#*shrugs* i dont make the rules

[mossterunderthebed]

i just think. yuuji shld get to be the senpai this time. as a treat

[gunsatthaphan]

idk hate on gmmtv all u want but them bringing back an OG couple from a 5yr hiatus to cast them in an extremely risky remake of a show that's highly critically acclaimed, fighting copyright issues for over a year, getting a ban on youtube, STILL releasing the show on live tv with subtitles and THEN end up making the adaption better than the original, fixing the messed up side couple, giving all 3 couples healthy and loving relationships, a proper development with good pacing, not cursing the 11th episode with dumb drama AND making karan and achi the first gay couple to have a wedding on a gmmtv show is highkey iconic say what u want-

[mayhasopinions]

L-starion

[rthwrms]

i thought magic was real but you have to believe in it but it turns out that magic is real whether you believe in it or not

[golden-afternoon]

Whoa okay hi another one hit me like a freight train unexpectedly. What can I say? I needed to make him cry.

Warnings - gn!reader, dacryphilia, chair bondage, trying to not get caught, again this was a possession that overtook me so this is all straight from brainrot to page. This is becoming more frequent. Should I be concerned? ...nah I'm sure its fine

He’s always been beautiful. But right now, you were certain he couldn’t possibly become anymore perfect.

The most striking carnelian eyes staring up at you, coated in a delicate gloss from tears that haven’t quite fallen yet. Lashes long enough to make any woman envious clump and cling together, lined with pretty little dew drops of tears that shine in the low light of his room. Another tear slips from his eye to slowly trail down his cheek, disappearing in a still damp track where dozens of tears had been rolling not long before.

Gritting his teeth, he draws in a hitching, shaky breath, his exposed chest visibly stuttering with the effort to remain silent so as not to alert his roommate to his predicament. Not that he wanted it to stop, though one may have easily assumed as much, what with how tightly he was tied to his desk chair, rendering him almost entirely immobile besides his hips and head, completely at your mercy.

Poor thing, he did his best to remain quiet even with the intense feelings no doubt gripping him after having been teased mercilessly by your gentle hand for the better part of an hour. He counted at least three ruined orgasms, but honestly with how much of a mess his mind was at this point, he couldn’t be entirely sure. Hips thrusting meekly at the air, limited by the bindings he had oh so eagerly suggested you use, he sunk his teeth into his plush bottom lip, tasting the familiar flavor of iron run across his tongue from the force.

You however, merely chuckle innocently at his misery, placing both of your hands on the back of the chair behind him. The most sugary sweet of smiles forms on your lips as you lower yourself to his eye level, giving you an even better view of those pretty eyes.

“Hmm? What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Your soft teasing voice seems to spark a fire behind his eyes, a fire you are all too familiar with. His mouth opens with clear intent to offer a biting word back at you, but anything he may have thought up dies instantly in his throat when he feels your hand curl around his flushed, leaking cock once more. His head drops at once at the sudden rush of feeling against his aching length, he can feel it throb against your palm with joy at the sensation. All he can muster is a cracked little whimper that sounded far more pathetic than he ever cared to be in front of you, much to his growing shame. He had expected to be able to hold out longer than he was, fully going into this with his head held high that he would never crack, yet here he was, biting back needy whines as he rocks his hips with his limited range of motion, desperately craving every bit of friction he can get.

And yet… as much as his helplessness was causing him pain right now, something about the way you looked at him like this made him know full well he was going to ask you for this kind of stress relief again in the future. Probably even sooner than he cared to admit.

Slowly, he lifted his head to face you once more, gazing up at you from under his uncharacteristically messy blonde bangs. His expression was so pitifully needy that it sent a shiver down your spine, the heat of his look going straight to your core in an instant. He blinks and it sends more of those crystalline tears down his face.

Truly, he couldn’t be any more beautiful than he is right now.

[axemetaphor]

saw a post on my dash yesterday that was like "so I know people tend to characterize Jinx as some kind of sex god—" and it gave me intense whiplash because I've always read her as extremely aroace and I don't really engage with the Arcane fan base at large on here. post is quite literally living in my mind rent free because what on earth do you mean

[bootlegramdomneess]

Sydney can always spot when Carmy is full of shit or being shit and so does Natalie. That's why they're soul sisters.

[asstrongasyouthink]

#'intentional fucked up' tends to be tagged for and warned for#'unintentional fucked up' is when a fic is rated gen#and the author thinks they're doing something wholesome#and it is literally THE MOST fucked up shit#that can be passed off as cutesy if you've never actually been in a healthy relationship before#and really do think harming someone with jealousy is what it means to be sexy#this is such a vibe#it's amazing how much antis write the latter and attack authors for the former lsdafkjfasd

Sometimes you read a fic where the author is clearly and intentionally writing dead dove content like:

These garbage boys are going to torture and gaslight each other until they’re inextricably intertwined 😈 they are going to make each other the most fucked-up and worst versions of themselves 🔪 they will be so codependent and broken they will never be able to be with anyone else after ☠️

And, like, this is probably written by a pretty normal, well-adjusted person. Genuinely. The dove is dead but the author knows that the dove is dead because they killed the dove. On purpose. Gleefully. They were like “wouldn’t it be fucked up if…” and then wrote the if.

But then sometimes you read a fic where the author is like:

uwu these soft boys are soooo cute and in love 🥰 they’re so sweet and pure and good 💕 I just want them to be cutesy-wutesy and in lurveeee forever 😍 this is my new fic about soft boys being soft 💋 this is the height of romance 😘

And then the fic is. Not. The relationship is THE must fucked up, manipulative, passive-aggressive shit show where both characters are being awful to each other, but in the most socially-acceptable heteronormative way where you could 100% picture a friend of a friend telling you this bizarre story at a party while you’re sitting there like wow 😬 straight people are wild who acts like that?

I don’t read fics like that often, but whenever I do I’m always like................... 👀 you good? You doing okay? You seem to think this kind of behavior is, uh. Normal. And, uh, romantic? But these characters certainly seem to hate each other. Not in the narrative, in the narrative they’re super in love somehow but uhhh. Um. You good?

There is such a chasm between people writing something fucked up on purpose vs someone writing something fucked up on accident. And the latter is where things are not tagged properly, and they’re infinitely more disturbing imo.

[raredrop]

im glad i havent run into the tiktok drama artists on art fight

ive never really noticed anything the few years ive been doing it outside of maybe my ocs getting misgendered (they SHOULD all be labeled with their pronouns) or that time a child character was given boobs

perhaps they just havent seen me or the fact that im most likely older than them makes them nervous

[mossterunderthebed]

ah, but you see, gojo is both my husband AND my wife and that is why he is the most marraigable strongest.

