

“No way!” Josh said, his eyes widening in shock at the news. He ran a hand over his chin and asked, “Is Kate okay?”

“She’s at home mourning with her family. She’ll be off for the next few days but I’m taking her off of this investigation,” you replied. 

“Investigation? Why is it a-?” he said, but then paused in the middle of his sentence. “Wait, you think there’s someone behind this, don’t you?”

“That I do,” you affirmed with a nod. “One was a tragedy, two could be a coincidence, but three? I think someone’s behind this. It could be someone manipulating them into killing.” You looked at the pictures of the dead bodies in the file you began creating and sighed. You scrunched your eyebrows together and shook your head as you said, “There’s so far been no signs of physical torture on the victims. They were all found days post-mortem in wooded areas off of trails though, so their bodies were worse for wear so we can’t exactly rule it out. Even then, psychological torture is a viable option.”

“So maybe the trips away weren’t even real… Maybe whoever is doing this created fake letters to send to all of the victims to make everyone in town aware that they would be gone so suspicion wasn’t raised…” Josh said as dots began to connect in his mind. “And as much as I hate to say this, Natasha and Hayden may have been a crime of opportunity. They could have been driving home exhausted when something happened and they were grabbed.”

A proud smile made its way onto your face at his theory and you nodded, telling him, “Exactly what I was thinking. Whoever this unsub is is getting sloppy and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

“W-wait, us? You want me on this?”

“As a rookie detective you just deduced what I did as a former FBI agent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You’ve got what it takes, Josh. So yes, I’m asking you to help me out with this case,” you said with an encouraging nod. “This is a small town and people talk, so let’s get out there and see what anyone knows.”

“Yes ma’am!” he said, jumping up from his chair and turning toward the door with a spring in his step. 

“And Josh?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“This case is on a need to know basis so it stays between us unless I tell you someone else is allowed to know about it. Got it?”

“Got it!” he said while giving you a two-finger salute and a sideways smile. 

“So be subtle!” you shouted with a laugh as he exited the office and set out to begin his investigation while you conducted yours. 

A few weeks later you were making some headway in the investigation on the murder-suicide case. One crisp November morning when you and Josh were talking with someone over coffee about what they knew of the Greenwoods and their supposed vacation, you heard a scream outside of the diner. With your eyebrows scrunching together, you looked outside only to see a man holding a woman in a chokehold with a gun pointed to her head. 

Rushing out of the diner, you made your way to the area near the fountain where he was at and held up your empty hands to show that you meant no harm. When you got closer you finally recognized the man and woman standing in front of you. They were a married couple that had moved to the town a couple of years ago after vacationing in the area. From the outside they were a happy couple, but you had heard around the rumor mill that she had cheated on him on occasion when she was drunk. 

“Hey,” you began in a soft voice, one you would use if you were approaching a skittish animal so you didn’t spook it off. “Hunter, can you please put the gun down? We can talk okay? Just let Hanna go and we can talk things out.”

“No!” he shouted, pointing the gun in your direction to fend you off. “She deserves this! He told me so!”

“What did she do to deserve this, Hunter?” you asked softly as you creeped closer slowly. All the while, the emaciated woman just stood there catatonically in his hold. There was no hint of light in her eyes and if you didn’t see her breathing you would have guessed she was already dead. “Who told you this?”

“All you women are the same! He told me that all you do is lie! All you do is take advantage of us and then leave when it’s convenient for you!” he shouted, voice strained and eyes with a wild look in them. It was a look you had seen too many times during your time in the BAU, but before you could take further action to try and talk the man down, the first shot already rang out followed in quick succession by the second. 

A whirlwind of emotions filled your body in response to the event and they paralyzed you as you stared at the pair of bodies on the ground in front of you. Shock, disbelief, horror, confusion. A roaring sound filled your ears as your mind flashed to the day you decided to leave the BAU, but your thoughts were torn away from that time when you felt hands on your shoulders gently shaking you back to reality. “Captain. Captain! Are you all right?” came Josh’s voice through the cotton feeling in your ears. 

“I need to call Emily…” you whispered in reply, the back of your hand going to wipe away some of the blood that had spattered onto your face and was starting to slowly drip down. It hurt your pride to call in your former team and you have always dreaded the day you needed to, but you knew that you were in over your head trying to solve this on your own anymore…

“Okay, will everyone gather around? We’ve got a case,” Emily Prentiss announced to her team as she strode into the bullpen of the offices of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. 

“What’ve we got this time?” Tara Lewis asked as she looked up from the paperwork she was finishing up at her desk. 

“It appears to be a string of manipulated murder-suicides up in Montana. I have it on good authority that the latest victim was implying that someone convinced him that his wife deserved to die and then he took his own life shortly after hers,” Emily informed the team as they gathered in the area. “The other acts were not witnessed but I’m sure if we did a deep dive into their personal lives we would find evidence that the other male victims believed the same of their partners. This is the fourth murder-suicide in the town in five months and the unsub seems to be getting more brazen with his acts so we’re wheels up in thirty.”

“Fourth in five months? Why did the locals wait so long to contact someone?” Luke Alvez asked, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown at the thought of someone letting this go on for so long. 

“Because the captain is a former one of ours,” she replied, shooting Luke a look that said to not reprimand the actions of the officer. “She was working the case herself and was beginning to make headway when the unsub set the latest two out to commit the act in the middle of downtown. Happened right in front of her. This case is escalating and it’ll take more than one set of trained eyes on it to catch this guy.”

“A former one of our own? Who is she talking about?” JJ asked quietly to no one in particular.

“Oh I know exactly who she’s talking about…” Penelope Garcia said quietly with a glance in the direction of Spencer Reid who seemed none the wiser about who their unit chief was talking about. 

JJ followed Garcia’s glance and quietly gasped as she asked, “You don’t mean-?”

“Yes I do mean!” Penelope said conspiratorially as she leaned in closer to the blonde. “When she left, Spencer never contacted her because he was so broken up over Maeve’s death that by the time he was finally in a headspace to process the breakup and her leaving the team it was far too late to try and make amends so he just never did! He doesn’t know where she went and she cut off all contact with the team except for me and it’s been a secret that I have hated keeping for so long because I know we all loved her so very much!” Penelope took a deep breath and let it out as she slouched back in her chair as if keeping that in all these years was a heavy weight that had finally been taken off of her shoulders. “You can’t tell him though!”

“Why not? He deserves to know that he’s going to be walking into his ex-girlfriend's police station!” JJ whispered back. 

“If you had a nasty breakup with someone would you want to know you were heading to meet with them and have to stew in that anxiety and uncertainty for hours on the plane ride there?” Penelope asked, a stern look in her eye as she once more straightened up in her chair. “That big brain of his would work overtime trying to figure out what to say so that you would make zero headway on the case!”

“Fine…” JJ relented. A small smirk graced her lips as she added, “I’ll keep you in the loop with how awkward he gets.”

“You better!” Penelope said. An air of seriousness washed over her for a moment as she added, “I know this case may dredge up a lot of old memories for Spencer so can you just keep an eye on him?”

“Of course,” JJ replied. Penelope smiled in return before heading off to her office with a file of information to look into on the victims. 

Time went by paradoxically during the wait for the BAU to show up at your station. It went slowly because you dreaded the looks on everyone’s faces upon seeing you after nearly four years with no contact. As you showered the blood off of yourself in the staff locker room, your mind once more flashed back to the day you decided to leave the BAU. 

It had been months of feeling distant from Spencer as he got closer and closer with the geneticist you pushed him to go to in order to get to the bottom of the headaches that had been plaguing him on and off for some time. Maeve Donovan. May she rest in peace, but she was the reason your relationship with Spencer fell apart… As their talks got deeper and he opened up to her more, you felt like you were sloughed away from Spencer’s life, brushed off so he could take calls with her and discuss what for the most part never even sounded like his could-be battle with schizophrenia like his mother… 

You remembered the day he had wrapped a book to give her when they decided to first meet. You couldn’t even remember the name of the book, but the returning feeling of heartbreak made a quiet sob escape your mouth as you scrubbed the shampoo into your hair harshly. The dam finally broke as you remembered the day that you and the whole team took time off of the clock to help Spencer out with getting to the bottom of who was stalking Maeve and making her fear for her life. Tears flowed freely from your eyes and dripped down into the soapy water swirling into the drain as you pictured Spencer sobbing over Maeve’s body as she too was killed in a murder-suicide. Hearing him whisper the words that you hadn’t heard in weeks of “I love you,” to her as he cried was what sealed the deal because in your heart you knew Spencer didn’t love you anymore. 

It took a few more days to make the final decision but in a whirlwind of anxiety you had made many phone calls back home to your parents and they encouraged you to take some time away from the BAU to come home to Montana and figure things out. So you put your notice with Hotch in and quietly broke things off to a catatonic Spencer who was so bereft following Maeve’s death that he didn’t even react to the breakup. 

Once back home you spent a few months piecing yourself together before moving for a job offer you felt like you couldn’t refuse and since then had been promoted to Captain after a year. It wasn’t ever what you planned for your career, but life has a funny way of guiding you in the direction you’re meant to go. 

Turning to face the shower stream once again, you scrubbed your face with your face wash one more time to ensure you got all of the blood off before turning off the shower and beginning to dry yourself. You wiped away the steam from the mirror in front of you and looked at your reflection, squeezing your eyes shut as you pictured the blood on your face again. When you looked back up at yourself again, it was obvious that you had been crying so you made quick work of getting dried off and into a fresh set of clothes that Josh brought from your house before heading to your office to try and freshen up with the meager set of makeup you had in there. 

You were surprised to see your entire makeup collection on the desk and as you sat down to begin working the makeup on, Josh popped his head into your office, saying, “Hey Cap! Lindsey went with me to get your stuff and we grabbed all of that for you. Said something about seeing your ex-”

“I told you not to tell her that!” came the voice of another one of your officers as she made her appearance in the doorframe. She shot you an apologetic look and said, “I’m sorry I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s just that-”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you said before forcing a cheery smile on your face at the pair in front of you. “Thank you two for getting the clothes and makeup from my place, I appreciate it.” You resumed your makeup with slightly shaking hands as you asked, “Now can you go make sure the work area is in the order I requested? Whiteboards and markers ready, corkboard cleared of the meme wars, desks available, coffee brewing with plenty of sugar because I know we were almost out earlier this morning.”

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused before taking off to get the space ready for the team’s arrival which would be… in less than an hour. 

The hour flew by as you went over the case file once again and you jumped as you heard a knock on your door that pulled you out of your concentration. Looking up, you couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face as you said with quiet enthusiasm, “Emily! It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. As you know I got promoted to Unit Chief after Hotch left. I see you’ve been getting some promotions too,” she said warmly as you stood up and offered your arms out for a hug which she accepted. “Garcia?” she asked simply and you knew she was asking how you had kept up with things in your absence, so you nodded. When you pulled away, she glanced at the notes on your desk and asked, “Are you ready for the brief with the team?”

The question made your heart jump in its cage. “Who all is left from my days on the team? What new faces can I expect?” you asked, trying to tiptoe around the elephant in the room. 

“Spencer’s here if that’s what you’re getting at,” she replied softly as she reached down and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. 

“Damn profilers,” you said jokingly before taking a deep breath and gathering up your files to take to the main area of the station to meet with the team. 

Your heart hammered in your chest so hard you could practically feel it jumping up in your throat as you approached the meeting area. You busied yourself with your papers as you and Emily made your way over, sweat beginning to dampen your hands the closer you got. You practically stopped breathing when your eyes looked up and met Spencer’s. He looked as handsome as ever, maybe even more, and all at once you felt everything rushing back, waves of emotions threatening to engulf you as you struggled to breathe under his gaze. 

Spencer looked like a deer in headlights when he spotted you and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking at that moment. The look on his face suggested that no one told him that the case was being manned by you and while it made you happy that Penelope kept her word, you weren’t sure if the look of shock he was sporting was a good or bad thing… 

You were ripped away from your anxious thoughts and Spencer’s eyes as a cheer in a distinctive accent broke through the chatter of the office. Your name was called enthusiastically and you turned in the direction of the sound to see David Rossi sporting a wide grin as he held his arms out to embrace you. “How’ve you been kiddo?” David asked as he embraced you quickly before holding you at arms length to survey your features that had no doubt matured since he last saw you. 

“The last 24 hours or the last four years?” you asked with a quiet laugh. “I’ve been making it though. Can’t complain.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said before turning you toward the rest of the team and telling you, “That’s Tara Lewis and Luke Alvez, they’ve joined the team since your departure. I’m sure you’ll love them!”

You offered the two of them a smile before suddenly you were being pulled into a hug by JJ and when she pulled away you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell you were supposed to greet Spencer. You were always a hugger, everyone knew it, and you actually shocked the office when Spencer let you hug him just a few days after you joined the BAU. But that time felt like a distant memory and your eyes turned to the ground instead of looking back at the man who used to bring you so much comfort but at the same time, more than ever you wanted so desperately to be in his arms…

Thankfully you didn’t have to make a decision on the matter because Emily’s voice cut through the quiet roaring in your ears as she said, “Yes, yes we all missed her, but we can get back to the reunion later. Right now we’ve got an unsub to track down.” She called your name before asking, “What do we know?”

You cleared your throat and went into work mode, telling the team, “So far we have eight victims.” You began placing pictures of the scenes on the table as you listed off their names, “First was Nora and Henry Fenway who we as a town thought went off to Florida after Henry got the news that his cousin passed away. Big Catholic family who wanted to perform a lot of traditional stuff for the funeral. They were found over a month later by some tourists hiking through the trails on the outskirts of town.

“Next was Theresa and Harry Greenwood who were set to embark on an Alaskan cruise and got stuck in the water due to some conservationist protest. The protest story checks out, but when we called the cruise line a week or so ago, there was never a record of the couple on board, so we think that the cruise package they were boasting about winning was a ruse to make sure that the rest of us knew they were expected to be away for a while. They were found dead near a river off of a popular hiking trail.

“Third was the sister of one of my officers. Natasha Quinn and her boyfriend Hayden Welkins were thought to be off at UCLA for college but were found dead in an abandoned cabin that has been a known squatting location. Kate told us that there wasn’t too much contact from her sister during the time, but they all put it off to her being busy with school.”

