#yes they are all drinking together after the conference

[doctorgirlsblog]

Merz Prinzessin vs. Dutch Lion

Part 1: She-devil

Warnings: throughout the series, there are mentions of cheating, explicite sex scenes (+18) and swearing.

P.S. Hope you guys like the first part, feel free to leave your opinions in the comments 👀

Many more parts coming soon 🫶🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss Wolff, the conference starts in 40 minutes." Aria groaned upon hearing her name being called, a sweet reminder of the upcoming press conference ahead of the new season. In her rookie year, all she heard were whispers about how she had secured her place on the Mercedes team because of her father, especially after Lewis retired at the end of 2022. She made no attempt to justify the rumors; she knew her worth and talent. Instead, she let her performance on the track do the talking.

That's how she earned the nickname "Mercedes Princess," a title that garnered both admiration and secret resentment. She didn't mind the attention, though. However, she silenced all the naysayers by finishing 2nd in the Drivers' Championship that same year, surpassing Charles, who landed in 3rd place, almost 70 points behind her. This year, however, she would be driving as the team's first driver, with George as her teammate. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought of posible win this year, of wiping that Red Bull golden boy's smile off his face when she finally overtook him and snatched his dream in Abu Dhabi.

Ever since their karting days, the two could not stand each other. Always trying to beat each other, pushing the other off the track, laughing when the other failed. Still, their whole lives, they were there, growing up together, side by side, watching each other, learning all the little tricks the other liked to pull.

Max envied the girl. She was talented, yes, but besides that, she had everything he didn't: a supportive family behind her, the support and unconditional love Totto provided for his little girl even when she failed, and somehow, wherever she went, everyone loved her instantly. Her looks worked in her favor. Sometimes, when he was alone, he thought of her and wondered if he could be friends with the girl if it weren't for his dad.

Still, she didn't acknowledge any of it, and for his own sake and that of his father, he couldn't either.

Max had to work hard for it all. He never had it easy, with his dad trying to build a champion. He still doesn’t. But he learned to cope with it, mostly. Kelly being there helped a lot. Her love helped a lot. So he locked himself in the peace and security she brought. It was a safe place, with no risks being taken.

But somehow, when it came back to that German devil—and somehow it always did—he was still that little boy looking for approval all over again.

Little Aria did feel some kind of pain seeing him alone on the track in his cart in the pouring rain while she sat in her dad's lap in the warmth, drinking hot chocolate. But as soon as those feelings came, they went away; they had to because he was her rival—competition. She couldn't care for a rival. So she didn't. Or at least, that's what she had convinced herself of all those years ago. Instead, she settled for bickering and teasing, riling the boy up just for fun and challenges.

It surely didn't change over the years.

"Ari, you coming?" George's voice pulled her out of her thoughts as he opened the door of her driver's room. "Yeah. I'll be there in five."

Of course, he had to be there at the same time. Just her luck. And, of course, the only available seat was next to him. He watched her with a smile on his face. Her stomach turned at it, and she was already counting the fees she would likely have to pay if she turned away and walked out. It didn't help that her PR, Elena, was watching her, silently challenging her to do something. And the poor girl already puts up with so much from her.

So, she sat, politely answered all the questions, smiled like the golden girl of the team that she was, and ignored the sweet smell of perfume emanating from her left side. She didn't care. It didn't even smell that good.

"Max, one last question for you," said the reporter, pulling Aria from her thoughts. "What is your opinion on Wolff challenging you for the title this year?" Her head snapped up at the question, and she looked at him questioningly.

And then he laughed. He fucking laughed. "Well, I'm quite confident in the car and the team. Preseason testing went great, so yes, I would say I'm going for the fourth title this year. Time will tell, but yes, I mean, someone has to get silver too. May the best win." And then he looked at her, a smirk plastered on his face.

She saw red. In that exact moment, she came up with ten different ways to kill him and make it look like an accident. But she maintained her stoic façade, not giving any reaction. Instead, she smiled. Softly, cunningly, all while digging the heel of her foot into his under the table. He winced at the contact, glaring at her angrily. She smiled again. The journalists had already begun packing up after the last question to Max, and George also got up and left, but the staring match between the two was still ongoing.

"Du kleine Arschloch!" - she whispered - yelled at him. (you little asshole!)

"You seem to forget that I do speak German, Aria." Her name rolled off his tongue for the first time this year. It surely didn't cause her heart to skip a beat. Not a chance. Not him.

"Well good for you then. You understand that you are an asshole in both of them. You refused to even acknowledge me as the competition!"

"Now, now, don't be so hard on yourself. Second place is a good place to be." He kept smiling at her, provoking her even further. But she, deciding on being mature again, did what any pissed-off mature person would do. She decided to make him crumble and prove him wrong once and for all. She made a silent promise to herself that she would bring him to his knees.

"Okay then. If you're so sure of yourself, Verstappen, we will talk before Bahrain. I do have a proposition for the reigning world champ." A cunning smirk was plastered on her red lips as she looked up at him. Damn the height difference.

"What for?" - asked Max, looking at her sharp features, not allowing his eyes to wander.

"You'll find out when the time is right, Liebchen. I do have some errands to run. Say hi to sweet Kelly for me." Her nails grazed along his arm for a split second before she pulled her hand away.

He lost his previous train of thought. Her touch was brief, almost nonexistent, yet she managed to throw his brain out the window with it.

"Wait, what ar-.." he didn't get to finish his sentence because she had already turned her back on him and started walking.

Max kept staring at her receding form. The girl was a menace, and nobody seemed to notice except for him. Yet, she didn't seem to care about teasing anyone else. Other drivers on the grid adored the girl.

He scoffed and, shaking his head, went to get his things and drive back to the hotel.

-------------------------------------------------------

What Max didn’t expect was a certain someone coming into his dreams that night. As he woke up, sweaty and out of breath, running his hands through his hair, like she had done minutes earlier in his dream, he realized one thing.

He was upmost und uterrly fucked.

And Aria Wolff was the reason, all over again.

[quotes-from-cybertron]

SCENE - FIRST POST-WAR SCIENCE CONFERENCE

-

PERCEPTOR: (drunk) Decepticon scientists all think they're hot slag for their "Cybertronian experimentation" or whatever BUT look at those fucking sample sizes! n=6? Frag you. Get like two hundred petrorats and achieve statistical significance, you cowards.

SHOCKWAVE: Illogical, I did the power calculations, I can get significance with ten subjects.

TARANTULAS: Oh nice. I just kidnapped a whole town and used everyone there.

SHOCKWAVE: Wasteful. A whole town? For one experiment?

BRAINSTORM & NAUTICA: ...

SKYFIRE: What the fuck?

SCORPONOK: (cooing at the abomination in his chest)

BOMBSHELL: What the hell are statistics?

[wordstome]

COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs

Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader

⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan

⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.

*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter

p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh

Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.

Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.

That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.

Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.

You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.

Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?

Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)

Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)

König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.

You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)

Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.

You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.

Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.

I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?

As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3

[ariestrxsh]

. 𓌜 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. 𓌜 . • ☆ . ° .• °

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, utter filth, mentions of hardcore porn but no details, light knifeplay, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

✍️ Summary: ✍️ You're hanging out with Matt and Chris, drinking and playing board games in their living room. Chris suggests a game of truth or dare, which gets heated quickly.

. 𓌜 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆. 𓌜 . • ☆ . ° .• °

knife part one

Matt, Chris, and I were having a quiet night in, playing board games and having a few drinks together. We sat in the Sturniolos' living room in dim lighting on the floor with a monopoly board in front of us. Nick had already gone to bed a few hours earlier because he had some conference with the Space Camp Wellness crew in the morning that he couldn't miss.

"Let's play truth or dare," Chris suggested, getting bored with our monopoly game. "Let's make it even more fun, though. You're allowed to back out of a total of three truths and dares, but you have to take a drink," Chris said, pushing the bottle of Jose Cuervo into the middle of the circle. "Can we at least get shot glasses?" I asked. "No, it'll be more fun this way," Chris giggled.

Chris always had the chaotic ideas, but they always made everything more adventurous, so Matt and I both looked at each, shrugged, and nodded. "Who wants the first truth or dare?" Chris asked, glancing between Matt and I. "I'll go first," I volunteered.

"Okay, truth or dare?" Chris smiled at me. "Truth," I answered. "Have you ever had sex with another girl before?" Chris questioned me, biting his lip. "Jesus, right out the gate with the sex questions! Yes, I have," I answered.

"Okay, Matt, truth or dare," I said, glancing over at Matt, who was to my right. "Truth," he said. "How many women have you slept with?" I asked him nonchalantly, but to be honest, I was really curious. Matt smirked at me and reached for the bottle of tequila between us all. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Matt said, taking a swig and making a face as he choked it down.

"Okay, Chris. Truth or dare," Matt said. "Dare," Chris smiled at him. Of course, Chris would be the first one to pick dare. "Dare you guys to kiss," Matt said, taking another swig of the tequila, just for fun. Chris and I glanced at each other as he reached for the bottle of Jose Cuervo and then giggled. "I'm just kidding, I'll kiss ya," Chris replied.

I grabbed Chris by his shirt, and our lips touched. I immediately felt myself melt into him. We did start to get a little carried away. Chris rested his hand on my waist as we slowly parted our lips further, inviting each other in.

After a few more seconds of exploring each other's mouths and starting to move our hands to more suggestive places, Matt interrupted, "Holy shit, I said kiss each other, not swallow each other whole!" Chris and I both pulled away, blushing.

"Truth or dare?" Matt inquired, looking at me. "Truth," I replied. "Would you rather fuck me or Chris?" I smiled and took a sip of the alcohol. The real answer was, both of them at the same time, but I'd never admit it. Matt sighed and smiled back when I didn't answer.

"Matt, truth or dare," Chris looked at his brother. "Dare," Matt stated. "I dare you to kiss her," Chris responded. Matt leaned in. He rested his hand on my thigh, and he brushed his nose against mine, tilting my head towards him. Our lips touched, and he let out a small moan as our tongues grazed each other's. His saliva tasted of cheap tequila and a hint of weed from earlier in the night.

Chris didn't stop us. He just watched intently as our kiss went on for way too long. Matt gripped my thigh a little tighter as he tenderly bit my lip, and then he pulled away with my bottom lip still caught between his teeth. There was a gentle dominance about Matt that left me breathless after.

"Um, Chris," I said, looking up at him smiling and trying to recover from my kiss with Matt, "Truth or dare?" "Dare," Chris responded without hesitation. "Show us your pornhub search history," I said, hoping to get a bit of embarrassment out of Chris. "I have no shame," Chris said, scoffing and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Matt and I both leaned in as we saw searches such as gangbang, hardcore, voyeurism, BDSM, choking, slapping, spitting, ropeplay, and degradation. "Holy fuck Chris. You're sick," Matt said, covering his mouth.

"Okay, truth or dare?" Chris asked me, tucking his phone back into his pocket and taking a swig of tequila. I couldn't look at him without blushing after thinking about him fervently jerking himself off to the sight of women being tied up and brutalized. It made me so wet.

"Dare," I replied. "Okay, same dare. Pull out your phone," he said. "I don't watch porn," I lied, looking down and smiling. "Bullshit," Chris muttered, calling my bluff, and I laughed. "Fine." My fingers started to tremble as I typed in p-o-r into my search bar while Matt and Chris both watched in anticipation.

I showed them what I had most recently searched. I was utterly humiliated, but the alcohol gave me a certain confidence boost, along with the fact that Chris was almost as sexually deranged as I was.

I watched both of their eyes widen and jaws drop while they scanned my search history that read: overstimulation, orgasm denial, ropeplay, free use, knifeplay, blood play, gun play, horror porn. "Don't watch porn, my ass," Chris said, taking my phone from me and rifling through my most recently watched videos. He looked mesmerized by all the categories, almost as if he were discovering kinks right before me.

"What. The. Fuck. You're somehow more disturbed than my sick brother," Matt looked shocked. "Thanks," I said, taking it as a compliment, grabbing my phone back from Chris, tucking it away, and blushing.

"You have to show us yours now, Matt," Chris playfully shoved his brother. "Fine, but only because I'm not as twisted as the two of you," Matt answered, showing us his search history: step mom, pussy worship, edging, teacher, threesome, sensual blowjob.

Matt's taste was more tame for sure, but I still found myself biting my lip while I pictured Matt leaned back in his bed while he slowly edged himself to a video of a girl giving a really drawn out and passionate blowjob.

"Truth or dare?" Chris asked me. "Truth." "How are you into knifeplay? Like, what's the appeal?" He asked, a glint of curiosity sparkling in his eye. "Well, I'll show you," I told him. I reached for Chris' pocket, and his eyes widened. I slipped my hand into his jeans and pulled out his switchblade. I opened it and sat with my face a few inches from his. I held the blade up to his where his jaw met his ear.

"Well, when you give your full trust to another person, enough to let them hold a knife up to your throat, it's the ultimate exchange of power," I whispered, and I slowly dragged it down his jawline to his chin and rested it on his neck. I didn't do this with nearly enough pressure to draw blood or even hurt him, just enough to make him feel something. "You relinquish to them fully when they literally have your life in their hands. And if they do put down enough pressure to draw blood, sometimes it feels kinda good, depending on your relationship to pain," I said, applying just a bit more pressure.

"But the point is they have the power to kill you if they wanted, but they don't. And to be able to trust another person that deeply, I guess I just find it really hot," I finished my little speech while I looked into his eyes. He swallowed hard, and I switched the blade closed and handed it back to him.

"Holy shit," Chris whispered, "Okay, I think I get it now." Even Matt looked intrigued by my little blade stunt, and I couldn't deny that it excited me to see them both so fixated on one of my most secret kinks. "Okay, so it's about the thrill," Matt suggested. "Yeah, that has a lot to do with it. Plus, I guess I just get off easier when I feel like my life's in danger," I mumbled and smirked. They both looked at me, exchanged a shocked glance with each other, and I could tell they weren't sure if I was joking or not. I wasn't.

"Hey, Matt. Truth or dare?" I asked. "Dare," he said. "I dare you to eat my pussy," I told him. He raised his eyebrows, "Here? Now?" And I nodded at him while I started to remove my pajama bottoms. "Okay," he eagerly responded as he started to get down between my legs. I leaned back and rested on both my hands with my knees bent. He slipped a finger into my black panties and maneuvered them to the side. Chris watched intently as Matt held my legs in place so I couldn't move and started feathering his tongue around my folds. I let out of a moan as he delicately fondled my clit, making sweet licking sounds while he looked into my eyes.

"Hey, truth or dare?" Chris asked me, biting his lip while his brother explored my pussy with his mouth. "Truth," I whimpered, not taking my eyes off Matt, while he started gently sucking on my bundle of nerves. "On a scale from 1-10, how good is Matt at eating pussy?" "Fucking eleven," I muttered while I moved my hips in circles against Matt's soft tongue. I felt my legs buckle and shake while I trapped Matt's head between them.

"You're gonna make me cum," I whimpered as an orgasm engulfed me and knocked me down like a tidal wave. He didn't stop or come up for air until I was pushing his head away from my swollen clit after climaxing all over his tongue. "Hot," Chris whispered while I tried to catch my breath.

"Truth or dare," Matt asked Chris, wiping his mouth. "Dare," Chris said. "I dare you to put your fingers in her," Matt bit his lip. "Come here, ma," Chris muttered while he motioned for me to lift my hips, so he could take my panties off me. "Mmm, you're so wet," Chris observed while he slid his finger up and down my slit. Once his digits were covered in my juices, he inserted his middle finger, and I let out a gasp. "So tight," Chris practically moaned while he penetrated my hole.

With his other hand, Chris undid my bra. He pushed my top up, and I felt his soft mouth connect to my breast. His fingers started moving in and out of me at a faster rate while he teased my sensitive nipples with his tongue. "Oh, Chris," I softly whimpered while I ran my fingers through his hair. The way he was stimulating me was extremely intense and much more aggressive than Matt had been. It didn't take long before I was gripping Chris' arm while he finger fucked me hard and fast.

"Don't stop," I moaned while I squeezed my legs and came all over his hand. He slowly pulled his fingers out of me and lifted his mouth from my chest. "Wow," was all he could whisper once it was over. He reacted as if it were the first time he'd ever made a girl finish, but I could tell by the way he moved inside of me that he knew what he was doing. He looked me dead in my eyes while he licked his fingers clean.

"Truth or Dare," Chris said smiling at me. "Dare," I said, hoping he had something good for me. "I dare you to make me cum. In whatever way you please," Chris licked his lips while he hungrily looked me in the eyes. I had a million ideas run through my head. "Mmmm, what a fun dare," I said. I immediately started unbuttoning his jeans and running my palms over his hard package in his pants.

I watched as his eyes glazed over as he studied my reactions and how ecstatic I was to be able to do whatever I wanted to him. I pulled his boxers down as well, and started working my mouth below his waist.

He was already rock hard when I slid him between my lips, and he let out a delicious whimper while I slurped up the beads of pre-cum that collected around his tip. He helped me out of my shirt the rest of the way, so I was completely naked, hovering over him with his dick in my mouth. He said I could do whatever I wanted to make him cum, right?