[malewifesband]

EDIT: if this post has made you think about whether or not you are autistic, im really glad! i hope you get some better understanding of yourself and are able to find community and support

however before you go and tell a therapist and seek an official diagnosis please read this thread and consider the points made therein:

autism is highly stigmatized. be fully informed about what you gain and what you lose from having an official diagnosis before seeking one.

EDIT OVER ENJOY THE POST

people do correctly identify that laios is autistic fairly often but a lot of the reasoning begins and ends with his special interest and social difficulties, but honestly it goes far deeper into the build of his character than just those two things

his pain tolerance is wildly inconsistent, unable to tolerate a drop of hot oil (or any heat) but able to shrug off both his leg being bitten off and it being reattached

hes sensory seeking in the extreme. he rubs the bat bones against his face, pets and fluffs the shapeshifter tail.

his desire to eat monsters comes from three very autistic places. 1) the rules for why monsters are not okay to eat but animals are are arbitrary to him so he cannot follow them easily: he cannot understand the 'feelings' argument others make. 2) this too is a sensory seeking behavior. he wants to experience these new things, new flavors and new textures. 3) it completes his knowledge of the monster in question to also have data on its edibility. because he cannot draw that arbitrary line around all monsters, he wants to evaluate them case-by-case and see if real patterns emerge. butchering and eating the monsters improves his knowledge of them greatly and highlights their importance in their ecosystem, as well as making him a part of that same ecosystem

he cannot emote the way others expect him to. he compartmentalizes his feelings (to an unhealthy degree) because he needs a pragmatic solution. so as long as there is a problem to solve, that matters far more than evaluating his emotions and allowing himself to experience them. while this is also a coping mechanism for ptsd, it is a trait found in many autistic people regardless of trauma, as we have trouble sorting the feelings we have and often need time to think about what we feel, so it becomes easier to simply not do it and pretend we dont need to. laios emotions certainly affect him, with or without his processing them, but others do not see what they expect to see and thus dismiss that he is feeling what they would feel

he is incredibly gifted with pattern recognition, observation, and analysis within realms he understands. to understand subjects that dont come easily to him, he must filter them through his established schema (his special interest--this is why they are so special! they help us sort the world). when he isnt sure about the social cues and details hes observed in the shapeshifter arc, he filters it through the lens he understands best: monsters. he was making correct observations about his friends all along, but he could not be confident in that the way he was about their behavior when it came to his interest (chilchucks caution, senshis passions, and marcilles carelessness)

[brokenmenswhore]

i need more of that dont look seriesss i need sirius and reader to go against remus’ rules or summmm please and thank you if u choose to do so

whatever the people want, i shall give them 🙇‍♀️

don’t look | remus & sirius

part 2

pairings: remus lupin x fem!reader, sirius black x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), language

part 1

────── ☾ ──────

Sirius opened his mouth to say something as Remus approached, but Remus put a hand up to cut him off.

“Nope, don’t even, I’m still mad at you,” Remus stated, walking past Sirius.

“Oh come on!” Sirius called to him, “look, I said I was sorry.”

“I know, but I’m still mad,” he called back, “and jealous, I guess.”

Sirius shrugged, “well maybe you should stop eating out your hot girlfriend in a communal space, Moons, what did you expect?”

Remus stopped in his tracks. He turned around and approached Sirius, stopping only a few feet away from him.

“You know you aren’t supposed to look at her like that.”

“Jeez, Moony, you aren’t my dad.”

Sirius’s nonchalance bothered Remus. Remus was hot-headed, and it was nearly the full moon, which meant his emotions were heightened even more than usual.

It also meant he was hornier than usual.

He marched to your dorm, swinging the door open, despite the two other girls sat on the floor, textbooks sprawled across their laps as you all studied together. “I need you.”

Your eyes shot up at him, the other girls scanning his figure up and down. “Rem, I’m studying,” you told him, as if he couldn’t see you doing just that.

“Please, I just need to borrow you for a minute.” Remus tried not to sound desperate, but he most certainly did. He didn’t care if the girls knew he wanted to borrow you to fuck you senseless, he only cared that he remained level-headed until he was alone with you.

You gave a smile to the other girls, closing your textbook and placing it on the floor before standing up and following Remus to his dormitory. He anticipated that it would be empty, but instead he found Sirius, cross-legged on his bed, a book in his lap.

Remus contemplated his options. Ever since Sirius’s infraction, he had avoided being with you in front of him, worried Sirius would try something again. However, today, he was angry, and he wanted to piss off Sirius by asserting his authority and dominance over you.

He pushed you onto the mattress, immediately hiking up your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

“Remus!” you squealed, taken aback by his haste.

He shushed you, saying, “need you bad.”

“Remmy, it’s not even a full moon tonight, you can usually wait until later in the da-“

Remus cut you off by shoving two fingers into your hole, not caring about warming you up as you squirmed from his touch.

“Shit,” you whined as his mouth connected with your clit, his tongue lapping up any wetness.

You moaned, your hands gripping his hair as he continued to shove his fingers in and out of you, his unoccupied hand pushing (with difficulty) his trousers down until he was left in his underwear, his hand sneaking past the waistband to lightly stroke himself at the sight of you.

Sirius was already in a fight with Remus over watching you, and part of him didn’t want to make anything worse. Part of him also thought that since they were already in a fight, what did it matter? He would just have to be more careful.

You whimpered when Remus hit a particularly good spot, and Sirius looked toward you through hooded lids, ready to retreat his gaze if Remus checked in on him, but Remus was focused only on you.

He had almost forgotten Sirius was in the room, his desperation and need growing more intense with each moan and whine you let out.

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers all the way down before crawling on top of you.

“I need to feel you, pretty girl, are you ready for me?” he cooed, stroking his cock faster and faster as he waited for you to respond.

“Please, Remmy,” you begged, and he nearly came in his hand at the sound.

He lined himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in despite his need. He would never give up watching your face as he pushed into you, even if he was desperate. The way your face contorted, the small whimpers that left your lips, the way your hair looked sprawled out on the pillows, the way your skirt bunched up around your waist-

He bottomed out inside of you, immediately starting to thrust in and out of you.

“Shit, Rem,” you moaned at the feeling, “you can use me.” You knew what he needed when the full moon was near, but your statement still drove him crazy as if he had never heard it before.

Remus placed both of your wrists above your head, holding them with one hand as his head dipped in the crook of your neck, his unoccupied hand finding your clit and rubbing fast circles as he fucked you. He didn’t care about timing, he just needed you bad. He needed to come inside of you, but he needed you to come first, even if it all happened quickly. He adored the feeling of you coming on his cock, and needed to feel it to achieve his own high.

You turned your head so that Remus had more room to rest his on your shoulder, and you glanced at Sirius, who shifted his seated position as he heard you moan. You remembered the last time he was in the room, and you hoped he would look over at you again, your eyes focused on him as Remus pounded into you at a ruthless pace.