You took a deep breath and tried to push the memory of the latest shooting out of your mind, but you could tell that your voice was distant as you detailed the latest pairing. “And just this morning it was Hanna and Hunter Newberry. He came out into the middle of downtown with Hanna in a chokehold and shot both her and himself but not before saying that ‘he’ told him that she deserved it.”

“Do we know anything about who ‘he’ might be?” JJ asked. 

“No idea,” you replied. “Josh and I have been doing some digging to see who started the rumors about the protest with the cruise, but it became a dead end when the first person who heard it said they just heard someone on the phone talking about it but they didn’t remember when it was or where they were.”

“You said that Kate’s sister didn’t have frequent contact. Does that mean she still texted occasionally?” Luke asked. 

“Kate and her family were getting occasional check-ins from Natasha, yes,” you confirmed. “Kate told me that the texts were pretty short for the most part though and that they didn’t really seem like her usual style of texting. She put it off to being busy between classes and trying to get into sororities though.” 

“I’ll have Penelope look into that,” Emily commented, taking down another note on the notepad she had in her hand. 

Your heart skipped a beat once more as Spencer’s voice cut through the air as he said, “All of the men’s names start with an H. I wonder if it could be the first initial of the unsub and he’s expressing himself through these killings. Maybe this is some twisted fantasy of his and he’s acting it out.”

“So you’re saying he might have an endgame?” David asked thoughtfully. 

“Yes, and I don’t think he’s going to stop until he gets her,” Spencer confirmed as he pondered over the photographs you left on the table before stepping away. 

“Then let’s get to work,” Emily said. She called your name to get your attention and informed you, “Tara and I will interview you about what you saw this morning. Spencer get started on the geographical profile. David head to the medical examiner’s office to see if there’s anything you can find on the bodies. Luke go see if you can get CCTV footage from the businesses around the crime scene. JJ start working with Josh to interview the other witness from this morning to see if she knows where the couple came from. I’ll patch Penelope in so she can get started on a list of men whose names start with an H that live in the area.”

“So can you walk me through exactly what happened this morning?” Tara asked you as you sat across from her and Emily in an interrogation room half an hour later. There was a part of you that for some reason felt like you were in trouble, but you understood the reason behind it. It was the easiest way to record the conversation and keep distractions from factoring into your memories of your encounter. 

“Josh and I were speaking with a cousin of the Greenways to see if they could give us some insight into how their marriage was when I heard a scream outside of the diner,” you replied quietly, eyes focused on the metal table between the three of you as you tried to remember everything. “When I got out, there was a bystander. She was the one that screamed and Josh took her away to make sure she didn’t get hurt.” You began picking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt as you continued, “I didn’t recognize the couple at first, they both looked worse for wear. Hunter is usually clean shaven but he had a wild beard that clearly hadn’t been taken care of and Hanna looked like her hair hadn’t been brushed in days… He had this wild look in his eyes and she just…she looked practically dead already.”

“How do you mean?” Tara asked curiously. 

“Well…there was no light in her eyes. Her cheeks were sunken in and she wasn’t even fighting. She just stood there,” you replied. “Even when Hunter was shouting and waving the gun there was no reaction whatsoever.”

“And what was Hunter shouting?” Emily asked. 

You paused for a moment and thought before replying, “He said, ‘She deserves this! He told me so!’ and then when I asked what he meant and who told him that he said something like, all women are the same and that he was told all we do is lie and take advantage of men and then leave when it’s convenient for us. And then…” you let out a sharp breath and closed your eyes as you remembered what happened next, “then he shot her and then himself.” You dabbed a tear away from the corner of your eye before adding, “I was so close to him when it happened… I… I just froze. Their blood was all over me and I just…” you didn’t even know how to finish your sentence as you let out a shaky breath, trying to hold your tears back and keep your hands occupied by messing with the hem of your sweatshirt. 

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been so close to something like that,” Emily offered quietly. 

“Exactly…” you whispered. “It reminded me why I left the BAU. When my anxiety and depression got so bad and I just couldn’t take it anymore… The job, life, everything was just too much. It broke me.”

“And that’s completely understandable,” Tara said empathetically, giving you a warm smile. There were a few moments of silence that were filled with her taking notes before she offered, “If you need a minute alone we can cover for you until you’re ready to go back out there.”

“Thank you,” you replied with a nod, leaning your head down onto your arms and feeling the cool metal of the table on your cheek to try and ground yourself before you slipped off into another breakdown. 

Meanwhile outside of the interrogation room, Spencer stood there with his heart breaking. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear JJ approach until she asked, “What are you doing? I thought you were supposed to work on the geographical profile.”

Spencer startled a bit before sighing and telling her, “I don’t know… I guess I just needed to know where her headspace was on everything.” He ran a hand through his messy hair and mumbled, “I really messed up with her, didn’t I? She said that this reminded her of when she left and that life was making her anxious before she even decided to go… That was because of me.”

JJ sighed and gave him a quick pat on the back as she replied, “Yeah, there’s no denying that you messed up big time…” She felt Spencer tense before she finished with, “But maybe you can at least ask for forgiveness. Take her to dinner and try to make amends.” Spencer nodded and threw you another glance before turning away and going to work on the geographical profile. 

When you emerged from the interrogation room, the team was either out on their assigned tasks or grabbing lunch, so you decided to get some quiet time with your files in your office while you tried to get some food down. You were pushing salad greens around in your tupperware when your phone began to ring and you picked it up with a, “Hello?”

“My sweet, sweet friend, oh how I missed your voice!” came Penelope’s cheerful voice through the speaker as her way of greeting you. 

“I’m sorry I don’t call Penny, I just… I was afraid of-” You cut yourself off and scoffed before finishing with, “Forget it, it’s dumb. You probably called about the case and I’m getting off track. What can I help you with?”

“No, no, tell me!” Penelope protested. “It is lunchtime there and no one is calling for anything so this has officially turned into a ‘tell Penelope all of your woes’ time!” 

You laughed quietly before asking, “And there’s no getting out of it?” 

“Unless there is literally another death while we’re on the phone then no,” she replied chipperly. 

Letting out a deep sigh, you decided that this wasn’t a battle you were going to win, so you told her, “I never called because I was afraid I would just open up old wounds. The thought of if we were on the phone and Spencer came in…it terrified me.” And suddenly, without even thinking about what you were saying, you blurted out, “And now here we are with him in the breakroom of my precinct drinking coffee that I made sure we had enough sugar for because I have never been able to fall out of love with Spencer Reid!” You covered your mouth to attempt to prevent the words from coming out but it was entirely too late for that. The truth was out there and Penelope had heard every word of it. 

“Oh honey…” she said in a quiet voice. 

You knew she didn’t mean it in a condescending way, but the building tightness in your chest after she said it was making it hard to breathe. You filled your lungs as much as they would allow before whispering, “I-I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no! Don’t feel bad about your feelings!” she protested from her side of the line. 

“I-it’s just…” You took a slightly deeper breath before you began rambling again, telling her, “I’ve tried over and over and over again to find someone out here but it just never works. There was even this one guy back in April that was so sweet! Penelope, he picked me wildflowers while out on his guided hiking tours and arranged them into the most beautiful bouquets! He ordered me edible arrangements and had them sent to my office! He bought me coffee every morning in the diner when I was there picking up breakfast before coming into work! Hell, on our one and only date we had a candlelit picnic and he bought my favorite wine! That shit’s expensive! But I just couldn’t commit to him knowing that someone else still has my heart…and I don’t think there’s a way to get it back.” 

By the end of your rant, your tears were falling once more and you dabbed them away with a tissue or two as Penelope sighed and said, “I wish I could give you a hug right now… I had no idea you were still feeling that way.”

You scoffed quietly before asking, “Why would you? I should hate Spencer for what happened. He fell in love with someone else while still dating me and didn’t even flinch when I broke up with him because he was so torn up about her death. But…” You shook your head and finished quietly, “He’s the love of my life and it hurts so damn bad knowing that I’m not his.”

Before Penelope could offer anything else, there was a knock at your door and you looked up to see it cracking open to reveal Spencer’s handsome face with that awkward-as-ever smile crossing his lips. “Spencer, hey,” you whispered, your breath being knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance as you hoped that he didn’t hear anything you just said. 

“I think that’s my queue to go…” Penelope said quietly and in quick succession you heard the tell-tale sound of the call ending. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” Spencer asked timidly as he opened the door a bit more to fully reveal himself. 

“O-of course,” you replied, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious that you had been crying. “Everything going okay out there? You holding up okay after…everything?” 

“I’m doing fine, yes,” He said with a quick nod. “I got the geographical profile down, but it’s in a weird pattern that I’m still trying to make sense of. All of the locations are in a strange arc sort of line without a centralized location that indicates a familiar area that the unsub is comfortable in. The first three sites were more so out in hiking areas in the woods so I thought it could be an avid hiker, but the latest one was so out in the open that it makes me wonder why the unsub chose that location. He isn’t escalating because there was still time for him to psychologically torment the victims before sending them out to commit the act so I’m trying to determine if maybe this was an outlier or if it’s a part of his endgame to have used that specific spot for that couple…” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest upon hearing him rant on about the profile he had created and you hoped he didn’t notice that your eyes were practically heart-shaped as you listened to his soothing voice ramble on about the case. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot before adding, “But uh…that’s not what I came to talk to you about.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and said quietly, “I was actually coming in here to ask if I could take you to dinner tonight. There’s a lot I feel like needs to be cleared up between us after…everything that happened. I know it may be wrong to ask for your forgiveness after so long but-”

“Yes,” you replied instantly, unable to fight the smile working its way onto your lips at the offer. 

“Y-yes?” he asked with an undeniable sparkle in his eyes as he too gave into his emotions and let his smile light up the room. 

You nodded and were about to say something more when Emily popped her head into the office after giving a short knock on the door, informing you both, “Garcia got us a list of possible suspects, let’s get to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” you and Spencer replied in unison, and you had to fight back the giddy giggle that threatened to bubble out of your mouth at the statement in stereo. 

That evening you took a quick trip to your house to freshen up before meeting Spencer. Even though you knew it wasn’t a date situation, you still took the time to make your hair look nice and put on a dose of perfume that you remembered Spencer liking. When you pulled into the parking lot of the cafe you and Spencer agreed to meet at and stepped out into the chilly November air, you pulled your coat close as you started toward the door. 

Before you could reach out to grab the handle though, another hand reached out and pulled it for you. Expecting to see Spencer holding the door open for you, your heart gave a stutter in your chest as suddenly the reality of the situation hit you. You would likely be discussing what happened back in Virginia, and that would mean talking about Maeve and the reason your relationship ended and that scared you. Sure, you had attempted to process everything yourself, but facing it head on would be an entirely different experience in which you would have to hear what made him fall out of love with you…

Your anxiety spiked for a completely different reason though when you looked up because when you did, your eyes met the very man you turned down because you still weren’t over Spencer. “Hartley, hey. Thanks,” you said quietly as you slipped through the door and into the warm building. 

“Looking for some company?” he asked as he walked in behind you and began attempting to help you take off your coat. 

Before you could respond, the hostess greeted you by name and asked how many were in your party. “There’ll be two, Rose,” you told her with a smile and she began reaching down to grab a couple of menus from behind the counter. While you were telling her this, you pulled away a comfortable distance from Hartley and began taking off your coat and gloves on your own. “I’m meeting someone actually,” you told him simply, tucking the gloves into a pocket and hanging the coat on the rack by the door.  

“Oh, okay,” he said slowly. “Are they late? I can get you an appetizer and drink while you wait,” he offered and you noticed his eyes moving around the restaurant in search of your intended partner. 

As he said this, the small bell above the door chimed and your eyes gravitated that way to see who was entering. Raising a hand in a wave, you greeted Spencer with a smile as he joined you at the hostess counter. He quickly took off his coat and racked it before running a hand through his messy hair and saying, “Sorry I’m a few minutes late, I was wrapping up something with Prentiss at the station!”

“It’s no problem, Spence. Rose was just about to take me to the table,” you assured him as you nodded your head toward the kind woman. 

“Great,” he said as the pair of you began following Rose to the table in the back corner she knew you preferred to dine at. 

“I guess I’ll see you around,” you said quietly to Hartley who was escorted to his usual spot at the bar by another hostess. 

“Who was that?” Spencer asked curiously after the two of you placed your drink orders. 

“Something that I assume will be addressed when we talk,” you admitted, feeling heat begin to crawl up your neck. Spencer nodded stiffly and remained silent in response to the comment, the tension only breaking when Rose came back with the drinks and said she would give Spencer a few minutes with the menu. 

“So what’s good to eat here?” Spencer asked timidly after a few more moments of silence as his eyes quickly scanned the menu. 

You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that he wasn’t diving into the serious talk you needed to have and relaxed a little in your seat as you began raving over the menu items that you preferred and which ones you thought should be avoided. “And we have to get dessert, the pie here is to die for!” you gushed as you pointed out the dessert menu on the back. 

“Let me guess, the coconut cream is your go to?” Spencer asked, a small smile lining his lips. 

“Always,” you affirmed, a smile breaking out on your lips. “Remember that time when I-?” you tried to start, but couldn't even get through half of the sentence before dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

“When you were bringing a pie to the office and you tripped as you were putting it on the counter and tried to play it off as a pie eating contest with Morgan?” Spencer asked with a laugh and a sparkle in his eye at the memory. 

“Yes!” you said, more laughter spilling out of you as you remembered Derek’s reaction. “I still can’t believe he actually went along with it!” 

So that was how the two of you spent the next little while - reminiscing on the better times you two had at the BAU before your abrupt departure. That was, until Spencer’s eyes drifted slightly left over your shoulder as he asked once more, “Who did you say that guy was from earlier? He’s been glaring daggers this way the whole time we’ve been here…”

You sighed and nodded. It was time to face the music. So you took a deep breath and told him, “That’s Hartley. He flirted with me for months before I finally agreed to a date with him, but… Things just didn’t work out between us. Ever since then, he’s tried to get with me again, but I always turn him down.”