After a few more minutes of teasing him with my lips, wrapping my mouth around him, and sucking on it while he stroked my cheek and gently pushed strands of hair out of my face, I got on top of him.

He looked me in the eye with a hint of disbelief while I descended down onto his rod, taking him all the way into me. I was so wet that it slid in easily. I let out a few soft moans while I started to ride him, and he rested his hands on my ass, guiding my hips in a way that made him feel amazing. Our eyes met while I started bouncing up and down faster on him.

Matt was quiet, but I could feel his eyes on us, and I imagined he was probably turned on by watching us and maybe even patiently anticipating his turn.

Chris let out a few whimpers while I sped up the pace even more. My legs were growing tired, but Chris whispering into my ear, "C'mon darling, I'm almost there," gave me all the motivation I needed to keep riding him. His hands were wandering all over my body, and his stifled moans were getting louder and less controlled. I found myself getting close too. I started to gently dig my nails into Chris' shoulders as my climax started to wash over me.

Coincidentally, Chris came at the same time that I did. I moaned his name while I felt myself finish on him, and he let out a string of profanities as he filled me up with his seed. We could both feel each other's muscles tighten and then release as we came down from our highs. "Best pussy I've ever had," Chris complimented me as I climbed off him, which was a compliment because that boy gets around. "Your cock felt like heaven," I returned the compliment, winking at him.

"Fuck. Matt. Truth or dare," Chris said, putting his underwear back on. "Dare," Matt said, his eyes twinkling in anticipation for what he was going to get to do next. "I dare you to cum in her mouth," Chris said softly, smirking. Matt licked his lips and smiled at me while he undid his belt and unzipped his pants. He sat back while I examined his hardened member.

Poor Matt, he'd watched Chris cum, watched me cum three times, and he hadn't gotten to cum yet, but I could tell he liked being made to wait.

I swirled my tongue around his tip, teasingly. I was usually more straightforward and aggressive when it came to giving head, but I knew Matt wanted me to go slow and be more sensual rather than sloppy. I dragged my tongue up and down his length, brushing it up against the veins on his shaft, and he let out a breathy groan. I closed my lips around the head, sucking lightly on it, and with each stroke of my mouth, I took him in a little deeper.

With my hand, I gently wrapped it around his girth and pumped it back and forth, using my saliva as lube. His eyes rolled back, and he gently placed a hand on the back of my head while I pleased him. I continued to keep my movements pain stakingly drawn out and restrained. I was surprised when he moaned, "slower."

And the slower I went, the closer Matt got. I was tenderly sucking on the tip and barely moving my hand when I felt his cock pulsate against my lips. His muscles tightened, and he moaned my name and said, "Just like that," while he filled my mouth with his cum. I swallowed it while his member was still between my lips.

"Wow, I didn't know someone could cum from such gentle and subtle movements like that," I whispered while I looked up at his glazed over bedroom eyes. "That was amazing," Matt whispered to me. "Yeah, it was," Chris commented.

"Fuck. Whose turn is it?" Matt asked, breathlessly while he zipped his pants back up. "I've got one for both of you. Truth or dare?" I asked, looking between both Matt and Chris. They practically answered in unison, "dare." "I dare you guys to take me to the eiffel tower tonight," I bit my lip and took another sip of Jose Cuervo.

"What? How are we supposed to get to Paris tonight?" Matt started to ask, but Chris leaned over and whispered in his ear, and they both started maliciously smiling at me. "I thought you'd never ask," Chris told me.

(I didn't tag anyone bc idk if y'all fw knifeplay 😭 lmao)

part two available here 💖

[luveline]

So your drunk reader and Spencer fic? Maybe one with Hotch but reader has had something important going on and had called Hotch previously over it, but this was just a super sappy drunk call during an important case but Hotch can never not answer if he technically can talk for just a moment?

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

"I just can't understand how he can be two places at once," Derek says, infuriated. 

Hotch has a thousand possibilities racing through his head. "He can't be," he says, "so we have to work out what else is happening."

"It's him," Emily says. "Same clothes, same face. And it can't be an evil twin–" 

JJ groans, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand and leaning forward into the conference table they're all sitting at. "I actually like the evil twin theory for this one." 

Hotch's phone vibrates in his pocket. He needs to focus —he can't focus. You've been so heartbreakingly lonely while all of this has been happening, and he loves you, but they have three missing girls to find. 

Time is ticking downward. He's never going to make any headway if he knows you need him on the other side of the phone.

"Just answer it," Rossi says quietly. "Reid's gonna crack it any second now. You have a duty to more than work, my friend." 

Hotch catches it before it goes off. Standing, he buttons his suit jacket again and makes for the door. When it closes, he talks in a measured tone. "Honey," he says, "are you alright?" 

"I'm okay," you say, immediate and bubbly. 

You sound okay, he thinks. "Did you hear anything else from the doctor?" 

"Aaron," you say, a number of emotions in your tone, but mostly love, "they don't call on Sundays, and they never call after six anyways." 

"It's later for you," he remembers.

"I'm so sick of doctors and worrying and worrying about doctors, now I'm worrying about you, did you have to go? 'Cus I know you had to go, but I wish you could've just stayed home. I have this weird bruise I want you to look at–" 

"Hold on. Nothing's wrong?" 

"You're not here. That is so, so wrong." You hiccup. "Woah." 

Hotch blinks to himself, a smile on his lips for the first time in days. "Sweetheart, have you been drinking?" 

"Just what was left of the wine." 

"You mean the one we got last week? That we haven't opened?" 

"Yes." You sound serious. He can imagine your tipsy face, solemnly nodding with eyes wide open.

"Where are you? Still at my apartment?" 

"Is that okay?" 

Hotch closes his eyes. "That's perfect. I don't have to worry about you as long as I know where you are. You haven't taken any painkillers, of course." 

"I'm not silly." 

"That's up for debate. I… I'm glad you're in a good mood, it's good to relax, but no more wine, okay? You'll make yourself sick, and I won't be there to take care of you in the morning." 

"Don't remind me!" Another hiccup. "I think I should've been a special agent, mister Hotchner, so I could come with you all these places and not have to miss you. I love you. I love your face and your hands and the way you always squeeze my hip in the morning when you wake me up." Your forlorn sigh is clear despite the distance. "Do you love me?" 

"Very much, Y/N." 

"I love you. I really didn't mean to drink so much but it actually tasted nicer the more I did." 

"That's how it goes."

"I try to not be disgusting when we have wine together but you weren't here, 'n' I thought I could get sloshed without feeling bad." 

"Why would you feel bad?" he asks, bemused. 

"'Cus you'd have to take care of me, and you take care of everyone. All the time." 

"I like taking care of people. I love taking care of you. You realise that I'd love to take care of you 'sloshed'?" he asks. He can be very honest here, knowing you probably won't remember the entirety of your conversation, but you'll recall how you felt. Well, if you don't get nauseous. "I love looking after you no matter what's wrong. I'm only sorry I can't do it as much as you deserve." 

"You're sorry? That's dumb." 

"Maybe it is." 

"Definitely it is, Aaron. You're way too handsome to bother being sorry." 

Maybe twenty years ago. "In that case, you can stop saying sorry to me altogether." Hotch pauses as a knock rattles the glass behind him. Derek stands on the other side, pointing at Spencer, whose lips are moving a hundred miles an hour. Their smartest member saves the day again. "Honey, I have to go. I'm sorry. I wish I could be with you, you know that? But I really have to go." 

"This is impressive for us, actually, we had like four whole minutes. Bye, handsome, have a good time at camp." 

He snorts. "Bye." 

Hotch takes a split second to collect himself. Your hurting, your drunkenness, your open love for him and the obvious if slurred affection you speak with, he puts everything away and gets ready to do his job. If he does it well enough, he could be home in time to rub your forehead through the hangover. 

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can we get part 3 of CEOx reader? That story is so good‼️‼️

A/N: had a lot of reqs for Edira which really surprised me! Here's a short thang for her <3

CW: Toxic forced relationship, power imbalance, burns via coffee, blackmail and possessive behavior.

Synopsis: your boss-slash-lover-slash-blackmailer returns from a business trip acting more off-putting than usual. Comfort angst ensues.

The humdrum of life can drone on quite monotonously, with the same routine and the same budget and the same people always surrounding you. Lucky for you, the moment you started feeling an inkling of typicality, of normalcy in your stressed and starved life, something swung in through the window and began breaking every peace of solitude and calmness you had established. Fate, or otherwise established as Edira-- you're melogomanic, secretly needy and outwardly aloofly intimidating girlfriend-- snatched away the livelihood you once knew as that of the common fool. 

It was first her schemes in pretending to play “date”, and then her idea to move in together. You, an office worker with the resolve of a clownfish, were now put into close proximity with her 24/7. From a tense and barking boss at work, to a wordless romantic in her luxury minimalist penthouse, the struggle to keep up with the sudden workload of being her assistant and her stress-relief of a partner was almost too much to manage. Coffee, kisses, shoulder massages, copied papers of last month’s expenditures. The work didn’t end, and if it did, something was wrong. 

Today, you had finally gotten a morning alone without the battering Edira suffocating you awake with blonde bed hair and slightly conscious nips at your shoulder. She had been away at a work conference with the heads of smaller company branches. You would have been brought along with, if Edira didn’t fear so much for the collapse of her corporate tower without one of you manding the deck. So you stayed, one night of freedom, one morning of peace. 

You expected her to be gone for the rest of the day, coming back mid-afternoon like she had said, returning to the apartment to unpack her small gatherings. However, your opening of her opaque office door this morning left that reality checked. 

“Edira?” You choked, holding a half-empty cup of coffee. You swallowed down your surprise, hoping she didn’t hear the small disappointment at the end of your tone. 

“Yes?” She sighed, sounding…off. She usually had a wild rant to get off her chest when she was away, every person in the city managing to piss her off or step on her toes. 

“I thought you’d be at the apartment.” You shut the door behind you, taking in the mess of paperwork all over her desk. Yikes, she was going to need more than a drink to de-stress her tonight. “Remember, I told you I had things handled here.”

You walked to her office chairs, ones that were hardly ever used unless for soon-to-be-fired employees. Or in your case, to be straddled, or do the straddling in. 

You were about to sit, putting your coffee mug down. But Edira rose as soon as the glass cup reached her dark cherrywood desk, pushing past her swiveling chair, brushing hair out of her face as she naturally stomped away. Her heels made a certain muffled thump that you had learned to predict, the kind that you could hear from across the hall and gain a spike in your heart from. She opened her office door with a ripping harshness that made you think she'd start chasing someone down. You swiftly followed after her down the hall to the front of the rows of cubicles her underlings made their homes in. 

You were practically jogging to catch up to her, making it all the more startling when she made a sudden stop at where she usually addressed the office team. Your face hit the back of her smooth linen blazer, hot coffee spraying down your arms and onto your chest. Having held your sizzling mug out in front of you to avoid spilling, you didn’t foresee such a violent halt throwing you off balance, the mug falling from your hands to ‘clink clink’ onto the rug. 

“Please don’t break---” You whispered before it had dropped, missing the flying coffee stinging your chest and fingers. Cleaning up glass off the office rug would be an experience of shame you didn't want to face. Your mind worried about another one of Edira’s chastisements for this mistake, now that her sour mood was deepened more than usual. 

The commotion and noise of your spill stopped Edira in her stomping tracks, turning to look back at you for the first time. She saw your baby blue blouse doused in brown, your fingers shaking as you bent down to pick up the empty mug. 

You started to feel the burning, like ant bites covering everywhere but weren’t able to be rubbed off. You tried to stop the stinging on your fingers by rubbing it against your pants, but your chest was burning hot. 

“What did you do?” Edira asked, the room going silent. Your coworkers winced at the sight of you, the others holding their breaths with wide eyes and wondering what the Queen of Chaos was going to yell at you for now. As if they weren’t all held to ridiculous standards, hers for you were impossibly high, and it showed in more places than just your shared cold penthouse. 

“Just spilled…” You mumbled, wondering how you were ever going to get this dark stain out of the polyester covering the floor. It was already drying, not much stickier than the rest of you. You stayed on the ground, trying to rub it out with your sleeve. It was getting cold and fast; you didn’t have one of those wet vacuums, paper towels wouldn’t soak up all that had been embellished into the rug by now. Were you going to spend another night in the office? Paperwork, coffee-- your only friends, and this spilled disaster the only thing you’d see until the sun. The silent creaks of swivel chairs and a dropped pencil didn’t distract from the eyes on you, Edira still looming over as she watched your sleeves turn a dirty brown. “Won’t come out…”

The tears came before you could stop them, mouth forming a permanent frown as your nose scrunched. ‘Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry--’

“Get up.” Edira was down next to you, a knee and a heel blocking your view as she held her hand out to you. She didn’t sound pissed, like before. Or even more so like you had expected because of this fiasco. 

“But the rug--”

“I’m not going to let you stay huddled on this floor..-- what are you looking at, get back to work!”

You felt her manicured fingers place onto your shoulder, the other hand jabbing a finger at one of her underlings. 

You did as she said, looking at the spill as your knees quaked to get up.

“You’re a mess, look at your neck,” She turned your ashamed head, your eyes never leaving the floor. “This might be worth a hospital trip.” She mumbled, sounding more caring than you had ever heard her once before. 

Man. your first night alone, first morning of peace, and you managed to make a fool of yourself. Edira pulled your elbow, keeping you close as you slowly walked with her back to her office. The trickle of keyboard typing came back as natural as birds singing at dawn, a phone ringing with desperate need as someone came walking by you. 

You kept your eyes down; the burning on your collar and fingers now a buzzing numbness. Edira opened the opaque door with her name in golden, ushering you inside with a firm hand on your back. You dragged your feet coming in, wondering if maybe now you could cry. 

Edira shut the door as soon as you were far enough in, barely missing you by a hair. 

“Guess this is what happens when I'm gone for too long, hm. You turn into jello, unable to hold a cup?” She sighed, having to pull your arm to shove you next to one of the chairs in front of her desk. 

“..Sorry…” You mumbled, but you couldn’t really care less, numbing yourself to the beratement that was only a mere few seconds away.

That feeling to cry subsided, but a heavy weight filled your chest, and now you just wanted the day to be over. But it was only 9:55, an hour not yet having even gone by. How were you going to sit here like this? If Edira had any ounce of the “love” she swore to the media she had for you, or even an inch of sympathy, maybe she’d spare you the echoing shouts your coworkers often heard for mistakes like this. 

But she ignored your sad apology.

“Here, let's get you cleaned up,” She murmured to you, like a wild beast with her hands out in front of her. She slowly placed them on your shoulders, making you sit on the edge of her desk. “Get out of these dirty clothes; at least this is an excuse to see your body after a day of solitude. Only had scruffy faces and wrinkles to look at lately.” She tried to joke, scoffing at her own words as she watched you frown. 

She was more silent than you had expected, angry aura not seeping out of her like when she usually attempted to hide it.

“...Aren’t you gonna get mad?” You fiddled with your dirty shirt hem, your ironed collar falling off to your shoulders as the buttons Edira undid came to an end; with the last piece she unbuttoned, you were practically naked --save for your pants-- in her office. 

The only thing that could make this day worse is if someone walked in.

 “Please don’t wait for my sake, I don't think i’ll be able to take it later.” 

You just wanted to hear her complain, hear her say how much of a fuckup you were and then have her avoid talking to you for the rest of the day. 

“I’m not that mad..” She said, a warm, white washcloth rubbing at your forearm. When did she get that? While you were moping? 

The flesh of your wounds was darker, stinging each time the rough cloth rubbed against it. “It was an accident. Besides, it was probably my fault.”

Wait. Did she really just say that?

You wanted her to say it again, to finish it off even with an “i’m sorry I made your life this way,” but anything of that sort was not even close to being on the table. 

You hesitantly kept your accusatory thoughts at bay. “Why do you say that?”

Edira sighed, turning over your half-clean arms. “Because, I was being a bitch. acting all pissed off and making you walk on your tippy toes around me. If you haven’t figured it out already, the meeting in Portland didn’t go well. At all.”

Wow. Did she really call herself a bitch? You knew today was not going like how you expected, but this was a different kind of a surprise. 

“I don’t feel bad about you not calling me at all last night, though. You know better than that.” 

You felt her lean in close to your ear, breasts pulled tight in her office shirt that was pressed against you. 

“Gonna have to make it up to me tonight….  I missed that pretty little mouth of yours more than I thought I would.”

You looked down at her, Edira’s face lower than yours and dangerously close to your naked, burned chest. Through blonde lashes she looked at you, tongue at the corner of her mouth. 

“Don’t say that, unless you mean it. I’m just a ploy to you.” You said bitterly. 

Her pinkish tongue came to perk between soft lips, devilishly teasing the hot spot on your skin. You winced a tad when she poked it with her tongue, only to run it up the coffee-covered spot to your shoulder. 

“What do I have to do to make you believe it, pet?”

One hand pressed into your thigh with the rag, the other holding your neck as she cleaned you. 

A strong ‘hmph’ left her ajar lips, French tips undoing the top of her blouse. 

“What are you doing?” putting a hand to her collar you looked at her, bewildered. 