He finally did glance at you, but he did a double take, checking if you were really looking at him, and you were. You nodded your head up and down, a way to tell him it was okay with you if he watched, and that you wanted him to do as such.

His eyes remained on you, scanning your body up and down, watching your thighs fall more and more open as Remus’s hand moved faster and faster on your clit.

He loved seeing you with your hands above your head, a new sight for him, Remus having full control over your body.

Your back arched off the bed, causing the pressure on your wrists to increase as your climax threatened to hit, Remus’s hand and his cock almost too much to hold it together.

“Sir- shit, I’m gonna-“

You squeezed Remus’s cock like a vice, your high washing over you as your thighs shook.

“Shit, baby,” Remus breathed.

He didn’t catch your almost-slip, but Sirius certainly did, his eyes darkening as he watched you come down from your high, your body still shifting back and forth on the bed from the force of his best friend’s hips snapping against yours.

“Gonna come in you,” Remus moaned, a final few, sharp thrusts sending him over the edge as he came, groans in your ear that only you could hear as he spilled his seed inside of you.

You signaled for Sirius to look away as Remus let go of your wrists, pulling out of you before standing up and gazing at your fucked-out frame.

“Thank you, baby,” he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “let me get you cleaned up.”

He stretched a hand out to you, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to the bathroom.

✶

Sirius did not speak to you for an entire week after that.

You tried to spark conversation, but he always found an excuse to leave the room or divert his attention. Remus noticed, but assumed it was because of the first time he watched you, and he quite enjoyed the thought of Sirius leaving you alone.

You were seated in the common room, everyone apart from you and the boys at a party in the Ravenclaw dorms. The boys had decided to skip this particular party thanks to Remus, who was falling behind in Transfiguration, and who cursed the Ravenclaws for throwing a party the night before a massive Transfiguration exam.

“I can’t fucking focus,” Remus spoke, annoyed at his inability to comprehend the subject.

“I have some extra notes in the dorms,” James spoke, “I can try to find them, maybe they’ll help?”

“Yeah, alright,” Remus agreed, “worth a shot.”

Remus sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead as he and James retreated up the stairs to search for James’s extra notes.

You turned to Sirius, who avoided meeting your gaze.

“Please talk to me, Sirius.”

He ignored you completely.

“Siri, please.”

The pet name broke him out of his mindset. “Don’t call me Siri.”

“Why not, Siri?” you teased.

“Because it does things to me. Stop.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Y/N-“

“Seriously what? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Sirius lowered his voice, whisper-yelling, “what do you mean why won’t I talk to you? I’m finally in a decent spot with Remus, what am I gonna do if he finds out I eye-fucked his girlfriend again while he was in the middle of railing her?”

“What does that have to do with you speaking to me?” you questioned.

“Because every single time I look at you, I see- I see you like that.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Sirius’s confession. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

“You like what you saw?” you teased.

“Shut up.”

“You wanna see more?”

“Stop,” Sirius warned.

You listened intently up the staircase, and heard James yell, “I fucking swear they were here! Check in that one.”

You propped your legs up on the coffee table, allowing your legs to fall open and give Sirius an unobstructed line of sight to your core.

“Do you wanna see more?” you asked again, running a finger over your underwear, just above your folds.

“Don’t fucking tease me.”

You nodded your head no, you were indeed not teasing him. You really were going to touch yourself.

You moved your underwear aside, giving Sirius full view of your most sensitive area as you put one of your middle fingers into your mouth.

You made a show of sucking on the digit, wetting the skin before slowly inserting it into your now-wet hole. You let out a light whine, so as not to alert Remus of what you were up to.

Sirius tried to restrain himself, but he quite literally could not take his eyes away from you. He was obsessed; a man starved who finally found sustenance. He couldn’t look away if he tried.

You began to move your finger faster and faster, your other hand coming up to squeeze your breast over your shirt.

“Shit, Siri,” you moaned, and Sirius nearly lost it right there.

He stood up and approached you, gripping the wrist that was moving your finger inside of your hole.

You assumed he would stop you, but instead, he pulled your finger out, pressing two of his fingers to your lips and allowing you to suck on them.

When he was satisfied with how wet they were, he replaced your finger with his own, his pointer and middle entering you slowly as you threw your head back.

Sirius turned his head to the staircase, hearing “well why wouldn’t they be with literally every other set of notes?” and “fucking hell, can you check the trunk over there?”

Sirius met your eyes, watching you squirm as he fingered you, his thumb finding its way to your clit and rubbing circles, a small smile finding its way onto his lips as he watched your reaction to his touch.

As he pumped his fingers faster and faster, he began to curl them against your spongy walls, a euphoric feeling.

“Siri, fuck,” you whined.

Sirius’s unoccupied hand went to your mouth, covering it to keep you from being loud enough for Remus or James to hear.

“You’re so fucking pretty, did you know that?” Sirius spoke, hand still ruthless on your core, “staring at me with someone else’s cock in you, thinking it won’t affect me?”

You whined under Sirius’s hand, your hips beginning to grind on his hand as he continued speaking.

“Silly little girl, don’t you know Remus said we shouldn’t look at you? You keep breaking his rules, and that’s only something bad girls do. You’re not a bad girl, are you?”

Sirius only moved his hand from your mouth to hear you respond. “Maybe I am, Siri,” you moaned.

Sirius placed his hand back over your mouth, his fingers fucking you faster and faster after you spoke. “You wanna be a bad girl? I’ll treat you like a bad girl. Isn’t that what you want, huh? Staring at me when you have Remus inside of you?”

Your high was dangerously close, Sirius’s fingers better than you could have ever imagined, when Sirius heard “fuck this! I’m just gonna go back downstairs.”

Sirius immediately pulled away, placing your legs back in a normal seated position as he sat back down across from you, scanning the pages of his textbook as if nothing had just happened.

“Sorry that took so long, dumbass couldn’t even find the extra notes,” Remus said, plopping down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, “did I miss anything good?”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

SOULMATE SOAP HAS MY HEART. I DONT THINK THERES ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO FOR HIM

67 / 2.8k / soap soulmate au, epilogue

...

"Anything, you say?" Soap's eyes sparkle. "A dangerous proposal, hen."

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you said." He grins at you as he towels himself off. "I’m wonderin' what exactly I could get away with, bein' offered anything. No limits, no boundaries..."

You can't help but let your gaze trail down his form. He's totally naked and still dripping wet. "Anything within reason."

"Where's the fun in bein’ reasonable?"

You lean back, pulling your feet up and crossing your legs atop the low hotel coffee table where you're seated.

