#I saw the Hurt/Comfort tag and thought “Oh so it has a happy ending”

[alwaysthefool]

Love Spell (Xavier x Reader/MC)

Tags; angst, pining, comfort, happy ending, MC reader, gn reader

Warnings; ask.

Synopsis: Someone else puts a ‘love spell’ on you and Xavier doesn’t realise it at first, leaving him feeling betrayed and rejected.

Have you ever heard the saying that budding love is like a sonata? It has a soft beginning, a precipice, a rise and fall, and an end that leads to relaxing silence. This was your precipice.

You were sure Xavier would ask you out, as you waited for him under the big oak outside the forest, the Sunday afternoon breeze gentle and solemn. It was definitely a romantic place to meet, the invitation in the form of a letter left on your desk, your heartbeat quickening as you saw a silhouette in the distance.

But the person that appeared in front of you wasn’t Xavier. It was another man, a fellow hunter, someone you’d declined much earlier.

“Hey, what-“ Before you could finish, a pink glowing light from a protocore flashed your eyes, and you felt your entire constitution change.

Xavier, on the other hand, wondering where you were on the day off, went out to look for you, only to find you arm in arm with another man, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“[Name]?” He called you out gently, a lump in his throat. You looked back, your expression cold and indifferent. “Why are you with him?”

“Hm? This is my lover.” You replied, looking up to smile at the man next to you. He chuckled, kissing your forehead, making Xavier clench his fists tightly.

“Have you-“ He began, but watching how happy you looked, he couldn’t go on. “Oh, I wish you the best then.”

Xavier grit his teeth and walked away, angry, dejected, close to breaking. Didn’t you make a promise to him? Weren’t things going smoothly between the two of you? Was he too late again?

It’s fine, he thought, it was better for you that way. You’d be safer with someone else, happier too. He was from your world, he’d understand you better, and it was selfish of Xavier to want you.

He had always been selfish when it came to you.

That night, he did not have the heart to return to his apartment above yours, going to Philo instead, raiding Jeremiah’s fridge for beer.

“No ‘Hi’?” Jeremiah joked, closing the shop early to tend to the pouting prince. Xavier did not respond, chugging the beer, trying very hard to feel the hit.

“It’s non-alcoholic, dude.”

Xavier almost choked, coughing. “You couldn’t tell me earlier?”

“It says so on the package.” Jeremiah held back a laugh, knowing it was trouble in paradise that had his leader in such a mood. He tried to prod, but as usual, Xavier wouldn’t tell him anything, so he looked at your social media instead.

“Who’s this guy?” He exclaimed, disgust on his face. Xavier grabbed Jeremiah’s phone, to see the post of you with that man at a toy store, captioned ‘loml’.

He felt like crying, like screaming, something to get the pain out. Jeremiah tried to stop him as Xavier ran out, turning on his hunter’s watch, doing what he always did.

He fought without a break, without dodging, knowing it was evil of him to try and get hurt so maybe, just maybe you’d care. Maybe you’d visit him at the hospital, and maybe he could change your mind. Maybe there was still a chance. Even though you’d crushed his heart, he would do anything for those little ‘maybe’s.

When he woke up next in the hospital, another hunter was beside him, and Xavier got to know you changed your partners to be closer to him instead.

Do you hate me that much?

Did you have to go so far?

But it was too unlike you to not even visit him at the hospital or leave a text, finally making him sense something was wrong. He had faith in that care you showed him, and your heart that through time and space, had always been a loving one.

No, you wouldn’t do this.

Xavier sprinted out of the hospital bed, ignoring the calls of the other hunter and the nurses, taking a taxi straight to your apartment complex. He had been blocked by ‘you’ everywhere, and looking up the history of your new partner showed a past temporary suspension for using protocore hypnosis, a technique strictly banned by the association.

Xavier did not knock, teleporting inside instead to see you and that man slow dancing in the living room. This time, Xavier showed no restraint, pulling that scammer away from you, and searching him for protocores.

“Xavier, you’re hurt?” You asked, despite your state. Before you could start to plead with him to let you go, Xavier crushed that protocore between his fingers, lifting the trance off of you. You immediately fell unconscious, making him turn all your attention towards you. Although that gave the hypnotist a way out, Xavier knew he wouldn’t be able to run forever.

You woke up groggy, full of disgusting memories with someone you despised, and hyper alert Xavier next to you.

You hugged him immediately, and he hugged back.

“Why didn’t you come earlier?” You scolded, tears in your eyes. Xavier was as angry at himself as you were, so he could just listen, his crushed heart breaking even further. “How could you think I’d run away with another man?”

Xavier pulled away from the hug to look at you, your red and tear stained face. His expression spoke the unsaid apology as you continued.

“Next time you see me with someone else, you have to pull me away! I’m all yours, and if I’m not, then consider I’m being mind-controlled.”

Xavier’s eyes softened at that, as you continued scolding him. You stopped midway, your irritation subdued. “How did you get hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

-x-

Bonus;

As the two of you lay on your bed, finally talking out the feelings you’d been hiding, Xavier wrapped an arm around you, holding you close as he asked. “Did he touch you?”

You felt heat rise up to your cheeks, turning away from him to let him spoon you. “No, we didn’t even kiss.”

“I guess I’ll make it quick then.” Xavier mumbled to himself.

“Huh?”

“Shh… it’s not your worry anymore.”

[itsjusteds]

Hi can someone please remind me to READ TAGS ON FICS. I just finished a 50 chapter curtwen fic that I THOUGHT was going to having a happy ending. It did not. I feel crushed.

Alternatively, can someone please recommend me good curtwen fics that have happy endings? Please? I need the gaping hole in my soul to be filled. Thanks :D

(this this the fic btw 10/10 completely recommend)

[russellsppttemplates]

Did you lose her? (Lando Norris)

Maybe it was never a change of heart

Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty with a happy ending, and it's also the first piece that's I've written that's based of a song, Stick Season by Noah Kahan. I hope I did it well enough! 🫶 also, it has smut, and if you have followed me for long enough, you know I don't usually do it, but I think it's these AUS pics 😮‍💨😌🥵

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

Cw: curse words, previous break-up and themes related to that, smut (mentions protected sex, hormonal contraception, praise kink if you squint at the whole thing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

Doing the food shop was one one of the mundane adult life tasks you actually enjoyed doing. You had some music on your ears and walked along the supermarket, making sure you weren't buying too much outside of your list.

Tomato sauce and two packets of the instant noodles for when you didn't feel like cooking or were in a rush, you told yourself as you browsed through the aisle.

The scent should've been the first give away, but lots of people wore the same perfume. However, not all of them had the characteristic underlying scent that to this day meant comfort.

"Y/N! I wasn't expecting to see you", Cisca said as he placed the item she took from the shelf on her shopping cart, "goodness, how long has it been since we've seen you?", she smiled sadly.

Five months, you thought. One hundred and fifty two days since you and Lando parted ways and you shipped your belongings back to England. You told yourselves it was amicable and that you'd still be there for eachother, but you had published your first article and he had started his season without the other by your side.

"It's been some time, yes. How are you?", you wondered, "we've been good, you know how busy it gets around this time of year. But Savannah had their little girl, Athena - let me show you a picture!", she scrambled her phone out of her bag.

"Oh, how cute!", you cooed at the little baby bundled up in a pink blanket, "Mila is such a good big sister, too!", she showed you a picture with the two of them in Lando's lap, the baby tucked safely into his chest as Mila seemed to be showing him one of her toys.

Gulping and swallowing the tears that threatened to fall, you looked up at her and smiled, "I'm glad everyone is doing good - send Oliver and Sav my congratulations!", you nodded, hoping she would get the hint.

Storing her phone back in her bag, Cisca smiled, resembling the smile that you woke up many times to, "I will, darling. All the best for you, hopefully we'll see you around", she said before rubbing your back soothingly.

You found an aisle without people and allowed yourself to cry. Just for a little bit before you had to go back to pretend it didn't hurt still.

And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

"I'm on the podium, dad!", Lando yelled as he hugged Adam, cackling in excitement as he hugged the team who were there to celebrate and congratulate him.

"Congratulations, baby!", you yelled as Lando turned to hug you, arms going around your waist and pulling you as close as the safety barriers allowed, clicking open his visor so you could look at your favourite eyes in the world.

"I love you so much, Y/N!", he yelled back, winking before he went up to get weighed in.

On the podium, he looked at you like you two were the only people there, smiling up at him as he blew you a kiss.

"I knew you'd be on the podium, baby", you smiled once you were back in his driver's room, "How are you so sure?", he wondered, kissing your neck soflty.

"The development they're doing, your talent, Lando, I knew it was going to happen, and from now on, you better get used to being up there every single weekend", you smirked, kissing from his throat to his jaw and up to his lips, humming when his tongue poked at your lips begging for entrance.

It was hot and he was sweaty. His phone read 4:30am as he stood up against the headboard, finding the light switch so he wouldn't walk around the hotel room in complete darkness.

It was the third night in a row you showed up in his dreams. The first time, it was subtle as he dreamed about flying on plane and he was sure you were there. The past two, however, had you in there as a main character. He dreamed of walking in the paddock with you, of having you there to comfort him and knock some sense in his head when his P4 in qualifying didn't feel enough, and now you were celebrating his podium.

It's weird how his brain went there, how his arms and face felt like they had truly been holding you despite not having done it in months. Muscle memory betrayed, he thought as he poured himself some water and took little sips of it as he looked outside the window.

Fuck, he missed you. And not just for these big moments where he was on a high and wanted to share it with you or when he was do low you were the only person that could make him crawl out of the dark hole he snuck himself into. It's when he's making his bed back home and the other pillow remains fluffed because no one's using it, it's the mug you left behind and he doesn't have the courage to send back to you or give to someone else or when he sees something that reminds him of you and he gets it, hoping one day he can get them to you.

You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

Lando sighed again as the call went to voicemail. It was the third time it happened in the last couple of hours. It was media day at Suzuka and they were having lunch.

"You know it's 3 am back in England, right?", Oscar asked bluntly, "when we were having breakfast, sure, you might have got hold of her if she was doing a late night, but I think you should wait", he reasoned.

Oscar was right. He didn't want to risk it waking you up even though he was sure your phone was on silent since you loved your sleep dearly.

"I hate this", Lando muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Oscar was aware of some of what had happened between Lando and you. The start of the season always came with new gossip and this one's was filled with rumours and conspiracy theories about the paddock's sweetheart and young couple.

Lando started driving in Formula One when he was nineteen, so they had seen his grow up through the years along with your relationship. At first, you were pinned down as his sister, then a best friend when they realised you didn't share genetics, and then you were his girlfriend. The lingering touches and big smiles they caught never rushed you to admit your feelings or put a label on your relationship, but everyone was there when you walked hand in hand on the paddock and confirmed the suspicions they had for months. Lando Norris and his best friend were in love and they all felt like proud parents as they watched you support him unconditionally every time you could.

"Did you lose her?", Oscar quesioned his team-mate as he picked on the food on his plate.

"I don't have her with me, have I?", Lando snapped and regretted it almost immediately.

Oscar put it down to tiredness, jet lag and the fact that he seemed a bit lost on how he was navigating the situation, "What I'm saying is, did you lose her? Did you do your absolute best to keep her with you?", he said sternly, "Used all of the options and possibilities and it still didn't work out? You don't lose someone because things fell apart in a stressful situation", he reasoned.

He was young but not dumb, truly.

"Feels like I have though", Lando added.

"What I'm saying is if you really want to know how she is and if you want to have an honest conversation with her, you have to make an effort. Not just calling and asking your mother to see if she's spotted her lately, or your sisters to check in your circle of friends whether or not she has moved on", Oscar lectured.