“Why’s that?” Spencer asked, his posture straightening the slightest bit at your words which you tried not to overanalyze as you instinctively studied his body language.

“I… It felt disingenuous to be with someone when my heart was still back in Virginia with you…” you admitted quietly as you pushed around some of the food on your plate to distract yourself and to avoid looking into Spencer’s eyes. When he didn’t say anything in response, your heart rate kicked up and you felt your palms start to sweat as you began rambling. “And I know that may sound crazy because it’s been so long but I just never got any sort of closure with you after everything that happened so I never really closed that part of my life away and so those feelings just…never left… I know you fell out of love with me, but it just isn’t that easy on my part…”

You wiped away a stray tear that escaped during your ranting and were about to open your mouth to apologize when Spencer whispered your name in a broken voice as he reached across the table to request your hand to hold. When you tentatively gave it to him, Spencer’s large hand wrapped around yours as he said in a quiet voice, “I know that saying this now doesn’t make up for all these years of silence, but I really am so sorry for what happened.” He cleared his throat and told you, “When you found Maeve for me and I started speaking with her about my headaches I finally felt seen. I thought I loved her because she was able to help me get through something that had been plaguing me for years. I was so excited to finally understand what was happening with me that I didn’t even realize that I had started to put you on the backburner. By the time I did, Maeve was dead and you had left and I didn’t know what to do so I just never reached out…” 

“Oh… I-I’m sorry I-” you started to say after a few moments. 

“No!” he exclaimed a little louder than he probably intended because you could see a tint of red creep onto his cheeks and he slouched into himself to try and make himself smaller. He squeezed your hand before saying in a quieter voice, “Please don’t blame yourself for anything that happened. Looking back I know that you were trying to be there for me, but I got hyper focused on what Maeve was doing for me that I started to prioritize you less and that wasn’t fair to you.” 

You cleared your tightening throat and told him, “Everyone makes mistakes, Spence.”

“But not everyone’s mistakes make them lose the love of their life like mine did,” he told you, a serious tone in his voice as he held your eye contact unwaveringly. “I messed up and I know I don’t deserve it but I would like to try and make amends so I can eventually earn your forgiveness.”

“I think you’re already on your way there, Doctor,” you told him, a shy smile on your lips as your eyes darted toward your intertwined hands. 

“So explain to me again what the ME’s findings tell us?” you asked as you flipped through a file the next evening. 

“The brains of all the victims had densities and lesions in certain portions that have to deal with the capacity to have rational thoughts and feel emotions properly. We think that this happened because they were exposed to emotional and psychological torture for an extended period of time which is how the unsub manipulated them into performing a murder-suicide,” Spencer informed you quickly. 

David ran a hand over his chin before asking, “So then what did the unsub have on all of these people that made them so easy to manipulate into snapping?” 

“Well we know that he said that all women are the same and just use men, so-” you started to say but were interrupted by JJ coming up with her phone on speaker and Penelope’s enthusiastic voice coming through the speakers. 

“All of the women in these couples were wanting an out from their relationship in one way or another!” Penelope informed the group. “There were some cases of cheating or wanting a divorce or breakup or just getting out of an abusive partnership. Poor Natasha was being abused by Hayden and just wanted out…”

There were a few moments of silence before Spencer suggested, “If all of these women were trying to leave their relationships in some way then maybe that was the unsub’s stressor.”

“Maybe he was cheated on or recently divorced then,” Luke offered. 

“Right,” Emily agreed. “Garcia, can you start looking into recently divorced men in the area and cross match that with your list of men whose names start with H?” Emily asked. 

“I am on it!” the blonde replied as you all heard her fingers typing away on her keyboard. After a few moments she said, “There are a handful of recent divorcees in the area. A Harold Fenton, Herschel Brunswick, and Hester Lincoln.”

“Right, so then we start with those men and see if they have anything to do with these cases,” Emily informed the group. “It’s getting late and I doubt anyone is going to be awake at this hour for questioning, so we start in the morning and I’ll assign teams for the interrogations then. Be smart people, it isn’t going to be enough to just get an alibi for the time of the killings. We need to know where he was roughly when the couples were abducted and if he’s got other properties or a room in his house where he could have done the torturing.”

Before there could be any more discussion on the matter, Josh came into the precinct with a shocked looking woman on his arm. JJ and Tara rushed over to retrieve the woman from him and you asked quietly, “What happened?”

“She said she was out for an evening walk when she came across two recently shot bodies. Jessica Stevenson and Hendrix Jordan. Both shot in the head presumably with a pistol that was found beside his body,” Josh replied grimly. “While EMS was looking over her to make sure she wasn’t hurt, I asked around and turns out a neighbor had heard them fighting pretty loudly before she stormed out. He followed pretty soon after, but the neighbor said they didn’t see him with a gun.”

“Did you take any pictures of the scene?” you asked, your mind beginning to run a million miles an hour to try and work a way in front of this lunatic.

“Yeah,” Josh said as he pulled out his phone and pulled up the picture. 

The team gathered around the phone and each studied the photo before David asked, “Is anyone else seeing what I’m seeing?” 

“Yeah, the placement of that gun isn’t consistent with someone who just shot himself,” Luke said, his eyebrows coming together in confusion as he studied the picture. “And I’m sure once we get the ME report, it’ll show that the gun wasn’t flush with his head either.”

“So you’re suggesting that this one was a double murder?” JJ asked. 

“We don’t know for sure, so let’s not get lost in the weeds, people,” Emily told her team. “The unsub is escalating. He didn’t even take time to torture this couple. This may mean that he was triggered recently and felt the need to kill. We need to get to him before he gets to another couple.”

By the next afternoon the unsub had already struck again.

You and Spencer had just gotten back from speaking with Herschel Brunswick at the cafe when you were informed of the killings. Kaitlyn Grant and Harley Dixon, a young couple who the whole town loved, but knew he was drifting away because he was so committed to his job just outside of town and would spend long hours there. 

“Damnit!” you shouted in frustration, your fists clenching as you could feel your blood begin to boil when it started to feel like rage was consuming your entire being. 

You brought your hands to your face in an attempt to cover up the anger but they were coaxed down and held gently by Spencer’s as he mumbled in his soothing voice, “Hey, we’re gonna figure this out.”

Ignoring Spencer’s words, you whispered, “This is my fault…” With the rage taking over once more, you snapped, “This town trusts me and the sheriff to keep them safe, but in the last five months twelve people have died! Twelve!” Your tears began to fall and you practically collapsed into Spencer’s arms as you whispered, “I can’t do anything right…”

Instinctively, Spencer caught you and started running a hand up and down your back to try and comfort you. Forgetting he was in front of the whole team and your officers, Spencer kissed the top of your head before trying to calm you down. When your breathing had finally slowed and your tears subsided enough for you to feel comfortable showing your face again, you untangled yourself from Spencer’s arms and gave him a quiet ‘thank you’ before turning to face the team and your officers who had all migrated toward the other side of the room in order to give you and Spencer space. 

You were about to try and make a speech toward the team to attempt to motivate not just them but yourself too when Tara came up and placed a hand on your forearm, giving you a warm smile. “I think you need a break,” she told you gently. “This case is getting to you and I think you need to clear your mind for a little while.”

“But-” you tried to protest, but were stopped by Spencer. 

“Significant stress has been shown to measurably affect neuronal properties and cognitive functioning of the hippocampus. It’s also been found to impair memory function and the ability to recall information of which could be crucial in a case like this. Did you know that in some theories about the effects of stress on the body, the individual actually loses the ability to function in the presence of excessive stress which leads to exhaustion and potentially death?”

“Okay, not what she needed to hear at this moment, but I agree with Reid that it may be best for you to go home and take a breather for a while. Details in this case are really important and I know that you want to nail this one,” Tara told you and began walking you to your office to grab your things and help you to your vehicle while assuring you that the team had it under control.

Back in the precinct, Emily cleared her throat and announced, “Okay everyone! We know from forensics that the gun was in fact not up against Jordan’s head when he was killed and that it was actually from a distance away so we can confirm that he was killed and did not commit suicide. I bet we’ll get the same result from today’s victims. This unsub is working overtime to get our attention so we need to give it to him.”

Spencer nodded and added, “Brunswick wasn’t our guy because we were with him all morning. What did we find out about the other men Garcia identified as recently divorced?”

“Fenton is clean too, we just got back a few minutes before you two,” Luke informed him.

Tara nodded in agreement. “Lincoln too. He isn’t our guy.”

“So what are we missing?” David asked. 

“I don’t think we’re missing something. Maybe we’re just thinking too narrowly,” Spencer offered as he turned to look at the new report Josh had filed on the new crime scene. 

“Well then let’s widen our thinking. We can’t let this guy kill anyone else,” Emily said finally before assigning groups to tasks. 

After finding out that of course there weren’t any trail cameras in the area of the latest scene, Spencer was once more going over files in search of something he must have somehow missed. “Why don’t you go over the geographical profile again now that we have more victims?” Emily suggested. 

So he did, taking stray pins from the cork board and placing them in the places of the latest two crimes. What was revealed in front of his eyes was the shape of a heart. “Son of a bitch…” he whispered, looking over to Emily with wide eyes. “He’s plotted out where he wants all of these people to die in order to make a heart on a map, so it could stand to be assumed that-”

“His real target lives in the middle of that heart,” Emily finished with a grim look on her face. 

“That’s a large area to cover that doesn’t seem like it’s heavily populated, we’ll need a few teams to fan out and search the area,” Spencer said, grabbing a pair of keys from the rented SUVs they had been using to get around town. 

“Right.” Emily looked around and started giving orders to those who were back at the station, “Luke, go with Spencer in the first SUV. Josh you’re with JJ and David in the second. Tara and I will go with Lindsey in a patrol car. We have a lot of ground to cover so let’s get moving!” 

Spencer calculated the coordinates to the exact center of the heart and began driving that way with Luke in the passenger seat. On the way there, Luke broke the silence of the vehicle by asking with a smirk, “So what was going on with you and the captain earlier?”

“Old habits die hard I guess. We used to date back when she worked at the BAU,” Spencer told him. “There were a lot of cases where she needed some mental help afterward and that’s how we ended up together. She found my facts and statistics comforting because at least there was some form of guarantee to her safety.”

“That’s cute, I didn’t know-” Luke began to say but stopped short when at the same time he and Spencer noticed the vehicle in the driveway of the house they were approaching. “Reid-” Before Luke could finish his sentence though, Spencer had thrown the SUV in park and was getting out with his gun pulled from his holster. “Reid, think rationally here! Just because her house is the one you think may be in the middle doesn’t mean-”

With his gun drawn in one hand and his phone in the other, Spencer dialed Penelope as he and Luke made their way up the winding driveway, keeping to the tree line and in the shadows of the fading sunlight. “How may I be of assistance Doctor? I-” Penelope started chipperly.

“Did she ever talk to you about her relationships since leaving?” Spencer asked quickly. 

“She? Who do you-?” she tried, but was quickly interrupted by Spencer blurting out your name to hurry her along. “Oh! Just one she told me about the other day! She said that back in April this guy tried to get with her but they just went on one date.”

“Hartley…” Spencer muttered under his breath. “Garcia, try to find anything on a man named Hartley in the area, that’s the last man she dated. Call Emily with whatever you find and send her to my location.”

“Got it!” she said before ending the call. 

“Reid, what's going on?” Luke asked urgently. 

“The first couple was abducted back in late April, after she rejected a man named Hartley. He was at the restaurant we went to the night before last and was glaring daggers at me the whole time. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that those two couples were killed so close together after that night…” Spencer told Luke quietly as they approached the house. 

Spencer just about reached for the doorknob of the house before Luke snatched his arm away and sharply whispered, “Don’t! You’re smarter than that! What’s gotten into you man?”

“It took me two days to figure out that she was the target of the unsub when it should have taken me two minutes after dinner that night! If she gets killed then that’s on my shoulders since she rejected him because of me!” Spencer whisper-shouted at him. 

“Then we need to do this right and take him down quickly and quietly. We can’t just go in guns blazing,” Luke said before releasing the grip he had on Spencer’s arm. He listened for a moment and motioned toward the back of the house, telling Spencer, “I hear two voices coming from that direction of the house. Let’s start there.”

When they got to the back of the house, your voice and a male’s voice could be heard from inside having a conversation about dinner and flowers. Luke’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he whispered to Spencer, “It doesn’t sound like she’s in danger…”

Spencer peered around the corner and risked a glance into a window, noticing how your eyes flicked in his direction before taking the conversation into the next room, making sure the man who was with you followed. So Spencer motioned for Luke to follow behind him and he noticed that this room was near a backdoor that the pair of them could use to get into the house if needed. 

That time came when, straining his ears to hear, Spencer heard you say, “Do you like literature? I think my favorite line is from Macbeth. Act one, scene five, lines 64-65.”

And with that, Spencer kicked in the door to the house and pointed his gun toward Hartley as he announced, “FBI, don’t move!” 

Luke came in shortly after Spencer, also with his gun raised as Hartley grabbed you around the waist and held the gun loosely near your head as he let out an almost maniacal laugh. When he took in the two men across the room from him, he shook his head and said, “How fitting that it’s you who came to her rescue? You two really had a connection the other night at the cafe and it made me realize that it was you this whole time! You’re the asshole who made her turn me down! You’re the reason my heart got shattered into a million pieces! It isn’t fair that someone can break a heart so easily! So she doesn’t deserve to live and neither do I because I destroyed all those families lives by killing their sons and daughters, mothers and fathers!”

“You don’t have to do this!” Luke warned the man sternly as he trained his gun on the man’s head. 

Spencer noticed Hartley’s loose grip on your waist and said your name to get your attention. Hartley warned him to shut up, but Spencer ignored him and instead locked his eyes with your terrified ones. A small reminiscent smile made its way onto his lips as he asked softly, “Remember what you told me your favorite movie was when we went on our first date?” You thought for a moment and then nodded almost frantically as Spencer said, “I want you to do the opposite of that for me, okay? Now!” 

And just as he planned, you dropped to your knees, allowing Spencer to get a clean shot on Hartley that took him down in an instant. The second that he went down, Spencer holstered his gun and ran to your side, sitting himself on the ground and against the wall as he pulled you into his chest to comfort you. While he did this, Luke kicked the gun away from Hartley’s hand and checked his pulse before quietly nodding to Spencer. 