“What? We don't have the floor meeting for another hour..” she undid the top buttons despite your hand on her breast, feeling the lacey bra underneath. “Never taken you in my office before.. sounds like fun.”

“But, wait, my--ive got like, first degree burns--” You tried to push your knees together, keeping her at a distance as you sat on the dark desk. It was surprisingly clean, a neat stack of papers on the opposite end with her laptop sitting perfectly on top; this wasn't how it looked when you first got in here. “Don't tell me you were planning this.”

Your boss's hands entrapped your sides, her knee coming up against the desk. She was cornering you, making you scoot farther onto the cherrywood with a vicious look In her eyes. 

“You know me, I'll be as gentle… as I can, sweetling.” Her fine teeth nipped at your ear, running past it to press soft kisses to your hot skin. She ran a hand down your bare back, sending prickled shivers just to set you on edge. 

“Just stay quiet, baby. Can't let them hear you,” she tiptoed delicate fingers down to your navel, past your belly button to your lower abdomen. “unless you want them to.”

You shoved at her for a moment, Scooting directly down the desk to escape her; Edira merely stared back through her dark, deep eyes. With an anticipating lick of her upper lip, she pounced. 

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 3

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.7k Words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes

Part 2, 4

The next day is what you can only describe as controlled chaos. The office is a whirlwind of papers, people and pieces of presentation sent to and fro across the building. Maureen in marketing needs approval from Mark in finance who’s busy balancing the budget for this year and the spreadsheets from last year. Sharon has been on the phone for Three. Whole. Hours. trying to make sure the prototypes will be ready before noon tomorrow.

Tom called in sick and Mrs. Magna told Nancy to tell him that if he doesn’t show up today to never show up again. Period. That was ensued by a thirty minute yelling match between Nancy and Tom that ended when you gently took the phone from Nancy’s white-knuckle grip and told Tom if he didn’t come in you’d personally shove your foot up his ass.

Tom was in the office fifteen minutes later, quarantined in the conference room with his laptop, a growing mountain of crumbled Kleenex and very, very, grumpy. The day dragged on and on and while people who had finished with their portion of the project headed home for the day you stayed, even after your piece of the pie was secure, because at the end of it all you knew it fell to Nancy to review and review and review the final product for any mistakes and you weren’t about to let her do it alone.

As you worked, you caught up with each other, not having time to really talk since the white elephant party over a week ago. “So how was break?” You asked as you filed away two early projection models in their appropriate folders. She sat cross legged in front of you, stapling documents together. “It was nice, mom came this year, and I thought it would be a lot more barbaric but it actually was very civil. I'm proud of them for working out their differences. The way it went down last year I was still cleaning fruit cake off my ceiling a month later, remember?”

You giggled together because you did remember. That was Nancy’s Christmas reunion debacle from the previous year. You hadn’t been there but you did drop by to help her clean up and have a little wine. A bottle and a half in you both were too drunk and giggly to climb the ladder and scrap the candied fruit and cake from the ceiling.

“What about you? Did you go see your parents?” You smiled and answered. “Yeah they’re doing good, they said to tell you hello by the way. My brother too.” And the side eye she gave you was hilarious and aggravated all in one. “What? He still asks about you.” She rolled her eyes and restacked the papers in her hands. “Well he can stop.” You laughed as she shook her head. “He’s still got a crush on me after all this time.”

“Yes! He’s obsessed! I don’t know why you won’t go for him, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone anyways.” She scoffed at you. “I am not dating your brother. Not after what he did.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Nance, you can’t still be on that.” She looked offended. “After we both nearly drowned at the lake that summer. You remember, he practically pulled me under!”

You laughed remembering. “He was trying to save you!” She laughed with you and pushed on your arm. “Yeah well he sucked at it. We both nearly died.” You both were in fits of giggles at this point, papers nearly forgotten in the glow of your memories. “Besides, how do you know I’m not seeing anyone?”

Your eyebrows raised at this. “Ohhh, something to confess?” She looked up from her work, eyes sparkling. “You know the guy that moved in across the hall?” You did. You both had run into him one day coming back to her place for a drink after a Saturday outing together. “You mean Mr. Dark Eyes, the one who came over and fixed your window for you?”

She practically beamed. “That’s the one. He asked me out for drinks tomorrow night.” You waggled your eyebrows at her and she laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. He’s just being nice.” It was your turn to give her an accusatory look. “It’s absolutely like that Nancy! He’s into you. I can see it! I think you should go for it, I’m glad for you, it’s time you got a little action.”

She picked up the stack she’d finished stapling and set it to the side, beginning another. “You and I both. I mean it’s not like you’ve been seeing anyone either.” You paused, thinking of Johnny. You wouldn’t call it seeing someone, but there was something between the two of you, it was momentary, your lapse in response but enough for her to notice and immediately catch on.

“Oh my god, wait. You have been seeing someone haven’t you?” You immediately refuse. “No.” “Bullshit.” “Seriously! It’s nothing.” And she wouldn’t stop until she’d pried it out of you so you began recounting your encounter at the gym, leaving nothing out.

“You’re fucking with me.” You shake your head. “No, I’m serious. Just like I told you.” She put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “He legit did all that?” You nodded and she smiled. “I think you should go for it.” Your jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” She nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s totally into you. All that weird shit just means he’s obsessed. Is he hot?”

You immediately nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s strong and tan. He’s got this pretty white smile and dark hair. I knew he was a personal trainer the minute I saw him.” She hummed approval. “Definitely go for it.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t know, we'll see where it goes.”

The sun had long descended past the horizon, but you had it done. Two hundred and fifteen pages of statistics and sales projections that concluded the project. You both cleaned up the papers and put everything away. She turned to you when the elevator had stopped at the ground floor and the cold night air chilled you as the doors opened. “Wanna go out for a drink, I know I sure could use one.”

You shook your head. “I’m beat, I’m going home, eating and sliding into bed.” She nodded in understanding. “Don’t forget your homework.” She winked at you mischievously and giggled as you let out a frustrated groan. “I’m thinking about skipping it.” She shook her head. “Better not, with what you’ve told me so far it seems like there’d be consequences.” And she was right, who knew what kind of thing he’d cook up if you slacked out on it. You said your goodbyes and headed home.

You find yourself in front of your door, mentally exhausted. You slide the key in the lock and feel it give as you push the door open and walk into the cool interior of your home. Flipping the lights on you drop your purse and jacket on the couch and head for the kitchen. It’s been a long day and you hadn’t even had a chance to go grocery shopping this week but you’re pretty sure you at least had a couple of eggs left in the fridge.

If all you could manage was a few scrambled eggs before you did your homework and fell into bed then so be it. You’d eat better tomorrow. You open the door on the fridge and are immediately taken aback by what you see. It’s fully stocked. There’s a whole pack of water bottles on the bottom shelf of your fridge. The chiller drawer is packed with spinach, sweet peppers, broccoli and carrots. There’s deli meat and boneless skinless chicken breasts, a few types of cheese and a new gallon of milk. Individual packs of yogurt and gatorades in all different flavors.

You open the door on your freezer to find a few more frozen packs of chicken breasts, pounds of lean hamburger meat and sausage. Rushing to the cabinets you pull them open and find low carb tortilla wraps and bread, granola bars and some kind of chips called “Veggie Straws” that you’ve always seen on the shelf but never tried.

As you turn around you finally notice the bowl of fruit on your counter. How could you have overlooked it walking in? Bananas and apples and oranges, all ripe and fresh. You didn’t do this. Either you were losing your mind and key moments in your life we’re missing like puzzle pieces lost or someone had been in your house.

Your eyes widen, breath hitched. They could still be in the house. You turn around and survey the space around you, the dark comforting tone had a queer eerie feeling setting in around the edges. The corners and shadows leering with the unknown. Nothing looked out of place or was missing, but what kind of a person came into a home to stock the fridge and leave without taking anything?

You checked the doors, the windows, no broken locks or pried open hinges, no immediate signs of forced entry. Your shoulders stiffened when the realization hits you, it takes your overworked mind a moment to remember but there it was. Your gym bag, you were nearly certain you had closed it but it was open when you opened your locker to change. Johnny.

You grabbed your purse and pulled your phone out, flicking through your contacts and hovering over his name. You momentarily waver between calling him or the police. What were you going to say? Yes officer, my home has been broken into. Did they take anything? Well, no. The opposite really. What did they leave? Groceries. Lots of them, stocked my whole kitchen with fresh meats, veggies and fruit. Yeah, we’ll get right on catching the ever elusive grocery fairy, ma’am. Top priority, don't you worry.

You started the call and he answered on the second ring, tone light and cheery with enthusiasm. “Bonnie! How was work?” You skip the pleasantries. “Do you have something to tell me, Johnny?” And you don’t know why you expected him to take the matter seriously.

“Aye lass, I did think about ye all day, sometimes with mah cock in hand, how’d ye know?” His response momentarily scatters your thoughts to the wind but you take hold of them once more and push on. “What? No! Johnny, have you been in my house?” He laughs, actually laughs. “Oh that. Yeah, did you check the fridge?”

Your brow furrowed in frustration, of course he doesn’t see it as an intrusion instead of some kind of regular thing. “Johnny, how did you get into my house?” You sit down in a chair and what he says makes you bolt upright again. “Easy, hen. I just made a key.” You’re pacing now. “You made a key to my house! How?”

And he says it casually like he’s explaining how to tie a shoe or giving someone easy directions. “I went into yer bag, found yer keys, pressed it into a mold and had one made. Simple really.”

“You can’t do that Johnny.” He interrupts. “S’alright Bonnie, I’m yer personal trainer.” There it is again. That phrase, like it’s the simplest thing to understand in the world, normal even. He’d picked you out, told you he was going to train you, you didn’t exactly protest and now anything was fair game, including crossing every single kind of boundary you could have and making copies of the keys to your home so he can come and go as he pleases.

“Besides, yer fridge was empty. What were ye gonna have fer dinner?”

“None of your business. And what if I don’t know how to cook? Did you think about that Johnny?” And this seems to be the first real thing to give him pause. “Yer right, lass. I didn’t even think about that. I’m about five minutes away, I’ll be right over.” Your eyes widen in panic. “No Johnny! Don’t come over!”

“S’alright lass, it’s really no trouble. I’ll be right there.” The last thing you needed was him showing up at the door. “No! Johnny I’m serious, don’t.”

He’s quiet for a moment and it feels long, you almost expect a knock at the door, even though he couldn’t possibly be there that fast, unless of course he was lying about being five minutes away and was actually right outside the whole time, or even in the house still.

“Alright. I won’t come over on one condition.” You grab for it, ready to agree to anything that will keep him from showing up. “Yes, anything.”

“I want ye tae FaceTime me while ye do yer homework.” And you’re almost relieved with the simplicity of it, but there was an underlying unease that you couldn’t shake, what was he up to? You answer slowly when you can’t come up with a good reason to say no. “Ok, I’ll call you back.”

But before you can hang up he interjects. “No. Don’t hang up, talk to me.”

“Talk to you? About what Johnny?” You start to look around the kitchen for what you’re gonna have, if he’s making you talk to him the whole way through it then it’s better to get started now. “For starters, How yer day was.”

It starts slow, your relinquishing of the accounts of the day, but as time went on and you kept talking it all just came to the surface. The stress of the day, the brutal meticulousness of it, and he made it so easy, he was so attentive, listening and responding, asking questions and letting you vent it. He even laughed so hard when you told him about threatening Tom that you couldn’t help but laugh with him, bent over in front of the stove as you let the stress bleed out of you.

It felt good, right even, like something you'd been missing out on, a key component you hadn't realized you’d been without for so long. And you found a peculiar twinge of adoration for him in the bottom of your heart, like tea leaves spelling out your heart's true desires, whether you like what you read in them or not, there they were.

You sat down to eat and he told you about his day as you ate. It was much more appetizing than a plate of scrambled eggs, you had to admit. You nearly choke on a cherry tomato when he tells you he missed you. “It’s only been a day since you last saw me Johnny, you can’t miss me.” And is there longing in his voice, or just your tired mind playing tricks again? “Aye, but I did.”

There’s a momentary pause, a space of uninterrupted silence, pregnant with things unsaid. You finally break it. “Well, I’ve got dishes and then I’ll do my homework.” What he says next makes you smile, and you’re glad he’s not able to see it. “How will I know ye’ll call me back?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll call you. If not, you'll be pounding at my door, won’t you?” You can hear the smile in his response. “Better believe it, lass. Call me.” And he hangs up.

You quickly finish up your dishes, change into something comfortable, just a tank top and shorts, and prop your phone up. Pressing the call button on Johnny’s name in the contact list you see the screen go black as you wait for him to pick up. Your image is reflected back at you in a little square in the top right of the screen and you use the time to adjust your hair and pull the hem of your shorts down lower to cover more of your thighs.

His face pops into frame and he’s smiling ear to ear and you ignore the eruption of goosebumps on your arms when you see it. “Hi, lass” You back away from the screen and into the open space you’ve made in your living room to do your exercises. “Hi Johnny.”

“God yer beautiful.” And you feel your cheeks heating under his compliment. “Stop it, Johnny. Let’s crack on.” You see him sit back on his bed as he responds. “Alright lass. Start.” So you do, starting with the sit ups. You don’t have him there to hold your feet so you slide them under the couch to hold you steady as you do the exercise. He talks you through it, counting for you so you can focus on just your movements, keeping track of your pauses in between sets so they’re evenly spaced and consistent.

“Good lass, now yer toe touches.” You rise and face the camera, bending down with legs straight as your fingertips brush your toes. “Good, just like that.” And each line of praise is like a shot of vodka, a shock of ambrosia to your system, intoxicating. You know he’s looking down your shirt with each rep, but it’s a thrill you find exhilarating instead of embarrassing for once. Halfway through he has you turn around so he can make sure you’re not dipping at the knees.

You do the first one and he groans, quiet but you still catch it. You call over your shoulder and ask if he’s ok and he clears his throat, voice full of audible gravel even in his one word response. “Aye.” You finish and all that’s left is your lunges and stretches. You bend your knees and step into the first lunge, one leg at a time til you reach your goal of ten.

You’re finished and you turn to face the camera, you see he’s laid down on the bed, eyes intense and holding yours even from the small screen of the phone across the room. “Stretches now, lass.” He sounds out of breath and you wonder what you’d see if he flipped the view to his back camera.

You sit on the floor, legs V’d and begin to stretch them wider and wider. You curse your decision for shorts and blame it on being tired and not thinking it through. You know the crotch of your shorts is pulling taut against your pussy, barely covering your panties as you stretch further and further. You start to strain, little puffs of breath and groans escaping your lips as you widen your stretch. “Hold it, bonnie.” And you do just as he asks, holding it against the potent pain accumulating in your calves and inner thighs. “Just a little more, doing so good fer me.”

You hold it for another five seconds and he finally lets you release. You’re breathing heavily as you draw your legs back together and if you aren’t mistaken you think you can hear his labored breathing as well. “Johnny.” His voice is thick with strain. “Aye, lass.”

“What are you doing?” His smirk is devastatingly handsome as he speaks. “Nothing yet, lass.” You feel emboldened and press your luck, eyes connected with his as you command him. “Flip your camera Johnny.” His eyes hold yours raptly for a few seconds before he does as you ask and the shot flips to his chest and legs lying on his bed. He’s got a dark blue comforter and you can see in the frame a pull up bar and a few weights on a rack in the corner, just what you’d expect but the first thing to catch your eye is the raging bulge in his gray sweats and your breath hitches as his hand comes into view, wrapping around the base of the stretched fabric and adjusts it to better accommodate his length.

“See what ye do tae me, hen?” You do see, you can’t look away as his hand squeezes himself through the cloth cage. Your mind, overworked and fried is trying to get you to say something, anything, but the only thing that will compute is his name. “Johnny.”

“Get up and sit down on the couch, lass.” His voice holds a tone of gentle authority, you could probably protest but you’re tired and trying to swim against the current of what your body wants is a task you’re not up for at the moment, so you give in and let him command you.

You sit on the couch at first, eyes still glued to where he’s fisting his cock through his clothes. “Sit back, hen and spread your legs.” You do sit back but you don’t spread your legs, at first. “Come on, bonnie. Jus’ like we practiced.” So you do, not as wide as you would when stretching but enough to give him a view and the tingles of anticipation thrumming through you has you on edge, like you’re standing before a cliff and about to jump, there’s no going back from this.

He groans and you watch with keen eyes as he pulls his sweats down until he’s just in his boxers, the same dark blue shade as his bed spread. “Ye wanna see more, lass?” He’s tempting you and it’s working, you do wanna see more but it’ll come at a price. “Yes.” He wraps a fist around his cock and you shift uncomfortably as your panties dampen. “Take yer shorts off.”

You sit up and tug your shorts down your legs, feeling dirty but heightened as you do, like you’re liberating something inside yourself even you don’t quite understand. He hisses air through his teeth as he spots the wet patch quickly growing and soaking the gusset of your panties.

He pulls his boxers down and his cock springs up into view, finally free and it makes you bite your lip. He’s thick and has length to boot, a good seven inches of it guessing by the comparison of his hand up against it.