"Do you think I can do it? Do I have what it takes?", Lando confessed his doubts out loud. One of the reasons he had yet to act on it was because having a second chance wasn't for everyone and he needed to make sure it went perfect. You deserved that.

"You're a Formula One driver with deep pockets and a massive heart that still belongs to someone. What can't you do?", the young australian driver mused before he got up, taking his plate with him and leaving Lando pondering about what to do next.

I hope this pain's just passin' through

You sang loudly as you dusted the living room shelves, windows open to let the autumn air in. While cleaning wasn't your favourite thing to do, you had woken up with an urge to clean and given that it happened very rarely, you were taking it in stride.

So far, you found a receipt of a pair of jeans you were meant to return but gave your friends instead, a concert ticket and a bigger amount of dust than you'd like to admit. When you pulled the fabric strap, though, you knew that you wouldn't want to get rid of it. The lanyard belonged to one of the passes for one of the Grand Prix weekend you went to see Lando. Inspecting it closer, you realised it was his second home race, the Polaroid picture attached to it confirming the date.

It started with you joking about the fact that the pass was not the prettiest, so Lando hunted down the paddock to find a Polaroid camera, snapping a picture of you two and pinching a hole on it so you could carry it around and cover the supposed ugly pass. The photo was still intact, just a little dusty as you wiped it with your sleeve. Lando was kissing your cheek as you smiled impossibly big, eyes squinty and smile beaming because of the guy whose lips were on your cheek.

A single teardrop fell on the plastic covered paper before a few more followed as you sat down, looking at what you had once been and how things were right now. The missed calls on your phone led you to believe that maybe he still felt something too, but the potential heartache of trying again and it not working would hurt more than it already does.

The vibration from watch caught your attention as you read the two notifications. One from your e-mail with Qatar Airways written in bold and a text from Lando.

Qatar Airways

Thank you for choosing to fly with Qatar Airways!

Lando ✨️

I need you here with me, Y/N, please

I made the flight reservation for you, they will hold the ticket until two hours before the flight leaves, you just have to confirm with your passport ❤️

You promised me that I was more than all the miles combined

Heathrow Airport, 7th October 2023, 6:30 am.

You couldn't back out now, that would mean Lando would lose the money he spent to get you here in the first place. It wasn't by all means quiet, but your thoughts were loud enough.

You shouldn't be here. Why were you here? Why did you accept this, Y/N?

Because Lando needed you there.

Simple as that.

Boarding the flight, you smiled and thanked as the flight attendant pointed to the area where your seat was and where you would spend the next six hours and a half.

"I'm sorry, our seats are by the window", a woman in her thirties said as she bounced a little girl on her hip, making you get up so she could get to it, "thank you", she smiled, sitting down and buclking herself and her daughter to her body.

"Lyla, you can't go pulling on other people's clothes - I'm so sorry", she apoligised as the little girl pulled on your shirt's detailed button buckle.

"No worries, I know how restless they can get. You do the best for your baby. You're only responsible for yours and her emotions, no one else's on this plane", you offered her, remembering the times you would take flights and fully grown adults would go up to a stressed parent to let them know they could hear their crying child as if the parents themselves didn't know.

"My husband is somewhere in there, too", she chuckled, sometimes I feel I'm responsible for his too - accountantable in a way at least", she chuckled.

"You weren't able to sit together?", you wondered.

"My husband planned the weekend to go watch a race and come back, but we found some holiday days and we decided on a spontaneous trip. This was the only seat left they had", she explained.

"I can change seats if you want", you offered, "I'm flying on my own and I'll get to the destination all the same", you giggled.

"You wouldn't mind?", she asked, relief settling over her as she tried to see her husband, waving at him to come closer as you touched the button to call the flight attendant as the passengers were all sat down on your section.

"This lovely young woman says she doesn't mind switching seats with you", she said to her husband as you spoke to the flight attendant.

"No, there's no problem with that if you both agree", the flight attendant smiled as you got up, ignoring the frown on the man next to you who had to get up so you could swap, "bye bye, Lyla!", you waved at the little girl before her parents thanked you once again.

Finding your new seat, you put your bag under the seat in front and sat down, excusing yourself to the older couple next to you, "I just swapped seats with the gentleman that was here, I'm sorry", you smiled, hoping they wouldn't be too mad.

"Oh, he was able to sit with his family after all - I told you, Harold!", the lady winked at her husband, "I'm Francesca, you can call me Fran", she said sweetly.

Despite the early flight, they both seemed to be full of energy as they started telling you stories of their life and family, showing pictures of their kids and grandkids.

"One day you'll have all of that with the person you love, darling - if that's something you want, of course!", Harold peeped in, "our granddaughters are always telling me not everyone wants the same things!", he chuckled softly.

"It's okay - I would like that, actually", you smiled sadly as Francesca landed her hand on top of yours.

"Why does that sound like a confused heart, dear?", she commented, reading you like a book. The flight was closer to be three quarters of the way to the destination, so you still had some time to kill.

"A little bit; I'm actually flying over to see the person who still has this confused heart", you mumbled.

"Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, dear - something tells me he's going to 'unconfuse' your heart", she smiled, "tell me about him".

"Godness", you chuckled, "He's kind, respectful, honest, goofy, cute, charming, loving, he's all that is good. We just lost our way, I think", you recalled, smiling at the thought of him.

"You'll find it back, dear. Life has mysterious ways but it has the right ways - I like to believe it does, anyway", the older lady assured, squeezing your hand in hers.

Waving goodbye to Harold and Francesca when you found the taxi bay, you requested to be taken to the paddock.

When you got there, you payed the kind driver before he helped you take your suitcase from the boot, "enjoy the race!", he smiled.

You were thankful all eyes were on the track already, making you cross the whole paddock and step into McLaren's hospitality quickly after collecting your pass.

"Y/N!", Zak said as he was the first person to spot you, "you're here, you came!", he smiled, hugging you tightly, "we're all very happy you're here", he said as he asked one of the team members to store your suitcases somewhere appropriate before leading you to the corridor to the drivers' rooms.

"Lando is inside, and the race starts in less than ninety minutes, so you won't talk all you need to, but it's a good start", he said, knocking on the door before he left.

When Lando heard the knock, he hoped it was you. Sophie and Oscar were great people, but in the last hour, everytime he opened the door, theirs were the faces he saw instead of yours.

"Y/N", he welcomed you into his room before closing the door, "I hope it's okay that I flew you here, thank you for coming", he said as he hesitated on giving you a hug.

Taking a step forward, you laced your arms around his waist as he did the same around your shoulders, inhaling eachother's scent and feeling like a weight was lifted off both of you, "I missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered before you pulled apart.

"It's not the first time you've done that for me", you fumbled with your hands, "although I was very surprised. We haven't spoken to eachother in some time, Lando", you sterned.

"Not because I didn't try", he bit bat with an ironic chuckle, "Why did you come here then?", he defended, taking your words as immediate offense and not taking a second to process them properly.

"Because even though we're not together anymore, you matter to me. I care about you! I'm not sure what monster you depict me as or that you imagine I've turned into, but I wouldn't dream of wishing you misery! If you call me and tell me you need me here, I'll be here because I care about you!", you snapped, "you have no idea how many times I wanted to give up and cancel this! Why am I here, Lando?", you asked.

You didn't expect him to react that way, not that you had a much better reaction anyway.

"Fuck, this is not how we do this", you took a deep breath as Lando held your hands in his, mimicking your movements as he did the same. Three long deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that", Lando began, hands laced on yours still, "thank you for bring here, I needed you here because there's no one else in the world that can make me feel comfortable like you do, and I need that. I need to feel like myself - and I know it's a selfish ask to make you get up and drop your things to be here with me but-", you interrupted him.

"It's okay, Lando, you're okay", you cooed, searching for his eyes and hoping you'd get the message your mouth was failing to say through.

You pulled him to sit in front of you in the massage table, "I've been seeing all the podiums you've been getting - the team have done such a great job developing, and your talent and skills have brought it to the podium", you tried a lighter subject even though you were 99% sure of his worries.

"Oscar still qualified above me", he began, "He's a rookie and he's managed to do in months what I haven't done in five years", he allowed himself to express his feelings. After all, it was you.

"Oscar is not driving a tractor like you were", you shrugged your shoulders as Lando laughed.

"For someone who was invited last minute and got a pretty good pass, I'm not sure how the team would feel about you talking like that", he smirked, hand finding your own as he rubbed his thumb on your palm.

"I'm only telling the truth", you smiled, "and I mean it. I know how this sport works, but you shouldn't compare yourself to your teammate when the circumstances are so different", you mused.

"The team have been great and they still haven't said anything", he reasoned.

"Of course they haven't because it's something that happens, Lando. I was watching the highlights and so many drivers went over the limits because that's how this track goes", you stated, "there's only so much you can do and you shouldn't put all that pressure on yourself", you tsked, "I know you do, but you shouldn't", you smiled.

"You always know what to say, don't you?", he chuckled, "I have an inkling on how this here works", you winked and tapped his head with your free hand.

A knock on the door interrupted your moment as Jon opened it right after, "Lando, we need to start prepping for the sprint", he said before he turned to you, "Hi Y/N, good to have you back!", he smiled before he let you finish what you were doing.

"I should go, then", Lando trailed off, "are you going to browse around the paddock? I bet a lot of people miss you and your face here", he nudged.

"I came here for you, I don't care about anyone else", you smiled as you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek for a few seconds, smiling against his warm skin before grabbing your bag and walking out.

Most of the team must've known you were coming since not many of them took a second look whenever you greeted them or entered a different area.

One of the media girls got you a set of headphones as she stood next to you, Oscar and Lando getting ready to go to the track.

His routine hadn't changed as your eyes followed him while he got dressed appropriately and safely for the race.

Before Lando put his helmet on he looked back at you, winking and smiling when you winked back.

When the gap wasn't closing in, you knew Lando would be disappointed with P3, not because of the place itself but because his team-mate had done better.

As you moved to a better spot to watch the interviews on the media pen, your heart felt like someone was using it like a trampoline, jumping and stomping on it as Lando spoke about himself with such a negative tone.

Surely, the interviewers were fishing for answers with biased questions and his mind took him there.

As you waited for him to be back to the hospitality, you got yourself something to eat, realising you hadn't done it since the plane.

Lando was beating himself up and he couldn't shake the bad mood he was in even when he thought you had travelled to see him and be there for him.

As Sophie gave him a quick debrief about his interviews, he stepped into his driver's room so he could have a quick shower and then head to the team debrief.

"It wouldn't hurt going up to her, you know?", Jon told him, ready to take any harsh words first if it meant you didn't hear them.

"I know it wouldn't, I'm just going to eat something and then I'll join the debrief with the rest of the team", Lando mumbled as he walked up to you.

"Hey", he said sitting down on the sofa next to you.

"Hey, Lando", you said, testing the waters and approaching his body until you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You are going to get your win, Lando. It's going to be an amazing weekend and it's going to be your first. Surely important, but you'll be a race winner and go on to the next race", you said as he seemed to be unsure of the tone you were going for, "as that will be a big moment in a long career - because it won't define it - this doesn't define you either, as a person and as a driver", you concluded, hoping to bring a little bit of his confidence and self-esteem back up a little.

"And you're going to be there?", he asked. He was feeling like shit and needed to know. It wasn't fair, but he needed to know.

"I can't make promises like that, not before we speak properly", you remarked, looking up at him from where you were, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours, "do you want me to stay here or should I go back to the hotel?", you asked. It wasn't the right time or the right place to talk about it.