“He’s gone, he can’t hurt anyone anymore,” Spencer whispered into your hair before kissing your head and letting you burrow into his embrace as you cried. “Breathe with me sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Spencer mumbled as he tried to calm you down, running a soothing hand up and down your back at the same pace as he wanted you to breathe. 

Minutes passed as Spencer attempted to calm you down and he was mildly successful, enough to get you out of the dining area and onto the back of the ambulance that arrived with the rest of the team. As Spencer hesitantly left your side in order to go locate any anxiety medications you may have in your medicine cabinet, Luke followed him and asked, “Dude, how did you know she was in danger?”

As Spencer pulled out a bottle and read the label, he told Luke, “Act one, scene five, lines 64-65 of Macbeth says ‘Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't.’ That was her way of saying that what looked like an innocent conversation between partners was actually a dangerous situation.” A huff of a laugh left his lips before he added, “She studied Shakespeare for fun in college and would analyze his work with me when we were together. Don’t try and get into a debate with that woman about Shakespeare, you’ll lose every time.”

“Wow… You two must have been a force when you were both at the BAU,” Luke mumbled, seemingly in awe of how easily the pair of you were able to communicate without giving anything away. 

“Hotch thought that we could somehow read each other’s minds sometimes,” Spencer confirmed with a quiet laugh as he pulled the right bottle from the shelf. 

“So what was the movie?” Luke asked curiously as he followed Spencer through the house once more, weaving through the BAU team members and your officers who were investigating the scene. 

“Up,” he replied. “I told her to do the opposite so she went down.” Luke chuckled in response before being whisked away by Emily to recount his version of what happened while Spencer went back to the ambulance to give you your anxiolytic to help you calm down. 

The next morning came after a sleepless night pacing a motel room that the sheriff had booked for you so your house could be processed and cleaned up after the events of Hartley’s takedown. When you drove up to the station there was a decent sized crowd near the door, presumably to get a sneak peek as to what happened at your house the night before. A light knock on your window made you jump and clutch at your heart as you looked over your left shoulder to see Spencer there with a small smile on his face. 

“Want some company to head inside?” he asked as he offered you a hand to help you out of the vehicle. 

“Stay close?” you asked quietly, afraid that perhaps the people in that crowd had already figured out that you were in fact the target of Hartley’s killing spree and were there because they wanted you gone… 

“Of course,” Spencer replied as he hooked your arm in his and the two of you made your way through the crowd and to the front door, ignoring all of the questions being thrown your way. 

When you got inside, you almost breathed a sigh of relief before you were approached by Tara and Emily who told you once more that they would need you in the interrogation room, but this time for an actual questioning. At the request your body stiffened as you realized that you would have to relive the situation again and without missing a beat, Spencer said, “As long as I can be in there with her.”

“Spence, you know that-” Emily started but was interrupted by Tara. 

“Let him,” she told Emily with a shake of her head. “As long as Reid doesn’t say anything to her it won’t matter if he’s in there or not, but if she needs his presence for comfort we at least should allow that.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your muscles relaxing the slightest bit as you and Spencer began following the pair to the interrogation room. 

Once inside the cold space, you pulled your cardigan close and made sure that Spencer’s hand was held in yours before you nodded to signal that you were okay to begin. “So can you tell me what happened yesterday from your point of view?” Emily asked. 

“I left the station to clear my head after being informed that another couple had been found dead. I grabbed a few groceries and headed to my home where inside I found Hartley Rivers standing in the kitchen of my previously locked house,” you told her quietly, your voice wobbly as you spoke. 

“Did he do or say anything when you got there?” Tara asked. 

“He was…oddly calm at first. Asked what I got from the store and said that I should make the two of us a meal. Said that it was the least I could do for him after all the work he’d been doing lately,” you replied. 

“Did he elaborate on that statement?” Emily asked. 

“Not at first,” you said, “but I got him talking and he confessed to staging all of the murder-suicides in the last few months. He…he said…he said…” you trailed off as your breathing began to pick up and your leg began to bounce anxiously. 

“Take your time,” Tara said. 

“He said it was my fault…” you whispered. “He said that if I just didn’t reject him then all of those people would be alive…” The grip Spencer had on your hand tightened the slightest bit and it brought your turbulent thoughts to that feeling alone and you used it to ground yourself back to reality before clearing your throat and adding, “He told me that I was the loss of his life and that I didn’t deserve to live for what I did and neither did he. But he thought that if he got my attention in a way that wasn’t romantic gestures it would get the point across better…”

“So you're saying that he confessed to orchestrating the killings?” Emily asked. 

You nodded. “Yes. He didn’t tell me where, but…”

“Then what happened?” Tara asked gently when you didn't elaborate more. 

“I…I saw Spencer sneaking around outside so I brought the conversation to a room near an outside door and informed him that I was in danger by referencing a line from Macbeth,” you said, which earned a small smile from Emily. “When Luke and Spencer got in, Hartley grabbed me and held me at gunpoint. From there things get fuzzy because I was so scared. All I remember is Spencer asking me something so I took a knee and heard a gunshot and Hartley let go of me. I thought I got shot until I felt Spencer pull me into his lap and then my anxiety got the better of me…”

“Thank you, you did well,” Tara informed you, standing up and coming around the table to give you a squeeze on the shoulder. 

“We’ll get all of that into the right hands and then we’ll have to be on our way soon,” Emily said hesitantly as she made her way to the door. 

“I’d like to stay behind for another day or two. I’ll use vacation days,” Spencer told her immediately. “I can book myself a flight back to Virginia and do my paperwork on the way.” Emily opened her mouth for a moment and then closed it, simply nodding in response before making her way out of the room with Tara behind her. 

“You didn’t have to do that, Spence…” you whispered. 

“No, but I wanted to. I need to make sure you’re okay at least through the hardest part of this,” he informed you as he helped you stand up on your unsteady legs to leave the room. 

“Thank you,” you told him graciously, turning into him and throwing your arms around his frame in a tight embrace. 

“Of course,” he told you, the smile evident in his voice. 

After a few moments, you took a deep breath and said, “I need to make an announcement, would you mind staying with me for it?”

“I don’t mind,” he replied, following you out into the main office area where the BAU team and your officers were milling around filing away papers. 

You cleared your throat and said just loud enough to be heard over the noise, “I have an announcement I’d like to make.” When all eyes were on you, you took a deep breath and said, “I would like to thank everyone for their work on this case, both my locals and the BAU team. You all worked long and hard hours to close this case and I am very appreciative of that. Unfortunately before we could solve it, twelve people died in this town at the hands of Hartley Rivers under my watch. So with that being said I’m announcing that I will be stepping down from my position as Captain of the police division here. I made a promise to serve and protect the people of this town and after the events of this case I feel like I failed at that because I couldn’t solve it sooner and because I was the reason Hartley felt the need to do what he did. It’s been an honor to serve this town while I did, but it wouldn’t be right to continue on from here. Thank you.”

There was a stunned silence that filled the room and you quickly ducked your head and started toward your office after making eye contact with the sheriff who gave you a nod and a sad smile in response. When you got there, you grabbed a box and began slowly placing your belongings inside when you heard footsteps enter the room. “So you’re really going?” Josh asked quietly, his sadness evident in his voice. 

You nodded, which earned a sigh from Lindsey and her saying, “Man this sucks…”

“I know but… I feel like I failed this town. And once word gets out about what happened, I would be driven out of the position and the town anyway and I’d rather end it on my terms.”

The two agreed and began helping you pack up your belongings while reminiscing on some of the better days in this office. Once you seemed to run out of things to talk about, Josh asked with a smirk evident in his voice, “So…you and agent Reid huh?”

“Doctor Reid,” you informed him sternly with a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “He didn’t earn three PhDs for nothing.”

“So you’re into the smart ones,” Lindsey said teasingly as she landed an elbow into your ribs lightly. 

“I suppose so,” you said as you looked up and saw Spencer himself in the doorway. The four of you made quick work of packing up your office and before you knew it, you were being escorted out to your vehicle with Spencer’s protective arm around you as you made your way through the crowd of people who still thankfully didn’t know the truth behind everything yet. 

When you and Spencer got to your house, he helped you unload the boxes of your office items and then sat beside you on the couch after you put on a quiet instrumental record to keep there from being a deafening silence in the room. You couldn’t help your mind from wandering back to the events of not only yesterday, but of the last five months. As you did, a roaring filled your ears that was interrupted by Spencer’s voice as he asked, “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

“Too much,” you replied quietly. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really, but…” You sighed and in defeat relented, saying, “I guess it’s best if I do.”

“It is. And I’m right here with you,” he told you as he tentatively scooched closer on the couch and put his arm around you. Your muscles relaxed as he did this and the flood gates opened once more as you burrowed into Spencer’s side.

“I just feel like such a screw up… Twelve people with lives and families and dreams for the future are all dead because of me…” you whispered, trying to muffle the sob that escaped at the end of your statement. 

Spencer ran his hand up and down your arm for a moment before quietly asking, “If it were anyone else in your position what would you tell them?”

“What?” you asked after a few seconds, pulling away for a moment to look up at Spencer with furrowed eyebrows. 

“As the victim advocate specialist that you are, what would you say to someone else in your position?” Spencer asked and you began to see his point. “Say it was Lindsey in the center of this instead of you? You wouldn’t tell her that those people died because of her would you?”

“No…” you whispered, sagging back into his embrace with a sigh. You were quiet for a moment before replying thoughtfully, “I would tell them that they can’t control other people’s actions and feelings. That they couldn’t have known that something so simple as rejecting someone could cause such disaster. That they shouldn’t have to live in fear of this happening again so they’ll go out and live their life and not seclude themselves. That even though in the heat of the moment if the families of the victims find out the reason behind the crime that it still isn’t their fault no matter what nasty things are said to them. I would remind them that they’re a victim in this too and they deserve treatment and counseling services just like the other victims’ families…”

Spencer leaned down and kissed the crown of your head before mumbling, “Exactly. So what is making you feel like you don’t deserve to hear those things too?”

“Because I was supposed to protect all of those people and I couldn’t do my job. They shouldn’t have died in the first place. Pair that with the fact that Hartley was doing this because of me and…it makes me feel like I don’t deserve to be handled gently after everything that happened,” you told him sadly. 

“I think that just proves that you should be given more grace than anyone in this situation,” Spencer says. 

“I just don’t feel like I’m deserving to be cared for after everything…” 

“Well I guess I’m just going to have to prove your anxiety wrong,” Spencer said and you could hear the smile in his voice as he pulled you impossibly closer in what seemed like an attempt to bring all of your broken pieces back together. 

Later that day after finally getting through all of your emotions about your now totally uprooted life and watching your comfort movie with Spencer, you started to feel a bit lighter. So as you made dinner for the two of you, you sang quietly to the music coming from your record player as Spencer helped where he could with the meal. While you were standing at the stovetop stirring the food, he came up behind you and gently wrapped his arms around your waist and swayed to the music playing. “I missed this…” he admitted quietly, his voice and body relaxed. 

“Me too,” you replied, a small smile on your face and tears prickling the backs of your eyes. 

You were afraid to ask Spencer what happened next after he left back to Virginia and you went…where? You still hadn’t decided what you wanted to do for work after you just resigned and where would that land you in the country? You weren’t sure how well- “Hey,” he said, squeezing you slightly to bring you back to reality. “You’re getting lost again.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you replied, going back to stirring the nearly complete stir fry. “I just have a lot on my mind still is all…”

“Like what?” he asked, stopping his swaying to focus on your conversation. 

“What do I do for work now? There’s no way I’ll get a job in any of the surrounding counties and I’m afraid of even getting into that position again because that is so much responsibility I don’t feel ready to handle again after what happened here…”

“Have you thought about coming back to the FBI?” Spencer asked. “I know that the BAU was a cause for a lot of stress on you, so maybe you could see if there are any victim advocate positions available in other departments? Or maybe go back to your SVU department?”

“I have enough in the bank to take a month or so off from work to sort things out mentally but… I think once I figure myself out again, being an advocate again would be rewarding and now that I have a unique perspective on things…” Maybe it was time to move back to Virginia…

“I think you would do great,” Spencer replied, releasing you from his arms before reaching for the plates you had been warming to place the food on. You still had a faraway look in your eyes, even you could tell, so you weren’t surprised when he asked, “What else is on your mind?”

You didn’t reply as you plated the food and made your way to the table, trying to figure out the best way to discuss the topic at hand. You couldn’t figure out a graceful way to ask, so you let out a heavy sigh as you gestured between yourself and Spencer and asked quietly, “Spence… What is this? What is going on between us right now? The hugs, the kisses, the comforting touches. Is it just because of the case? Is it because you feel bad for me?” Guilt at the last bit began to crawl its way up your spine and you felt your throat closing up slightly as you said, barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry I’m just scared right now…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching over and grabbing your hand gently and rubbing comforting circles onto it with his thumb. Clearing his throat, Spencer admitted, “At first it was habitual. It felt like an instinct to comfort you because that’s what I did all those years, but…but then I realized that I didn’t just want to provide you with physical comfort. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to hold you until all of your fears and doubts went away. I just…I want you back.” At those last words, your eyes darted up to meet Spencer’s hopeful ones. A smile fell onto his face as he finished, “Please. I want you back in my life and if that can’t be as your boyfriend right now I understand that, but I just want to be in your life somehow. It took me a while to realize that I never stopped loving you and it took me seeing you to realize that if I want you back I need to fight for it and prove to you that taking me back won’t be a mistake.”

“Taking you back would never be a mistake,” you mumbled, a smile making its way onto your face as you scooted closer to Spencer on the dining table’s bench. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Spencer whispered as his hand ghosted its way up your arm, landing on your cheek to hold you for a moment before asking, “May I kiss you?”

“Of course,” you replied with a slight nod before your lips were enveloped into the most tender kiss Spencer had ever given you. A feeling of warmth ran up your spine as you relaxed into the kiss, your hands wandering up to hook around the back of Spencer’s neck to pull him closer. 