There’s a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair spreading out from the base and you can’t help but moan as he wraps his hand around it and begins to tug lazily. His voice is husky and deep when he speaks.

“So pretty, hen. Are you that wet all fer me?” And you’re beyond words so you just nod, eyes glued to the way he tugs on himself. He curses under his breath and your pussy aches from the lack of stimulation. You snake a hand down your chest, descending toward the pain, itching to relieve the tension. “That’s it, lass. Let me see ye touch yerself fer me.”

So you do, just overtop of the fabric, a roll of your fingertips overtop your clit, enough to make your head tip back and moan blissfully. “Good girl.” You look back up to see him working his shaft in earnest, firm grip and steady movements. You feel emboldened by his reactions and lean forward again to rid yourself of the cloth barrier. He stops and watches as your pussy comes into view for the first time.

“Steamin’ Jesus. Fucking gorgeous.�� He resumes his movements as your fingers settle over top your bare clit and you start to rub tight little circles over it, just how you like. “Show me Bonnie, show me just how you like it.” The sexual tension between the two of you, the stress of the day all come to a head and you reach down to spread your wetness up and around your clit, moaning low and sultry as he watches you play with yourself.

You reach your other hand up and squeeze one of your breasts through your top and look back up into the screen. Watching him pick up the pace, making fast even strokes over the tip of his cock with each movement. The motion of his hands, the way his tip disappears into his fist and reappears with each pass is mesmerizing. You can feel the beginnings of an orgasm building and it just drives you on as you think about coming in front of him for the first time.

Your fingers pick up speed and your moans rise in pitch as he talks you through it. “Mmm such a bonnie little pussy. I wanna see ye come for me lass. Can ye do that fer me? Come nice and hard fer me?” You suck in a deep breath as you work your body into a frenzy, pinching a nipple between your fingers as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

You look up to see him vigorously stroking his cock. His breathing is heavy and loud through the speakers and you wonder if he’ll be loud when he comes. You’re close and even though he’s not even in the same room as you he can tell, spurring you on. “That’s it hen. Just like that. Do it. Cum fer me.”

It’s all it takes to send you spiraling. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and succumb to the pleasure. You let out a long drawn out moan as you do, body tensing as you pant and writhe on the couch in full view.

You look up when he calls your name, watch as his strokes quicken and shorten and then all at once he’s coming undone, legs tensing and white hot cum shooting from the tip of his hard cock. It arcs through the air before landing in spattered lines across his thighs. The guttural yell that falls from his lips as he does is loud, just as you’d expected and you wish you could feel it, the rumble of his chest when it sounds.

You’re both breathing heavily and coming down when it hits you, the post nut clarity. You just had very raw, hardcore phone sex with a man who made a copy of the keys to your home, came over without you knowing while you were at work and invaded your personal space.

You’re ashamed and a little sickened by what you’ve just done. Quickly closing yourself off from view you snatch your panties and shorts from the ground and redress. “Fuck, lass. That was fucking amazing.” You’re already working on damage control in your mind, blocking out the experience, no matter how much you enjoyed it, it was wrong.

“No Johnny. It wasn’t.” You can see him switch the camera around and he’s way more relaxed now, smile a mile wide on his face. “Aye, it was. Cannae wait tae see ye, tomorrow.”

You don’t even know if you’ll show up now, how could you after that? It was just a mistake you told yourself, a tired slip up, absolutely a one time thing. You close your eyes and when you open them he’s looking at you and you swear you can his adoration for you swimming in them. “Go to sleep, lass. I wanna see ye tomorrow at 4:30.”

You say nothing and hang up. It’s very late before you fall asleep that night, debating whether or not the consequences of not showing up tomorrow are something you can afford to risk. If you don’t show up he could just pop into your house at any time. It’d be better to just show up and act like nothing happened, that was the key, just brush it under the rug and hope he’ll do the same.

You’re nervous about it all day at work, and you know Nancy knows something is wrong but you insist everything’s ok. You’re too ashamed to tell her about any of it and she relents and leaves you alone but she knows you’re lying. When four o’clock hits you’re out the door, won’t be able to stop this frenzied state of mind until you can clear things up with him and make things go back to normal.

The next day when you walk in the door and sign in he meets you at the desk and before you even have a chance to say anything he’s on you, lips crashing into yours in a passionate and very explicit kiss right in the lobby of the building surrounded by patrons and gawking onlookers.

He doesn’t even give you room to breathe let alone get a word in as his body presses up against yours and he grabs ahold of the back of your neck to keep you locked against him. When he pulls away you’re shell shocked and silent. As he pulls you against him and walks you further into the building you know things have taken an irrevocable turn.

[barefoothighlander]

could you imagine casually calling one of the boys "Daddy" in front of the other guys out of impulse like "Thanks daddy" or "Bye daddy!" 🫣🫣

stop this is so funny like everyone just freezes and they're like "Did I hear that correctly" omg

Ghost: you'd be drinking at the pub with the team after a mission and it would just slip out.

"Oi love can you grab me that bottle"

"Yes Daddy"

And the team is silent, Simon's eyes just go wide as you lock eyes and your cheeks blush, you hope the team has drunk enough that they won't remember it but the next day Soap and Gaz are teasing you, answering every command you give them with "yes daddy". You literally have to run and hide from them cause they're relentless, Simon just glares in their direction every time they make a joke.

Price: You didn't catch your slip-up till you got into your car, one of the guys offered to play a game of poker with you and the team.

"Can't, gotta get home to Daddy"

And the men just stand there sharing glances, they'd never heard anyone refer to Price as anything other than Captain, they're all just looking around to make sure they heard you correctly. Once you got into your car the realization hit you, you texted Price, knowing that Soap would've called him the second you were out of earshot

Small problem, didn't mean to, sorry

Get home. Now.

As you sat in your car, praying that either you or Soap would just burst into flames.

Soap: He was a lot cockier about it, the two of you positioned together on an op, you swore you turned your comms off before talking

"You got eyes lass?"

"Affirm Daddy" you winked at him

"Let's keep the comms clear please" You hear Price's voice, followed by muffled laughter from Gaz and an audible sigh from Ghost. You're mortified, turning to Johnny who's got a devilish grin plastered on his face, this was definitely gonna get you some discipline from Price.

Gaz: You liked to tease him with the term, he got all flustered when you used it outside the bedroom. You stopped teasing him after one morning he had brought you tea in the conference room and you failed to notice the rest of the 141 behind him, too focused on your paperwork.

"Thank you Daddy" you beamed,

He stood there, shell-shocked, usually his response was at least a small huff of laughter but when you turned to see the team, mouths open in astonishment you hid your face with your hands, mouthing a silent I'm sorry to Gaz who didn't speak for the entirety of the meeting.

bonus

Konig: He's just baffled, even behind the dark mask you can see the red tint of his face, he practically ran out of the room when he heard the words slip from your lips.

"Hi Daddy"

The rest of the team teased him relentlessly, seeing how flustered they could make him, watching his eyes go wide at the word, he refused to hang out with the team for a month after it happened, you had to reassure him that they all found it funny and it was okay.

Alex: Ever the flirt, Alex barely flinched when he heard you say it.

"Bye Daddy"

"See you later Mama," he said winking at you.

The team was dumbfounded, they were accustomed to Alex's flirts but they'd never heard him anything like that, whispering to each other as Alex just turned back toward them like nothing happened. No one brought it up, it didn't happen again, Soap was convinced it never even happened given how nonchalant the two of you were about it.

[hotchgirlsummer]

sweeter than fiction ⤷ aaron hotchner x reader

summary ⤷ the bau decide to throw a small birthday party for hotch. the reader is tasked with baking a cake, could this be their chance to express feelings?

pairing ⤷ aaron hotchner x female bodied!reader ; mentions of jack, jess and the whole team.

warnings ⤷ food mentions. slight angst. fluff

word count ⤷ 5.5k words

a/n ⤷ hello! this is my submission for @hotch-central's Aaron Hotchner's birthday celebration 🎉 the prompt is from @creativepromptsforwriting i may have a couple more entries in line, depending if inspiration strikes, of course. as usual, feedback is appreciated. have a great day, everyone!

It’s tradition in the office that when it’s someone’s birthday someone else brings a cake. Person A’s birthday is coming up and B finally sees their chance to make a move. 

“I apologize for cutting this meeting short but I do need to go to this meeting with Strauss,” Hotch apologized as he locked the screen of his tablet and gave one last look through at the files he had prepared for his monthly meeting with the higher ups; he was having somewhat of  momentum where instead of being turned down on their requests, they asked to compromise — which may seem insignificant but, yes, that was considered as a win. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

“If there is, rest assured I’ll handle it from here on out,” Rossi was quick to wave off the unit chief’s responsibility from their current meeting, “Go on over to the meeting and fight for higher wage and if possible maybe aim for a fancier jet?” The rest of the team laughed at Rossi’s absurd and far-fetched request. With one final smirk, Hotch gathered all his belongings and nodded to them, “Best I can probably do is a bigger mini fridge.”

Chuckling at the rare times their unit chief cracked a joke, they all shook their heads as they watched their leader scurry off to go meet with the higher ups. Just as everyone was about to follow suit and leave the round table when Penelope held out her hands in a dramatic fashion, preventing the rest of the team from leaving their spots, “No one is lifting their cute butt until we discuss one important agenda – Hotch’s birthday is coming up soon.”

“And what exactly about it do we need to discuss, Garcia?” Emily wondered, for as far as she knew the man, he never was the type to make a huge fuss out of his birthday. Seemingly thinking the same, JJ nodded as she spoke up, “We all know how the last party that we threw out for him went, right? Like it was not some fever dream that I had?”

It was a few years back when the team decided to plan a mini-celebration for their leader; but much to everyone’s horror, it didn’t go well. A balloon popped out of nowhere which startled both Spencer who was carrying the cake and Y/N who was decorating the walls of their conference room, resulting into the decorated doctor mishandling the cake, leaving half of it devoured by the floor while the agent accidentally knocked on over two pitchers of juice right over the wrapped presents that the other members of the unit brought. The icing on the cake? Hotch walked right in the conference room a few seconds after the disaster commenced and sighed out as he quickly pieced together that this debacle was a result of his birthday. Even though he won’t admit it to himself , and most importantly to the team, his disappointed/annoyed look was just really a cover up to hide how adorable he thought Y/N looked when she smiled brightly — as if she was willing for the mishaps to go away — and extended her hands and said, “Surprise! Happy birthday, boss.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad? I mean, it’s not like he punished us that badly,” Spencer offered, Y/N nodded as she chuckled, “In my defence too, there is no reason for us to separate the gift table from the food and drink one.”

The team collectively laughed at how optimistic the two were, but the hesitation could still be felt around the team as voiced out by Derek, “But ultimately, I don’t think throwing a whole party, in general not just for Hotch, maybe too ambitious,” He threw in a sympathetic pout at Penelope’s way, “Even for the party-planning goddess like yourself, baby girl.”

“One, I do take offense in that,” Penelope said sternly as she swatted his extended hand, “And two, we still need to show him that we care about him and treasure him as our mighty leader!”

“What if we just book a restaurant somewhere? That way they can do the decorations for us and all we need to do is show up? There is absolutely no way we have an incident like the last time,” Reid proposed to which everybody nodded in agreement, finding no hole in his plan. 

“Oh I know which restaurant Hotch loves to go to,” Her mindless comment was met with smirks and teasing smiles which Y/N did not appreciate, “What? What are you guys looking at me for?”

“And how exactly do you know that?” Emily teased which was immediately backed up with Rossi’s jab, “Don’t tell us you guys went on a date without us knowing hm?”

Scoffing, she shook her head and clarified, “Or maybe I’ve babysat Jack enough times that sometimes they buy me dinner.” It was no secret among the team that ever since Y/N joined the team, she stepped up to lend Hotch a hand when it came to looking after Jack. It started when Jess had to go on a work trip and the unit chief brought his son to the office with him, the little ball of sunshine clicking instantly with the newest agent. Whether it was the way she was patient in teaching him new things that he was curious about, or the way she treated him with the utmost care and respect. And somewhere along taking care of Jack also mixed in with looking out for Hotch — by helping them prepare their meals for the day, helping Jack with his everyday routine, or even by spending time with the both of them on her day off. 

“Mhm, it’s just from babysitting Jack,” JJ also joined in on the teasing as she nudged her softly. Penelope was writing down what the whole team had agreed upon when her head shot up in shock, “We forgot about the tradition! Who’s gonna bring the cake for Hotch?”

Almost instantly, the rest of the team looked at Y/N with a grin which left the young agent confused, “What? Why are you all looking at me?”

“You know, typically the one who brings the cake for the celebrant is the one closest to or the most important to the celebrant,” Rossi winked at her. Not wanting to get her hopes despite the numerous hints that multiple members of the team has dropped, hinting that her affections weren’t one-sided as she suspected, she just rolled her eyes playfully, “Don’t you guys think that Jack is a tad bit too small to carry that big of a cake.”

“Not Jack, you dummy!” Morgan lightly flicked the back of her neck as she groaned when that spot was hit and was gonna appeal that maybe someone else could do it but as soon as Garcia put her pen down, everyone’s roles for this little gathering had been finalized, “Alright, so JJ is booking the venue, Rossi will keep Hotch occupied until we need to bring him to the restaurant, my lovely chocolate thunder and I will be taking care of the decorations so that there won’t be a repeat of last time,” A jesting glare was thrown at Reid’s way before she clarified, “While your brilliant brain will take care of sending out invitations to everyone.”

Everyone was nodding their heads, satisfied with their assignments when Y/N raised her hand up in curiosity, “Uh, hello? You kind of glossed over what I’d be doing for the party.” She was all the more confused when half the team smirked at her while the other half looked at her in disbelief. Garcia, bless her kind soul, did not have the time to fool around and instead took patience with the newest member of the BAU and clarified, “You, my lovely yet clueless little dove, will be baking and bringing the cake to Hotch.”

Just as she was about to speak up and contest it, Morgan jokingly teased as he wagged a finger at her, “Not buts there, missy. Have fun in the kitchen.” A slight pout was on her face when she realized that there was no way she could have weaseled her way out of this little arrangement. 

Deep in her thoughts, she failed to realize when Rossi slid near her, “You know, kid, this could be your grand gesture for Aaron. Let him know what you feel.”

With a sigh and a brave face on, she nodded to herself and stood up, “Alright! But if he doesn’t reciprocate them you will sign my transfer papers right?” Hiding her possible insecurity with light-hearted humor but it still didn’t settle any nerves within her. Rossi shook his head once more and patted her on the back, as if to let her know that she was worrying her head for nothing.

Upon returning back to her desk, she tried to distract herself by flipping through the pages of the reports that were assigned to her. After about an hour of mindless writing, she clicked her tongue and decided to look up some cake recipes. Just as she was about to be knee-deep in her search for a cake when she heard a little voice call out, “Y/N! Y/N!”

Swiveling her chair at the right time, she was able to open her arms wide and was able to engulf little Jack Hotchner into a hug as she greeted him, “Hey there, bud! Did your Aunt Jess drop you off?”

The boy nodded widely as he pointed at the approaching aunt who gave her a half hug, “Sure did! Buddy insisted that you were never too busy for him.”

“Because you’re my favorite and I’m your favorite Hotchner!” Jack squealed and her heart warmed and nodded as she ruffled his hair before grabbing her Jack kit which consisted of coloring books, paper, crayons and some markers and handed them to the little Hotchner, “Well that is certainly true! Why don’t you grab one of the chairs over there so you can go draw a picture, hm?”

The boy nodded and made his way through the other agents, saying his hello’s before asking them to borrow one of their chairs. Turning at Jess, she smiled at her, “I’m sorry to have to drop him off. It was a work emergency and I know for a fact that Aaron will be thrilled to see him.”

“Oh it’s all good, you know I don’t mind spending time with him,” She smiles as she watches the boy pitter excitedly beside her, “Oh which reminds me,we’re planning a small gathering for Hotch’s birthday coming up soon.”

Jess smiled at that but suddenly remembered something as she looked down at her watch, “I love that idea, we’ll talk about it more once I have the time but we’ll talk again okay? Bye Jack, be good.” With one last kiss to the top of his head, she waved goodbye and made her exit.

Smiling at the little man who was happily scribbling, just as she was about to continue on her scroll an idea popped into her head. She tapped Jack’s shoulder before showing her the different cake recipes that were on her screen, “Hey bud, you know how your dad’s birthday is coming up?”

The little boy nodded his head excitedly as he lifted the paper he was drawing on, “Mhm! I’m drawing him a picture for this picture book I’m making for him!” His excited chirp melted her heart once more as he leaned closer to share a possible secret surprise they could do for him, “Well I’ll tell you a secret, okay? Can you promise not to tell anyone — especially your dad?”

The boy put down his crayon with a serious look on his face, he held his pinky up to which she smiled as she tangled his pinky with his, “I pinky promise, miss Y/N!” At that, she pointed to the cakes on her screen, “You see, your Auntie Pen is planning a little birthday party for your dad; and she wants me to bake a cake for him. I’m gonna need your help choosing which cake to bake, okay?”