"Could you stay here, please?", he said as you took your book out of your bag, knowing it would run long and you'd need some entertainment as there was only so much catching up you could do with the team when they're suppose to be working.

"I will, then", you said as Lando took the plunge and kissed the top of your head.

Ten chapters and a tea later, Lando tapped your shoulders, "I'm finished, are we ready to go?", he asked as you got up accepting his hand to hold as you walked out of the hospitality, grabbing your suitcase from the storage room and bidding goodbye to the team.

"I couldn't get a separate room for you, but the room I'm staying in has this living room area and the sofa opens into a bed, they said it's really comfy and they also left an extra mattress topper and some blankets", Lando said as he drove, "in case you didn't feel comfortable, I- I just want you to feel comfortable", he emphasised nervously.

"Lando, you don't need to walk on eggshells, okay? It's me", you smiled reassuringly as he stole a quick look at you before focusing back on the road, "sounds like a nice solution, fine by me", you reassured him.

Leaving the car to the valet and taking the lift up with you, you stayed silent until you were inside the hotel room, "That's the bedroom area, bathroom's here - and it has a double sink - and then the living room", Lando patted the extra linen folded on the sofa.

"Thank you", you assented, "would you like to talk now or is it bad timing? You must be tired f,-".

"Yes, please", he agreed immediately sitting on the sofa and making room for you to sit in front of him.

"I don't know where to begin", you observed after a while, "it's been tough being without you - I have been so used to having you there for me and to be there for you that nothing quite has the same meaning. I can live without you - barely, but I can -, that's not the question, but I don't want to", you manifested.

"We ended things because we had to, and it did us both well to see from another perspective - that's what it felt for me anyway -, but I want to be with you and to have you with me", he elaborated, "I don't care if you have to spend more time back home because of the distance, or come with me to the races because of the distance, too, I-".

"It was never about the distance, Lando", you interjected. You both used that excuse way too many times but deep down you knew it wasn't because of it.

"We'll work it out then", Lando suggested, "we'll work on us because knowing eachother doesn't mean we don't have to put ourselves first and keep investing on our relationship. I value you so much Y/N, I love you so much and I want to do this right", he whispered as if he spoke any louder would disturb the moment.

"I love you too", you smiled as you laced your hands together, "we'll work on it, together".

It was already late so Lando offered you the bathroom so you could shower and do your night routine first and then make the sofa bed to your liking while he did his night routine.

"Good night, angel", Lando said after you hugged him goodnight, kissing the top of your head before letting you lie down first since the light on his bedside table was the only one illuminating the room.

After you cocooned yourself in the sheets comfortably, you spoke up, "Lando, I'm sorry I didn't answer back sooner", you apoligised.

"It's okay, love, you don't have to worry about that", he cooed softly and you could hear the smile on his voice.

"I know it's not, but thank you for making me feel better about it, goodnight", you smiled, feeling hopeful about it.

The next morning, you were woken up by the noise coming from the bathroom, assuming Lando was showering inside as you stretched, surprised at how well you slept. Maybe the bedding was genuinely nice, the sofa bed wasn't bad to begin with, especially considering the hotel you were staying in, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in months, you fell asleep knowing the person who your heart belonged to was more than happy to let you keep his, too, and he was in the same space as you.

"Good morning, beautiful", Lando smiled as he noticed you were awake already, "did you sleep well?".

"Good morning, Lan", you yawned, "I did, really well, actually. At what time do we have to be at the track?", you wondered. It was a night race, so the call up was later than usual.

"I'm leaving after breakfast, but you can stay and head there later if you want", Lando declared as you walked up to him, "I just need to freshen up and get ready", you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading for the bathroom with your clothes.

As soon as you arrived at the track, you took one of the back entrances as you knew Lando would spend some time with the fans and other drivers he bumped into, finding a nice spot on the lounge and going back to your book.

"I'm going to start race prep", Lando stopped by you in the lounge after a quick meeting, "I probably won't talk to you much until afterwards so I just came to check on you", he reasoned.

Getting up, you moved to one of the corridors, leaning up to kiss his forehead softly, "Good luck, my love, you're going to do so well, I know it", you smiled against his skin.

"I have my lucky charm with me", he smirked, kissing the top of your head before he got back to Jon.

From P10 to P3, Lando had an eventful race. Fortunately, and compared to the rest of the grid, he seemed to be doing fairly well as he stood in front of AC Units while replenishing the water he lost during the fifty-seven laps.

"I'm so proud of you!", you cooed as he got back to the garage, shaking hands with all the mechanics and engineers before he got to you. You hugged his sweaty body, not caring about it as long as you felt his close to you.

"They're postponing race debrief so I'm going to shower quickly and then we can get going, beautiful", he smiled, kissing a spot on your cheek very close to your lips.

Smiling giddily, you went to the bar area to get a bottle of water for yourself as Sophie walked last you, "seems like we will be seeing a lot more of you again soon - maybe Zak can also hire you as our lucky charm!", she winked as you shook your head, blood rushing to your cheeks at her words.

Back in the hotel room, it was your turn to freshen up and get ready to sleep. The spirits were high and you were feeling like the wait time was over. Your heart was healed enough as you sat on Lando's bed, "I'm so proud of you, you had an incredible drive tonight", you smiled as you moved closer to him as he sat on the edge, back against the headboard and one leg on the mattress while the other hung beside the mattress.

"It felt so good", he smiled, "thank you for supporting me", he cupped your cheek as he silently asked you for permission to kiss your lips. Lando couldn't waste anymore time as he pulled you to him so he could kiss you properly, your legs on either side of his as you straddled him, revelling in the feeling of being in eachother's hold as your hands played with his hair while his held your waist.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, I'm exhausted, baby", he rubbed your thighs, "it's okay, my love, I wasn't thinking of letting you do anything else anyway", you smiled, kissing his nose softly before you got on one knee so you could flop to the side and land on the mattress.

"Sleep here, yes?", he mused and you nodded, undoing the bed and getting under the sheets, his arm holding you to him and making sure he didn't let go.

As if you'd leave anyway.

4.30am and Lando woke up again. This time however, the sight he longed to see was right there. The you he had and had got back, cuddled up to his chest as your leg was hoisted up on top of his own and very close to his aching cock.

As he tried to change the angle so every time you moved, your smooth skin wouldn't pratically tease him, you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening as he tried to adjust your knee.

"Is everything alright, baby? Am I hurting you?", you said as you recoiled from his body.

"No, angel, no!", he quickly guaranteed, "I'm sorry I woke you up, it's just that your knee was very close to me and I was having a hard time dealing with it".

"A hard time indeed", you snickered as you felt his hard-on strained on his Calvin Kleins. Dating after being friends for so long brought an easy joking side to your relationship so much easier and funnier as you wouldn't get offended with most of what you said to eachother, "need help with that?", you smirked.

"But I wanted to treat you", Lando pouted, "Can I, gorgeous girl?", he whispered as he kissed up your neck once you whispered "yes", hands roaming on your body as he pulled up your nightshirt, finding your nipples and twisting them slightly to work your body up the way you did with his.

Your sighs and whimpers let him know he was doing a good job as undressed your torso, littering small kissed from your throat to your tummy, "you're so gorgeous, Y/N, I can't believe you're mine", he said as he blew a raspberry on your tummy, earning giggles from you before he licked up a stripe near your panties line.

"You know how much I like it when you wear your pink panties", he voiced as he touched you over the cotton fabric, feeling you pulsate already, "Do you like it when I tease you over your pink panties, baby?".

"Yes", you scrambled out betwen moans and deep breaths, "Oh my Goodness, princess", he cooed as you squirmed, "You want me to fill this pussy up?", he wondered as you let out a yes followed but a deep mewling sound.

"Let me take a little peek, then", as his fingers pushed the fabric down, a string of wetness caught in the material as he smiled, "Oh my Goodness, look at this pretty little pink pussy", he kisses your clit, "all of you, you're se beautiful, baby".

Rubbing the inside of your thighs with his thumbs, pressing the soft skin as he got rid of your underwear, "Are you going to let me fill you up?", he asked as he wouldn't do it without consent.

"Yes, please do it, Lan", you moaned, hand looking for his own to hold.

"You don't need to say please, my love - here", he whispered as he laced your hands together, "you'll always have me, you hear me? I'm yours, sweet girl", he smiled.

His hand that wasn't securely laced in yours helped you take his underwear off before he came back up to kiss your lips softly.

"Does it feel good when I tease your clit like that, gorgeous?", he smirked as he ran the tip of his cock in your sensitive bud, "Yes - uhg, baby", you gasped, looking into his eyes and swearing you could get lost in them had you not been in such a state of arousal as you were.

"You look so pretty like this, my beautiful, sweet girl", he praised as he saw your twitches and heard your moans at his words, "we need protection, though", he stated.

"I'm good, didn't see anyone else - you?", you wondered as he shook his head, "didn't see anyone else either - condom?", he asked, making you nod and separate so he could get it from his toiletries bag. Hormonal contraception left you feeling worse that it made your life easier, so you and Lando always used condoms.

Rolling it down his shaft, Lando climbed back in the bed and kissed your lips, adjusting himself before he entered you.

You whimpered as Lando slid inside you, a low groan escaping from his throat as he gently slid, taking your hand back in his and resting them next to your head on the pillow.

"You feel so good for me, sweet girl, so wet so warm, so good - aah", he breathed out, "so tight, my sweet sweet girl", he squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of your walls squeezing him.

You stretched your arm out enough to pull his face closer to yours, kissing his jaw and then his lips before whispering "you can move, love".

Lando pulled back slowly, thrusting in gently to begin with and savouring how you felt around him.

"I love you", you muttered into his neck between moans as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you faster, harder and deeper.

"I'm close", Lando groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, his hand crawling between your bodies and drawing lazy circles on your clit to get you to your release.

"Me too, feels so good, I feel so good", you moaned out, a high pitch one particularly when you felt the band was about to snap.

“My sweet girl, my beautiful sweet girl, are you going to come for me?”, Lando worked you up as your body started to show signs of it, "let go, my love, I'm here, I've got you”, he soothed, still gently rubbing your clit with one hand and keeping hold of the other.

Your back arched, sensitive nipples rubbing against his skin, as you came with a high-pitched whine, nuzzling your face on his thick neck as you came undone around him. Lando came soon after, his hand that was not holding yours groping your waist as he groaned.

“Good, sweet girl, that was good, you did so well for me. I’ve got you, it's okay", he assured as he felt you flutter around him, probably from overstimulation considering neither of you had been with anyone else and you hadn't slept a full night yet, the tiredness he felt also a cause for how quickly he finished.

Lando kissed your forehead sweetly before he pulled out, getting up and throwing out the condom on the bathroom bin before he cane back to you on the bed.

"Let's put this on, yeah?", he whispered soflty as he helped you put on his linen shirt, buttoning it enough to let you breathe but still feel hugged by the fabric, and then a clean pair of underwear he got from your suitcase.

Before he laid in bed with you again, he put on his own underwear, pulling you to his arms and then pulling the crisp white covers over you.

"Do you feel good, baby?", he asked once you were cuddled up to him, "yes, I do", you smiled, a mixture of post sex glow and being back in his arms.

"Thank you for not giving up on us, I love you, sweet girl", Lando said as he played with your fingers, bringing them up to his mouth so he could kiss every single one of them, "you're the best thing in my life", he mumbled, letting you drift off to sleep.