You and Soap have been getting to know each other here—intimately, as soulmates and people—for the past two days. You don't live near Glasgow and wouldn't tell Soap where exactly you call home, so he offered to get the two of you a hotel suite near the mountains while the higher-ups figure out what to do with you.

You figured he'd offer to take you out on a date or something, but so far you haven't made it out of the hotel room yet. It's more like a honeymoon than a vacation. You can't say you're disappointed with all the things he's shown you, though.

"Oh, so it hasn't been fun for you yet?"

Soap laughs at that and throws the towel to the carpet. No point in modesty. You’ve seen and touched every scar and bruise on his powerful body, but it does nothing to deter your gaze.

"Been plenty fun. But now I know I could be gettin’ away with even more if I play my cards right."

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

You scoff. "Pervert."

"Am I?" He leans toward you and braces his hands on the edge of the coffee table. He loves the way you try to resist looking at him but can’t help yourself. Your gaze keeps trailing down to his abs. "I think you like the idea of me down on my knees. I’ve seen you enjoyin’ the view."

Your back straightens. He's so cocky. Still, your eyes don't meet his. If anything, they dip lower. "Laswell called while you were in the shower."

"Did she?" He strolls across the space between the bathroom and the bed to his duffel bag. You lean back and watch him languidly as he digs around for his phone, his handsome mouth settling into a frown. He won’t find it. He sees why once he glances over at you to see your catlike smile.

Soap crosses his arms and looks down at you. "Resigned to petty thievery now, are we?"

You shrug and hold his phone out, letting it dangle from your fingertips like a mouse by the tail. "It's not like I have any other jobs to preoccupy my time."

He pauses to admire the view down your tank top—his tank top—and then snatches the phone away. "How many times do you want me tae beg and grovel for forgiveness? Not that you deserve it, ye wee hellion,” he mutters, scrolling through his recent calls.

"At least three more times." You lean back on your hands as he walks away. "Aren't you going to ask me what she said?"

"Are you going to tell the truth?"

"I was considering it."

"Were you?”

You sigh and watch him raise his phone to his ear. You miss when he hung on your every word.

"Go for Soap."

Soap makes a show of talking on the phone with Laswell. He tries not to glance at you too much. You and your sharp pout and the black tank top you’re wearing and how it rides up on your hips and leaves nothing to the imagination. He’ll have to do something about that later.

"Aye. Understood." A slow grin stretches across his face. "Now that is good news. Pleased to be workin' with ya, Laswell."

He hangs up. You cross your arms. "Well?"

Soap tosses his phone on the bed and turns back to you. "Ought to chew you out for answering a call on a secure line."

"Kate already did."

"Did she, now? And you’re on a first-name basis?" Now he is amused. "Don't think I'm not keeping track of every little rule you’ve broken so far. You’re in enough trouble as it is."

You bounce your leg against the tabletop. "What did she say?"

Soap closes the space between you. In the time it takes him to reach you, you stand up, bare feet on the low table. It puts you barely above eye level with him.

"She didn't tell you the news, then, did she?" His lips twist into a smug smirk. "Serves you right."

You stare him down. You don't often get the chance to, so you capitalize on it for all you're worth. "She did," you lie.

"You’re lying, darlin’."

"How would you know?"

"You'd be right pissed off already, for one." He wraps his hands around the backs of your bare thighs idly. His thumbs brush the underside of your ass. "For two, I know better than to take you at your word. Might as well start assuming the opposite of what you decide to tell me."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your soulmate."

"You’ve never been nice to me in your life." He pulls you closer, making your legs part so he can hike his thigh up between them, his foot flat on the table between yours. He grins at you. "I seem to recall you threatenin' me that first night we met."

You push against his chest to steady yourself. "I was trying to protect your dumb ass. You were going to get yourself killed."

Soap’s hand slides up to the small of your back to help you balance. "Didn't get killed, though, did I?"

"Only because I told you to hide."

"My guardian angel."

"You're lucky you got away when you did. If you compromised us, I would've gutted you."

"Vicious, vicious woman."

"Stubborn mule of a man."

"Gorgeous, disobedient pain in my ass." Soap takes your chin in his fingers and lifts it, drifting closer to your lips as if drawn in. "Not tae mention ornery."

"You're ornery."

"Now, that's hurtful. You ought to give me some sympathy."

"Give me one good reason why."

His hands slide up to cup your ass. "Because I’m your soulmate, and I’m entitled to a little sympathy for the fact that your brazen attitude makes me crazy."

You rub at his collarbone. "If you're my soulmate, it follows that you deserve it."

Christ, he loves when you say shit like that. He leans in to mouth the underside of your jaw and murmur directly against your ear. "You know what I deserve? And you’re gonna give it to me?"

You tilt your head up. His lips slide further down your neck. You preen. "Someone has to."

He lets out a dark huff of laughter at the response. You’re all too eager to push back at him, and nothing gets him hard faster than a challenge.

Just as he latches onto your neck and begins marking you with a new hickey, you push him backward onto the hotel bed. Soap laughs as he lets himself fall. Then he sits up on his elbows and leers at you. His hair is already mussed and his breathing already heavier than normal.

You climb over him, plant your palms on his shoulders, and press him down into the comforter. Right as you stoop down to catch his bottom lip in your teeth, though, you look down at him from above and frown. "Wait, but what did Laswell say?"

Soap pauses. “Now?”

"Yes." You can’t stand not knowing. "Tell me."

Soap grabs two handfuls of your ass and squeezes in annoyance. Ruin the mood, then. "She said she heard back from the program." The program meant to protect the soulmates of military operators and other agents who could be compromised by the existance—or any knowledge whatsoever—of a soulbond. Like witness protection.

You suck in an annoyed breath. "Are you really gonna lock me up in some safehouse?"

“I’d love to—chain you up, put you in a cage, keep you somewhere all safe and sound so nobody else can touch you.” Soap watches you with an off-kilter gleam in his eyes. His words draw an image in your mind that isn’t remotely unpleasant. “But it won't be with the program, no. They denied the request."

You perk up. "Really?"

Soap grins at how excited you get. “Aye. Said your old job makes you a security risk. Too hot to handle.” He lets out a huff as his hand slides up your bare thigh. “But don't get too excited. Laswell found another opening. Or… made one. Something in her sector."

You sit back in surprise. "CIA?"

"Aye. Turns out your impressive track record of selling violence for money makes you a font of useful intel. " Soap watches you, gauging your reaction. "Couldn’t let that go to waste, now, could they?"

You glare down at him. "What's the catch?"

Soap can see the wheels turning in your mind. He grins. "Oh, hardly a thing."

Your hands tighten on his shoulders in warning. "Johnny."

He grins up at you, all teeth and confidence. He loves the way you say his name. “You should go into intelligence. You’d be a hell of an interrogator. You’d get me to tell you anything and never even bat those pretty eyelashes at me."

"John, I swear to God."