“Can I bake the cake with you?” He asked sweetly, wanting to make his dad’s birthday special while also enticed at the idea of having some sweets.Nodding her head after booping his nose, “We sure can do that, little buddy. How about I pick you up after school next week? That way we can bake the cake?”

Jack nods as he claps excitedly, “I can’t wait! We’re gonna have so much fun!” Just as she was about to get into further detail she could hear footsteps approaching — though unsure of to whom they belong to — she quickly closed the browser. “What are you so excited about, Jack?”

At the sound of Hotch’s voice, the duo turned around, trying to pass off a non-scheming team. Jack got off of the chair and jumped on his dad, the unit chief carrying him and pressing a loving kiss to his forehead, “Hi dad! Aunt Jess dropped so Miss Y/N is hanging out with me right now!”

The usually stern-looking boss was biting back a smile but ultimately made way into his soft lips, “And have you been behaving for both of them?” The boy nodded as he pointed to the art materials that were prepared for him, “Yes! I promised I’m being good,” Both Y/N and Jack knew that the little boy was so close to slipping up about how what he was currently drawing was something designed for his father. 

“Which reminds me, I was thinking maybe I can spend a day with Jack next week? I have a fun day lined up for him,” She tried to give an explanation that while vague could still provide sufficient enough details as to what their day would look like. Hotch thought about it, placing a hand on his hip, “I do have a short meeting that day, and it would be nice to give Jessica a break for a little.”

“See? Win-win! Plus, me and Jack need some little bonding time, Hotch,” She gently nudged his side which came as a surprise to the two of them, “I promise to give him back to you in one piece!”

Meanwhile the unit chief struggled to keep his composure; despite the fact that her hand briefly touched his sides, he could feel the warmth spreading all over him, causing him to be slightly flustered. With a warm smile, he nods, “I trust you completely, Y/L/N.”

Ruffling his son’s hair, he nodded his head to the direction of his office, “Buddy, once you’re done hanging out with Ms. Y/N you can come up to my office, okay?”

The boy then nodded with a toothy grin, “Okay daddy! I’ll knock on your door like we said.” Once Hotch walked away, the pair grinned excitedly amongst themselves, looking forward to making a cake for a special someone in their lives.

* “Now can I please add the chocolate chips and sprinkles?”

In all fairness, Jack has learned to space out when to ask. But once again, she shook her head as she was just at the final touches of piping the flavored whipped cream on the already scraped cake, she squeezed out the topping one more time before looking at Jack with a huge grin, “You can do it now, buddy! But remember, don’t add too much okay? We don’t want it to be super sweet!”

“But super sweet is the best!” Jack giggled as he began decorating the cake — he’d argue that this was way more fun than cracking eggs or mixing the ingredients together, perhaps because he got to snack on some of the toppings. 

Swiping some of the chocolate chips had Jack giggling too as he copied her, “I guess you’re right,” She got some of the leftover icing as she placed a dollop of it on his nose, “You are a super sweet boy, and you’re the best!”

That made the boy grin wide as he tried to reach for the whipped cream on his nose by extending his tongue, the scene being too hilarious for her not to giggle; she was in the middle of snapping a picture of Jack when he did the same to her and revelled at her shocked face.

“I had so much fun today, miss Y/N,” Jack sighs happily after he was all done with decorating the cake. Taking this as her cue to let the cake chill properly, she carried it into the fridge and poured him a glass of milk, “I’m glad to hear that, Jack. I like spending time with you too.”

“I wish you can live with us, so we can always do something fun everyday,” He added. And she could not prevent the wishful thinking about how she would love to live with him and the man she fell hopelessly in love with, she understood that he just loved her companion.

As she was starting to wash up the different utensils they had used — she was pleasantly surprised upon seeing how Jack tried to help on his on way by placing them on the sink that was half filled with water and dish soap, another reflection of how Hotch raised him well — when she joked, “I don’t think your dad will like knowing that we have way too much fun every time we hung out.”

Shaking his head allowed his blonde locks to stray away from the earlier perfectly combed bunch of hair, “He won’t think that! Daddy told me how much he likes it when you take care of me, and he likes whenever you come over and cook for us and eat with us!”

The boy’s revelation caused hope to, annoyingly, stir up within her once more. Hotch really thought that? She had to bite down her tongue to prevent the smile that was making its way to her lips as she put on an exaggerated thinking face which once more caused the boy to giggle, “Then I guess I’m stuck with a couple of Hotchner boys, hm?”

“Your Hotchner boys, Y/N!” Jack cheered as he threw his hands up in the air in delight. She could only shake her head as she wiped Jack’s milk mustache with a napkin as she willed her imagination to not wander too far into what she wishes her relationship could be like with the said Hotchner boys; instead remaining grateful for what they already shared.

*

“Okay everybody, Rossi just texted me and said that they were a good 10 minute away so is everything ready?” Penelope was frantically walking around the reserved function room they had rented and was looking expectantly at each member to provide updates on their assigned tasks.

Derek sent everyone an “I got this glance” — which the rest of the team very much appreciated — before heading his way to Penelope, gently massaging her shoulders and whispering cooly in her ear, “Mama, calm down. Everyone’s here, no decorations popped or fell down, food’s hot and ready, everything is perfect; just like you are, of course.”

“Oh my love,” Penelope smiled as she gently stroked his cheek, “Thank you for all your help.” The sight caused Y/N to shake her head as she spoke, “As cute as they are with their banter, it’s way too cheesy for me.”

Jess chuckled as she took a sip of her wine, “Agreed, you’d think they were a married couple or something.” When they were planning this little party for their unit chief, there was no doubt that they would be inviting his sister-in-law. Not only is she the other primary caretaker of Jack, but she also provided the family and warmth he was looking for. “I heard you and Jack baked a cake for Aaron?”

“We did,” She nodded towards the cake that was sitting in the middle of the table, “Little man helped in a lot of ways, even helped me wash the dishes, you know.” Jess smiled at that, remembering when she was told she wouldn’t have to look after Jack since he would be taken care of by one of his agents.

“He really likes you, you know,” Jess mentioned and her mind went to Jack who was playing with Henry and a smile made its way to her lips as she mused, “Jack’s a sweet kid. Always so kind and warm to others. I know I may not have met Haley but I can see how much care and love she gave him, the both of them.”

No matter how many times Jess has heard people talk about Haley, it will never fail to make her feel a pang of hurt; but what comes quickly after that hurt is joy — joy in knowing how she touched and shaped the lives of others, Jack’s and Aaron’s the most. “That was a sweet sentiment, but I wasn’t talking about Jack.”

It was now Y/N’s turn to be confused as she furrowed her eyebrows and looked at Jess who was chuckling softly at her expression, “I was talking about Aaron.”

“Hotch?” She squeaked a little louder than expected because everyone frantically looked at the door and was surprised to not find the man there to which she clarified, “Sorry! We were just talking, didn’t mean for it to be a bit loud.”

Once the laughter in the room died down, Jess then nodded to answer her question, “Like I said, I was referring to Aaron. He really likes you.” That however did not clarify things for her, instead making her all the more baffled. “Well I suppose it makes sense; I haven’t really been doing anything reckless or indifferent to following his orders. That, and I have been helping him out with Jack.”

When Jess shook her head, her blonde curls moved with her which made her see how Jack resembled the Brooks side before she spoke again, “Maybe that too. But I spoke to him recently and he mentioned how grateful he was to have you in Jack’s life, as well as his. And I agreed, saying how lighter and happier he seems because of you.”

She was rendered speechless as Y/N did not have a clue how to respond to that. She did not want to seem like she was overstepping her bounds or making room for herself in their lives so she replied, “I’m touched that he thinks so, but I don’t know. I don’t wanna assume anything or make them feel uncomfortable or even you. ‘Cause it might feel weird to see me caring for Jack or something.”

Before she could fully delve deep into her insecurities and worries, Jess gently stroked her forearm and smiled, “I know Haley, and she would take comfort in the fact that you love and care for her boys the same way she does, she did. You may not see it, but you’re family to them, to me.”

Her words warmed her heart and she had to blink back her tears from falling as she lovingly squeezed back Jess’ hand and returned the smile but just as she was about to speak Penelope excitedly shrieked, “Okay they’re on their way! Y/N have the cake ready! Someone please dim the lights.”

“We’ll talk more later,” Y.N hurried out as Spencer was scrambling to dim the lights in the hall they were in. Jack ran to the agent when he saw that she was lighting the candles in the cake, “Y/N can I hold the cake too?”

“If you want to hold the cake you need to stand still on this chair,” As soon as she slid the chair, Jack stood up tall and proud as he held out his hands, “I’m gonna need you to have steady hands, okay bud? We don’t want the cake we worked hard on to fall, right?”

“Right!” Came his reply. It did not take more than a two minutes when Rossi and Hotch walked in, “Dave if this is one of your other blind dates I am telling you right now it won’t work.”

Just as Hotch finished his sentence he was greeted with wide smiles and cheers as Spencer turned the lights back on and everyone yelled, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

The team were graced with a wide smile on their unit chief’s face as he was clearly pleased that this party did not end up like the last one. As he walked more towards the guests, his smile widened even more upon seeing the cake being held by Jack and Y/N. “Happy birthday, daddy! Make a wish!”

Standing right in front them, he took in their excited grins and smiled at Jack, “Okay bud,” He looked at Jack, thinking about how all he wished was for his son to remain safe so he could grow up to whatever he wants to be; his eyes then drifted over to Y/N — whose eyes were surprised seeing him focus intensely on her — and thought about how he wished to have her presence, comfort, and love all the time. Closing his eyes, he blew on the candle which prompted more cheers by everyone.

From there on, everything seemed like a blur since the rest of the team busied themselves by sharing laughter and stories in between bites of their meal. Throughout the night, both Hotch and Y/N kept stealing glances from each other as they were delighted upon seeing the other relax. When everyone was all done with their dinner, it came time to eat the cake. As Jack was helping Hotch cut the cake and distribute it to everyone Aaron inquired, “Is this what you and Y/N did the other day? You bake a cake?”

The boy grinned excitedly as he handed a slice to Henry and JJ, “We did bake it, dad! Did you like it? What does it taste like?” Once they cut a piece for themselves after they had given all of their guests one, Aaron fished for a piece on his mouth before feeding Jack a piece, “It tastes really good, Jack! You did great!”

Beaming at his father’s praise, he hugged him tight saying, “I’m glad you liked it dad,” He looked up at him with his puppy dog eyes and sweetly asked, “Can I have some more cake, please?” Hotch chuckled as he handed the plate to his son, “Don’t eat too fast or too much, okay? We don’t want a tummy ache now do we?” The boy nodded as he made his way over to Henry, presumably to talk more about dinosaurs.

With a shake of his head, Hotch then spotted Y/N who seemed to be having a talk with Jess, sighing shakily, he then decided to make his way over to her. Jess spotted him first and excused herself from the conversation. Shock replaced her momentary confusion when Hotch took the side beside her, “Hey, birthday boy. How’s it going?”

“It’s going good, and I think I have you to thank for that,” Came his smooth reply which flustered her as she was quick to clarify, “Oh Penelope was the main mastermind for this. So you have her to thank — or reprimand, but hopefully you won’t do that. Jack and I just baked the cake, you know.”

“And it’s very good,” He said after taking one more bite before placing the plate of cake on the table in front of them, “I wonder what’s your special ingredient?”

Amused with how her usually-seen stern boss was leading a light conversation, which was further emphasized with how a smile ghosted over his lips and not a frown, she decided to ride along with it by replying, “Well Jack’s enthusiasm did help, but really it’s nothing a little vanilla extract can’t make better.”

Another hearty chuckle rumbled from his chest as he said, “You need to stop selling yourself short, you know? You’re great.” The heat was unpreventable from spreading throughout her face. As she simply crossed her legs and shrugged, unsure of what to say, “Well so are you. Everyone in this room can attest to how great you are — whether as a father, unit chief, or you know, a friend.”

It was now his turn to blush slightly as he looked at her sincerely and thought about how he wants to lead their conversation, “And is that all that you think of me? Nothing more than that?”

“Would you fire me if I were ever too honest with you? Like on a personal level?”

Though she knew that her remark was meant to be taken playfully but could sense her hesitation and to help appease her he helped out for her hand and led them over to a secluded part of the restaurant. Pleased with the way his hand enveloped and radiated warmth over hers, she looked at him with an intensity she had never seen before, “One of the things I admire most about you is how you speak your mind; sure this is useful during cases and briefs but it’s different on a personal level. So, please, whatever you wish to say, just say it.”

She thought about it for a second, thought about the possible outcome her action or words may arise; and came to the conclusion that it was better to risk rather than regret so with a trembling breath she breathed out, “I like you, Aaron. For the longest time I tried to think that maybe it was just admiration? But it was more than that,” In a surprising surge of confidence she held his hands in hers and kissed his knuckles, “I liked that you were this tough person who still sees the good in others. Being in your presence radiates warmth and joy,” Perhaps they were both thinking the same thing, that it’s funny how he radiated joy when he rarely smiled, “I, I could go on and on about how much you mean to me, but I’m hoping that maybe this could be the start of me expressing what I feel for you? Only if you would let me, of course.”

The unit chief took in her nervous expression which to him was utterly adorable before smiling at her, “Have I ever mentioned how adorable you are?”

“No, not really, it hasn’t exactly come up in between cases,” She humored him as she still nervously wondered what was going on in his mind. “I’ll cut you a deal then — how about we remind each other how much we mean to one another?”

Taking a step closer so their fronts were touching and they could take it in everything about each other smiled, “I like the sound of that. Does that mean we’re seeing each other now?”

Wanting to make it clear for her, he untangled their hands delicately on her cheeks to pull her in, letting their lips collide softly; her hands rested on his arms to anchor herself with the intensity in which he kissed her. She could feel the relief and  delight spread to her and wishing to share it with him by fervently pressing her lips into his as she smiled into the kiss and let out a whimper when he gently bit her bottom lip. 

Snapping them back to reality was the sound of some yelling — that thankfully, did not sound urgent — they both parted ways yet still remained pressed against each other as they focused on steadying their breathing, “Can I take you out tomorrow on a date?”

Smiling at his polite question, she nodded and smiled, “I would love that, Aaron.” He pressed one last kiss to her lips before taking a step back to just look at her beautiful features before speaking, “That sounds perfect then. I’ll ask Jess if she can watch Jack.”

“How about for one of our other dates, we can take Jack too? So he doesn’t feel like he’s left out or so he can, you know, gradually get used to us.”

At that Aaron could feel his heart warm up at the thought of why he admired her, because she always looks after his son. He nods and places his hand behind her back, guiding her back in the function hall, “God, as if you couldn't be any perfect.”

Just as she was about to ask him what he meant she was interrupted by the teasing and cheers of the team who were delighted to see that the two agents now had some sort of deeper relationship. Hotch decided to give them a pass for the teasing, deciding that celebrating another year of life with Jack and his family; and even better he finally landed the person of his dream 

[shanks-the-wino]

Shanks x CisFem Reader

Sake8zero is offline.

He hadn't been online since he foolishly suggested meeting you a few days ago. Now he sat at his desk phone in hand debating over deleting the app all together.

He'd just have to find happiness the old fashion way. What even compelled him to try speaking to someone ten years his junior? He did miss your snarky come backs and just general conversation. There was a strange lonely feeling akin to what followed his divorce. Nothing that deep or heart shattering of course, but the two of you had built a routine. There were certain times of day when you spoke as if you were on a schedule. Now he didn't know what to do with himself. He ran his hand through his crimson tresses and sighed dropping the phone onto the desktop. A light tap on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"It's almost time to go. Yasopp is bringing the car around." The deep voice of his VP resonated off the walls as he pushed the door open.

"Thanks Benn." The redhead frowned.

"Still upset about your little girlfriend?" Benn crossed his arms.

Shanks rolled his eyes, "You are well aware that she wasn't my girlfriend. I did fuck up pretty bad though."

"You didn't even let her respond. How do you know?"

"You have a point." Shanks stood slipping his phone into his pocket.

"You'll have time to play around later. The resort is thirty minutes away." Benn turned for the door, "Did you at least remember to pack an overnight bag?"

"Right here." Shanks pulled a small leather bag from the bottom drawer of his desk, "Did they get the sample bottles loaded?"

"Yes, you wanted the '96 and '98 correct?" Benn glanced at his boss for confirmation.

"Our best years!" The redhead chimed.

The two men made their way out of the small office building to the black town car that was idling in the circle drive.

They were headed for a resort located on the outskirts of the city to hopefully sign a contract for resort guests to get a discounted stay if they booked a package that included a tour of Shanks' vineyard. The resort was owned and run by Edward Newgate and his adopted sons. Shanks had known the old man for a long time and though he'd strained the relationship a bit by trying to recruit his second eldest son, they managed to get along fairly well.

Newgate arranged a dinner meeting and rooms for Shanks, Benn and Yasopp to stay for the night.

They were greeted by the two eldest sons when they arrived at the sprawling resort.

"Marco, Thatch! So good to see you." Shanks called stepping out of the car.

"It's been a while yoi." Marco commented, "Business going well?"

"It's getting closer to our busy season." Benn replied shaking Thatch's hand.