All too soon, the kiss was over and Spencer pulled away to rest his forehead on yours before telling you, “I love you. And I never want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” you promised before leaning back in for another kiss, the stir fry going forgotten on the table as you lost yourself in Spencer’s love and affection. 

thank you for getting this far, I appreciate you for reading! Don't forget to like and comment! <3

[misctf]

Hey I've always been a pudgy and geeky type of guy and now at 50 I wish I had done things different. Could you change reality so I've always been a bear or daddy or age regress me so I'm a jock or himbo?

Are you sure you want this? I mean, I appreciate where you’re coming from. Really, I do. But are you sure? There’re risks and.... Okay I’ll spare you the details. You seem pretty set on this.

Cracks fingers.

Where to start... 50 years old, a tad pudgy, and I can tell that Star Wars shirt you’re wearing hasn’t been washed in a while. Not to worry!

Snaps fingers. The cold air now caressing your naked body.

Much better! Now I can see what I’m working with. Stay still please.

You feel my hands run along your pudgy, hairy gut. You wince as I give it a squeeze. You watch as I saunter behind you and yelp when I tug at the back hair that wraps up and around your shoulders. And as my hand runs along the thinning hair on your head, you gasp as a pressure emanates from within your brain.

Ah...Interesting... I can see it. Who you want to be... Okay, okay. This is gonna be tough, but just take a deep breath. And before I begin, you should know I set my clients up for success, which means... So... right... You’re full steam ahead. Sounds good!

You wince when I firmly grab your flabby chest and start massaging. A groan escapes your lips and you watch as the fat melts from your chest, leaving it flat. But with another squeeze, you watch as my hands begin to fill again. This time with your new muscle tit flesh. Bigger and bigger, until my hands can’t contain them. Firm and bounceable. Simultaneously, your skin heats up as your chest and back hair vanish, leaving you clean shaven. You watch as I give your nipples a squeeze and... the pleasure nearly knocks you off your feet. You moan as I pinch them between my fingers.

Like that? Yeah I can tell. I made them extra sensitive. Like so sensitive that the fabric of a shirt might make you cum. Oh don’t give me that look. Trust me, you’ll want to show off what I’m giving you. Okay... let’s...

My hands run along your abdomen and you feel like the wind is knocked out of you. The pudgy gut you sported before is starting to melt. Painful at first, but when you see the six pack you’re now sporting, you grin. But it’s short lived. You feel my hands firmly grip your ass. And this time, you moan as you feel your flabby ass firm up, filling with firm, bouncy fat and muscle. An ass that’ll always turn heads. And when I give your bubble butt a gentle slap, you moan loudly.

Yeah... what can I say? I want you to really enjoy your new body. Yeah... okay... I get you’re horny. Like hornier than you’ve ever been. But you’re turning out so well. We can’t stop now! Oh! Look at that! Your skin is starting to tan! See? We just need to get started and the rest follows. It’s like your body knows what its destined to become. But we’re missing something...

I run my hands up and down your arms, filling each of them with muscle. And then more. And then even more. They feel heavier to you. Bulging as if you’d just done curls for days. My hands don’t even come close to being able to wrap around them. And your shoulders... you’d never thought the whole ‘shoulders like boulders’ would ever apply to you. Now you’re a shining example.

Yeah, I know. Damn, dude. And I should ask... what’s your skin care routine? I jest, I jest. You’re 21, of course you have great skin! Haha you look so happy! Beats being 50, right? Oh! Before I forget...

You watch as I pull out a baseball cap and slap it on your head. Beneath it, you feel a burning sensation as your thinning hair grows in rapidly. And a few blond curls poke out from beneath your new hat.

So, what do you think? Of course, of course. I told you I’d help. And god, I gotta say you turned out hot. Now, I did tell you earlier that I set my clients up for success. And right now, you might have the body, but do you have the mindset? Okay, calm down... I did say there were risks, right? And I can’t let you ruin my work. Just stay still and...

You feel my hand on your head. And another around your growing cock.

Right... how does computer science fit into the new you? Or comic books? Okay, let’s get rid of that... and let’s move this here... and... Hey you good? You’re drooling all over yourself.

I give your cock a few tugs. A moan escapes your lips.

Phew! We’re still here. Right... okay let’s get rid of that... definitely get rid of this... Perfect! It’ll take a bit of space for all the knowledge to maintain this look. You’ll need most of your brain dedicated to workouts and diet. And since I doubt academics is your ticket to success, I might as well give you the knowledge to set up a successful OnlyFans account. Have any problems with that? I didn’t think so.  

I tug again on your cock, the pleasure somehow even more intense and your eyes roll back into your head.

Alright, but deep down you’re still that geeky guy. But with a body like this, it would be a waste not to have the right mindset for it. So, you get the idea? Shirtless, cocky, alpha douchebag. No more quiet geeky nerd. Yeah... look at that smirk. You’re getting it, now.

You flex in the mirror, the smirk never leaving your face. And then you turn back to me, gesturing toward your raging erection.

Well, what can I say. I.... Oh... Well, I mean if you insist. Might as well finish what I started. On my knees? Oh, okay... You want me to stop talking? Alright I.......

And as your cock meets the back of my throat and your moans fill the room, I couldn’t help but wonder if adding another douchey alpha bro to the world was worth it.

[lovelookspretty]

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): just swearing, jealousy, rafe being a bitch again

authors note: making this into a whole series so we get that progression !! let me know if u wanna be tagged for every chapter i make <3

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

you knock on the door and wait for an answer. you don’t really know where rafe hangs out on campus, if he even hangs out on campus. you already checked the library, which was a rafe no-show, and then you took every possible long route to get to his dorm just in case he would be walking around.

after his dorm, you don’t know what else you’re going to check if he’s not here.

the door opens, revealing an olive-skinned boy that must’ve been his roommate. you recognize him as a student you’ve seen around campus before. lorenzo, his name, was it?

he smiles as soon as he sees you, and he looks around to see if it’s only you there.

“yeah?”

“is rafe here?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers as you peek through the crack between lorenzo and the doorframe to see if rafe’s on his bed or anything.

“no he’s not, but he usually comes back around this time. you can come in and wait if you wanna,” he offers, and you nod, whispering a ‘thank you’ as you step past him. “is he in trouble?” he asks, going to shut the door. “are you a hookup? cause i think you should know . . . rafe doesn’t get particularly attached to one-nighters. sorry. if he said something mid-nut it’s just a guy thing. well just a him thing.”

you shake your head. “ew, god no i’m not a one night stand of his,” you tell him. “do girls actually come here to talk about it?”

lorenzo shrugs and nods. “usually. it always apparently ends in round two though!” he says like it’s a joke since he’s laughing. like actually laughing. but when he sees that you’re not doing the same, he falters awkwardly and claps his hands. “sorry i don’t mean to . . . i’m just gonna . . .”

you watch as he goes to his desk in silence, and it almost makes you laugh aloud. you only smile as you look down at your feet.

“i’m y/n by the way,” you inform him. “i live down the hall.”

“oh that’s cool. i’m lorenzo.”

you nod, pursing your lips as you look around.

“you’re a lacrosse player?” you ask after a bit of silence and just a lot of keyboard clicking. lorenzo continues typing from his computer and just hums in response. you admire the singular trophy on his shelf, as well as the crosse stick in the corner of the room. you must’ve either missed that before or lorenzo must’ve been at practice when you were tutoring rafe, cause that wasn’t there at all last time. “i like the trophy.”

“that was just for my senior year but my mom insisted i bring it, make a collection for all the ones i’ll win here too, if any,” he says, and you can hear the smile as he talks. it makes you smile too. “she’s my biggest fan.”

“your mom is sweet, and she’s a good thinker,” you say. “i hear the school’s lacrosse team has been doing really good this year. maybe that shelf is gonna be accompanied by another trophy sometime.”

“you’re into sports?”

“not necessarily,” you hesitate, finding yourself laughing with him. “i’m just . . . i do journalism here so i just keep up with everything. my friends cover the sports column. they talk a lot of good about you guys.”

lorenzo spins around in his chair to look at you. “i’ll give it a read sometime,” he tells you, and you smile and nod at him. “so what are you here to see rafe for?“ he asks, setting his hands on his thighs.

it’s like you wake up from reality and remember that you’re there for a reason. “oh right. i’m just here to talk about his grades,” you say, and lorenzo’s face slightly lights up as he lets out an ‘ohh’. “yeah he did really good on his exam the other day so i just wanted to tell him good job.”

“good friend you are,” he mumbles, standing up to check something on rafe’s desk. he grabs an edge of the calendar above the desk, reading it to himself and then flipping the page up and down just to see. “yeah he should only have his doctors appointment planned today but thats in like a few hours. he’s usually done with class by now.”

“i can just text him maybe,” you say, even though you know you don’t have his number. “i live down the hall but if it’s okay—”

“you can wait here, y/n,” lorenzo insists.

you smile and nod again, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ to him for letting you in his space while he’s clearly been in the middle of schoolwork.

lorenzo is reading through rafe’s calendar when he snorts. “‘tortilla chip day’ on the 24th apparently,” lorenzo reads off. “‘grilled cheese day’ in august. was he fucking hungry when writing these? he has these pre-written.”

you can’t help but laugh and take a peek at what else rafe’s put on his calendar.

the door opens, alerting both you and lorenzo. at first the person is surprised to find both a girl and his roommate, laughing together about something probably stupid. only it’s not just some girl. it’s you. and it’s not just a person. you see it’s rafe.

he recognizes you immediately from behind lorenzo. he can pick you from a crowd. he stands at the door with his hand on his backpack strap, staring at the two of you. “y/n,” he says, under his breath. “what’s so funny?”

“there you are,” you say, your arms crossed as you look at him. “i’ve been trying to find you for the past fucking hour.”

“i’ve been with my professor to talk about my grades, thanks,” he hisses as he walks inside to toss his bag on his bed, looking at you, “are you done hitting on my roommate now? you found me.”

you grimace at him, “what?”

“gee,” lorenzo mutter awkwardly as he hesitates to take his laptop with him and just go outside in the floors lounging area to give to you two some space. “it was nice meeting you, y/n,” he says, and you nod before he steps outside and closes the door behind him.

you look at rafe.

he shakes his head and waves his hand once, telling you not to worry about it. “whatever, just . . . get out?” he says, motioning over to the door. “i have to study for this friday’s exam too.”

you forget how much of a complete ass he is. god, it’s like he hasn’t changed since you were last in here. “‘kay,” you say dryly, and go to leave. “came here for nothing then. look, just remember who got you that ‘A’ and saved you from failing humanities in the first place.”

he pauses when he realizes you knew his score already. “what?” he says.

“that’s why i was trying to find you, asshole,” you tell him, opening his door and looking back. “i asked your professor what you got and he told me you almost would’ve gotten full points if you didn’t fuck up at the end. i was gonna congratulate you anyway.”

rafe stares at you in silence.

“and get a new tutor next time.”

he’s silent as he watches you go, and he blinks when the door is slammed behind you. he looks down at his backpack, then at his desk where he remembered he had to sit at for-fucking-ever to study and prepare for the exam with you.

“fuck,” he whispers, contemplating whether or not he should chase after you to apologize or just yell it down the hallway. but he knows you two aren’t close enough for him to show that kind of behavior, especially not after already embarrassing himself last week with the socks and water bottle donations.

but then again, you put everything aside, rivalry and all just to tell him good job because you know he’s been failing. this whole frenemies thing is the worst.

when you walk down the hall and reach your dorm, you can spot lorenzo seated at one of the chairs in the lounge. you consider going over to apologize that he had to see that, but a voice stops you in your tracks.

“y/n.” it’s rafe.

you quickly try to unlock your door and go inside, but he catches you before you can.

“stop,” he says.

“you stop. go study or something,” you tell him, struggling to unlock your door.

“you’re acting like a kid.”

you look up at him like he’s insane. “you can’t tell me i’m acting like a kid when you were just doing your big one a second ago,” you tell him, and you feel the lock become undone. “unfortunately that’s not how it works. excuse me.”

you let yourself into your dorm and close the door on him, leaving him standing there in silence. rafe looks over to the end of the hallway where the lounge is, spotting lorenzo who’s peeking around the side of the chair he’s on. rafe shakes his head.

it’s been another week since you last spoke with rafe, a few days since you’ve spoken to him. or since he tried speaking to you really. you were on your way back to your dorm again when he caught you, then tried to apologize. you ignored him until you went inside your room.

it all just feels pretty pointless to you. you and him have been going at each other for years. it doesn’t help that you guys get to see each other every day because you committed to the same university, or that your dorms are just doors away from the others. if anything it makes it all worse.

and just recently you helped each other for a day, making it feel like there’s been progression in this whole thing, but you were wrong. and instead of arguing, you just feel like it would be better if you guys don’t talk at all.

a straw is between your teeth as you carry your book under your armpit while trying to grab one of those cardboard things that hold your drink in case the cup itself is too hot and cold. you’re a journalism major but fuck, you have no idea what they’re called.

as you look up, you grab some napkins and head for the door. you’re in immediately alert mode when you can see rafe and his friends getting out of their car in the parking lot. here we go again.

you make your way over to your car that’s parked right outside the coffee shop to make it easier for you, and you unlock the door before getting in.

hearing the laughs from rafe and his friends don’t make you panic. you just set your coffee down in a cup holder after putting the straw in and taking a few sips of your drink, appreciating the flavor.

you lowkey stay in your car to watch what rafe and his friends are up to. they pass your car and reach the shop, letting themselves in before approaching the front counter. one friend is in the front to order, assuming for everyone, while the rest just surround him and check out the treats of the day.

you watch closely when rafe starts stretching. he’s mid conversation with one of them, just grinning as his friend talks his ear off about something apparently really funny. after the one ordering for them is done, he turns to the rest of the group and points to the tables behind them.

rafe looks around the shop for where to sit down, but his gaze land on all the cars out front while the boys decide on where to wait for their drinks. he finally looks at you. here it comes.

but for some reason . . . it doesn’t.

there’s not even a hint of emotion in his face when he sees you’re there. not even to question if you’d been watching him that whole time, or how long you’ve been sitting in your car. he just falls silent and follows his friends over to a table, sitting down and engaging in conversation like normal.

you feel a little upset when it’s the opposite treatment, but you know that’s unfair. you started this whole silent treatment a week ago and you’ve stuck by it. it’s only fair if rafe decides he’s going to do the same.

you put the car in reverse to leave the lot, but you can’t stop thinking about how rafe reacted when he saw you. or rather, how he didn’t react.

but whatever. you decide to push it aside. if you find out that rafe has a new tutor too then you won’t be surprised. if anything you’ll feel relieved because that means you won’t have to spend any more time with him. that the only reason why you’ll ever step foot back in that dorm will be because of lorenzo, not rafe. because that’s what you want. that’s what you want.