He laughs as he sits up on his elbows, his free hand running up your leg to wrap around your hip. "Alright, alright. Pushy." This is almost how he wanted you: straddling him on the bed, hips pressed together. "You're the perfect hire because you come attached to your own soldier, aye? Package deal. Someone to keep an eye on you."

"What, like a handler?"

"Somethin' like that," he muses, tracing his finger along your spine.

You give him a doubtful look. There's no way Laswell would stoop so low. But seeing the shit-eating grin on his face gives you a sinking feeling. "I'm an asset?"

"Course not. An asset would've defected of their own free will. And since you runnin’ away with me is still off the record as of yet…"

Still perched across his hips, you cross your arms. "And what if I say no?"

Soap narrows his eyes.

The world flips. You're on your back, pinned underneath him against the bed. He presses your wrists against the comforter. "Then you'd be a hostage."

You pull at his grip, but it does no good. "You can’t do that."

"I can."

"Says who?"

He leans close. "Says your new handler." He lets the word sink in, lets it make your mind race with indignant heat. That's how he likes you best. His lips trail along the side of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there in a way that makes you arch up. "Talk or don't. Either way, I'll have a convenient excuse to keep you locked up tight."

Naturally. He lets the truth slip out so easily. Likely because he never intended to give you much of a choice. He's learned his lesson and knows very well not to trust you to stay in one place anymore. If he wants to keep you around, he needs to play dirty. Like you.

He trusts you with his life, yes, but not with your own. And certainly not with his heart.

You scoff. But instead of resisting, you relax your body and let him have his way. "Fine. If it makes no difference, do your job. You know what that is, right? Extract my intel."

He pauses with his mouth against your neck. You’re giving in already. He isn’t used to that.

He shifts his hands to thread your fingers together and pin them higher over your head. He lets his mouth brush your neck as he speaks. "I intend to."

"Go on, then. Let’s see a real interrogation. Nothing like that silly warehouse you had me in before."

Soap’s face falls into a scowl. Cheeky. "That wasn't an interrogation, hen. That was a rescue." He settles one muscular leg back between your thighs. "Bloody eager to test my patience. And for what?"

"Mm."

He lets his knee nudge up against your core and grind against it, skin to skin. "You want a fight?" His voice softens, barely. "You want control?"

You think about it. But ultimately, you let your eyes close and relax your body that much more under him. "No, I trust you."

“Oh?” You’ve never said that before. Those words sound good coming from your lips. “Do ye?”

You open your eyes a fraction to narrow them at him. "Don't look too far into it."

“I’ll look as far as I please. Trust me not to hurt you, trust me not to let you leave...” He kisses you. It steals your breath again. "Trust me to give you what you need. Am I close?"

"You're trying to rile me up."

A dangerous grin slowly spreads across his face. “That's what I do best, sweetheart. So you trust me, eh?" When he gets like this—dark and heated, predatory—Soap looks more dangerous than all the weapons he’s ever used combined. A man as trained and deadly as Soap can get downright lethal when he’s playing with you. “Are you sure you should be trusting a man like me?”

"No, definitely not. Horrible idea."

He lets a laugh rumble out of his chest and his knee grinds against you again, earning himself a soft gasp. "But you’re still doing it, aren’t you? And you know what I'd do if your sweet little ass pulled another runner."

"I'm shaking in my socks."

His eyes flash with heat as he smirks down at you. He can feel your thighs clenching around his leg as he continues to grind against you. "You ought to be," he murmurs. "You know I got you. And you owe me."

"Do I?"

"Aye. For runnin' away from me, for lyin', for makin' me hunt you down. For makin' me drag your ass out of a frozen river. For makin' me think you were gonnae freeze t'death the moment I finally got you in my arms." He gives you such a heated look, you find yourself looking off at the ceiling behind him rather than holding his gaze. "And that's not even gettin' into all the stitches I got 'cause of you. You owe me for every single one."

You swallow. "Are you planning to hold that stuff over my head forever?"

If you had any idea how it felt to see you disappearing into that river, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.

"That depends on whether you plan on bein' the sort who needs to be kept in line forever," he growls. "Or whether you're gonnae let me keep you safe, darlin', always where I want ye."

Your face warms and your chest flutters. Damn it. "Fat chance," you retort as quickly as you can to cover up the butterflies.

"Forever it is, then." He lets go of your hands and reaches up to grab your chin. Soap has big hands, strong, with too many scars along his knuckles given his young age. "You’d do well to remember that every time you think about runnin’ from me.” His knee grinds up against you again, a tease and a promise all rolled into one. “Now tell me again that you trust me.”

"Nnh." You squirm. "Johnny, c'mon..."

"No, go on. Say it for me. Say you trust me. Say it out loud." He leans in closer. He's hungry again. Starving. "Let me hear it again. Sounds as pretty as you look."

You roll your hips against his knee again, seeing stars against your eyelids when his thigh muscle clenches.

His grip tightens in warning as he fights to keep control of himself. "You’re pushin’ it, hen."

"Do something about it," you murmur. You wanted bite in your voice, but it's not quite there. "Handler."

Coming from your mouth, it does funny things to his mind. His muscles coil tight with need. But then he relaxes. He has all the time in the world to do everything he wants to you. He bites down gently on your ear, earning a breathless shudder from you. His hands snake under your hips, pulling them up higher as his body slides between your legs.

"That's right. All mine."

...

the end :) thanks everyone! soap loves you <3

...

← previous part / [epilogue]

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

...

send me a prompt for more of him? :)

[pyxxiestyxx]

Class-C

The shot glass sat in front of you, innocuous in appearance.  If you couldn't smell the tang of citrus, if you didn't catch the occasional sparkle suspended in it, you might think it mere water.

In front of you, your affini friend rested her head on her hand.  She practically bled smugness, the leaves around her neck slightly fluffed as if she was preening.  You rolled your eyes, mirroring her posture for the hell of it.

"So this is your bet?  Aren't Class-C's something on the 'dont mess with' list for terrans anyway?"

Her voice was a rolling purr as she answered, "Yes.  This is different.  A heavily diluted solution of a specific strain.  No lasting effects, just the intense feeling of a Class-C dose for about two hours."

The bet was simple: You had to make it through thirty minutes without confessing your love for her, or begging to be her floret.   She thought you couldn't do it.  You thought she was full of shit.  You had plenty of xenodrugs before, of course.  Class A's and E's were fun and relaxing, but ultimately you were still in control of things.

Shrugging nonchalantly, you picked up the shot and threw it back, the sweet flavor hitting your throat and tingling slightly as it went down.  You flipped the glass face down and slammed it onto the table, then looked up at her with a satisfying smirk.  "Easy."