[pixxiies]

reckless

matt sturniolo

ꜝ haven’s notes / thank u guys sososooso much for 500 !! i love u all so much dearly. i have a rlly busy week next week so i wanted to give u guys smth as a thank you:) also sorry if this is supa short

ꜝ genre / angst (no happy ending)

ꜝ warnings / yelling, cheating, crying, y/n used like twice (im sorryyyy), random names for the characters (audrey and fey), slight cursing, nd thats it! tell me if i missed anything

your friends have been on your tail recently about matt’s (your boyfriend) new friend who was a girl named audrey. they have been all telling you how he’s cheating on you with her but, you refuse to believe it. you met her a few times, she’s the complete opposite of you and shes perfect. you didn’t mind it that much whenever she tagged along on you nd matt’s dates, but the thing that pissed you off was the fact that they always left you out. he even ditched you a few times to go to her house to hang out without you.

its been a few weeks since the last time you saw audrey, which you were sort of glad about. but matt has been more distant recently. you laid on his bed as you waited for him to get out of his bathroom. he came in with the towel hanging low on his hips. “matt?” you say, watching him get his clothes from his dresser. he hummed back in reply, not turning to face you. “why have you been so distant lately? is it because of audrey?” you ask softly with your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “what are you talking about? of course not baby. don’t worry ‘bout her, you know i would never hurt you like that.” he explains while turning around now to look at you. “just have been stressed with filming and back to back meetings.” matt smiled while walking over to you nd sitting on the edge of his bed. “oh, okay” you say softly while sitting up. “‘m gonna start heading out, you wanna come over tonight?” you ask him, tangling a hand in his wet loose curls. “can’t, hanging out with chris nd sam.” he said as he leaned into your touch. “ohh, thats okay.” you sound a little disappointed but you understood that he was gonna be with his friend. “i love you, have fun” you smile while getting up from your spot and kissing his cheek gently. “love you too”

you ended up just going to your bestfriend’s house the nd you slept over there. your now sitting on fey’s bed while you both are silent nd scrolling on your guys’ phone. after another few minutes of the comfortable silence mixed with the sound of rain tapping the window before fey gasped. “hm?” you hum curiously while perching your head up on the palm of your hand. “uhm.. where did your boyfriend say he was going last night again?” she asked while looking up at you. “he said he was going out with chris and sam, why?” you say, getting up from your spot to sit next to her instead. she angled her phone so you could see it. a photo of matt and audrey kissing at someone’s party. “what?” you whisper under your breath, grabbing fey’s phone slowly to analyze the picture. “i hate to say it y/n but, i told you this was gonna happen.” she said while hugging your shoulders softly. you stay silent for a bit before handing fey the phone back. you stand up from her bed nd put your shoes back on. "where are you going?" your bestfriend asks from her spot. "going to matt's house." you mumble as you bite back tears.

"w-what?" fey said while getting up and moving next to you. "gonna go talk to him, i'll talk to you later." you say before leaving her room nd going downstairs. you get into your car, but you didn't start the car yet. you sat there nd just thought. he said he would never hurt you, but here we are. you make your thirteen minute drive to his house, parking your car behind the minivan. you slowly get out of the car nd make your way to the front door. you were met with nick, eyes filled with worry. "matt here?" you ask quietly. you got no response, but just a hug from him. "dude, im so sorry." he says softly. "nick please. is he here?" you ask again while pulling the brunette off of him. "y- well yeah bu-" the second nick said that matt was there you quickly push him to the side and you start walking to matt's room. upon opening the door, you saw audrey on top on matt’s lap, the two of them making out. your eyes soften to the sight, the brunette boy pushing the girl away. "y/n! nono it's not what it-" he quickly starts trying to explain himself. "i guess my friends were right." you say while slamming matt's bedroom door shut. "what?" he asks while standing up. "my friends matt. they all told me that you could be cheating on me with her. they were fucking right." tears start to form on your waterline as you pointed to audrey who was watching this entire thing go down.

"baby please. you know i never meant to hurt you." he says gently when he notices the tears forming in your eyes. "but you did matt! you just did! you told me that you were gonna hang out with chris nd sam but no!" you start to speak louder, your words laced with tears. "you went to a party nd someone saw you with her last night." you say again as you didn't even give matt a chance to defend himself anymore. "i know i know. can i just explain myself?" he says quietly. "no matt. because in this case you fucking can't." you say in a tone that matches his. "i didn't even know you could be this reckless with someone's heart." you whisper while turning your back to the two nd opening the door to leave. of course, matt chases after you. "y/n! wait!" he said while running out of the room, audrey for some reason, following behind. "matt i don't wanna hear it! you wrote me this long letter saying how i was the only girl you'd ever want in your life. but was that all to waste? now you're over here, ditching me nd lying to me to go hang out with another girl." you say a bit too loudly with your mascara staining your cheeks. your eyes flicker between matt nd audrey then they landed back on matt. "i hope you both go to hell." you mumble before walking downstairs with chris nd nick walking after you.

ꜝ taglist / @mattscoquette @mattsluttywaist @luverboychris @mxqdii @sweetstars-posts @xoxo4chrisss @conspiracy-ash @submattenthusiast @strnzzvsp @bambi-slxt @deftonesmatt @s7urnscc

[sidekick-hero]

In Loving Memory

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 4, prompt: Angst with Happy Ending

Tags: Modern AU, rockstar Eddie, plane crash, HAPPY ENDING, minor character death

words: 3.3k | AO3 | mature

“Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington. My name is Elizabeth Quinn, and I’m part of the cabin crew today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. I hope you're enjoying your flight so far.”

Steve looks up at the owner of the soft voice to his right. It’s a young woman in a stewardess uniform with big brown eyes that instantly remind him of Eddie.

“Oh, hello. Uhm, yes, everything is fine, thank you.”

The stewardess smiles warmly. “I'm glad to hear that, sir. I wanted to discuss a situation we’re currently facing. As you may know, flights can sometimes be overbooked, and today we have a few more passengers than seats available in first class. We’re looking for a volunteer to move to another section of the plane. In exchange, we’re offering a significant compensation package, including a voucher for a future flight, a complimentary upgrade on your next trip, and a gift card for our in-flight shopping.”

She looks apologetic, and he can tell she hates asking him this. It’s not a particularly long flight, and he mostly booked first class because that’s what his father’s secretary always did for him the few times his parents had him fly to wherever they were. So giving up his seat for a four-hour flight doesn’t seem too bad.

“Yes, I can move to another section of the plane. That’s okay,” he tells the stewardess and is rewarded with a bright, genuine smile adorned with dimples. Another thing that reminds him of Eddie. He pushes the ache in his chest down and returns the friendly smile with one of his own.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Mr. Harrington. If you have any specific preferences or questions, please let me know. Your understanding and cooperation greatly help us ensure everyone has a comfortable flight.”

With that, she leads him to another part of the plane, presumably Economy class.

“This one right here, Mr. Harrington. It has extra legroom and is situated next to an emergency exit. I will make sure you have a pleasant flight with us. You can call me with the call button or find me at the front or back of the plane.”

Steve nods with another smile that falls as soon as she walks away to prepare for takeoff. His thoughts wander back to the reason he’s on a flight to LA today.

Eddie.

He still wonders if this is a good idea. When he bought the ticket to LA, he was sure of it. The panic that had constricted his throat had lessened as soon as he pulled up the website of the airline and he felt like he could breathe again for the first time when he got the confirmation mail.

It’s a long shot, he knows that. Surprising Eddie in LA after everything that happened but he hopes it’s a grand enough gesture that maybe Eddie will forget how much Steve has hurt him. Robin suggested to just call Eddie and apologize, explain to him why Steve was so reluctant to take the next step with him.

The truth is, Steve doesn’t think he could handle it when Eddie didn’t pick up the phone or just hangs up on him before he can say his piece. If Eddie decides that it’s too much for him, that Steve’s too much, too damaged, then be it. But he needs to see Eddie one last time, drink in those beloved doe eyes one more time.

Steve thinks about why he and Eddie fought the last time they saw each other. Growing up in a very conservative household, Steve always suspected he might like men as well as women, but he denied any attraction toward men because of what his parents might say. He knew they wouldn’t accept him.

He was 31 when he walked into a bar in Chicago with his best friend Robin and locked eyes with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Eddie was the first man he ever kissed, ever slept with. He couldn’t help himself, not when Eddie flirted with him, wooed him, and made him laugh with his whole body. Steve always assumed what they had was strictly physical, just some fun between two single guys.

But Eddie wanted more than that. He wanted a relationship with Steve.

Eddie had asked Steve to be his date on the red carpet in LA for the Grammy Awards. Eddie was actually nominated with his band, Corroded Coffin, and he wanted to show the world who he loved. But Steve was scared. Everybody would know he was in a relationship with another man. So he declined, and Eddie left Steve’s apartment heartbroken.

Steve can still see the look on Eddie’s face, the hurt in his eyes. It had shattered something inside him, but his fear was stronger. He had watched Eddie walk away, the love of his life slipping through his fingers because he was too afraid to hold on.

Steve’s thoughts are interrupted by the plane's PA system crackling to life, announcing their imminent takeoff. He leans back in his seat, staring out the window as the plane begins to taxi down the runway. The memory of Eddie's face, the pain in his eyes, is as vivid as ever.

He had tried to justify his fear, telling himself it was about protecting Eddie, about not wanting to put him through the scrutiny and judgment that would come from being seen with another man. But deep down, Steve knew it was about protecting himself. He was scared of what his parents would think, what the world would think.

As the plane ascends, Steve closes his eyes, replaying that last conversation with Eddie in his mind.

"Steve, I love you. I want us to be together, really together," Eddie had said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want you by my side at the Grammys. I want to show the world who I love."

Steve had felt his heart pound in his chest, a mix of fear and longing. "Eddie, I can't. You know how my parents are, how everyone will react. It's not that simple."

Eddie's eyes had filled with tears. "It is that simple, Steve. Either you love me enough to be with me, openly and proudly, or you don’t. I can’t keep hiding us. I can't keep hiding you."

Steve had stood there, silent and conflicted, as Eddie walked out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him had felt like the end of everything.

The plane levels off, and Steve opens his eyes, blinking back tears. He knows this trip to LA is a long shot, but he has to try. He has to make Eddie understand how much he means to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, opening the notes app. He starts typing, trying to find the right words to say when he sees Eddie.

The flight attendants come by with the beverage cart, and Steve looks up to see Elizabeth smiling at him. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Harrington?”

“Just some water, please,” Steve says, returning her smile.

As she hands him the bottle of water, she says softly, “It looks like you have a lot on your mind, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Steve looks up at her as he accepts the cup of water and finds that he actually wants to talk with someone about what he’s about to do. He needs someone to tell him that it’s going to work out.

“I do. I’m on my way to win back the man I’m in love with.”

There, he said it. He admitted that he was in love with another man and now he’s fighting the urge to hide, scared of her reaction. But he holds her gaze, heart pounding in his chest.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes softening, “that explains the look on your face. I think you’re very brave, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve takes a moment, contemplating how much to share. But he feels a strange sense of comfort in Elizabeth’s kind eyes.

“His name is Eddie,” Steve begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s kind, talented, and makes me laugh like no one else can. But I let my fear ruin everything between us.”

Elizabeth listens intently, her expression encouraging him to continue.

“We fought because he wanted us to go public, to be together openly. He wanted me to go with him to the Grammys, to be his date. But I was too scared of what my parents would think, what people would say. So, I said no. And he left,” Steve explains, his voice cracking.

Elizabeth nods, understanding in her eyes. “That sounds really hard, Steve. But it also sounds like you care a lot about him.”

“I do,” Steve says, his eyes filling with tears. “I love him more than anything. That’s why I’m going to LA. I need to tell him how sorry I am and that I’m ready to be with him, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Elizabeth places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It takes a lot of courage to admit when you’re wrong and to fight for what you love. Eddie is a very lucky man to be loved so much by you, Steve. I hope he sees that.”