. . . right?

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

(okay wtf its not letting me tag someone else)

[januaryembrs]

SKIN LIKE PUFF PASTRY | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [6]

description: the ONE where you help him grieve another woman + the ONE with the promise

length: 8.04k

warnings: maeves death. grief. Spencer is a sad bby. HOWEVER maybe perhaps some fluff? healing journey! gun, blood, usual cm warnings.

author's note. HERE YOU GO POOKIES. I hope you enjoy now I've put you all out of your misery.

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'Lacy, oh lacy, skin like puff pastry,

aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?'

The one where you help him grieve another woman.

It killed her walking up those stairs every day. She knew the gift baskets were piling up, had already had a terse conversation with his neighbour about leaving ‘clutter’ in the hallway, to which she thinks she might have swung at the eighty year old woman if she didn’t think it would cause Spencer problems. 

He had enough on his plate already. Maeve had died, for fuck sake. 

In fact, she almost entirely blew her top when she made it to the top of the steps to see every single one of Garcia’s gift baskets had been moved, the bunches of tulips she’d brought him every other day over the past two weeks gone with little trace other than browning petals scattering his door mat. Even the cookies JJ had baked him, the card Henry had drawn for his uncle Spencer had been moved. 

Bugsy stopped for a second, her head snapping to the door to the right where his neighbour, Miss Cavanaugh, had shuffled out of her apartment in her pink dressing gown, her grey, wispy curls flat against her head as if she’d just rolled out of bed. 

She blinked at the younger girl through thick, bubble-like glasses, her blue eyes annoyed the minute she saw her standing there. 

“You can’t just take people's things, you know, I don’t care if it got in the way of your daily walk, Miriam, those were for Spencer-” Bugsy started, her voice as calm as she could get it even though her scowl spoke for itself. 

“I didn’t touch any of his crap, little lady,” Miriam raised her mottled hand, crooked fingers shushing the outrage Bug had been ready to bark at her, and the women sighed when they realised they might just have another argument like their last one, “Kid was poking around at like six in the morning taking it all in, nearly woke up my dog,”

Bugsy rolled her eyes, “God forbid,” Miriam flipped her the finger which made Bugsy’s jaw drop wide open, shuffling back into her apartment muttering to herself, her mail in her mangled hands, “Old bag,” Bug murmured to herself, but her eyes quickly locked back onto Spencer’s door.

He had been out. Well, he had been into his hallway, but it was something. 

Her legs felt like jelly when she took hesitant steps towards his doorway, her knuckles gently rapping on the wood, a frog crawling into her throat that she tried clearing with a cough. 

“Spencer?” Her voice was soft, melodic, and it made him wince where he sat against the other side of his entrance, his own hair a state of disarray, “It’s me,” 

Of course he knew it was her. He didn’t think a day could ever go by where he wouldn’t know her by the sound of her steps alone. Like he’d grown a sixth sense for these sorts of things, like they were linked by some weird Spidey powers like in the comics she’d brought over to his apartment and begged him to read, because even though he could devour a million words a minute (her words not his) it was the art in it she loved and that forced him to slow down and enjoy the pages. 

He wanted to tell her to go away, but he couldn’t find it in him to ever be so cruel, to dig himself a bigger trench of regret than he already felt. He couldn’t save Maeve, physically could never get the image of her dying from his ginormous, genius brain that held onto every detail, and on top of it, he knew he deserved none of the kindness Bugsy showered him with. He’d heard her come stand outside his door every single morning, heard her knocking with the same worried call of his name at the same time before breakfast. He heard her sigh after ten or so minutes and leave, her retreating footsteps clunking down the stairs sadly. 

She was too good for him. He’d only solidified it that she was so beyond what he deserved, that he could never treat her the way she deserved to be treated, the same way he hadn’t with Maeve. 

Spencer’s self loathing was a poison, slowly devouring him every time he heard her voice, felt her approach through the floorboards, when he’d seen the little notes she’d left on the books she’d dropped off outside his door. Usually they were her reviews on them, a list of pros and cons, her general musings, all things they would have chatted over a bagel if things had been normal between them. But he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had breakfast together the way they had like clockwork since she joined the BAU. That was a lie. He could remember, of course he could, it had been four months, three weeks and five days ago, a Monday. He thinks she knocked around 10am. Something like that. 

It was the day before she’d flown to London, actually. She had dropped the boys (the boys being Niko and Sergio) off to his apartment, thanked him a bunch of times for looking after them, given him five months worth of cat litter and kibbles and immediately unwrapped a to-go bag of their favourite pastries from the bakery downtown. He remembered it was close to October because she’d bought over maple buns and they only sold at the beginning of Autumn, and he’d asked if she’d be doing anything for Halloween seeing as their usual plans of a horror movie marathon were being put on pause while she was in England. She wasn’t, and she’d asked to call him instead so they could discuss their favourite trick or treating outfits they’d seen. 

He’d promised her a call, only another case popped up by the time the thirty-first rolled around, and it had never happened. 

Spencer hated how he was able to remember every detail of her face the day she’d left, the warmth of her hug he’d clung onto for months. He hated that day she’d surprised him and he hadn’t even thought to wrap his arms around her because he’d been so stuck feeling the overwhelming shock of seeing her. He hated that he’d made her frown like that, that she had ever doubted that he wanted to see her. But it had felt like he’d been caught cheating, why had it felt like cheating? 

He knew why. He knew why seeing her when he was going out to call Maeve had felt like he was double-crossing her. 

Not that it mattered anymore, he thought bitterly. Because Maeve was dead. And Bugsy had every right to hate him. But she didn’t. Because she was too good. 

He hated himself more than he’d ever thought was possible. 

He heard her sigh, but she didn’t repeat herself. Nor did she leave. Instead, he felt the door rattle behind his own spine as she slumped against the wood, sliding to the floor until she unknowingly leaned against him, little more than a few centimetres from his warmth. 

He heard her pull out something from her bag, and the tell tale slip of paper over paper told him she’d brought a book with her, pre-empting staying longer this time. Spencer wanted to tell her not to bother, because if he got brave enough to open the door to her and see her face, smell her clothes, feel the softness of her hugs, he thinks if he told her every thought bouncing around that aching skull of his, it would all come crashing down around him, and he wouldn’t ever be able to stop telling her how sorry he was. For all of it. For letting her pull away from him when she was grieving. For letting her kiss him that night Derek brought her over, because it was obvious she wanted to forget the whole thing. For pushing her away when she came back from London. For being rude and cold when she wanted answers. For trying desperately to completely detach himself from her, which had only ever made him want to scream in frustration because it hadn’t worked anyway. 

Maeve had died because of him, an innocent woman he’d seen himself falling for if they’d been given the chance had died, and he was still head over heels in terrible, stupid love with Bugsy. 

 They stayed there, her reading and him aching from the inside out, for about seven minutes before her phone rang. He heard her huff, letting it go to answer phone and settling back down with her novel. That is, until her dial tone sprung back to life and she half growled under her breath, assuming she pressed the answer button, and he heard her voice again. 

“Hello?” She said, the slight annoyance bleeding into her words, and Spencer already knew that duty was calling by the way her book thumped to the floor and he could just picture her rubbing over her temple in frustration. “I have an appointment, Hotch, I can be there in a couple hours,” Silence, where he guessed Hotch was chiding her on her tardiness, “No, I know I’m supposed to book these things off- it’s just- it’s a contraceptive implant removal, yeah I really busted my IUD when I broke my arm, it’s not settled since,” Spencer almost smiled on instinct, almost, though he thought even if he did it would look like a bitter grimace because he’d not moved his face in over ten days. But she was a really good liar, and he’d always found that part of her charm. She huffed again, “God, you sound like Emily, yes I’m being safe- we are not having this conversation, Aaron, I’ll get there when I get there,” 

With that, perhaps the only person who would ever be allowed to slam the phone down on Aaron Hotchner in a huff did, and they were left alone in silence again. 

“You shouldn’t ignore their calls for my sake,” He found his voice, even if it was groggy with misuse. He felt her straighten against the wooden door, her shock palpable through the brief moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for just a second too long, as if she was scrambling not to say something else than what came out. 

“Pot, meet kettle,” She murmured back, loud enough he could hear it, and she felt him shuffle behind the door, wanting to smack herself in the face for not feeling him there sooner.

“New case?” He asked, his eyes heavy, his pyjamas days old. He knew he needed to shower, but the minute he’d walked into his apartment everything had felt pointless. 

“Yup.” She breathed in, her shoes brushing against his welcome mat with a scratch as she pulled her knees up to her chest, “Although I think Hotch will stick to Penelope making the calls after today,” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh came from his throat, something she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

“What is it?” He replied, and she remained quiet for a second, picking the skin around her nails. 

“I’ll tell you if you open the door,” She bartered, wondering for a second if she’d gone too far and had pushed him back into the hole she was coaxing him out of. 

“Blackmail,” Spencer said, all emotion gone from his voice, and Bugsy winced, “A little on the nose for someone who’s grieving,” 

But she could sense it. The way his syllable raised on the last word, that he was being cynical, not cruel like she’d worried. 

“Think of it as a trade deal,” She humoured him, though she kept her voice soft so he knew she meant no harm, just to cheer him up if it was even possible, “You get your answer, and I get to give you this incredibly boring book that I know you can devour in a half hour and give me the summarised version,” 

He smiled. Weakly, and only for a brief few seconds, because if there was anything that warmed him up from the cold, dark, nothingness place he’d found himself in it was her.

He wished he could dislike the fact she did it so easily, wish he could dislike how simple it was to like her, to feel himself wanting her even in that nothingness place he was crawling through as a lone ranger. He wanted to pull her into him tightly, wanted to let her fuss over him, to apologise until his voice ran even more hoarse, but he couldn’t. He feared if he touched her, she’d be marked for death right then and then; that he’d taint her somehow. And that he could never do. 

Yet, he bent to her will. He stood up, prompting her to do the same, leaving his door on the latch as he pulled it open a crack, enough for her to jimmy the book through, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, by Leo Tolstoy. 

He had read Tolstoy before, of course he had. War and Peace was one of the first books he ever owned in Russian, ironically enough one that he’d read only a few days before they’d driven to Baltimore and he’d met Bugsy for the first time. Yet it was this one she’d given him of all of Tolstoy’s works; the one where the protagonist goes on a journey of acceptance that he’s dying with no explanation as to why. 

He thought she might just be the only person who knew how to crawl into the mess of his brain and find something familiar in there. Because this was the same book he’d read when Emily had died. 

He would never tell her he already owned it, however. Nor would he call her out for the fact she most certainly didn’t find it boring considering she was so far into it with annotations already scribbled in the margins. He just took it with a lump in his throat, his eyes burning with the idea she was so incredibly her that it felt like he had no option but to drown in it. 

“Body’s been found in San Francisco,” She said gently, and he knew she wished he would open the door fully so she could at least see him. Yet he kept the door on the latch. Because if there wasn’t a barrier between them, he wasn’t sure how else he would keep it all in, “You get to know more when you finish the book,” 

He sighed, holding the book tight to his chest, and they stood there for a second, the air turning stifling as they both held back a million words behind brave faces, “Will you be gone long?” 

“No, only a few days, I hope,” She replied, zipping her bag up and slinging it on her back judging by the sounds coming from her side of the door. She hovered, not wanting to say the wrong thing, but wanting to stay here on his welcome mat because this was the closest they'd been physically and otherwise in months. 

“Be safe,” He murmured, and her hand shot through the gap in the doorway, her pinky finger raised to the heavens. 

“Promise,” Bugsy said, her heart jack hammering against her ribcage when a long, warm finger wrapped around hers, and they squeezed them together. It was just a little touch, but it was a start. She wished he would open the door so she could beg him to talk to her, even if it meant crawling to her knees, she wasn’t above it whatsoever. 

Reluctantly, she let him go, though she noted the way he had held onto her until she did so. 

“I have to go,” She said sadly, drawing her hand to her chest like she’d received a Midas touch, and her hand was suddenly valuable after gracing his own. 

Her skin felt electric, her breaths felt laboured. She wanted more, but she couldn’t have it. 

And with that, it took every ounce of resolve to turn on her heels and head back down to her car. 

–

Bugsy stared at the artwork with a grimace, picking hard at her cuticles because the metallic smell was making her stomach turn. Their UnSub had taken to painting with his victims’ blood, canvasses upon canvasses of leeched ichor brushed out to make out an image of the bodies. 

Her nose scrunched when another wave of hot, iron wafted up her nose, and she thought about asking Hotch if she could step outside for a moment, knowing he likely wouldn’t question her perhaps ever again after their little phone call. 

“What other reasons would he have for separating plasma from the blood?” Hotch asked, and her brow furrowed, her mouth opening to speak before another voice cut her off.

“It’s a habit,” 

She swore she gave herself whiplash with how fast her head snapped to the side. She would know his voice anywhere. It sounded lost and desolate, yes, but her eyes swirled with relief when she saw him standing there, looking skittish and tired but alive. 

“Reid,” Morgan breathed, the same level of surprise she felt as JJ darted towards him, her arms wrapping around his middle before he could protest.

“Spence,” She said, and they hugged one another tightly, his eyes following over Jennifer’s shoulder to where Bugsy seemed to watch him unsurely, like she was waiting for him to tell her what to do, how to make it better, how to fix it. A girl who had always been so sure of herself now reduced to pining from afar for answers. 

“I didn’t expect you back this soon. You sure you're ready?” Hotch asked, an almost identical look of hesitance on his face as Bugsy had on hers, and it was no wonder half of the department said they were two sides of the same coin.