Her smile only widened.  "We'll see." She flipped open her tablet and pressed a timer, starting a countdown clock.  She showed you it had thirty minutes remaining, then flipped it closed.  "No using the time you have left for rallying cries.  Just you, me, and the lovely chemicals your brain is about to be swimming in.  When the alarm rings, I'll administer the counteragent."

You scoffed, leaning back in my chair.  "You didn't even wait until it had begun to kick in?  Wow, you must really be confident."

"Oh, it begins nearly immediately.  Already the drug is interacting with those neurons, mixing in with seratonin and oxytocin and a few other things besides."

You looked at her, doubtful.  "Yeah?  Then how come I don't feel any different?"

"Sweetie, you've leaned halfway across the table already.  Move any further and you're likely to crush that shot glass you slammed down so viciously earlier." She gestured at your posture, causing you to hurriedly sit back into your chair with a blush.

"Shit, I...sorry.  Got carried away." You glanced down at the shot glass, biting your lip as you realized that you *had* been rather violent with it.  You carefully flipped it back upright, wiping the outside clean with your shirt.  "Um.  Sorry."

"Dear, did you just apologize to the glas-"

"NO!" Your face was properly red now.  Oh *stars*, you had!  You had just done something that embarrassing in front of your Best Friend and what if she thought you were silly now?  Would she not want to hang out with you?  You hoped not.  You really enjoyed her compa....wait....

Frowning, you shook your head roughly, slapping your cheeks a little.  It was just the drug.  You were in control.  The drugs were doing this.  But unlike the A or E, it was more...subtle.  or rather, it was potent, but you didn't even realize it until your best friend had pointed it out.  Gosh, she's so kind...

"Um, t-thank you for helping me remember I was drugged." The words felt good to say.  You wanted her to know how much you appreciated her after all.  So you could win the bet!

...

The bet?

"Wait, what happens if I lose?" You realized you had forgotten to ask that before.  Worried, you turned to look at her.

"Well, what would you like to happen, pet~al?" You blushed, realizing it was just like her to wait until you were...compromised before asking this.  Well, jokes on her!  You're still in control.

"Nothing!  I don't want anything to happen.  No new rules, no teasing, and no domestication.  Got it?"

She nodded, sagely.  "Of course.  In that case, I take that to mean that should you win, you'll get all of those wonderful things~"

You sputtered in shock.  "I- no! I don't want to... I'm...you can't be serious."

"Awww, is something wrong?" She smirked, her eyes flashing purples and golds in a way that made your heart melt.  "All you have to do now is lose, then~ Or are you so stubborn, you can't admit that you l~o~v~e me, flower?"

"I-I...you... fucking...."  You felt the indignation mix with the heady joy of her attention, of wanting to give into her, of wanting to beg.  She was trying to goad you.  She wanted you to win now.  She had entirely turned the rules on their head. 

But she also assumed you would take her bait.  You shook your head, biting your lip.  "I...fine.  I admit it."

"Admit what?" She had begun to rise up slightly, her hands clutching the edge of the table.  She was absolutely getting off on this.  You couldn't even meet her eyes, looking away and down.

"I love you?"

"Mmmm....I don't believe you." You could hear the smile in her voice, full of wicked glee.  "Say it louder, for one.  And look me in the eyes~ and don't be afraid to put a little more emotion in it, dearie.  This is a confession, after all~"

You whimpered, managing to drag your eyes up to meet hers.  Reluctantly, you allowed the feelings you had been fighting for several minutes now to wash over you, letting them guide your words.  "I l-love you...I need you..."

"I love you...?" She trailed off, waiting for you to complete it properly.  You wanted to scream, but instead all that came out was "Miss?"

"Dear, it's just a game.  You can use the one you want to use."

"I love you, Mommy."

"And?"

"A-and I want...I need to be your floret.  I need it, please stars I need it.  I...oh gods it's...I..." The feelings crashed through you in waves.

"Go~od job, petal.  You did it."  She slid the table out of the way, stepping into a kneel in front of you.  "You said those mushy gushy feelings!"

You nodded, pleased...until you remembered what that meant.  You weren't going to get anything now.  You had just said so.  Tears sprang up, and you had to stifle a sudden sob.  "I...it's..."

She was lifting you into her arms now, cradling you closely to her chest.  "Shhhh...petal, it's alright.  You didn't lose, silly."

"I...w-what?"

She smiled at you.  "How would love for another ever be seen as losing?  You won, silly."

You won. That made sense to you now.  Especially when She said it.  You beamed up at Her, letting Her wipe the tears away.  "I won..."

"You won!  And guess what that means, dear?"

"I'm...I'm a..."

"You're Mommy's little floret now." She tapped your nose as she cooed, causing you to giggle a bit.  A wiggling little thought in your head popped up, though.

"You tricked me, Mommy!"

"Did I?  Well, you knew we affini never play fair when it comes to cuties like you.  Awfully brave of you to make a bet with me anyway, wasn't it?  Almost like you wan~ted this, darling~" she purred at you, her eyes filled with light and warmth.  You thought you couldn't possibly blush more, but it turns out you definitely could.

"I...noooooooooo!!!  I didn't...I mean....maybe?"

"Silly little flower." She picked up her tablet, turning it back on and dismissing the timer, which had paused as soon as she had closed it.  "Now, let's get you home.  We have a contract to sign~"

[motthe]

Married+jayce viktor, visit relatives +she/her reader? Continuation please!! I gotta know more

i hope you enjoy the continuation!!!

warnings: more crazy family shenanigans

Dirty Santa had the family in an uproar when cousin Pat drew number one for the second year in a row. Seeing as your grandmother had made the pieces and walked around with the bowl, no one had any real proof Pat had cheated.

You were happy with your number. It wasn’t dead last like you’d hoped but close enough to see more gifts and get your pick of the litter.

Jayce was scrambling to understand the rules again with Viktor’s help, but even then you’d had to correct him on a few rules.

“Okay,” Jayce muttered, thick brows set in a determined line, “stolen twice and it’s frozen, no stealing back, number one gets to go again at the end and you’re stuck with whatever they trade you.”

“Perfect,” you said. “The rules change from family to family but that’s ours.”

Your more rowdy aunt who was a bit too serious when it came to any type of games shouted for Pat to get a move on. You sat back with your husbands, head cushioned by Jayce’s arm and one of Viktor’s hands in yours. You don’t know where your energy went after dinner, but you could fall asleep to your insane family after years of these events. Although loud and encompassing, it was home, and you were happy your loves were sharing in the madness.

“Who’s five?”

“That would be me,” sighed Viktor as he leaned forward. No one had a chance to offer him assistance as he snatched his cane and use the handle to snag a bag. Everyone whooped as it slid down the length and into his lap.

“Show off!” someone called.