Steve smiles, feeling a bit lighter. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I really hope he does.”

Elizabeth gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next passenger. Steve watches her go, feeling a much needed sense of hope. He’s made mistakes, let fear dictate his actions, but he’s ready to make things right.

About two hours into the flight, Steve decides to stretch his legs and walks up and down the narrow aisle. He passes families with little kids, an elderly couple working on a crossword puzzle together, and two young women chatting and laughing. It’s fascinating to see so many different lives intersecting in one place.

On his fifth lap, Elizabeth appears next to him, gently touching his arm.

“Steve, could you please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt?”

He looks at her, puzzled. “But the seatbelt signs are still off.”

“That’s true, but from experience, I know the signs could come on any minute. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before the aisle gets too crowded with everyone returning to their seats.”

Steve nods, appreciating the heads-up. “Thanks for letting me know.” He heads back to his seat.

As Steve settles in and fastens his seatbelt, the plane suddenly lurches violently. The cabin shakes with a gut-wrenching turbulence, hurling passengers and their belongings through the air. Panic erupts as screams fill the cabin, and Steve clings to his seat, trying to stay calm amid the chaos.

Elizabeth dashes down the aisle, her face pale and eyes wide. She spots Steve and rushes over, her voice barely audible over the cacophony. “Steve! Call Eddie! Now!”

Heart pounding, Steve scrambles for his phone. His hands tremble uncontrollably as he dials Eddie’s number. The turbulence makes it nearly impossible to hold the phone steady, but he manages to keep a grip.

The call connects, and Eddie’s voice comes through, thick with confusion and worry. “Steve?” He asks and then he must hear the chaos in the background because he immediately adds, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice cracks as he fights back tears. “I’m so sorry. I should have been braver. I should have been all in. I’m on this plane, and it’s really bad. I wanted to come to LA to talk to you. I wish I could have done all this in person. I wish I could kiss you one last time.”

Eddie’s voice trembles with desperation. “Steve, what’s happening? Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Steve’s eyes dart around the cabin, the plane shaking violently as alarms blare and panicked voices rise. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want this to be a goodbye, but I think it might be. I needed to tell you how much I regret being so scared, and I’m sorry for hurting you. I love you, Eddie. I should’ve told you when I had the chance.”

The turbulence worsens, and the plane begins a terrifying descent. The noise in the background grows louder and more intense. Eddie’s voice, filled with panic, tries to reach him. “Steve, stay with me! Please!”

But as the plane’s descent becomes more violent, the call goes eerily silent. Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as the only sound now is the relentless, chilling dial tone. Tears stream down his face as he grips the phone tightly.

Elizabeth returns to Steve’s side, her eyes filled with kindness and urgency. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, Steve. It’s going to be okay, but I need you to fight. For Eddie, okay?”

Steve nods, trying to steady himself amidst the chaos. He closes his eyes, focusing on Eddie’s voice and the love they shared, holding onto the hope that somehow, somehow, he’ll get another chance.

The last thing he hears is the deafening roar of something massive hitting the ground way too fast.

When Steve opens his eyes, he’s immediately overwhelmed by blinding light and searing pain. He groans, wishing for unconsciousness to take him away again so the agony would stop.

“Steve?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice pulls him from the sweet embrace of nothingness. The panic in Eddie’s voice is palpable, as if he’s on the verge of breaking down.

“’ddie?” Steve mumbles, his mouth feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton and his tongue heavy.

“Yes, I’m here, Stevie. I’m here.” Suddenly, Eddie’s beloved face appears above him, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Hi, baby.”

Steve manages a smile, the pain momentarily overshadowed by the sight of Eddie’s face. How he’s missed those eyes.

The thought brings Elizabeth back to his mind, the stewardess with the same eyes. Reality crashes back, and Steve gasps with the sudden realization that he should be dead.

“What… happened?” he croaks, his voice barely audible as his strength begins to wane.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, Stevie, but first we need to get your strength back. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake.” Eddie reaches for the call button next to Steve but stops to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was terrified of losing you.”

That’s the last thing Steve hears before darkness pulls him under once more.

The next time Steve wakes up, he feels a bit better. The pain is still there, but it’s dulled by the medication, making it manageable. He’s strong enough to talk more than just a few minutes, and he uses that strength to repeat to Eddie what he had said on the phone during the crash.

Eddie is holding Steve’s hand between his, his tear-streaked cheek resting gently on the back of Steve’s hand. His eyes are still red and puffy, but he speaks with a steady voice that is thick with emotion. “Steve, I could never just walk away from you. I knew you weren’t ready, even though it hurt. I planned to talk to you when I got back to Chicago, to tell you that I would wait for you, as long as I wouldn’t lose you. But when you called and I heard all that screaming… Fuck! I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up. The crash was bad—most of the front was completely destroyed. It’s a miracle you survived.”

Steve blinks, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. “How… How did I survive?”

Eddie’s gaze is intense as he searches Steve’s eyes. “From what they told me, you were supposed to be seated in the front, but you weren’t. No one could explain why. Your seat was right next to the emergency exit, so they got you out quickly. And you had your seatbelt fastened, which probably kept you from being thrown around too much. It’s almost like fate that you survived. Only twenty-three people made it.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he absorbs Eddie’s words. The thought weighs heavily on his chest: If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth’s warning, he might not have been so lucky. He’s sure she’s the reason he’s still here.

A flicker of concern crosses Steve’s face. “Elizabeth… she was a stewardess on the flight. She moved me to this seat, told me that first class was overbooked and asked if I’d be willing to switch. And she also made sure I fastened my seatbelt just before we started going down.”

Eddie’s eyes grow wide with shock. “But… they said on the news that casualties were below a hundred because first class wasn’t as full as usual. They said no one in that section survived.”

Steve’s heart pounds as he starts to realize the gravity of Elizabeth’s actions. “I need to find out if she survived, Eddie. She saved my life, and I need to thank her.”

Eddie’s eyes brighten with resolve. “We can do that, Stevie. I need to thank this woman, who saved the man I love. What’s her name? I’ll get Chrissy on it—she’ll find out in no time.”

Feeling his love for Eddie surge, Steve lets it overflow for the first time without restraint. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They share a long, tender look, like lovesick teenagers, before Steve remembers Eddie’s question. “Her name is Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s expression changes abruptly. All color drains from his face.

“What did you say her name is?”

“Elizabeth Quinn. Why, do you know her?”

Ignoring the question, Eddie asks, “What did she look like?”

Steve describes Elizabeth, including her big brown eyes that reminded him of Eddie’s—one reason he bonded with her almost instantly.

As Steve finishes, Eddie looks even paler. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone, navigates to an article from the airline, and hands it to Steve. The headline reads: “Airline Grieves Loss of Crew Members on Flight 731.” The article features a picture of a stewardess who looks just like Elizabeth. Her name is listed below the photo: Elizabeth Quinn.

Steve’s heart sinks as he reads the name. “That’s her. Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s voice trembles as he looks at Steve. “Elizabeth Quinn was my mom. She was a stewardess, and she died in a plane crash when I was eight.”

Steve’s eyes widen in shock. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I had no idea.”

Eddie’s eyes are glassy as he looks at Steve. “She was the best person I knew. She loved her job and loved helping people. And now it seems she came back to help two more people: me and you.”

Steve reaches out weakly, placing a hand on Eddie’s. “I wish I could have thanked her in person. But I did tell her about you—how funny, smart, and amazing you are. How much I love you. And I should have known, because you look just like her. The same kind eyes and dimples when you smile.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand, his voice breaking. “I’m glad you got to meet her. God, this is so crazy. I was so angry for so long that she left me. I know it’s unfair, but that’s how I felt. I miss her so much.”

“She knew you loved her. She made sure you wouldn’t lose another person you love, because she loves you too. Even if she’s no longer here, she’s still watching over you.”

“Over us, you mean. I’m pretty sure this means you’re part of the family now.”

Eddie still asks Chrissy to check the airline's list for Steve’s savior. He’s not surprised when Chrissy reports that there was no Elizabeth Quinn on that flight.

[kiwriteswords]

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

Part II in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read on its own, though!)

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: Here is another part of the Flirty!Female reader storyline I shared last week. This story can be read solo or as a companion piece in this universe!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 14k

Tags/Warnings: Romance, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Banter, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Tension, Flirty!Reader, Vulnerable!Hotch, Established-ish Relationship, Emotional Conflict, Workplace Romance, Team Dynamics, Protective!Hotch, Teasing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Sexual Content, Violence, Physical Injury, Emotional Angst, Flirting, Power Dynamics, Professional Boundaries, Relationship Tension, Angst with a Happy Ending, Part of a series but can be read as a standalone.

Sypnosis: Years ago, you were a key part of the original BAU team, working alongside Gideon, Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner. After leaving for academia, Rossi convinces you to return, pulling you back into the field you once thrived in. Known for your bold, flirty attitude—especially with Hotch—you quickly find that the tension between you has only grown stronger. But after a night together with Hotch, everything changes. The playful banter becomes more complicated, and the lines between personal and professional start to blur as you both struggle with unresolved feelings.

The usual morning briefing had wrapped up, and the team was dispersing to prepare for the day’s case. You lingered behind, a smirk playing on your lips as you caught Hotch’s eye from across the room. He was already gathering his papers, looking as composed as ever, but there was something different in the way his jaw tightened when he glanced your way.

You leaned against the edge of the table, your voice low enough that only he could hear. “You know,” you teased, folding your arms across your chest, “I think you’re starting to crack, Hotchner.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady and controlled, though there was a flicker of something deeper beneath the surface. 

“Crack?” he echoed, his tone neutral. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

You tilted your head, watching him closely as he straightened his posture. 

“Oh, come on. Do you really think you’re fooling anyone? You’re usually so good at keeping it together but after last night...” You trailed off, biting your lip, the memory of what happened between you still fresh in your mind.

For a second, you saw it—his composure wavered just slightly. His fingers tightened on the edge of his file, his eyes darkening as he took in your words.

Last night, when the office was empty, and the blinds were drawn, you had taken things far beyond flirtation. What had started as a playful back-and-forth turned into something much more intense—Hotch, usually so controlled, had let the heat between you both boil over. 

His desk had barely survived the encounter, the scattered files and pens serving as the only witnesses to the way you’d made him lose himself for the first time in years. The rawness of it still clung to the air between you, like an unspoken secret that neither of you was ready to fully acknowledge.

Now, with the rest of the team around, you could see the weight of professionalism settling back over him like a shield, but those stolen moments in his office lingered in his every movement. He wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be. And you? Well, you weren’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“We need to stay professional,” he said, his voice quieter now, more for your ears than anyone else’s.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving his. “Professional? That’s rich, coming from the guy who practically lost. His. Mind. The last time we were alone together.”

His gaze sharpened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. But instead of the reprimand you were expecting, Hotch leaned in, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always made your pulse quicken. 

“Careful,” he warned softly, his breath brushing your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you didn’t back down. Instead, you shot him a mischievous grin. “You love it. Admit it.”

Hotch straightened, the tightness in his jaw returning, but this time, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if he was fighting the urge to give in to whatever was simmering between you. “Just don’t push me too far.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly as you watched him regain control. “Is that a challenge?”

Before he could answer, Morgan walked back into the room, a file in his hand. “Hey, Hotch—oh, didn’t realize you were still here.” He shot you both a curious glance, but you quickly masked your expression, giving him a lighthearted shrug.