                                                                     _______________

You clocked in and crossed the empty conference room connected to the hallway that lead the resort's lobby. Nami sat behind the counter flipping channels on the enormous flat screen TV.

"Quiet night?" You asked rounding the corner.

"Just a few VIP's the old man is entertaining." She replied monotonously.

"Great." You tossed your purse in the back office and plugged your phone into the computer at the front desk.

"Still nothing from the online guy?" She quirked a brow.

"Nope." You shrugged.

"He's probably beating himself up about it."

"He didn't even wait for me to answer." You took the remote from her flipping to the travel channel.

"Mind if I head out early?" She asked already pulling her bag from the cabinet.

"Yeah sure. Are these guys rowdy? I don't want to have to call the cops." You sighed.

"Well they've been drinking for a while in the side conference room. It's some guy that owns a vineyard, that's what Marco said, seems he's a friend of the family as well though." She explained walking out the way you'd just come.

"Alright. Have a good night." You waved her off and settled in behind the desk.

Sometime after 1AM the lobby door swung open startling you.

"Is there coffee in here?" A soft baritone bounced off the walls in the quiet room as you stood to greet the stranger.

The handsome redhead fumbled briefly with his phone and sighed massaging the scruff on his chin. He didn't look old enough to be friends with the old man much less own a vineyard.

Must be an assistant or something.

"The coffee bar is to your right. Please help yourself." You smiled as his onyx eyes trailed up from his phone widening a bit.

"T-thank you." He stammered staring at you.

You shifted a bit under his gaze unsure of what cause the change in demeanor.

"No problem. Let me know if you need anything."

Crap crap crap.

Of course he'd fuck up any chance he had with you and then, by complete chance come face to face with you while trying to send you a message.

Maybe it wasn't you. Maybe it was a girl that looked like you. Profile pictures are different from real life if you factor in angles and filters.

*Ping*

Your phone hadn't made that particular notification in a few days. You picked it up while the redhead made his way to the coffee bar.

Sake8zero: How's the night shift?

He peeked at the small smile that crept over your lips before it faded into a pout. Your brows knit as if you were just now remembering you were mad at him.

Pyt07: Don't 'how's the night shift me'

[jackactuallywrites]

Drunk and Disorderly Chapter Five

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x you

Rating: It’s still fluffy, no sex

Warnings: Ghost dances

Summary: You and Ghost go out to the gay club together

Notes: @xxven kicking my feet and giggling 🤭

Word Count: 2,280

ao3 link

What the fuck were you supposed to wear on a date— no, not a date, just a night out with Ghost.

The first time you’d seen him out at the clubs, it had been a complete coincidence, so you’d quite happily dressed up to the nines, half your rack hanging out, your dress short enough to risk giving everyone a good look of your arse every time you forgot to pull your dress down. This time, it would be a deliberate choice, a choice you were making fully knowing that Ghost would see you in it. Whatever you chose, he would know that you’d chosen it for him. Hence the conference call.

“I, for one, think you should go all arse and tits. You have jugs that could knock a man out. Tits out for the lads!” “Yes, I know your opinion, Elle.” She leaned into the camera, so all that was visible from her end was her large green eyes, “TITS.” You decided not to continue arguing with her, “Katy, help me out here.” “What part of your body do you want to show off?” Elle drew out the word ‘tits’ again, but she had a point. Other than your eyes, you did like your chest the most. “I mean, I guess tits, yeah, but there’s a limit.” Katy considered your words carefully, nodding sagely as she thought. “That strappy metallic gold dress, with those heeled golden sandals. Metallic eyeshadow, smudged black eyeliner.” Elle oohed, “Yes, bitch, that’s the one!” “You think?” Katy nodded, “That’s the one. It’s flirty but not entirely going into outright ‘fuck me’ territory. There’s plausible deniability.” “Plausible deniability. You say it like he’s going straight to HR afterwards to dissect everything.” “Better to be on the safe side with fraternisation.” Katy glanced away from the camera, “I’ve gotta go walk the dog with my mam. In a bit.” Elle followed after Katy’s example, but she gave you a final encouragement of, “Tits, babe, tits!”

You still weren’t entirely sure how you felt about wearing such a short dress around Ghost, but you were never one to question Katy’s sage fashion advice; she had a knack for picking the perfect outfit, so you just had to trust in her choice.

When you’d decorated your eyelids with a beautiful sparkly gold shimmer, lined your eyes with black, curled your eyelashes and darkened them with mascara, you were done. You could feel the anxiety already beginning to spike in your veins, your leg bouncing as you text your girls. Unfortunately for you, Elle was absent, no doubt busy canoodling with her partner, and your texts didn’t even deliver to Katy. If you hadn’t already scrubbed your lips until they were buttery soft and smoothed them over with lip balm, you might have chewed your lip bloody, but as such, you were unable. What bothered you most was that you hadn’t been all that specific with Ghost. There was no time, no meeting place; all you’d told him was that you’d see him at the club, so infuriatingly vague.

As it happened, you ended up at the club early enough that it was still light out, the sun just beginning to sink below the horizon. It was practically empty, though patrons were starting to trickle in, so you didn’t look too pathetic sitting in the corner by yourself. You knew it would be too early to even consider Ghost showing up within the next few hours, so you soothed your nerves with an early drink of vodka lemonade and settled in the corner.

You only managed to hang on for one hour and twenty-five minutes before you were already out the back door, cigarette in hand. It would ruin the warm, sweet scent of your perfume, but you were desperate for the soothing that you could only get from nicotine. Thankfully, it wasn’t windy, so your cigarette took up quickly, flooding your system with relief, the slight anxiety in your fingers already quieting. At the very least, the club had opened up more, finally beginning to pulse with music and people, so you weren’t so obviously alone, a few stragglers outside smoking nearby. Still, you couldn’t keep your eyes from nervously scanning the streets, desperately trying to pick out Ghost’s figure from the mingling people.

About halfway into your second cigarette, you finally caught sight of the tall, hulking figure coming down the pavement toward the club, that familiar white skull on his balaclava seeming to almost float in the darkness. It was impossible for you to not be excited, but you did your best to downplay your eagerness, lifting your hand in a casual wave beckoning him toward you. Naturally, when he caught sight of you, he made a beeline to you, slipping through the small crowd of people.

When he finally came into the glow of the orange streetlight, you finally saw him properly, dressed in his usual outfit of black boots, black cargo trousers, and a black jumper, yet he had a second jumper draped over his arm. You couldn’t imagine a man like that getting cold, but then again, you couldn’t judge; every soldier had their quirks.

“Sorry I’m late,” were the first words out of his mouth, and you smiled, lying through your teeth, “Don’t worry. I haven’t been waiting long.” He looked over your outfit, silent, and you could feel the slight prickle of uneasiness underneath your skin, unable to tell what exactly he thought of it, finally prompting him, “What do you think?” Ghost’s head snapped up from where it had been lingering on your waist, and he cleared his throat, “No, I- uh, yeah, you look nice.” You gestured to the jumper over his arm, “You planning on a snowy night?” He shook his head, “I had a feeling you’d come underdressed. I wanted to come prepared.” The gesture surprised you, and you tilted your head, “You brought an extra jumper for me?” He tilted his head back at you, “Did you bring a jacket?” You pursed your lips, “No.” He held out the jumper to you, “Well then, here you are. Add it to the collection.”

It wasn’t until he used those exact words that you remembered you still had his jumper tucked safely underneath your bed, and you cringed a little, “I never returned that jumper to you, did I?” “You did not.” “I can get it-“ He snorted softly, shaking his head and pushing the jumper at you, “I have dozens. Don’t worry about it.” You weren’t about to deny the opportunity to take another jumper from the man, but nor were you about to cover up the outfit Katy had picked out for you. “We’re going to be inside; it won’t be cold enough for a jumper there.” He paused in holding out the folded jumper, then shook it out, draping it around your shoulders and tying the sleeves loosely around your neck. “There.”

Even the gentlest touch of his fingers brushing against your bare shoulder sent thrilling tingles up your spine, and you spoke the first words on your mind, “Do you want to grab a drink, then?” “Are you offering to buy me a drink?” It was impossible not to grin at that. “I guess I am. You gonna take me up on the offer?” He considered it for a moment, then nodded, “You know what, I think I will.” He offered his arm out to you, a surprising gesture of chivalry, and you wrapped your arm around his, amused at the way you could feel his biceps flexed as you laid your hand on them, allowing him to lead you into the club.

You’d never thought about what a bonus it was to have a large man like Ghost around; the crowd in the club was usually an irritating thicket barring you from easy movement, but Ghost carved a wide path for you both, the crowd seeming to part easily before him. Once you reached the bar, Ghost caught the attention of the bartender then gestured for you to order the drinks. You looked over at the masked man and then decided, smiling at the bartender, “Two strawberry daiquiris.” The bartender left to make your drinks, and you smiled up at Ghost, expecting to see at least a little bit of frustration from him, but he merely looked amused, his eyes crinkling in the corners, “What? You think I’ll be embarrassed? Please.” You pursed your lips at him, and he leaned down so you could hear him better over the chatter, “Love, I come here almost every other weekend. By all means, order me something sparkly in rainbow colours. Does not bother me.” Only one question popped out in your mind, but Ghost cut you off before you could verbalise it, “I’m not gay. I just feel more comfortable here.”

It took at least two drinks for you to get over the humiliation and another drink for you to finally feel at ease once again, and by that time, you and Ghost had found yourself a little booth in the corner, away from the loudest speakers. He’d pushed his tumbler of bourbon over to you and was trying to convince you to try it, “Come on, love, this is premium Kentucky bourbon. You ought to try it at least once.” “I know it’s going to be gross.” He’d pulled the edge of his mask up long ago in order to drink, so you could see when his lips quirked in a smile, “Come on, darlin’, do it for me.” You rolled your eyes, but you were still amused, “God, you use that charm on everyone?” That made him smile again, and he nudged the glass closer to you, insistent. Usually, you liked to be stubborn, but you were too tipsy to bother this time, so you acquiesced and took a sip of the bourbon, feeling it burn your throat as you’d expected it to, coughing a little as it went down. “Gross.” Ghost laughed, taking his drink back, and you wrinkled your nose at him, “Right, that’s it. You owe me. You’re coming with me to dance.”

You’d expected Ghost to put up some sort of resistance, but he seemed happy, allowing you to take his hand and lead him to where the music was strongest, his gloved hand gently wrapped around yours. Everywhere you looked, there were people, but then Ghost pulled you over to him, where there was a slight gap in the people, twirling you as you went. You wouldn’t have thought that a man like that could be so playful, but he seemed greatly elated to spin and dip you, at one point taking up your hand and leading you across the room, his other hand resting on your waist. It became clear to you that where you were pleasantly buzzed, Ghost was far more intoxicated, to the point of having set aside his usual formidable persona in favour of a far more relaxed and playful self. He gave you another little spin, turning you so your back was to his chest, and then he let go of your hand, his hands encircling your waist, his cheek resting on the top of your head.

Perhaps sober, your heart would have fallen out onto the floor, but in the pleasant haze of being tipsy, all you could focus on was how cosy and secure you were with his arms around you, his chest warm against your back. If you were able to fall asleep standing up, you might have drifted into a peaceful slumber, but as such, you could only let out a tired yawn, leaning back into Ghost, resting your arms on top of his. His fingers lazily stroked across your bare arm, his voice soft, “You tired?” “I don’t usually dance so energetically.” His arms shifted from around your waist, linking one with your arm, “Come on then.”

The tiredness seemed to have snuck up on you, and you nodded along to his suggestion, allowing him to take you by the arm and lead you out of the club into the cold night air. Goosebumps touched your bare arms as soon as you left the heat of the building, and Ghost paused, taking off his jumper and holding it out to you with one hand as he undid the jumper still tied around your shoulders with the other. His was perfectly warm as you pulled it over your head, and you got a delightful glimpse of his well-muscled arms and the intricate tattoo that snaked around his forearm before he covered it up with the spare jumper. Then, he offered his arm back out to you, and you took it, allowing him to lead you back down the dark streets that led to the base.

When you’d finally reached the barracks, Ghost seemed to have sobered up a little; his mask pulled back down into place, his arm held out almost stiffly for you to hold onto. He seemed to look at you searchingly as you turned to say goodnight to him, but he didn’t say anything more detailed than, “Drink some water before you head to sleep.” You weren’t about to let him leave with such curt farewells, so you reached out to touch his arm. “I had a really fun night with you tonight. We should do this again sometime.” He seemed to soften a little, his voice little more than a murmur as he looked down at you, “Yeah..” His hand reached out to gently brush across your cheek, and then he was gone, striding off across the base to wherever he lay his head.

[musicloverxoxo7]

BTS Halloween party – king and queen

Non-idol!Namjoon   x   fem!reader

Summary: At the party, Namjoon makes you feel hot. He walks you home, thinking you are unwell. Will you take the chance and finally jump him?

Themes/warnings: smut with a bit of plot at the beginning, alcohol, unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, handjob, friends to lovers

Wordcount: ca. 1.9k

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

Since you helped put together the party’s snacks, you’ve been there for a while when the first guests start arriving.

Taehyung, tonight’s host, lets in and greets the first few himself. Until he gets so busy hosting and chatting, that someone else has to take over.

You watch, leaning in against the kitchen doorframe. Yoongi mixed you your favorite mocktail earlier already. He’s a good friend.

You’re about to return to the kitchen and rearrange the decorations when you spot Namjoon. He sticks out on a daily basis. But today, with a golden crown atop his dark hair and dressed as a king, your knees feel weak.

Quickly, you walk into the kitchen and sit down on one of the chairs. This should not be happening. You feel a bit too warm and have to brush a bead of sweat away from your chest. You should not be lusting after one of your oldest friends. Except, that it is much more than lust.

You press your forehead against the cool glass of your drink. Thank goodness Yoongi was generous with the ice cubes, as usual.

“Hey, y/n.”

You almost drop your glass.

“Hi, Namjoon.”

You lower the glass and look at him. Instead of hovering over the snacks, which would be the normal things for him to do, he has stopped in front of you.

“Are you okay? You look a bit hot.”

“Oh, it’s just the dress. I’ve been working in the kitchen for a while.”

“You did the snack bar again?” He sounds excited like a kid on Christmas.

“Yes.”

His smile vanishes again as his eyes return to your red cheeks.

“Maybe a multi-layered princess dress was not the best option for a party inside.”

Namjoon looks you up and down. His eyes follow another bead of sweat that runs down your chest and disappears between your boobs. As he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs.

You can’t meet his eyes. No way. This will end horribly if you do.

You put aside your drink and get up. Except that you have miscalculated how close he is. Your chest touches his. You open your mouth and close it again, feeling stupid.

You have to meet his eyes. His pupils are nearly double their normal size. His lips are slightly parted. Now you feel hot and cold at the same time.

You barely register that his hands have gone to your sides, making sure you stay upright in case you don’t feel well.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you drive or walk here?”

“My sister dropped me off. She has the car tonight.”

“I’ll walk you home. I think you might be coming down with the flu or something.”

The Namjoon flu, if anything. You find yourself nodding, even though you shouldn’t. You’re perfectly healthy. The reason for your near fever is standing right in front of you.

“Then, let’s go.”

Five minutes later you’re out on the sidewalk, heading towards your apartment complex.

“If you feel dizzy, just hold onto me.”

“Alright.”

Except that now, out in the cool October air, you feel fine. Certain parts of you might still feel a bit warm and tingly when you look at king Namjoon, but your mind is clearer again.

“How is your sister doing?”

“Very well. She got promoted recently and now gets to travel around a lot more. That’s what she’s doing right now. She’s at a conference all weekend.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“For her it is.”

“So you have the apartment to yourself all weekend? How does that feel?”

“Good and bad. I like her presence, mostly. But sometimes, this kind of separation is very, very welcome.”

“I hear you. I have a sister too, after all.”

You casually chat about family for the remaining ten minutes until you reach the apartment building.

Namjoon accompanies you to your apartment, up on the third floor. You unlock and open the door. The smell of the vanilla cookies you baked in the afternoon encases both of you.

“You baked?”

“Yes. I usually do so on the weekend.”

You know that you’re playing with fire, but you proceed anyways. You take Namjoon’s hand and pull him inside the apartment with you.

“Have a cookie. Or two. That’s the least I can do for you walking me back here.”

“You know that was not meant to be transactional.”

“I do. See it as a well-deserved reward, then.”

Namjoon closes the door behind himself.

“Okay. I really, really like your cookies.”

You let go of Namjoon and slide out of your shoes. He does the same, takes off his crown and then follows you into the kitchen. You put the container full of cookies on the kitchen table and gesture him towards it.

Namjoon goes through a cookie before even sitting down.

In the meantime, you take your hair down and undo the complicated braids you’d put into it earlier. Your scalp tingles from how good it feels.

“Could you help me open the dress? I’d like to change.”

“Of course.”

Namjoon jumps up and brushes crumbs off his hands. He’s probably had half a dozen cookies by now and you’re happy he’s enjoying them so much.

Gently, Namjoon brushes aside your hair.

“How do I open this?”

“It’s a lace up corset. Open the little bow and then slowly loosen the corset all the way.”

He does just that, this fingers surprisingly quick and nimble.