Viktor merely smiled to himself, passing you tissue paper as he revealed a pack of pens, a book of crossword puzzles, and a few of those brain teasers you’d see in bookstores made of wooden figures or metal rings.

“That’s right on the nose for you,” you said, tossing the trash to your father who had the black bag by his chair.

“Yes, I’m quite happy with these,” he hummed, flipping through the crossword puzzles.

“I’m glad someone got them who will actually do them,” your mother sighed, clocking herself as the buyer. “They’re good for your brain!”

After a few more turns, Jayce browsed the lingering gifts on the table in the midst of everyone before eyeing the tool set in Uncle Jimmy’s arms.

“Now, son,” your family member began, mean mugging, “think about that decision.”

Jayce hummed, tapping his chin and staring at ceiling. He was so dramatic. God, you loved him.

Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “I’m thinking I need a new tool set.”

“Ooh, that’s cold,” Great Aunt Lynda cackled, sipping her wine. You could’ve sworn she mentioned a dry December when you all were fixing your plates. Apparently she’d had an incident at Thanksgiving, but you hadn’t been here. You all had gone to Jayce’s mother’s.

Now or made sense why your mother had made it clear that no was to bring beer into this house on the holidays—only wine.

Viktor was sipping some of his own as your number was called. Pulling yourself from his side, you looked over each gift that had already been opened. None of them appealed to you, so you went for the smallest gift bag.

Your husbands leaned in as you pulled out what was clearly a gift card, opening the little flap to see where you’d be buying from.

“How much we talking?” Aunt Pat asked.

“If it’s for fast food I’m taking it,” one of your younger cousins declared.

Viktor choked on a sip while Jayce shrugged, clearly confused as he read the brand. “I don’t dont know this store. Is it local?”

“Oh, it’s local all right,” Great Aunt Lynda said. Everyone snapped their heads to her when she spoke.

“It’s not fast food,” you announced, shoving the card back into the bag. “It’s for medicinal purposes, kiddos.”

“Ew! Medicine?” one of the twins whined, sticking out a tongue. “Who’d want that?”

“Ooh,” Jayce said, tapping away on his phone. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“Lynda there are kids playing!” Dad barked.

She waved a hand, draining her wine glass. “It’s a gift card. Be glad I didn’t bring a D-I-L-D-O—they were two for one!”

“A dodo?” one of the kids questioned.

Jayce lost it. You just shoved the gift bag behind your back and told them to move the game along.

In the end, you and your husbands got to keep your gifts. Aunt Lynda was all too happy to waddle over and talk about the best things to buy before you excused yourself for a bathroom break. Viktor was safe chatting away with Jimmy while Jayce was heading for another snack in the kitchen.

You had all of three, peaceful minutes in the bathroom before your phone lit up.

Groupchat: Jayce 💍 Viktor

Jayce: someone save me Lynda’s blocking the kitchen exit and there’s a mistletoe hanging above her!!

Viktor: That sounds like a trap.

Jayce: no shit!

Viktor: I meant for me. If I come to the rescue, I’m sacrificing my lips for yours.

Jayce: So you’re just going to leave me here?

Viktor thumbed up the question, hearing your laughter from down the hall.

You: Hold on my damsel in distress. I’m on the way.

Jayce: I’m glad to see SOMEONE loves me in this marriage

Washing your hands, you pocketed your phone and readied yourself for the last bit of the party which always ended in more christmas games or old home videos.

Only time would tell.

[reidsapplelady]

RIDE OR DIE — /A. HOTCHNER/

SUMMARY: You, a street racer, gets questioned by the feds about murders that are linked to your illegal racing feud. You refuse to cooperate, & they threaten to arrest you but you know they won't.

hotch x fem!street racer!reader ⸝⸝ slow burn & flangst ⸝⸝ enemies to lovers ⸝⸝ non established relationship

WARNINGS: mentions of murder, use of y/n, typical cm violence, blood, gunshot wounds and being tied up.

DANI'S NOTES: heh,, trigger's based off of someone that i actually know,, bare eith me cause i wrote most of this when i was sleepy idk if im cooking,, i saw a pretty lady on a motorbike and i thought of this when i was walking home,, heh your friends' names are kenzie and jay,, sorry i dont make the rules (yes i do)

W/C: 2k+ (ik i surprised myself there too)

The scent of gasoline and smoke reaches to Hotch and Rossi, they both cover grimaced at the scent as they observe the place. It was an abandoned ship yard that was turned into a makeshift race track.

Hotch hated the smell and the environment.

He notices a few glances from the men and women surrounding the place, before some people actually realize what's happening and sneakily made a run for it. You weren't that far, you were leaning on your motorbike, your foot on the foot peg, and you were lazily holding on to your helmet with two fingers as you talked to your friends.

A breeze flew by, your hair flowing with the wind. You seemed to have no care what was going on around you.

"Y/N L/N?" Rossi spoke up as they both approached you, you turn around to face them with a raised eyebrow before they flashed their badges. "We're Agents Rossi and Hotchner."

Your friends looked at eachother before they stepped back, giving you space and leaving you behind witth the agents. You immediately clear your throat as you put your helmet on your motorbike.

"Well, shit." You scoffed as you crossed your arms as you exhaled. "You gonna drag me in for all kinds of exhibition of speed?" You roll your eyes at the two of the agents.

"Actually, you're associated with two of our victims, in fact, you were last seen with the both of them. And when we checked their belongings in their car, both had a photograph of you and said victims." Rossi explains as he puts his badge back in his pocket.

"A lot of people have a crush on me, it's a curse of being incredibly hot." You joke nonchalantly as you shrugged at his implication.

Hotch didn't even blink before he started to speak again, "You were cited for numerous cases of exhibition of speed last month."

You shrug your shoulders at his words, "So what? I've got fans and a rap sheet. You want a cookie for that discovery?"

Rossi's lips twitched as he sighed sharply, meanwhile Hotch's gaze never left you. You could feel the weight of his stare, and you would be lying if you said you weren't nervous or attracted to him.

"You run this circuit, you know who's dealing, who's fixed and who's angry, so I suggest you start talking." Hotch says as he maintains eye contact with you.

"I don't know who's killing people if that's what you're talking about, Agent." You sigh as you continued. "And i'm not really interested in helping you."

"We could charge you with obstruction of justice right now." He threatens, staring daggers right at you.

"Try me. I'll get bailed out by Kenzie and Jay anyway." You counter.

Rossi gave a humorless, quiet chuckle as he looked at Hotch. "She's not afraid, Hotch."

"She isn't because she thinks this is a game." He replies to Rossi.

"I don't think it's a game." You scoff as you corrected, "Look, I get that people that are affiliated with street racing are dying but have you thought about actually catching the fucking killer? You're wasting your time darling." You say as you turned around to grab and put on your helmet, nodding to your friends who were now retreating to their vehicles to follow you.