“Just making sure the boss can handle the pressure,” you teased, shooting Hotch one last playful look before walking past him. “Don’t worry, Aaron. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Hotch didn’t respond, but you could feel his eyes on you as you left the room, the tension between you still crackling in the air.

You laughed to yourself as you gathered your go-bag, knowing you were about to all be on your way to attend to the case. The tension from this morning’s briefing lingered in the air, but there was no time to dwell on it now. You slipped back into your professional role as quickly as you did every time you hit the field.

The case itself wasn’t particularly complicated. A string of home invasions had escalated to violence, leaving the team scrambling to get ahead of the unsub. You spent the day interviewing witnesses, combing through evidence, and strategizing with the others, but every now and then, you’d catch Hotch’s eye across the room. Each glance was a reminder of the unspoken tension between you, hanging in the air like a thread waiting to be pulled.

Still, the day passed quickly, and by the time the sun was setting, the team had gathered enough intel to take a break for the night. The local police would continue their surveillance, and tomorrow, you'd regroup to pick up where you left off. The exhaustion of the day’s work began to settle into your bones, but there was a hum of something else just beneath the surface—anticipation.

“We’ll pick this up first thing in the morning,” Hotch announced to the group, his usual authoritative tone back in place. “Everyone get some rest.”

The team began to disperse, packing up files and closing laptops. Morgan and Rossi exchanged a few words about meeting up later for a drink, trying to convince Reid to join, while JJ and Prentiss made plans to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant. The usual banter filled the room, lightening the mood as everyone began to wind down.

As you zipped up your go-bag, you couldn’t help but glance over at Hotch again, who was busy giving last-minute instructions to the local PD. 

You knew he felt it too—the tension that had simmered between you all day, never fully addressed.

When you saw him finishing up, you slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way outside to the SUVs. 

The cool night air hit your face, a welcome relief after the heat of the day. Morgan gave you a nod as he climbed into one of the vehicles, and the others quickly followed, but when Hotch stepped out of the building, his eyes found yours immediately.

You smirked, knowing full well you’d be riding back to the hotel alone with him. It was just how the assignments had worked out, of course—pure coincidence—but the tension that had been brewing between you since last night was about to come to a head.

The drive back to the hotel was quiet at first, the hum of the road beneath the tires filling the silence between you and Hotch. The case had gone smoothly enough—nothing particularly eventful to keep your mind occupied, which left plenty of room for the memories of last night to creep in.

You stole a glance at him from the passenger seat, watching as his fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. He did his best to maintain that composed, stoic expression, but you could tell. The tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flicked to the road a little too often—he was thinking about it, too.

Finally, unable to resist, you leaned back in your seat, your voice casual but teasing. 

"You’ve been quiet, Hotch. Everything okay? Or are you still thinking about what happened last night?"

He didn’t look at you right away, his jaw clenching slightly as he focused on the road ahead. "Last night was... a mistake," he said, his voice measured, though there was a tension to it. "A lapse in judgment."

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes. 

"A mistake? Really? Because I don’t remember you calling it that when you had me on your desk." You smirked, observing his reaction, knowing exactly where to poke.

His grip on the wheel tightened, but he still didn’t look at you. 

"We were both caught up in the moment. It shouldn’t have happened," he said, his voice a little too forced, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. "Caught up in the moment, huh? Is that what you call it when you lose all control and—"

"Enough," he cut in, his tone sharper now, but the flush creeping up his neck gave him away. You bit back a grin. He was cracking, and you both knew it.

You let the silence linger for a moment, enjoying the way his composure was unraveling. 

"Look," you said, softening your tone but still teasing, "you can pretend all you want, but we both know it wasn’t a mistake. You wanted it just as much as I did."

Hotch finally glanced at you, his eyes dark and intense. "This can’t happen again," he said, though there was something in his voice—something uncertain.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your seat with a knowing smile. "Is that what you really want? Because you’re doing a terrible job of convincing me." You watched him closely, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say the word. But we both know you’re not going to, Aaron."

He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but you could see it—the way his chest rose and fell a little quicker, the way his fingers twitched on the steering wheel. You had him right where you wanted him.

You leaned in again, your voice barely above a whisper. "So tell me, was it really a lapse in judgment? Or are you just afraid of what’ll happen the next time we’re alone?"

For a moment, Hotch didn’t say anything; the tension between you was so thick it was almost suffocating. His jaw worked as he struggled for control, but you could see the flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that told you he was just as close to breaking as he’d been last night.

"You need to stop pushing," he said finally, his voice low and strained, but the warning in his tone wasn’t as firm as it should have been.

You smirked, leaning back with a shrug. "I’ll stop when you stop pretending you don’t want this."

The car fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Hotch said nothing, but the unspoken truth was clear. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

At the hotel, Hotch stopped at the front desk, retrieving both of your room keys. He passed you yours and the two of you made your way to the floor you were all staying on. 

How ironic, you thought, when you noticed that both of your rooms were next door to each other. You stopped before your door, glancing over at Hotch with a smirk. 

"So, this is where we part ways," you said, your voice playful as you slid your key into the lock. "At least until tomorrow?"

Hotch stood just a few feet away, his hand lingering on his own door handle. He looked at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, but you could sense the tension beneath the surface. "Right," he said, his tone measured. "Until tomorrow."

You paused, leaning against the doorframe as you studied him. The day had been exhausting, but the charged energy between the two of you hadn’t faded since that night. If anything, it felt heavier now, hanging in the air between you like an unspoken challenge. You couldn’t resist pushing a little further, just to see if you could get him to crack, even just a little.

"You know," you said, your voice dropping slightly, "you don’t have to be so formal, Hotchner. It’s not like anyone’s around to see us."

For a second, he didn’t move, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light of the hallway. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—subtle but unmistakable.

"Noted," he said quietly, his voice lower than usual. "But some lines shouldn’t be crossed."

You felt a flicker of something in your chest—something beyond the usual thrill of teasing him. "Lines?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Pretty sure we crossed a few already."

Hotch’s gaze stayed on yours, and for a brief moment, the calm façade he always wore seemed to slip. "Maybe," he replied, his voice soft, almost contemplative. "But that doesn’t mean we should keep crossing them."

You bit your lip, feeling your heart race at his words. There it was again—that pull, that tension you couldn’t ignore. "What if we did?" you asked, your tone light but with a hint of something deeper beneath it.

He didn’t answer right away, and for a second, you thought he might brush you off like he always did. But then he stepped a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Then we’d have to decide if we could live with the consequences."

Your breath caught, the intensity of his words catching you off guard. You’d been expecting another deflection, another professional response, but this? This felt real. More real than anything you’d been prepared for.

The hallway felt too small, the air too thick, with everything unspoken between you. "Are you saying you’d regret it?" you asked, quieter now, unsure if you really wanted to hear the answer.

Hotch’s gaze softened, but he didn’t step back. "I’m saying... I’m not sure anymore," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightened, and for the first time, the teasing banter you’d always relied on felt inadequate. There was something deeper here, something you hadn’t been ready to face. 

"Neither am I," you whispered back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

You stood there for a long moment, the space between you charged with the weight of everything that had happened—and everything that hadn’t.

Finally, Hotch took a step back, the familiar mask of control settling back over him. "Goodnight," he said softly, turning toward his door.

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty as you turned the key in your lock. "Goodnight, Aaron."

As you both retreated into your separate rooms, the weight of the moment lingered, heavy and unresolved. You sat on the edge of the bed, your mind racing. This wasn’t just about flirting anymore. There was something real between you, and now you both had to figure out where to go from here.

On the other side of the wall, Hotch stood still, his thoughts swirling with the same uncertainty. The boundaries he’d carefully constructed were starting to blur, and he wasn’t sure if he could—or even wanted to—keep them intact.

The next morning, the air felt different. You tried to shake off the unease from last night, but it lingered, pulling at the edges of your thoughts as you prepared for the day ahead. Back in the field, surrounded by the team, everything should have felt normal. Professional. But with Hotch standing just a few feet away, his face unreadable, the weight of your conversation at the hotel still hung heavy between you.

You pushed the thoughts aside as you focused on the task at hand. The case had taken a turn—new intel had come in, narrowing down the unsub’s location. The team split into pairs to cover the ground quickly, and of course, you and Hotch ended up together, as usual.

The plan was straightforward: sweep the area, clear the building, and wait for backup before making any major moves. But things rarely went according to plan in your line of work. 

As you and Hotch navigated the dimly lit warehouse, a strange feeling gnawed at you—something about the place felt off. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you turned a corner, but before you could process what was happening, a figure lunged out of the shadows.

The unsub.

Everything happened in a blur. 

You moved to react, but he was fast—too fast. He grabbed you, shoving you hard against the wall, and you barely had time to register the sudden pain in your shoulder as you hit the cold concrete. You struggled, fighting to regain control, but the unsub was already trying to drag you deeper into the building.

Before you could fully process the danger, Hotch was there, moving swiftly, his gun drawn. "FBI! Let her go!" he barked, his voice commanding and firm.

The unsub hesitated just long enough for you to break free, and with a well-placed elbow to his gut, you managed to shove him off. The backup arrived within seconds, swarming in and taking the unsub into custody. But the adrenaline pumping through your veins left you shaken, and as you stood there catching your breath, you could feel Hotch’s eyes burning into you.

You turned to him, expecting relief or maybe even a word of concern, but instead, his face was hard, his expression thunderous. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice low but sharp enough that the rest of the team, now regrouping, couldn’t help but notice.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? I—”

“That was reckless,” Hotch continued, stepping closer, his voice still controlled but laced with something darker. “You should have waited for backup before moving in like that.”

You blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. “I didn’t move in alone! He grabbed me, I didn’t—”

Hotch cut you off, his eyes flashing with frustration. “You put yourself in danger. You should have been more careful.”

Your heart sank as his words hit you. This wasn’t about the case or even the situation at hand. This was something else, something deeper, simmering just beneath the surface. The rest of the team was watching now, the tension thick in the air.

You were reckless, he told himself. You weren’t careful. That’s why he was angry. That’s why he snapped at you. But deep down, Hotch knew it wasn’t just about the case. It was about you. It was about the way he couldn’t get the sound of you hitting the wall out of his head, the way he couldn’t stop picturing what might have happened if he hadn’t been there—if he hadn’t been fast enough.

His chest tightened as he looked at you, trying to keep his expression unreadable. But the truth was, he was shaken. More shaken than he had any right to be. You were his colleague. His subordinate. He shouldn’t care this much—he couldn’t. It was dangerous. It was unprofessional. It was everything he had tried so hard to avoid. And yet, here he was, watching you from across the room, his heart still pounding, his hands still unsteady.

What the hell was he doing?

He had known for a while now that there was something between you—something unspoken, something neither of you was willing to address. The banter, the teasing, the stolen glances when no one else was looking. It was fun. It was a distraction. But that’s all it was supposed to be. He’d told himself it didn’t mean anything, that he could keep it in check, that whatever this pull was, he could ignore it. Compartmentalize. Just like he always did.

But seeing you hurt like that? It hit him like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t just playful banter anymore. This wasn’t just something he could laugh off or brush aside. He cared about you. Too much. And that terrified him.

Because now, it wasn’t just about control. It was about something deeper, something he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to resist anymore. He’d spent his entire career keeping his personal life out of the field, keeping his emotions locked away so they wouldn’t cloud his judgment. But this? This was different. You were different.

Hotch swallowed hard, his anger at the situation mixing with something else—something raw and vulnerable that he hadn’t felt in years. 

Before you could respond, Morgan stepped in, his expression hard as he looked at Hotch. “Back off, man. She didn’t do anything wrong. The unsub jumped her; it’s not her fault.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything. The anger in his eyes flickered with something else—something that looked a lot like fear. But you weren’t about to let Morgan fight your battles.