“No but I think I figured something out,” He breathed, moving out of JJ’s embrace towards the boards where the victim profiles were, and he began speaking in that slow, cold tone he’d taken on. 

Spencer, to no one's surprise, was able to all but fit their disjointed puzzle pieces together in the space of an hour's flight, and with just a few pointers in Garcia’s direction, they’d got their UnSub. 

“And bingo was his name-o, actually his name is Bryan Hughes, he is an AB positive haemophiliac who works as a janitor at the Bay Area Museum of Art. And before you ask, yes his address has been sent to your phones.” Penelope rushed, pinging the information to their phones just as fast as it had appeared on her screen.

“You’re the best baby girl,”  Morgan said into the speaker, hanging up the phone as the team stood from their place at the desk, Hotch assigning them tasks as everyone strapped on their kevlars and guns. 

She held back for a moment, her eyes assessing him like man approaching a wounded wolf. 

“I’m okay-” He was about to say, because he knew what she was going to ask before she thought to do it, except she simply nodded at him, turning on her heel to follow the others, despite him expecting something more Bugsy-like. 

It wasn’t like her to leave him without some final word, some final stand, and he was right. Because no sooner had she gotten all of three paces, she whirled back around, heading back towards him with a timid expression, and she all but launched herself into his arms. 

He held her tight, the warmth of her body making his eyes well up, because if there was anything that could have made him crack his resolve, it was her touch alone. 

She carded her fingrs through his hair, tucking her face into his neck and breathing in deeply. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” She murmured, stopping herself from saying anymore as she released him, well aware of the fact he had tried squeezing her tighter before she’d had to let him go, like he hadn’t wanted her to go. But neither did she. 

“Stay safe,” He said on instinct, and she nodded, her eyes trailing over his empty eyes and sallow skin. 

She wanted to kiss away every trace of sadness there, but she couldn’t. Wanted to wrap him into a hug so tight she might just stop breathing, but it would have been worth it. Wanted to tuck him into bed and stroke his hair and feed him tea and chocolate and make sure he was kept well, because she’d do anything to make him better. 

But she couldn’t. They had a case. 

It took every scrap of resolve to let go of Spencer Reid, sheepish and mourning, and leave him in that room alone. 

–

She sighed, scrubbing at the back of her hand with the shitty aeroplane soap they had on the jet, the tiny basin doing nothing to help the fact she was all but peeling off the top layer of her epidermis. 

Catching Bryan had been messy; he had come at her with a scalpel, she had shot, his blood had sprayed over her arms, soaking right through. Spencer had all but gone white when she’d gotten to the runway, hoping to make it back to Quantico by midnight. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He fretted, despite the fact it was the closest he'd come in weeks to an emotion that wasn't sadness, and he stood little more than a few centimetres away, his fingers twined together, wanting to check her over himself. 

She waved him off, “It’s not mine. I’m going to wash up on the plane, don’t worry,” She replied, her expression exhausted, twitching on the spot to stop herself pushing his hair behind his ear. She knew he’d washed it because it looked particularly fluffy, the way it always did when he hadn’t bothered to style it before he left the house, “Are you okay?” 

He nodded wordlessly, and took her mini suitcase from her side, wheeling it along the tarmac for her, his face a worried scowl as they boarded the jet. 

She thanked him as she stepped past him putting it in the overhead luggage, heading straight for the toilets to wash up, Morgan and JJ ducking out of the way when they saw Carrie 2.0 passing by them. 

It wasn’t until they were already in the air did she emerge, her change of clothes on her skin that had been rubbed raw, her uniform in a biohazard bag that she swiftly dumped at the back of the jet to keep it out of sight. She threw herself down on the nearest seat, her entire body aching from the long few days, but she didn’t miss the hazel eyes that bore into the side of her head to her right. 

She turned to meet their gaze, even though she already knew who it was before she’d even looked. Spencer looked like he was caught between about five different sentences to start with, his eyes trailing down her arms and to her hands that were now squeaky clean. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He murmured, and she flipped her palms over for him to see for himself. No cuts. No abrasions. Except her usually marred cuticles she’d been picking at all day. 

“Pinkie promised, didn’t I?” She teased, but no humour met his face. He just looked back at her, like he didn’t quite believe her still, like she was a ghost where his best friend should be sat, or a trick of the light. She turned her knees towards him, her sleepy eyes buttery and genuine, as if she was trying to make herself as relaxed as possible, just so he would stop worrying, “Spencer, I’m fine. Didn’t even knick me,”

He stayed quiet for a moment, looking down to his satchel bag where he played with the buckle, the brown leather cold in between his fingers, “I’m sorry I’ve been weird and distant and ignoring you- I just…”

“Spencer,” She tried to interject with a honeyed voice, but he shook his head, a crease forming between his brows when he heard her say his name like that. 

“I just worry I’m letting everyone down, but when I saw you covered in blood-” He gulped, willing his eyes not to burn up again with unshed tears. 

“Spence, it’s okay,” She cooed, shuffling closer to him in her seat, her hand migrating to his knee, because she didn’t know if he’d want to touch her after she’d had someone else's blood all over her hand. She liked her chances, yet the last thing she wanted was to push him. “No one’s expecting you to go back to normal, I just want to know you’re safe. I owe you as much, I mean you looked after me when Emily was gone,” 

“You don’t owe me anything, Bug,” He shook his head again, his brows furrowing and she was quick to correct herself, “Besides, I loved living with you,” He rested his palm over her hand and gave her what he hoped looked like a small smile. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Spence,” She said, flipping her hand over to squeeze his fingers gently, “Did you not think I loved living with you too? I just want to take care of you for me,” 

He looked at her, her eyes hopeful as she roved over his clean clothes, his freshly washed hair, his satchel he’d kept tight in his lap, as if checking him over for bruises despite the fact he hadn’t been in the field. The crushing weight over his chest like a fallen log seemed to shift, and with it, her hand soothed the wound, her smile dried his eyes, her warmth engulfed his very core in a blanket. 

Spencer knew he was going to be okay if it was him and her. He knew the world was livable again if she was fighting in his corner. But then, when hadn’t she been?

Sensing his ease in attitude, or perhaps she just knew his eyes so well to notice the way they seemed to carry less burden as soon as she’d spoken, she leaned back in her seat, “Besides, the boys miss you. They said you gave them more treats than I do and Niko appreciated you brushing his fur for him,”

He smiled over at her bashfully, his head dropping down to lean on her shoulder as she pressed her cheek to his head. 

“Well, if the boys miss me, I guess I have no choice,” He murmured, his eyes heavy the second he rested against her, like she’d sprayed a sedative over him, and he couldn’t help think that her new perfume wasn’t nearly as them as her old one had been. Not that he disliked this one, just that the other one reminded him of morning breakfasts, and movie marathons, and nights when they would bake apple cake at twelve in the morning because she made it how he liked it to a tea. 

She chuckled, and it sounded like a hum in his ear, as he curled up to her side, “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when we land and I’ll drive us home,”

And it didn’t take much for him to do so, even if something had been right on the tip of his tongue; his apartment had only felt like home when she said it like that. 

+1. The one with the promise.

He’d had that dream again. 

It had been four months since Maeve died, but he’s had that dream again.

He’d start out in a restaurant, the walls lined top to toe with books, the chandelier the perfect amount of dust that it had character but not tackiness. A waiter would bring him over a menu and an iced tea, his favourite. He’d go to look up to ask why he’d been sat at a restaurant he had no recollection of getting to, and he’d see her staring back at him. 

Maeve. Looking healthy and happy, like he hadn’t watched her brains sprayed across that warehouse floor. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” She would say, a glass of some kind of white wine swirling in her hand, her teeth straight and white and pretty when she smiled. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you,” He’d say, though he couldn’t feel his mouth moving, he just knew it had come from him. “Where are we?” 

“You promised me a date, so this is it,” Maeve said, a glint in her blue eyes, “First and the last. Let’s make it count,”

His heart would give a jump then, because he’d remember this was the only time he’d ever get to see her. He’d remember that she was dead, that he had never seen her in person like this until the day she’d died. 

He’d open his mouth to apologise, to beg for an explanation or forgiveness, whichever one he thought was more pressing, and then the door would swing open. 

And Bugsy would walk in. 

Donned in the same bluebell dress she’d worn at JJ’s wedding, only her arm wasn’t broken. And she’d walk right up to him, that smile on her face that said she was excited to see him. 

And Maeve would look at her, and instead of scowling or sneering like a woman soaking in jealousy would, they would look at one another and grin like they’d known each other decades. 

“Car’s out front when you guys are done,” Bugsy would chirp, her eyes warm when she looked down at the dead woman, satiated in genuine happiness to see her, “Don’t keep him too long,”

“One dance, Agent Prentiss, and he’s all yours,” Maeve would reply with a giggle, her brunette locks falling like a waterfall over her shoulder when she’d stand, offering a hand to him to sweep him onto the dancefloor, “You coming, Spencer?”

And his eyes would snap open, returning him back to the horrible reality of his darkened bedroom, his apartment silent other than the sound of Bugsy tossing in the spare room, the way she did when she got too warm in her sleep, and he threw his legs out of bed to go get her some cold water. 

But the dream never left him. The same one he’d had for months, since she’d moved in with him to take care of him, make sure he was eating and keeping as happy as he could be. 

The sight of her in that blue dress, waiting for him to finish his dance haunted him almost as much as Maeve did. 

–

“Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t been sleeping?” She asked, cornering him in the kitchen once they’d both dropped their go bags in their room and he’d jumped for the kettle to make them both coffee. 

He blanked, the mug nearly slipping from his grasp as he plonked it down on the counter in front of her, “Why would you think-”

“Spencer,” She said as a warning, her lip quirking between her teeth as she gnawed at it worriedly. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” He confessed too quickly, scratching the back of his neck the way he did when he was nervous, “I know you worry about me, especially right now, and when you worry, you don’t sleep, and I just thought what’s the point in both of us running on nothing,” 

She huffed, and he shuffled around the island to meet her where she stood by the bar stools, looking like she wanted to be cross with him but she couldn’t find it in herself. 

“You should have told me, I could have stroked your back the way you liked, or, I don’t know,” She shrugged, looking anywhere but his guilty looking hues, “Smuggled night nurse in your tea,”

“Drugs. Cause that’s way better than my thing,” He teased, and she snickered, and he sighed in relief that she wasn’t really mad at him. He hated lying to her, he’d just wanted to keep his odd dream to himself until he could make sense of it, “Did Dave tell you anything else?” 

She shook her head, and he knew she was telling the truth because she seemed to immediately be the one assessing him for anything else she should have been told much sooner. 

“Is your head okay?” She asked, putting a gentle hand to his forehead to check for migraine heat, “I know they get worse when you don’t sleep-”

“My head’s fine, Bug,” Spencer replied, grabbing her hand with his long fingertips, pulling them from his face to squeeze at her side with a warming smile, “Promise. I’ll tell you if it gets bad,”

She watched him sceptically for a moment before she leaned over to grab her coffee, taking a long sip, and sighing in delight when it tasted perfect, “I love your memory, did I ever tell you that?”

He chuckled, dodging a rogue Niko that bobbed between his feet because it was almost dinner time for the two miscreants, moving back over to the sink to tidy the granules of sugar he’d spilled, “Many times. But I’d remember your coffee even if I had a normal brain,”

“Humble as always,” She remarked, smiling devilishly when he shot her a glare over his shoulder. It was then that Sergio jumped up onto the counter, the way Spencer had tried scolding him for a million times because of the germs, only for the onyx black cat to flick his tail in his face as if to flip him a middle finger, yowling in the man’s face for his usual dinner of kibble and water. 

“Alright, alright,” Spencer sighed, reaching into the cabinet to grab their food, two fluffy bodies immediately weaving in between his long legs with mews and head bumps, because those boys knew how to wrap him around their little finger, “You ought to start being nice to me, boys. One day it’ll probably just be me and you guys, and then you can’t just bat your tails at me like you do your mom-”

“I know I’m turning twenty eight but I still got a few years left kicking, Spence,” Bugsy protested, her brows furrowing when she heard his murmurs, which she hadn’t found entirely odd since he always spoke to the boys when he fed them, except this time it had made her draw back in confusion, “Where am I in this hypothetical bachelor pad you got going on?”

“You’ll be with whatever guy is lucky enough to talk his way into dating you, maybe engaged, maybe married,” He said like it was nothing, despite the fact he’d been thinking about that exact scenario for months. Since Penelope had mentioned just how good British men were in bed, in fact. Because he felt both sick and curious as to whatever it had been that had come out of her mouth in return, “And I’ll look after the boys while the two of you move on, because you’ll feel sorry for taking my only friends away from me when you leave, and I’ll be forced to become a lonely, old cat man,” 

“That’s not true,” She said, her face warming when he chuckled cynically, running a hand through his hair, “Spence, you can’t actually believe that?”

“Yes it is, Bugsy, you don’t need to try and make me feel better,” He brushed her off, wiping his knuckles over heavy eyelids, “You and I both like facts, right? It’s a quantifiable fact that zero women except Maeve have ever fallen in love with me in thirty years. Even if we call it twelve years to remove the factor of less meaningful relationships developing before adulthood, that means I’ll be forty two by the time I next get a shot, at which point I’ll be too old and washed up for anyone to find me attractive. Let’s face it, no one is ever going to love me like that again,”

“That’s not true,” She repeated, her chest hammering, her face scrunched into a scowl, “You’re wrong. Quantifiably wrong.”

“You have no data to back that statement up, Bug,” He replied with a dark snicker, and maybe it was the lack of sleep or the idea of her engaged to some other bonehead that had made him so crass, “Can’t make a conclusion without drawing on your evidence, to which you have none,” 

“Yes, I do, asshole. I know for a fact that someone is in love with you,” She snapped, and it was like a bolt of lightning had cut through their conversation, blowing up in her face, her entire body freezing the second the words had left her mouth.

She looked at him, her eyes panicked, and all teasing had dropped out of his expression, leaving something confused, “Bug-”

“I don’t know why I said that,” She cut him off, jumping into action and avoiding his burning gaze. But he was fast, and he was pushing off the counter just as quickly as her. 