Hotch just nodded to Rossi before they retreat to the black SUV that was not far behind them and drive back to the local precinct. But before Hotch gets in the vehicle he glances at you one more time as you put on your helmet and race out of the area, the loud sound of you and your friends' engines slowly grows quiet.

A few hours go by, and you found yourself sitting in an interrogation room like you owned the place. Your feet were on top of the table, your head was looking up at the ceiling, staring like you were bored. Maybe because you are bored.

You maintain this position until you hear the door creaking open, your head now faced towards the door, and you see Hotch.

"Feet off the table." Hotch says as he sat down right in front of you.

"Wow, I certainly missed you too." You tease as you didn't bother to change the position of your feet.

"You ever think about cooperating?" he asks as he opens the folder he has in his hands.

You leaned back as you set your feet off of the table, "You ever think of asking nicely?"

He didn't look up from the file, "You're not here as a guest. Three people are dead and two of them were associated with you. You're wasting time."

"You invited me," you scoff before flashing him a small smirk, "Is this not a date?"

Finally, he looked at you, not with anger, but with annoyance. Yes he was annoyed but you expected him to be mad.

"Cut the act," he said. "Tell me why I shouldn't charge you with obstruction of justice?"

"Tell me why you haven't yet." You snap at him.

Hotch ignored your words, "Talk." He said.

You sigh in defeat as you shifted to a more comfortable position on your seat. "Theres a name." you disclosed.

"His alias is Trigger, but we don't know his real name. Never bothered telling us." You explain, "He automatically lost a race due to him getting caught by me, he was trying to sabotage my motorbike by trying to put the wrong type of oil in my engine and popping the tires. Nobody's seen him in months." You continued to elaborate your history with Trigger.

"But way before that, we were friends."

Hotch's brows twitched as he asked, "Has he threatened anyone?"

You sighed as you try to recall, before coming up with something. "Oh yeah, after he pulled that little stunt, with my motorbike, he was muttering on how he was gonna kill everyone." Hotch takes note of your words as he listens

"Tell me more about him." Hotch's hands were now together as he kept staring at you.

"He's unhinged," you muttered, "the type where he thinks revenge is some sort of power play.." you grimaced as you elaborated further.

"Help us find him," Hotch said. "Before another name ends up in the coroner's office."

You hesitated. Your mask slipped for the first time, and you hated it. You feared that you might get hurt, or worse— your friends get hurt.

Hotch notices the change in your behavior, "You don't strike me as someone who just stands by."

"Why do you care," you scoff "I'm not a victim."

"No, but you could be." He says with no hesitation,

Hotch leans back on his chair as he observes you.

"Are you profiling me, Agent Hotchner?" You ask as you raise an eyebrow.

"No, I'm just observing you." He comments on your assumption.

You scoff as you lean back in your chair, "All I know is that he lives in an apartment."

"Do you know the details?" He asks.

"I know the building, I just forgot the apartment number." Your fingers were now fidgeting with eachother as you disclosed more information, Hotch looks at you with a soft glint in his eyes.

"Thank you." He gave you the smallest smile— but hey, atleast it's better than nothing.

"Find the son of a bitch before he hurts me and my friends."

You were now standing. Standing in front of the pool of blood that belonged to your friends. Their dead bodies tied up and a gunshot wound to their head. Kenzie's laughter echoed in your ears, but you knew it was in your head.

You hear the sound of the doorknob behind you clicking, you immediately grab the crowbar that was near you, only for the door to reveal it was Hotch and a woman with black hair.

"Lower your weapon." Hotch says with a low and controlled tone as he slowly holsters his gun. You let go of the crowbar, the clanging noise echoed in the garage.

He approaches you slowly with concern, "Are you hurt?"

You snap out of your trance as you look at him, now processing everything. "Yeah." You spoke, your voice was hoarse and low.

Tears now prickle your eyes, "I was a few minutes late." You whisper to Hotch. He doesn't raise an eyebrow, but instead he listens.

"I was out grabbing food for them cause they wanted food— and then.." You sobbed, your hands make their way to your face to rub away the tears.

He doesn't say i'm sorry, cause he knows that you don't want it. "You're not safe here." He muttered to you.

You don't argue back, not this time. He guides you to the black SUV that they have and drive you to the local PD to put you in protective custody.

The drive to the PD wasn't loud, yet it wasn't quiet either. You were in the backseat as the woman who was sitting in the front seat, that you now identified as Prentiss was talking to Hotch.

The two of them escorts you to a room where it was closed and quiet, Prentiss left the two of you together after escorting you to the room.

"Do you think this is my fault?" You blurted as you sat down on the couch, your eyes lands on him.

"No." He answers as he observes you.

"I mean— I was the one that called him out, he hates me. He killed my friends, and people that knew me." You rambled.

"Your friends were killed by a psychopath that always had murder tendencies. You were simply just the trigger." He interrupts your rambling.

"So basically, my fault." You sigh. "Ironic how his name is trigger and I was his trigger." You tried to lighten the mood.

Your hands grip your knees, you hate how fragile you felt right now.

"I'm not built for this, I'm used to getting injured, but this?" you just chuckle, it wasn't a genuine one.

He sits on the chair next to the sofa you were sitting on. "You're stronger than you think."

You shook your head as you sniffled. "No. No, you don't know me."

"I feel like I'm starting to." He blurted, and this time there was something in his tone that catched you off guard. Soft, Honest, Warm.

You stare at him— You don't even realize it until a few seconds before you shook your head.

"We'll catch him." He assures.

You click your tongue, "Do you do this for everyone?" You ask.

He raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"You know, staying with a potential victim and engaging in small talk." You elaborate.

"Kind of." He shrugs as you chuckle at his answer.

"I thought you hated me." You blurted as you leab your back against the sofa.

"I never hated you." Hotch's expression shifts as he whispered to you.

You tilt your head at his words, "Really? Cause you were glaring daggers at me during the interview and our first meet."

"Interrogation habits." He stated as you hummed.

"Why is this happening to me?" You blurted once again.

Hotch doesn't answer, he just looks at you with sympathy.

"I'm so bad at expressing my feelings, sorry." You rub your eyes, trying to rub away the tears that was prickling your eyes.

"You don't need to be sorry. You've lost your friends in a gruesome way and you're still coping." He comforts you with his words. "Feel free to just.. let it all out."

You close your eyes as tears start rolling down your cheek, what you didn't expect was his hand landing on your cheek to rub your tears away. He mutters a sorry to you, not out of sympathy but because he touched you.

"I don't.. I don't wanna be alone." You murmur to Hotch.

"You're not." He paused before continuing, "You should sleep." You nod as you lay on your side on the couch, Hotch was just on the chair beside you.

As you drift in your sleep, you realize something terrifying. You trust him now.

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