“Morgan, don’t,” you said, your voice firm as you shook your head. “I can handle this.”

Morgan gave you a look, hesitating for a second before stepping back, though his posture remained tense. You turned to Hotch, your own frustration building. “You don’t get to blame me for this. I didn’t ask to get attacked, and I didn’t do anything reckless.”

Hotch’s expression didn’t soften, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that told you this wasn’t just about what had happened in the field. He was scared. Scared of what could have happened. Scared of losing you. But instead of admitting that, he was lashing out, trying to bury it beneath the professionalism he clung to so tightly.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, but you refused to back down. “You’re mad because I was in danger, not because I made a mistake.”

For a long moment, Hotch said nothing, the tension between you both crackling like electricity. You could feel the rest of the team watching, waiting for his next move, but all you wanted was for him to admit it—to say what he was really feeling instead of hiding behind his anger.

Finally, Hotch exhaled, his shoulders dropping just slightly. He glanced around at the team, then back at you, his voice quieter now but still filled with tension. “We’ll talk about this later.”

You nodded, your jaw tight as you turned away, the frustration and unresolved tension weighing heavy on your chest. As you walked away from the team, you couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning of a much bigger conversation—one that neither of you could avoid for much longer.

The case had finally wrapped up. The unsub was in custody, and the team was on the jet, heading home. The tension from earlier still lingered, but you kept to yourself, sitting near the back, pressing an ice pack to the bruise on your shoulder, a result of the unsub grabbing you.

The quiet hum of the jet’s engines and the soft sounds of the team sleeping filled the cabin, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You hadn’t spoken to Hotch since the blow-up in the field. There wasn’t much to say—at least, not yet. You knew why he’d reacted the way he had, even if he hadn’t admitted it, and you weren’t one to push for an apology he wasn’t ready to give.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement. Hotch. He crossed the cabin quietly, a small bottle of Tylenol in hand. Wordlessly, he stopped beside you and held it out, his expression softer than it had been all day.

“Here,” he said, his voice low, careful not to wake the others. “It’ll help with the pain.”

You glanced up at him, taking the bottle, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks.”

He didn’t move right away; just stood there for a moment, watching you with an intensity that was almost uncharacteristic of him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with something more than just concern for your physical well-being.

You nodded, recognizing what this was—his way of apologizing without actually saying the words. The softness in his eyes, the quiet gesture of bringing you the Tylenol, it was all him trying to make amends. Hotch was never one for grand gestures or apologies, but you understood him well enough to know that this was his way of saying he cared.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “Really.”

For a moment, he said nothing, but the tension between you seemed to lift, replaced by something warmer, something unspoken. He nodded slightly, his hand brushing your shoulder gently before he stepped back. “Get some rest,” he murmured, his tone softer now, almost tender.

You watched as Hotch returned to his seat, his quiet gesture still lingering in your thoughts. You’d been teasing him for weeks, pushing his buttons, flirting with reckless abandon. It was easier that way—to keep things light, playful. Safer, even. 

But the truth was, beneath all the banter and bold remarks, something had shifted inside you, and you weren’t sure when it happened.

Maybe it was the night in his office when everything finally came to a head—the night where all your tension exploded into something far more intense than you’d ever anticipated. Or maybe it was even before that, in the way he always looked at you, the way his voice softened when he said your name, even though he tried to hide it. 

Either way, it was becoming harder to ignore, and sitting here now, the weight of it pressed down on you in a way that made your chest tighten.

You weren’t used to feeling this vulnerable—especially not with someone like Hotch. You’d always relied on your quick wit and brazen confidence to keep people at arm’s length, to keep yourself from getting too attached. But with him? It wasn’t working. Every time you saw him, every time you exchanged that electric glance or shared a fleeting touch, the walls you’d so carefully built started to crack, piece by piece.

And now? Now, you weren’t sure if you could stop them from crumbling entirely.

You swallowed hard, shifting in your seat as you pressed the ice pack against your shoulder. It wasn’t just the physical tension between you that scared you—it was the emotional pull. You could feel yourself getting in too deep, and for once, you didn’t know if you were ready to face what that meant.

Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about pushing Hotch’s buttons or seeing how far you could go. You liked him—really liked him. And that terrified you. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of it all settle deep in your chest. What was this between you two, really? Was it something real, something worth risking everything for? Or was it just another flirtation—something fleeting, something that would eventually burn out before it could get too complicated?

You didn’t have the answers, not yet. But one thing was certain: you couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter. Because it did. More than you wanted to admit.

It was late by the time the jet touched down at Quantico, and the exhaustion from the case was starting to settle in. You stretched your sore muscles as the team gathered their bags, ready to head home. But just as you were all about to part ways, Rossi turned a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You know,” he started, his voice casual, “we’ve earned ourselves a drink. There’s that bar not too far from here.”

Prentiss was the first to nod, clearly on board. “Count me in,” she said, tossing her bag over her shoulder.

Morgan grinned, always up for a little post-case celebration. “Man, you don’t have to ask me twice.”

You didn’t hesitate, either. “Same here. Could use a drink after the day we’ve had.”

All eyes turned to Hotch, who stood a little behind the group, his brow furrowed in thought. You could see him mentally calculating—Jack was with his Aunt Jess, safe for the night, but still, this wasn’t exactly his usual routine. He was probably about to decline.

And you couldn’t resist. With a smirk, you turned toward him, your tone light but teasing. “Come on, Hotch. You can’t turn down a drink with us. You need it more than any of us.”

Morgan chuckled, shooting Hotch a glance. “She’s right, man. Live a little.”

But you weren’t done yet. You stepped closer, lowering your voice just enough to make it feel like an inside joke, though the rest of the team could still hear. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid you won’t be able to keep up?”

JJ raised an eyebrow, and even Reid looked a little amused. The team was used to you poking at Hotch, but the boldness in your tone, especially in front of everyone, was new.

Hotch met your gaze, his expression unreadable at first. For a second, you thought he might brush you off. But then, something shifted. His lips twitched into the slightest smile, and before you could process what was happening, he shrugged.

“Alright,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a hint of something playful. “One drink.”

The team fell silent for a second, genuinely shocked, before Morgan let out a low whistle. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Prentiss smirked. “This I have to see.”

Rossi clapped Hotch on the shoulder, clearly pleased with himself for making the suggestion. “Now we’re talking.”

You grinned, unable to hide the satisfaction that came with knowing you’d pushed him just far enough. “Looks like we’ll see if the Unit Chief can handle a night out.”

Hotch shook his head, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. As the group headed toward the bar, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar spark of excitement. This wasn’t just about the drinks or the banter—it was about the way Hotch was starting to let his guard down, even if just for a moment.

And you? You were more than ready to see what would happen next.

The bar was buzzing with the usual mix of chatter, music, and the clink of glasses. The team had settled in, finding a large table in the corner where everyone could relax after the long case. You were enjoying yourself, laughing with Morgan and Prentiss as you sipped your drink, but your attention kept drifting back to Hotch, seated just across the table.

He looked slightly out of place in the casual setting, his posture still straight, his gaze alert despite the drink in front of him. His tie and jacket long gone, just his dress shirt, with the top buttons undone.

Every now and then, you caught him watching you, his eyes dark and thoughtful. It was enough to make the heat in your chest flare again, the same heat you’d been trying to ignore since that night in his office.

As the conversation flowed, you couldn’t resist leaning over, your hand brushing his arm lightly. “Come on, Hotch,” you teased, your voice low but loud enough for the others to hear. “I know you’re the serious type, but this is supposed to be fun. Relax a little.”

Prentiss smirked, catching the playful tone in your voice. “Yeah, Hotch. It’s not every day we get you out with us.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s been poking at him all night. I’m surprised he hasn’t put her in check yet.”

You grinned, leaning closer to Hotch, not bothering to hide the flirtation in your tone. “Maybe he likes it.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in the faintest smile. “Maybe I’m just letting you think that,” he said smoothly, his voice calm, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t entirely unaffected.

The rest of the team laughed, but you could feel the charge between you and Hotch, a private connection beneath the surface. As the night wore on, you found yourself getting up to grab another drink from the bar. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away, the tension from earlier still simmering beneath your playful banter.

While you were waiting at the bar, Morgan leaned over to Hotch, smirking. “Man, I gotta ask. How do you just let her get away with that? This girl loves pushing your buttons.”

Hotch glanced toward the bar, where you were chatting with the bartender, before looking back at Morgan. “She’s good at what she does,” he said, his tone even but with a hint of amusement. “And I’m not as easily rattled as you think.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “You say that now, but we all know she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Prentiss leaned forward with a grin. “Oh, come on, Hotch. We’ve all seen it—she gets away with way more than anyone else would.”

Hotch didn’t deny it; just took a sip of his drink, the slightest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I let her,” he said simply, his tone casual, but the look in his eyes was more telling than he’d meant it to be.

JJ, sitting next to Prentiss, raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you’re letting someone push your buttons, Hotch?” she teased, clearly enjoying the moment.

Before Hotch could respond, Penelope chimed in from across the table, her eyes wide with dramatic flair. “Oh, this is golden. I’ve never seen anyone pull off what she does with you.”

Rossi chuckled softly, swirling his drink as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, some of us have a little more charm than others, huh, Aaron?”

Hotch shot Rossi a pointed look, but there was no malice in it. He simply took another sip of his drink, trying to ignore the team’s relentless teasing. There was the tiniest twitch in his lips as though he was fighting a smile.

Spencer, always the observer, tilted his head thoughtfully. “It’s actually quite fascinating, you know. Studies show that people who frequently engage in teasing or playful banter often do so to mask deeper feelings of attachment or attraction.”

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. “You hear that, Hotch? It’s science. You’ve got feelings, man.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. “Thanks for the analysis, Reid.”

When you returned with your drink, you noticed the entire team was now focused on Hotch, exchanging amused glances. You slid back into your seat next to him, leaning in just enough to feel the heat radiating off him. “What’d I miss?”

“Just talking about you, as usual,” Prentiss teased, her grin widening. “Hotch here is finally admitting that he’s not as immune to you as he pretends to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming as you glanced over at Hotch. “Is that right?”

Hotch gave Prentiss a sharp look, though there was no real heat behind it. “Don’t encourage her,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but betraying just a hint of discomfort.

JJ leaned in, unable to hide her amusement. “I don’t think she needs encouragement, Hotch. She’s got you figured out.”

Morgan let out a low chuckle. “Too late for that, Hotch. You should know by now she’s not going to back off.”

Penelope, with a mischievous grin, added, “Oh, come on, Hotch. Let yourself have a little fun for once. We’re all dying to see what happens.”

Before Hotch could respond, Morgan cut in, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “Actually,... I’m not so sure I want to see what happens next. You two are intense.”

You leaned in a little closer to Hotch, your voice lower but still playful. “What do you say, Hotch? Think you can handle it?”

Hotch met your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly, though there was a flicker of amusement in his expression. “I think I’ve handled worse,” he said, his voice calm but with just enough of a challenge in it to make your heart race.

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “Man, you two are something else.”

Rossi, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smile, raised his glass and said, “I knew bringing you back was the right call. You’re good for the team... and for Hotch.”

A little while later, you found yourself standing at the bar with Hotch, away from the rest of the team. They were deep in conversation, and you could hear bursts of laughter from where they sat, but your focus was entirely on the man beside you. The tension that had been simmering between you all night was finally starting to bubble over.