“Does it hurt, being in a corset?”

“No. I mean, if one made it too tight, it might. But when it’s done the right way, it’s fine.”

“Your hair smells like vanilla too.”

“That happens when I’m baking.”

Namjoon inhales deeply at your neck. It tickles and you giggle.

“I think I can’t open it further without it sliding off you.”

You turn your head, now serious again. He’s looking at your lips.

“Please open it a little further. I can’t get out completely like this.”

“Y/n…”

“Please?”

Namjoon sighs. You turn back around. His lips land softly on your neck as his fingers keep widening the corset strings.

His lips leave your neck again.

“Please, don’t stop.”

You can feel his hesitation. You catch his hands and guide them to your front, running them up and down your torso and chest. His breathing against your ear is much faster now, a little ragged. Even through the layers of clothing you can feel him react.

The corset is loose enough that Namjoon can slide his hand into it and run his thumb over your nipple. You arch into him. He covers your neck with sloppy kisses.

You shimmy out of the dress and stand there in only your panties.

Namjoon runs one hand down your stomach, exploring your body.

“Your skin feels like peaches. So soft.”

Which reminds you of all the summers you have watched him devour peaches, their juice dripping down his chin.

“More”, you breathe.

His hand disappears into your panties. It only takes him a moment to find your clit. He taps it in a way that makes you legs turn into jelly.

You cling onto his arm for support, gasping as the heat grows in your lower belly.

“If you want anything ever, you tell me.”

“Keep going. Just like that.”

So he does. And keeps on doing so until the release of an orgasm makes you go limp. Namjoon holds you upright.

“Y/n?”

“Mh?”

“I have been in love with you for a long time. Is there a chance you reciprocate these feelings?”

“Same. My sister keeps threatening me that if I don’t tell you, she’ll tell you herself.”

“So, does that mean… We could date?”

“Yeah. I’m free tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night it is.”

“But, Namjoon.”

You slowly turn, stepping out of your dress. Now you are face to face with him. Well, almost, since he is taller than you.

“I want you inside of me tonight. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

To underline your intentions, you reach for the bulge in his slacks. His dick feels huge through the fabric. You know that even in your already relaxed state it will take some adjusting.

Namjoon’s lips part in a sigh as you run your hand up and down his length. He looks beautiful like that. You lean forward and kiss him. He kisses you back gently, but it’s clear that his focus is elsewhere.

You draw back.

“Two options. Either you undress yourself and I keep doing that or I undress you and stop.”

“Number one.”

Namjoon tosses off his coat, unbuttons his shirt and throws it onto the growing heap. You have to stop for a moment so he can open his pants and step out of them, but when he comes back in for a kiss, you dip your hand into his underwear and rub over the smooth skin. He moans into the kiss. The sounds he makes turn you on even more.

You walk him backwards until his ass hits the kitchen table. Namjoon breaks the kiss this time.

“Here?”

“Yes, and right now. We can spend the rest of the night in bed.”

You bend yourself over the kitchen table, glad for once that it is so big and sturdy, and stick your butt up in the air.

“Please, Namjoon. I feel so empty.”

“Anything, honey. Anything for you.”

You feel his girthy head press against your entrance. He can only slide halfway in, because you are a little tight.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just maybe not relaxed enough to take all of you. You’re big.”

“We’ll take our time.”

His hand moves to your clit and he draws tiny circles on it. It takes a bit, but he can finally slide in smoothly as you squirm, on the edge of another orgasm.

“Namjoon. Please.”

You don’t know what exactly you are begging for, but he keeps playing with your clit, pushing in and out slowly until you arch your back, squeezing him so much that he has to stop moving.

Once you come down from your high, you slump onto the table.

“Mh, Namjoon. Please, start moving again. I want to feel you in me without my brain being on standby.”

Namjoon chuckles, resuming the slow, steady thrusts.

You enjoy this position. He hits all the right spots, making your body feel warm and tight with pleasure.

Quite soon, Namjoon’s thrusts become more erratic, sloppier. He folds over you, his chest against your back, mumbling nonsense until his hips still.

After a few shaky breaths, his heartbeat, which you can feel against your back, slowly returns to normal. And so does his brain.

He kisses your cheek before slowly pulling out of you. You can feel his cum trickle down the inside of your thighs. With him gone, your back feels a bit chilly.

“Were you serious when you said all night?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think we should shower next. Or perhaps cuddle, test out your bed and then shower?”

“I like option two.”

You straighten up and turn around to him. His cheeks are flushed, his hair is a mess, and he has never looked more beautiful to you.

You hug him tightly. Namjoon hugs you back without hesitation, his strength and warmth enveloping you.

“I really, really, really like you, Namjoon.”

“I really, really, really like you too, y/n.”

© musicloverxoxo7, 2023

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work. Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

[sangwooooh]

can u do another bruce x male reader angst

Definitely 😌 I’ve got a lot of angst in me.

Since you didn’t specify, I took it and ran with it. Anywayss Enjoy 😉😮‍💨

Soo, this is longer than I planned 🧝🏻🥹 And there’s gonna be a part 2, probably 🫣😮‍💨

Warnings of sorts: major injury, character death, diverging from canon.

Small summary: After an attack by the Joker, the bat family is thrown into an unlikable situation, unfortunate even. M/n is stuck in the hospital, barely living. And who knows what happened to the rest? Alfred won’t really talk about it.

“This is your legacy. Watch careful, love, as it all falls and burns. To the ground with your house of stone.”

They were tied together by the moon, under the stars of a clear sky, on the rooftop of the manor. A lapse in time, a glimpse of the universe. They were happy in that moment. Only them and the quiet world.

M/n recalls it being a clear sky. Yes, it had to be in order to light up Bruce’s face just so. Or maybe it was the man’s eyes, those who lit up the whole sky. Often times, M/n thinks about this and that, and everything is muddy, but the brightest memories still shine through.

That’s what makes him sure they’re real. They are too strong to be stomped down by the heaviness, too alive to dissipate.

There are days in which he feels he forgets everything, but then Alfred visits, and the memories are alive again. Painfully so.

“Master M/n,” Alfred would say, “How is your morning?” And M/n would understand it was indeed morning.

“Hello, Alfred.” Momentum, he remembers both of their names. “I see you better today.” He tries for a smile, uncertain of the success.

“That is great news, sir.” M/n can’t make out the details of Alfred’s face, but he hears the extension of a smile in his voice.

Later, they are drinking tea, the tension in M/n’s shoulders not soothed by the liquid, “Alfred, when can I come home?” Silence follows.

M/n sees the movement of Alfred placing down his cup, “Soon, sir. Probably next week, if things go well.”

“Yes, but you’ve been saying this for a while now.” He recalls in the haziness. “I reckon, if I stay here more, I’ll go crazy, Alfred. I wanna come home. I wanna see Bruce and the kids.” His voice is overwhelmed with tremors. He can’t feel his face half the time, but now he feels the stinging in his eyes.

M/n is almost startled by Alfred’s hand over his own. “Master M/n… I’ll see what I can do. I’ve been trying, remember?”

Right. He… remembers. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Later that week M/n is allowed to go home. Happiness fills him. Like fireworks on the night sky, his chest is filled with emotion.

Home.

Yes, he is finally going home.

Alfred comes to pick him up around 1 p.m. He is moved in a wheeling chair through the hospital. He can’t see all the faces around him, but the doctor and the few nurses he does see and recognize, he says goodbye to. He is happy, so he leaves them all with a smile.

In the car, Alfred tells him all about the changes around the house and the land around it. Like how the rose garden is gone —there is a momentary pang in M/n’s chest, but he doesn’t let himself be deterred by it—, or how the paintings from the hallways had been moved to a guest room now turned storage room, or how Jason moved all of his stuff back into the mansion, but he didn’t actually come around to inhabit his old room, or how Damian is now taking care of most of the affairs of the mansion and company.

“Since you’ve been gone, young master Damian has been given a lot of new responsibilities.” Alfred adds, not as an after thought, but carefully building up to it. “He should be home, at the moment, but there is always the possibility of him being away. He is leaving two weeks from now, for a conference in Vienna.”

“That’s wonderful. Such a nice place. I… Bruce took me there. Yes. A few years ago. Very nice.” M/n is sure his smile persists. How could it not? He is finally going home. To his Bruce. To his sons. To his life, after the endless time in that horrid hospital room with white walls and shadows and the buzzing of the fluorescent light above, barely perceptible.

The car parked, Alfred helps M/n up the ramp and into the foyer.

The door opens before Alfred goes for the handle. Beyond the opening door, the tired face of one Damian Wayne comes as the most welcoming sight. As soon as the boy’s —he is still the small boy M/n used to read to sleep, or sing to— eyes landed on his parent, he visibly relaxes. His stance falls into something more fitted for his age. M/n can’t see a smile on his face, but that isn’t saying much. He can’t really see much anyway, in the light. Nonetheless, even through the sting caused by daylight, M/n can’t help the unabashed happiness slipping onto his every feature. He extends his arms, wide and welcoming. And Damian falls to his knees, into his parents arms.

“Hi, dad.” The boy whispers softly.

“Hello, baby.” M/n feels tears soak his shirt. “Oh, baby. What happened, love?” The man gives Damian’s head comforting caresses.

“I just missed you.” Damian gets out through a shudder. Oh, why is his baby crying? No, he shouldn’t be crying. M/n is here now, it’s okay.

“I missed you too, honey.” Damian lowers himself until his head rests in his father’s lap. M/n’s hand still moves through Damian’s raven locks.

Damian squeezes M/n’s waist, “I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry.” His son is trembling. He must be so tired. Did he sleep well? His poor baby. M/n should’ve been here for him.

“Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for, love.” M/n feels his own eyes sting harder, but not from light.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come see you. I’m so sorry.” Damian’s voice is muffled by him being pressed against M/n.

“Hey. Hey. Honey, it’s okay. Alfred told me you’ve been working so hard. My baby isn’t a baby anymore. You’re taking care of the family. I’m so proud of you, Dami.” M/n feels a tear falling. Alfred places his warm hand on M/n’s shoulder, but he can only look at Damian’s blurry form falling apart at his feet.

“No, dad. I… I didn’t come because… I was afraid. Of what I’d see. So I used everything as an excuse to stay away. I’m sorry, dad.”

M/n’s lower lip is filled with tremors, tears glistening in his eyes, “It’s okay, it’s okay, Dami. I’m home now.”

M/n holds his son for a while, caressing him, trying to reassure him with all the love he has.

“Where are the others?” M/n asks as Damian raises to shaky feet.

Damian visibly freezes, but forcibly relaxes himself, “Well… I’m not really sure what Todd is up to, but he literally moved his stuff here, then proceeded to up and go.” The boy pauses as he moves behind M/n, wheeling him to the stairs, where there is already a built in type of elevator just for him, one you see in movies. Damian attaches the back of his wheelchair to the machine. “And father… Father doesn’t leave his room during the day, only at night, but as Batman.”

“What?” M/n stares at his son incredulously, as he is raised by the machine, Damian following closely by, walking up the stairs.

“I know Batman is doing a great job, as always. But I don’t know how father is doing. He wouldn’t talk to us.” Damian looks into his parent’s eyes pleadingly. The boy can guess that his dad doesn’t see this detail. But, still, he can’t help but want to beg for M/n to make things better, like he always did.

“I’m sorry, baby, that you had to go through this. I’ll talk to Bruce myself. Only with a bit of help.” M/n chuckles as the machine gets to the top of the stairs.

Damian’s lungs and heart finally seem to realize that M/n is home, that he isn’t alone, that maybe they can do this. Call it false hope, but it’s everything the boy can cling to.

Once at the door leading into the master bedroom, M/n looks at Damian with the intent to reassure. As if telling him ‘it’s okay, you can rest, I’ll take care of things now’. And so, he is left alone by his son, followed closely by Alfred, who also seems different all of a sudden, lighter even. He is gonna make them a nice dinner, for four, and not for one.

M/n would be lying if he says he doesn’t hesitate. Because he does hesitate. And he hates himself for that. His Bruce needs him. This is no place or time for backing away.

“Bruce?” The silence is deafening. “Are you there, honey?” He wheels himself —his arms are weak, so he finds it a tiny bit more difficult than he originally thought it would be— closer to the door. Where he places his open palm on the hard oaken door. There is no answer from the other side, but M/n isn’t known for giving up easily. It’s how him and Bruce got together, then married. He knows when to push and he knows when Bruce is keeping himself from his own happiness.

“Bruce, I’m home now. You can open the door.” M/n says a bit louder. And this time he is startled by the sound of hurried steps and crashing from beyond the door.

The door opens before he can say anything.

And his Bruce is there. He looks tired, and his features are clearer because in the manor there is darkness. And M/n sees how much Damian is becoming more and more like his father, for Bruce falls to his knees in front of him, hands grabbing at his face and hair, cupping his cheeks in hurried strokes. M/n believes the tears that fall from Bruce’s eyes and onto his blotchy cheeks. He doesn’t know how many times he’s seen Bruce cry before. It hasn’t been much, but there were plenty times to know that M/n’s husband doesn’t trust people with his tears and his pain. And most of the time, he doesn’t even trust himself with it. It pains M/n to see the man he loves in pain, so he ends up placing his hands over his darling’s hands, keeping them on his cheeks.

“… M/n” His husband’s voice is coarse, unused.

“Bruce.” M/n says his name, to ground Bruce with his own voice. “What happened to you, my Bruce?”

Bruce doesn’t say anything at first, but after long seconds, there are those same two words that came out of his son’s mouth, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love.” He has never seen Bruce like this. This broken. Falling apart. What happened? Where are Dick and Tim? Nobody said anything about them yet. What were his memories trying to keep away from him? M/n really needs to know. “I can’t remember what happened that well. Please, tell me what happened, my Bruce.” M/n squeezes Bruce’s hands into his own and brings them to his lap.

M/n is afraid of the unknown. What is he missing? Why is everyone so down? Why was he in the hospital for weeks on end?

“What did you do, love? Why are you upset?” Bruce raises to his feet, slowly and weak, and M/n has never seen him like this. Bruce goes behind him and wheels him into their bedroom.

Bruce lifts him up with care. Closer to his face, M/n can see his expression better and it hurts him to see his husband in this pain. Bruce places him on the bed, with soft movements and soft touches.

“Talk to me, Bruce.” M/n cups Bruce’s cheeks in his palms when the man sits next to him on the bed.

“No, no, I can’t, M/n, I can’t, no.” Bruce shakes his head. M/n can’t help but feel out of balance, out of place, out of touch. He has never seen his husband this startled. They’ve had moments in which they’ve shared their fears and problems and what not. But M/n has never seen his Bruce this shaken up.

“Come on. Talk to me, Bruce.” He presses on.

“I.. Oh god…” Bruce whispers through a clenched jaw.

“Love, please…” There is desperation in M/n’s voice.

“God… God, how, how can I tell you? How can I possibly tell you?” Bruce puts a distance between them as he rises from the bed. Covering his face, he blocks away M/n’s view of his expression.

“Bruce? Bruce… Bruce!” M/n raises his voice, feeling his tongue become numb and surplus in his mouth.

“Ah, I, I…” Bruce takes a deep breath looking at the ceiling, “Di…” His voice fades. “Dick and Tim,” M/n fees the air become stale around him, and the constant pressure in his chest that never seems to go away increases. Breathing suddenly becomes harder and there is the faint feeling of suffocation. “They are gone. Because of me. I …killed them.”

And that suffocating feeling is back tenfold.

The world is swimming around them and he can feel it all flowing beyond the ground, and he is falling too, into his own hell. He doesn’t know where he is anymore, but his body is too small for him and his heart is so big and so loud it breaks at his thoracic cavity. His lungs aren’t big enough, however, cowering before his beating, pumping heart, smaller and smaller by the second. There isn’t enough air. There will never be enough air. This is how he is dying. He wants to die. He wants to die now, to disappear.

He hears screaming. After long seconds it becomes obvious it is him who is screaming, clawing at his throat, eyes hurting with tears that burn him to the core. He scratches his throat like he wants to get out of his own skin. And if he were any more conscious, he would now exactly how to kill himself in that moment. The words keep repeating in his head, however, in an endless loop that wants to keep him there, caged in his disbelief.

He must’ve passed out.

Because, when he wakes up, he is in the rose garden, somehow.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 17: It heal

I constantly have a growing number of questions for Chapman.

I finally remember one I want to ask, which I do so silently, by showing hir the screen of my tablet instead of hitting talk, “Why no human talk?”

We’re in the very back of a bar named Pooty’s. It’s on the same block as my building, right on the northeast corner, nearer to the Courthouse than the coffee shop is. The staff often go there after closing, but we’re here for dinner with those who are off. And the others aren’t sitting with us. Rhoda’s entertaining them at a table nearby, and we’re all watching the pool players.

Rhoda, Chapman, and Nathan, with the help of Seagull, have worked together to set something up for me that could seriously leverage any possible goodwill toward dragons that City Council might have.

County Council is going to have to come second.

Anyway, in preparation, Chapman has told the others that sie wants to confer with me alone for a bit and to make sure my tablet is in the best working order. Because I’m going to be relying on it.

Rhoda’s working with them to plan something else.