“Bugsy, what do you mean? I don’t understand,” He persisted, darting only a pace behind her when she moved towards the living room to grab her cardigan off the back of the sofa.

She shook her head, “Ignore that, it doesn’t matter,”

“No, what did you mean by that?” Spencer asked, his voice tense because he had never seen her cower away from him like that, her body moving entirely into a state of flight. She shook her head, snatching the white fabric in her fingers and spinning on her heel to head for the doorway. But there he was, blocking her escape, his impossibly tall body stopping her right in her tracks, and she didn’t need to look up to know he had that special Spencer brand of Puppy Eyes. 

“I’m going to the store-”

“Bugsy,” 

“It doesn’t matter, Spence, just leave it,” She said shakily, trying to duck around him only for him to dodge to the left and stop her advance, “Spence, leave it, please,” 

“What did you mean? Just tell me,” He begged, his cadence wary, the sound of it flushing her entire chest with a heat she’d never known. She swore she was going into cardiac arrest, her heartbeat was in her throat, and it made it difficult to swallow, let alone push him away, “Do you know something?”

Her breaths were deep, begging her chest to behave as it damn near spun her vision into dizziness. He was just a man. He was just a boy. How could he have so much control over her entire body when he had barely even touched her? When he had just asked her one tiny little question? 

It was unethical, how her stomach rippled with butterflies the second she dared to look at his hazel eyes, round and intense where they never left her face. It should have been illegal for begging to look so good on him. 

She took a sigh, shaking her head and looking back to his mismatched socks, chuckling bitterly, and putting her head in her hands. She couldn’t escape from this, her only defence mechanism was to curl into herself like an armadillo against a predator, her attacker being the god's honest truth that he was owed years ago. 

“I really,” She cleared her throat, her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears, “I really messed things up with you,” 

“What?” Spencer’s hot hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could hear her every word clearly, “I thought we were okay now, I thought we were friends again,”

She laughed emptily, her bottom lip quivering, her hands shaking under his touch. He was so warm, he always had been, but it felt as if he was everywhere when he was only really touching the skin of her pulsepoint. She hoped he couldn’t feel just how it beat for him, beat so loud and fast all for him. 

“That’s the problem,” She whispered, her glassy eyes meeting his as she gave an unsure breath, gulping loudly. It was like he stared right at her soul, and pleaded it to speak to him. And she had never been able to say no to him, not when he looked like that, “When I came back from London, I came back to tell you that…” 

She breathed again, because she felt like she was holding it while she confessed, she knew it was no wonder she felt so dizzy, but she couldn’t look away from him, where his face was morphing into realisation. 

“I came to tell you that.. I-I’m in love with you, Spencer,” A single tear dribbled down her cheek, but he let go of her hands quickly to catch it, his lips pressing together in a silenced word, most like ‘oh’. His brows quirked above his nose, his eyes turning into devastation as soon as she’d said it. But it was out there now, so there was no use in trying to keep it in anymore. “I have been, for a while I think, and I wanted to tell you because I thought you might-might-” She gulped, the finger that had brushed the first tear stroking down until it rested under her jaw, the feeling of it damn near making her whine, “I don’t know, I just hoped you would feel anything back- but you don’t have to say anything, I know you’re hurting and so I just kept it in, but every time I see you I feel like I’m choking and I don’t know how to make it stop-”

“Tell me you’re lying,” Spencer said with a biting tone, his eyes honey comb gold and glistening when he looked at her. It couldn’t be true. He never got this lucky. It couldn’t be, he refused-

She shook her head frantically, her eyes pleading and wet, “Never, Spencer. I would never lie to you. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you- I know you’re hurting, I know you’re grieving and I shouldn’t have assumed-“

“I love you too,” He whispered, and it was like her words came to fruition as her voice was robbed, the air leaving her lungs. Her jaw dropped, her wet eyes boring into his chest, his hands skirting up to hold her face in his hands, thumbs stroking over her tear ladened skin, “God, Bug, I’ve loved you for so long, I thought you didn’t want anything like that after that kiss-”

Her expression dropped, eyebrows scrunching together, “What kiss?” 

He blanked, for once speechless. Only the kiss he’d torn himself to pieces over for weeks and weeks. “The night- that Derek brought you over when you’d had…” He trailed off, wanting to throttle himself for how dumb he’d been in retrospect, “When you’d had the Molly,” 

Her hand slapped over her mouth, his own hands flying to palm at his eyes, because how could he be so incredibly stupid. Ecstasy was a memory suppressant. He knew, he knew better than most, that taking recreational drugs like that robbed you of even the most life shattering moments. 

She didn’t remember. How could she? She was so out of it she could barely walk without stumbling over a flat surface. And instead of asking her, instead of simply growing a pair and seeing what she remembered, he’d gotten a girlfriend.

This was all wrong. This was so wrong. The guilt from Maeve dying was a wound that had cut him deep, and yet having Bugsy in his arms so placid and warm and adoring was a salve he had never dreamed would feel so numbing.

“We kissed?” She asked, her eyes blazing with embarrassment, her hand running through her hair in shock horror, “I don’t- how don’t I remember that- that’s all I dreamed of for months-” 

“Technically you kissed me,” He explained, despite the fact his cheeks had set on fire hearing her confess even the smallest bit more to him. She loved him. She was in love with him. She had been for months, she said. She loved him. “It would have been wrong if I did anything even if it was all I’d thought of too. And I just thought, because you never mentioned it, that you didn’t want to remember it at all,” 

He felt like he’d taken some sort of truth serum, like he should shut himself up any second now because he was spilling his longest kept secret to the one person who should have never been privy to it. But it was okay if she knew. Because she loved him.

She looked at him, and he swore he’d never seen eyes so beautiful, but then he’d always loved her eyes. But the way they looked at him, as if he’d had a bag pulled from over his head, or his glasses had been given the correct prescription, because it was like he suddenly saw just how adoring she looked when she watched him like that. 

And despite herself, she laughed. 

It was girlish, and carefree, and happy. So, so happy. And he started laughing too. She fell into his chest, her face hot with embarrassment, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her giggling into his shirt, shaking her head. 

“We’re so fucking stupid,” She said, and it was mumbled, and the sound of it made him smile wider.

“I’m a stupid, stupid man. I’m so sorry, Bug,” He replied, his large hand stroking down the back of her hair though a sour taste crawled up his throat. 

He still owed Maeve that dance. Just as he’d told Rossi. Who had told Bugsy, because he knew she had some magic way of getting her way with everyone.

She pulled away, her eyes young and so incredibly pretty when she smiled at him like that. Sensing his hesitation, she tried to pull away from his embrace, worried like it was second nature to her by now that she’d overstepped. Only he didn’t let her. He kept his hand at the back of her head, one under her arm to pin her close to his body, because he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let her go twice. 

“You said you tried to tell me when you got back from London?” He said softly, and she nodded, like her confession had taken everything out of her, “But then when you got here… I was with Maeve,” 

She swallowed, worried where he was going, and nodded again wordlessly. 

He chewed the inside of his lip, taking a deep breath for courage, “I’m still- I feel terrible if-”

“You can still grieve, Spencer,” She cut him off, knowing what he was struggling to say, and his eyes crawled back up to meet her gaze, “It’s not heinous to need time to think, I know it’s a lot to ask, I never expected you to-”

He cut her off with a kiss to the apple of her cheek, warm and angelic, the feeling of it forcing her mouth shut, because she worried she might just whimper in delight if she didn’t. Her hand flew up to his forearm that moved around to cup neatly under her ear, his fingers weaving into her hair as he kissed again down near her jaw, her eyes fluttering shut. And when she thought it was done, when she thought her luck was spent, he kissed her again, on the cusp of her lips, a ghost breath slipping from a parted mouth, because she thought she might have just died and gone to heaven. 

“Bugsy, I love you,” Spencer said, and her heart felt full, so full her eyes welled up all over again because it was everything she had ever wanted, “I just need a little time,”

Her eyelids flicked open, and the bliss written over her face took a knock, her head reeling back like he’d burned her. But, as before, he didn’t let her go, He refused to let her run away again. Not when he had everything he wanted, “That’s not a ‘no’. It’s just a very stupid man who has loved you for longer than you’d know hoping on everything that you’ll be willing to give me a month or two. I want to do this right, you deserve to have this done right, and I want to give you only the best version of myself,” 

Spencer’s heart pounded against his slender ribcage as he waited for her response, because he knew he was pushing his luck. But he’d meant every word of it, and he figured if he had any chance at being the guy he’d always told himself she needed, he’d need to be honest with her. They’d need to be honest with each other.

But she smiled at him, sweet and besotted beneath his palm, and he didn’t know why he’d ever doubted her. 

“I waited six years, what’s a few months on top of that?” She smirked, her face glowing when he pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead, and he felt how hot her blood ran under his touch. He hoped she couldn’t feel how his did the same. 

“I promise. Just a few more months, bug,”

And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer meant it. He wouldn’t let her go ever again. 

--

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[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Six - Netflix and...

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.2K

Warnings: Smut, eating out, fingering, lingerie

Series Masterlist

The package arrived on a Wednesday. The delivery driver left placed the box outside of their door and knocked before walking away, leaving it there.

Lando opened the door. He looked down at the package, at the name written on the top of the box, and brought it inside. There was nothing he had to be suspicious about with the box as he left it outside of his roommates bedroom.

"Package!" He shouted as he knocked on her bedroom door.

Y/N waited for him to walk away before she opened the door and pulled the box inside. She shut the door and placed the box on the bed, using a pair of scissors to open it.

Inside of that package were several smaller packages. There were see through bags full of lingerie and more. Sex toys, new vibrators and a dildo. It wasn't her that ordered it, it was her friend. It was her solution for the 'Lando Problem' as they had started calling it.

She tried on a new set of lingerie, keeping it on as she pulled on her pyjama shorts and hoodie once again. Y/N pushed the box under her bed and left her room.

Knocking on Lando's bedroom door, she waited for permission to walk in. Lando shouted a 'come in!' and Y/N walked in, leaning against the doorframe.

Things had been incredibly uncomfortable since she had sucked him off. She was avoiding him once again, eating late at night and ducking out for training when Lando was gaming or streaming, door to his bedroom shut.

But she was done with that now. She wanted his attention now.

Lando didn't look away from his game, from fifa, as she began speaking to him. "Wanna watch a movie?" She asked, his voice somewhat sweet.

"Sure," Lando answered as his players ran down the pitch. But then he kept talking, just not to her. Y/N stayed in the room as she listened to him, tried to work out what was happening, who he was talking to. So, she pulled his headset from his head and placed it on her own.

Max Verstappens voice came through, loud and clear. "Oh, hey Max," she said as she watched them play.

"Oh my god it's Y/N," Max said, sounding surprised. "I completely forgot you lived together. Can you give me back to Lando?"

She placed the headset back on Lando's head and walked out of the room. She got herself something to drink and settled on the sofa, television on in front of her while she waited for Lando.

Maybe he was making a point, making her wait like that. But Y/N sat on the sofa, covered up by a blanket with the television on. Lando made her wait for half an hour before he emerged from his room.

"What're we watching?" He asked as he sat beside her.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned on the first movie she came to on Netflix. It didn't have to be good; they hopefully weren't going to be watching it for very long.

Ten minutes into the video, Y/N threw off her blanket, muttering something about being too hot. Her loose shorts had ridden up, revealing the lace beneath.

He didn't notice it at first. When he looked down at his phone he spotted the lacy blue beneath the grey of her shorts. Suddenly Lando couldn't look away, couldn't pull his eyes away from it.

Y/N was hyper aware of it, of the way he was staring at her lingerie. Her fingers wrapped around the waistband of her shorts and pulled them up slightly, showing off more.

Suddenly Lando looked up, meeting her gaze. He breathed in, refusing to pull his eyes away. She bit her lip as she grabbed the hem of her hoodie and pulled it up over her head. When she threw it to the side and looked at him again, he was still staring at her.

His eyes travelled down for just a second, but they quickly returned to her face. "Take the shorts off," he said and Y/N stood up. She pushed the shorts down her legs, letting them fall to the floor.

Lando didn't hesitate to reach towards her, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. He looked at her face, into her eyes as his fingers danced under the waistband of her panties, hands still holding her hips.

"Are you okay with this?" He asked, mirroring what she had said to him just days before.

She nodded her head and Lando withdrew his hands. He felt her through her panties, felt just how wet she was. He couldn't hide his grin as he pulled down her panties, let her step out of them and put them in his pocket.

He looked at her as he took her leg and placed it on the sofa. Still looking into her eyes he kissed the inside of her leg. She could have melted into a puddle then and there. The way he was looking at her as he kissed her thigh was too sweet, too loving for what was about to happen.

He kissed her again, closer to where she needed him. "Lan," she squeaked, reaching for his hair.

Lando gave her a sly grin before he dove in, licking and sucking at her skin. He pushed his tongue through her folds and she let out an almighty moan, her head thrown back as her fingers laced through his brown strands of hair.

Lando took this as an encouraging sign and kept going. He had his arms wrapped around her, hands holding her ass in a way that suggested he was trying to pull her closer.

"Holy fuck, Lan!" She cried as he sucked on her clit. The feeling was euphoric, her legs shaking as he brought her closer to the edge.

His attention moved to her hole. He licked over it, letting go of her ass to bring her fingers up to her.

He ran his fingers through her folds, gathering a mixture of his spit and her slick. Lando made sure he was looking down at her as he put his fingers into his mouth, licking her off of his skin. It was a taste he'd never get bored of.

He sucked her clit again as he pushed his fingers through her folds, pushing his finger inside of her. She suddenly pushed against him, grinding down onto his hand.

Lando sat back and let her work. "Another," she rasped and Lando added a second finger. She only rode him harder, bringing herself to a shaking orgasm.

He kept her going through her orgasm, letting her ride it out. When she was finished, Lando pulled away from her. He kept a hold of her ass, pulling her on top of his lap.

Lando brushed her hair away from her face. Her chest was heaving as she sat on top of him, facing him with her arms wrapped around his neck.

She leaned in closer, testing the waters as he went to kiss him.

Lando kissed her back with desperation.

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