Chapman turns the tablet so it’s right side up for hir and considers my question.

When sie types something out and pushes it back, it says, “I cut corners for my prototype.”

We keep doing this for our whole conversation while drinking our own beers and eating a huge platter of fries that we’re sharing.

“Who for?” I ask. “Who people like me?”

“Trans people, like us,” Chapman replies.

“Prototype you? Or you prototype?” I hope that makes sense.

Chapman takes a little extra time, “I make prototype based on me. That way, spare clothes fit when someone tries it. Then we talk customizations.”

So, sie did make the prototype based on hir own body, but hir current body isn’t based on the prototype. That’s what I was curious about, briefly. Now I have another question.

“You make more?”

“Not yet.”

“Get easier with each?”

“A bit.”

I nod and ask, “Other dragons?”

“Can have. Not soon.” Chapman looks at me and says out loud, “We know we need to coordinate with them and prove that you can learn to be civil with each other. And we need to do it fast. And your discord server is a really good idea. So that’s what Rhoda’s talking about with the others. To figure out how to get their contact information so you can personally send invites. Our strategy, as you know, is two pronged. It has to be.”

I nod some more, like the human I resemble. This puts my bosom more into my lower peripheral vision and I see the second-hand Torrid dress I’m wearing. I am distracted by the novelty of this, but not necessarily in a good feeling way. I focus on the novelty and on Chapman’s words as best I can.

The TARDIS dress was destroyed in my demonstration to Seagull.

Chapman continues, “Your meeting with the Mayor, facilitated by the weekly, will help counter the alarmist propaganda the daily is publishing. The true locals are tuned to the weekly, even though it’s not on paper anymore. But the daily’s stories go right to the radio, as we’ve been hearing today. And that goes to the broader internet. And, on top of that, the local political establishment is currently behind the idea of running you all out of town.”

I nod once.

“The Mayor’s daughter is a dragon, though,” Chapman says. “Which is why we’ve got this interview. But we also absolutely need to rally the local dragons to cooperate. As quickly as possible. The Mayor’s daughter joining your discord might accelerate that. I feel it.” Sie considers me carefully for a moment, and then says, “Can I ask you a question this time? It’s really personal. I’ll keep it on the Tablet.”

I point at the tablet and nod.

“Can I scan your body when a dragon?” sie asks, then pushes the tablet toward me, initiating our ongoing silent exchange. The silence is for the wizardry stuff.

“Why?”

“Biology. Mating season. Important to know.”

That does make me feel a little weird in a mostly fun way. But, regardless, I answer, “Yes.” Because I want to learn what sie learns from that.

“See if you lay eggs,” Chapman says. “But also deeper.”

Ooh, “Yes.”

“I have theory.”

“What?”

“OK, so,” Chapman says out loud again. “There’s this idea, and I think it might be true, that dragons all work similarly to a set of salamanders when it comes to mating. Y - er, they might all be physiologically females. But these salamanders are really cool!” Sie pulls the tablet over to hirself and starts searching Wikipedia to bring up the relevant article. “They aren’t really a species. Scientists are calling them a bioform. Because what they do is they harvest DNA from a variety of other completely different salamanders. Each member of this bioform can collect spermatozoa from other salamanders and harvest just part of the DNA and store it for later. They can mix and match from all their off-species mates, and then have a clutch based on that.”

Sie looks at me to see if I’m understanding that. I hesitantly nod after a moment. More hesitant from the scrutiny than anything. What sie is saying makes a lot of sense and sounds really cool. I had no idea anything could do that, but why not, though?

“It’s not conscious, of course, and no one knows if there’s any logic to it, any rules or laws or if it’s random,” sie explains. “But, it happens and can be studied. And it results in a group of amphibians that are chimerical in a way that is only rivaled by one other set of bioforms on the planet now, that we know of. Dragons.”

“Beyond rad,” I reply with the tablet.

Chapman nods now, “Some people think that dragons can do this with a wider range of species, and that’s why y - they’re all so different. Of course, the sudden appearance of dragons seems to prove the presence of some kind of divine or magical power in the world, and a lot of people think dragons embody that power and use it to do otherwise biologically impossible things, too. And, I’m not exactly skeptical.”

“What do with Mayor and discord?” I ask.

Chapman glances at my question and tightens hir lips. “People who are aware of this theory, or who have the time to consider it – people who are not necessarily politicians – are concerned that this could make mating season, this Spring, particularly fraught. Of course, we may get our answers sooner, since mating season is just starting for the Southern hemisphere.”

“We fix before,” I say out loud, hitting talk.

“That’s what everyone hopes, yes. But if we can find out we can make better plans, and it behooves everyone to take the future into account while addressing the present. Fortunately, a lot of the people I know are very good at doing that.”

While I’m thinking about that and formulating a response or a question that could provoke more interesting revelations, we’re approached by a couple of men with pool cues in hand.

This is not a college pickup bar. Back in 2005 it was a bit of a music venue, but when stricter noise ordinances (which I do violate) got passed, Pooty’s stopped hosting shows. Now it’s what locals call an industry bar. A place where other food service workers collect to relax and commiserate with the staff. But we’re both vaguely feminine looking people who appear to be in our 30s, and I guess we’re cute? But cute to straight men? Really?

“Would either of you ladies like to join us in a game? We could play partners?” one of the men asks.

Oh, that’s easy. We could have fun playing, and we have a bunch of our friends here to watch out for us. So we could risk saying, “Yes.” But they’re not my type, and…

“Thank you, boys,” Chapman says in a lower register than I typically hear, dropping hir voice from a maple syrup tenor into a molasses and bourbon baritone. “She’s the only lady here. And while I’d normally take you up on it – I love pool – we’re here on business and have kind of a time crunch. You understand.”

I nod in Chapman’s direction when sie says, “business”.

“Ah, of course. Sorry to interrupt,” says the other guy, who then elbows his friend and gestures back at their table with his head.

Nice. No scene.

“You use magic?” I ask Chapman silently.

Sie takes the tablet and responds, “You didn’t feel it?”

“Not when human,” I reply. “I don’t think.” 

I’d been paying attention for the day, as we did things, and looking out for times I thought Chapman would be using magic. And I have yet to have felt a shift while wearing the pendant.

“Oh, really?” Chapman asks. “I will update notes. And we should test it for real. Didn’t use magic.”

“Nice guys.”

“Eh.”

We hear them laughing with each other, and both glance their direction to see them glancing back out of the corners of their eyes and elbowing each other.

OK. Maybe not.

The Pacific Northwest (or Seattle) Freeze, a standard of regional conduct, can really cut down on a lot of surface impoliteness when people are talking face to face. But the moment you turn your backs to each other, the knives do get sharpened sometimes.

I grew up here and never really noticed it before until Rhoda pointed it out one day. She’d been really frustrated by it, being a transplant from New York, herself.

Now I feel like I’m seeing it in action in stark relief to what I’m used to. But I wonder if it’s some kind of bias introduced by my new position in life.

I have a growing group of people who care about and support me, and I’m also hyperaware of my differences with humans, and how humans act around me. Especially since being targeted by the police.

On the other hand, I haven’t had much time to practice pretending to be human today. I’ve been so busy, and it’s my first day with the pendant.

I bet my mannerisms look really weird. Maybe cute, but really weird to those guys. It’s probably what got their attention. Maybe they mistook us for sisters. And then, based on our reaction, now I bet they think we’re queer, which would be right. And my weirdness becomes the subject of laughter.

Great.

“Let’s rejoin the others,” Chapman says.

Good idea, but I have one more question for hir.

“What your full name?” I ask.

Chapman smiles and almost breaks out in giggles, and then types it into the tablet, “Chap Man.” Then sie says, “In a phone book, I’d be listed as Man Chap. Which I think is funny. Chap is my first name and Man is my last. Legally. But I wanted a single word name, and that’s the easiest way to do it so that it still works with most databases. It’s really just Chapman.”

“Why Chapman?” I ask.

Sie shrugs, “I just really like the sound of it. It kind of subtly counteracts how femme I like to dress sometimes.” The sie asks, “Why’d you pick Meghan?”

“Not brave warrior. Though am,” I reply. “Real reason. Rhymes with dragon.”

“God, you’re such a trans girl.”

“Also. Meg short for Megabyte. Or Megalodon. Or Megnificent.”

“More damning evidence! Come on.”

—

Alone again with Chapman, it’s 2 AM and we’re back on the roof of my building.

I’m wondering once more where that first helicopter came from. None of us have found the answers to that. It wasn’t mentioned in any of the brief press releases the police chief issued earlier in the day. And I think we’re all hoping it will be made known by Monday night, just for curiosity’s sake. But maybe for legal reasons, too.

That said, my own reason for worrying about it is that it had directly targeted me. And now I’m standing on the place where it had done that, and I’m taking off my disguise.

Chapman got us up here through the lobby, the elevator, and the roof access, all without consulting property management. Of course.

Only Rhoda knows we’re up here, but she went to bed a while ago.

Since Chapman has obviously seen my naked human form, as sie had designed it based on what sie saw in the mirror before top surgery and hir queer makeover, I just take off my clothes and carefully fold them near the access hatch. And then I slip off the pendant, dropping it onto the roof in the process.

And stretch.

“Meg,” I say, like a cute cartoon animal voiced by an Angelina Joli impersonator.

“Oh, that’s a good thing to know how to say!” Chapman exclaims. “Your own name is important. OK.” Sie takes a gunfighter stance, with finger guns at hips, “You ready to be scanned?”

Sie had already just scanned me while I was disguised, and I didn’t feel a thing. This time I definitely feel the shift.

My sense of it is so discerning, I can pinpoint it to just behind Chapman’s sternum, right next to hir heart.

I’ve heard that people don’t perceive their center of consciousness to be in their head. They perceive it to be in or near their heart, and I wonder if Chapman’s one of them. But it’s not like I can scan hir.

“Theory supported!” Chapman declares. “You lay eggs, Meg. And you share that reproductive trait of those salamanders I was telling you about. It just remains to be seen what other dragons are like. Dammit, I love it when we all guess right, though.”

I lay eggs.

Yes!

Chapman walks around to face me more directly from my front, which isn’t ever strictly necessary for me, since I can look anywhere, and then says, “Thank you for consenting to that. It was a really invasive procedure. That’s intimate personal knowledge, and I swear I’ll keep your personal information secret. When it comes to body and mind, as opposed to actions and situations, I like to keep my scans based on full informed consent, if I can.”

I cat smile and say, “Yes.”

“In an emergency, though, I will probably do what I need to do to keep everyone safe,” sie adds. “That’s also something you should be fully aware of.”

“Okay,” I say. 

That was a complex one to learn. My first two syllable word. But it seemed important and really useful. It does sound a little less human when I say it, though. What would be the velar plosive in a human, the “k” sound, has an extra kind of record scratch noise to it when I render it.

“Oh, you know just enough words now you could make a simple sentence. Have you tried that yet?” Chapman asks.

“No,” I say. Then I select a couple other words to try to say in succession, and manage, “Now. Yes.”

It doesn’t sound like a sentence to my ears, but I know it can be one.

My verbal vocabulary is at eleven words, and I’m thinking of more I wish I could say right now. But I’ve got my AAC, which is fine for longer conversations. And, once I have that keyboard and computer set up, I’m going to write so much. The words I chose to learn are the ones I thought would be most useful to say quickly in critical moments. Words that might bring another dragon up short, so that I can take the time to pull out my tablet.

I huff.

I’m starting to realize just how much of my time is spent communicating.

I mean, it’s mostly what humans do most of the time anyway. But when you’re used to doing that so easily that you take it for granted, it can be a shock to lose most of that ability all of a sudden. And, by the third day, just before Rhoda had pointed me toward that app, the novelty of playing charades as a dragon was wearing off and I was so ready for something more.

I mean, I was mostly used to sitting around my apartment or my old corner of the coffee shop without anyone talking to me, before. But I still talked way more easily than I do now.

And then, after Rhoda gave me that app, things just got so intense so quickly.

But the only way to get a handle on it all without getting more seriously hurt or captured was to talk. And, sometimes to talk as fast as possible while being so impaired.

I think I’ve been doing pretty well, but I’m tired.

And it’s been a long day of talking, too. And I spent so much of it disguised as human and uncomfortable about it.

I go back to my purse, which I took off with my clothes, and hold it up and look at Chapman. I probably should have tried leaving it around my neck, but I didn’t want to risk hurting it.

Chapman obliges and comes over to help me put it back on.

Then, I pull out my tablet and put it on the roof, then curl up with it in front of me and hit, “Thank you.”

“Past my bedtime too. You’re very welcome, of course,” Chapman says. Sie looks up at the stars for a while, then says, “Don’t change anything. Do your thing in the morning, when you normally would. Keep the routine. Let’s see how the city responds. And… dammit. We didn’t do anything about that gash! We just hid it under my magic.”

Through the dull ache and occasional sting of my wound, I am amused that Chapman finally referred to hir art as “magic”. Sie will never do that with humans around.

For some reason, though, I’m not really worried about it.

“It heal,” I say.

“Uh-uh,” Chapman says. “I’m going to work with Rhoda to come back with a vet for you. We should at least suture it. I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

“Okay,” I reply. Then lie my head down on my wing claws, loafing with my other four limbs, and say, “Go.”

“Have a good night,” Chapman says and heads for the hatch.

I smile.

Sie pauses before opening up the access, and turns and says, “I wanted to be funny and hit you with some song lyrics, but I can’t think of any.”

I lift my head.

I haven’t listened to music for the past seven days. I’ve heard music at the shop and Pooty’s, but I wasn’t listening. And I used to wear headphones all the time.

What changed?

[iris-sistibly]

BAAAAAAAABES OMG!!!! EPISODE 10 IS GIVINGGGGG!!!

It's giving cuteness, it's giving love, it's giving ✨QUEEN✨ it's giving fucking satisfaction my loves!

📍Let's start off with some really funny scenes brought to you by Hong Mama, it's so freaking satisfying to see her get humbled over and over and over again! Her getting off of her high horse has been long overdue tbh, that scene when she finally got her salary after work, only for Baek Mama to deduct it for the coffee she paid for (her), God her face was priceless. Everyone say it with me, "DESERVE!" Perhaps Mama Baek can teach her a thing or two about mothering. It's about time she learns that too.

📍Papa Hong and Papa Baek having a heart-to-heart conversation over their frustrations at losing something, and almost everyone seems to turn their backs on them. Them bonding over Kdrama while having a drinking session at the same time is probably one of the most wholesome scenes in the show.

📍Mama Baek being such a loving mama to Hae-in 😭😭 even though it's clear that she loves her son, she didn't tolerate Hyun-woo's bullshit when the latter confessed about Hae-in's illness and the divorce. I hope all parents will take note of this: you don't tolerate your kids' wrongdoings, you make them own up to their mistakes and guide them in doing the right thing. That's why Hyun-woo knows how to take accountability, his mother taught him well.

📍Soo-cheol is actually growing on me. He's an immature idiot at first, but he really has a big heart. He's the one who got fooled and dumped on yet he still worries over baby Geon-u and Da-hye. Yes he was hurt, but he loves Da-hye so much that he can't even bring himself to be angry at her. He sees the goodness in her and points at the right person who caused their family to crumble. I can't wait for him to man up and fight to bring his family back.

📍Oh my beautiful BaekHong, the "divorced" couple who acts like they're still married. Hae-in acting like a typical wife who scolds her husband for getting into trouble, but still takes care of him anyway and Hyun-woo the boxing champion trembling at his angry wife 🤣.

📍I also love the fact that they finally have that much needed talk about their marriage, what went wrong, what they could have done, and Hyun-woo having no regrets at marrying Hae-in and would gladly choose her again and again. Dear Lord, where can I get myself a Baek Hyun-woo?

📍But damn Hae-in exposing Eun-seong during the press conference was the BEST!!! Dude was so sure he was gonna marry her but Hae-in isn't the queen of Queens for NOTHING. He really did underestimate her, I kid you not when I say that I literally flipped my middle finger when the camera focused on Eun-seong *clears throat* with all due respect to Park Sung-hoon, you are a great actor sir but I loathe your character. Yoon Eun-seong is the very definition of "delulu is the solulu" again, Hae-in would rather die than be with him, and since this episode is so satisfying, I'm gonna save my rant for the next episode.

📍I have always loved the dynamics of Hyun-woo and Hae-in, they may be different in a lot of things but they complement each other in so many ways. For example, when someone is trying to fuck up the other, or when one of them is in danger, there will be hell. Hyun-woo is very protective of Hae-in, he'll fight tooth and nail for her even if it means getting hurt in the process. This man will fight for her to the death. Hae-in on the other hand is the type of person who would rather take all the pain to herself than seeing her loved ones suffer. She will never stand back when it comes to Hyun-woo, and when someone tries to fuck him up, she'll go above and beyond to save him, and she'll give you hell if you mess with her husband. Since the beginning they have always fought for each other, but in the next coming episodes I hope they'll learn to fight together because seriously, they are such a power couple.

📍Hae-in still calls Hyun-woo her husband 🥹🥹

📍Shout out to Grace for not being too stupid, you have chosen the right team to help ma'am. And Da-hye...girl, come back already.