As you leaned against the bar, you caught Hotch’s eye, your voice dropping to a soft murmur meant just for him. “You know,” you said, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night in your office.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might give in right there. The air between you seemed to thicken, and the weight of your words hung in the space between you. But then his expression shifted, and he leaned in slightly, his voice firm but quiet. “We can’t do this here.”

You smirked, undeterred by his caution. “Then let’s get out of here,” you whispered, your voice laced with teasing confidence. “You know you want to.”

Hotch hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the team, who were still engrossed in their conversation, completely unaware of the tension between you two. His jaw tightened as he turned back to you. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice steady, though you could hear the strain beneath the calm exterior.

You tilted your head, the boldness of the moment driving you forward. “If you’re not interested,” you said lightly, your eyes flicking to where Morgan sat with Prentiss, “maybe I’ll find someone else here who is.”

Hotch’s expression hardened just slightly, and you could see the shift in his demeanor—a subtle but unmistakable change. His gaze narrowed, and his voice dropped low, almost dangerous. “What are you doing?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but your words carried an edge. “I mean, Morgan’s always got a smile for me. Maybe he’d be up for a little fun.”

Hotch’s hand closed around yours, firm but not forceful, his grip sending a shock of heat through you. His voice was low and tense, though not angry—possessive. “You’re not going anywhere with Morgan,” he murmured, the intensity in his gaze leaving no room for doubt.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone, feeling the energy between you shift again from playful to something much more serious. His resistance was crumbling, but he still wasn’t letting go of that last thread of control.

“You want this just as much as I do,” you whispered, your voice soft but sure. “You’ve been thinking about it too. You’re just scared to admit it.”

Hotch’s eyes searched yours, the conflict written clearly on his face. He was torn, but the desire you saw in his expression was undeniable. For a long moment, he said nothing, weighing his options. You could feel the pull between you—tangible, electric.

Finally, he exhaled softly, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the weight of his decision. “Not here.”

You smiled, the small victory enough for now. “I’ll take that.”

Without another word, he turned back toward the group, but the tension between you hadn’t disappeared—it had only deepened, and you both knew this wasn’t over.

The night continued with the team still gathered around the table, exchanging stories and laughing over their drinks. But the atmosphere between you and Hotch had shifted. His small concession—Not here—echoed in your mind, and every glance he gave you from across the room felt loaded with something more. You could feel the tension tightening between you like a thread about to snap.

You returned to the table, slipping back into your seat as if nothing had happened. Morgan was in the middle of recounting a particularly wild story from one of their past cases, and the rest of the team was laughing along, none the wiser to the undercurrent between you and Hotch. But you could feel his presence beside you, even though he wasn’t looking at you directly.

You sipped your drink, trying to focus on the conversation, but your mind kept drifting back to the way Hotch had looked at you, the quiet intensity in his voice when he’d said, “Not here.” He wasn’t immune to you. He’d just been holding back. And now, you knew he was struggling with it.

Finally, as the night began to wind down, Rossi stretched his arms and announced, “Alright, I think we’ve earned a good night’s rest. We can pick this up tomorrow.”

Everyone agreed, gathering their things and heading for the door. The team was dispersing, heading out in different directions, but as you stepped outside into the cool night air, you found yourself lingering near Hotch. He was standing just a few feet away, his posture as controlled as ever, but you could see the tension in the set of his shoulders.

You fell into step beside him as the team said their goodbyes. “You heading home?” you asked, keeping your tone light, but there was an edge to your words—something unspoken hanging between you both.

Hotch glanced over at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I should,” he said quietly, but the hesitation in his voice gave him away. He was still trying to be the responsible one, the professional. But there was something in his eyes that told you he was fighting it.

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “You don’t have to,” you said softly, letting the boldness of your earlier words carry you forward. “We’re both off duty now.”

Hotch met your gaze, his jaw tight. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, but you could see the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes. He wanted to give in, but there was still that flicker of doubt, that part of him that always held back.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he finally said, his voice low, almost reluctant.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. We can figure the rest out later.”

For a second, you thought he might back away, but then something shifted in his expression. He exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. His gaze flickered down to your lips, and for the first time, you saw the crack in his resolve.

“Alright,” he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying the weight of his decision. “Let’s go.”

You didn’t need any more convincing. Without another word, you turned and started walking, Hotch falling into step beside you. The air between you was thick with anticipation, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you both as you made your way through the city streets.

The drive to your apartment was thick with tension, the silence between you electric. Hotch’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his jaw set, but you could feel the pull between you growing stronger with every mile. 

Neither of you spoke, but the air in the car was heavy, charged with everything you hadn’t said—everything that had been simmering for months. You glanced over at him, his eyes focused on the road, but the slight clench of his jaw told you he was holding back. 

When he pulled up outside your building, you hesitated for just a second, but the moment you stepped out of the car and headed inside, the unspoken understanding between you became undeniable. 

As soon as the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you, the restraint that had kept you both in check all night shattered. Hotch’s hand was at your waist before you even had time to process it, pulling you toward him with a deliberate, controlled intensity.

His lips crashed against yours, and you responded in kind, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kissed him back, pouring all the pent-up tension and frustration into the kiss. His grip tightened, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck as the other pressed firmly against the small of your back, holding you close.

It was everything you’d been waiting for—hot, hungry, and utterly overwhelming. And you could tell from the way he kissed you back that he’d been holding onto this for just as long as you had.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, mirroring your own, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged pull of your breathing.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” you whispered, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “For so long.”

Hotch exhaled softly, his grip on you tightening as his forehead rested against yours. “You have no idea.”

The heat between you still simmered, but there was something different now—something that went beyond the tension you’d been dancing around for months. Your breath was still coming fast as you looked up at him, and you could see the cracks in his carefully constructed walls. He was so close to giving in completely, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

You could’ve let the moment stay soft, but that wasn’t your style—not with Hotch. Instead, you leaned in, your voice low but teasing as you whispered, “You know, I’m not leaving this apartment until we’re both too exhausted to think straight.”

That did it. You saw the restraint in his expression finally snap, his eyes darkening as he pulled you closer, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left no room for doubt. Any hesitation he’d been holding onto disappeared, replaced by the heat that had been building between you for so long.

The second Hotch’s lips were on yours again, everything else vanished. The tension that had built between you over the months poured into the kiss, hot and demanding. His hand slid up your back, pulling you against him with a new intensity, as though the last of his resolve had shattered the moment you’d challenged him.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him even closer as you deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire into it. Hotch responded in kind, his grip tightening on you as he backed you up against the wall, the weight of him pressing into you, his body speaking everything his words couldn’t.

There was no hesitation now—no careful restraint. It was pure, overwhelming need.

Hotch’s hand found the edge of your shirt, slipping beneath it, his touch hot against your skin, sending shivers through your body. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ve been driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You grinned, breathless, the heat between you only intensifying. “Good.”

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming over your body with a kind of urgency that made your pulse race. It was like he’d been holding back for so long, and now that he’d let go, there was no stopping it.

You responded eagerly, matching his intensity, the fire between you igniting into something uncontrollable. Everything around you faded away as the two of you gave in completely, the months of tension and desire finally breaking free.

Time seemed to blur as you moved together, your bodies pressed tightly against each other, every touch sending sparks through you. It was raw, overwhelming, and exactly what you both had been craving for so long.

And as the night went on, one thing became clear: this wasn’t just about the tension. This was about the two of you, and the connection that had been there from the start—only now, you weren’t holding back.

Hotch's lips traveled down your neck, sending a shiver through you as his hand roamed over your skin, every touch deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of you. Your heart raced, matching the pace of your breaths, and you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips between kisses.

There was something freeing about the way he touched you now—like the walls he’d kept up for so long had finally come down. His usual restraint was gone, replaced by an intensity that left you breathless.

You pulled him closer, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you whispered against his ear, “Took you long enough.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound low and rough, his breath hot against your skin. “I wanted to be sure,” he murmured, his hands tightening around you. “But now… I’m not holding back.”

And he didn’t.

The night unfolded in waves of heat and tenderness, a dance between urgency and softness, passion and understanding. It was more than just the release of tension—it was about trust, about letting go of the control that both of you had clung to for so long. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a promise—a silent agreement that whatever this was between you, it was real.

Tangled limbs and breathless whispers made their way to your bedroom. The floor blanketed with pieces of your clothes as you continued what you had started in your bed. 

All of the same feelings of need and want that led to the first time the two of you had sex in his office days ago were still there, but there was less of a hurried, rush behind every movement. 

A natural give and take occurred between the two of you. No semblance of control. No holding back. This was exactly how you always wanted to see Hotch--selfishly, you wished it could always be this way. 

Days could have passed as the hours blended together so seamlessly. You both were in pure ecstasy, pushing a different set of limits. You weren’t sure if you had ever felt this way with anyone before. Maybe it was from the pure buildup of it all--or maybe it was just the chemistry the two of you had. Now, here together like this? It was natural for this sort of reaction. 

By the time you both finally collapsed together, tangled in each other’s arms, the room felt like it had been filled with a different kind of energy—one that was calmer now, but no less powerful. The silence between you was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words.

Hotch’s fingers traced slow circles along your back, his breath steady as he rested his forehead against yours. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” he whispered, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.

You smiled, your fingers gently brushing his cheek. “We both did.”

And in that moment, as you lay there together, the tension that had defined your relationship for months melted away, replaced by something deeper, something that neither of you had to put into words.

Because you both knew.

you couldn’t help but laugh softly. Hotch raised an eyebrow, glancing over at you with curiosity. “What’s so funny?”

You shrugged, still grinning as you traced a finger lazily across his chest. “Just thinking about how you were so serious earlier—trying to convince yourself this wasn’t a good idea. Look at us now.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle, his hand resting over yours. “Well, you’re very persuasive.”

You tilted your head with a playful smirk. “Persuasive, huh? I don’t think I had to try that hard.”

Hotch sighed, a mock-serious expression on his face. “Okay, maybe you didn’t. But I like to think I still have some control left.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing him further. “Oh? Is that what you call it?”

Hotch shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know, you don’t make it easy to keep things professional.”

You grinned wider, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “I wasn’t really trying to.”

Hotch chuckled softly, his fingers lazily tracing circles along your arm. “No, you definitely weren’t. It’s a wonder I held out as long as I did.”

You leaned up on one elbow, giving him a mischievous smile. “I thought you had all the self-control in the world, Hotchner. I must be good if I can break through that.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Or maybe I just knew what I was getting into with you,” he teased, his tone dry but warm. “You do have a habit of pushing buttons.”

You laughed, lightly running your fingers down his chest. “Well, you like having your buttons pushed. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

His lips twitched, and he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall admitting that.”

You smirked, leaning closer until your face was just inches from his. “You don’t have to. I can tell.”

Hotch let out a soft sigh, his hand sliding up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a slow, lingering kiss. When you finally pulled away, his voice dropped to a whisper, “You’re going to be the end of me.”

You grinned, your eyes twinkling. “In the best way possible, I hope.”

Hotch shook his head, his smile widening. “There’s no doubt about that.”

You woke to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, the weight of Hotch’s arm draped across your waist. His breathing was slow and steady, his chest rising and falling against your back. 

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to just be in this quiet space, feeling the warmth of his body and the comfort of being tangled up with him. It was peaceful, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel the usual rush of the world waiting outside.

But, of course, you couldn’t resist breaking the silence.

“Morning, sunshine,” you whispered, your voice still groggy but laced with playful mischief. “How does it feel waking up next to someone who pushes all your buttons?”

Hotch stirred behind you, letting out a low hum as he tightened his grip on your waist. “I’ll let you know when I’m awake enough to think about it,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

You grinned, shifting slightly to turn and face him, your hand lightly brushing his arm. “Take your time, big guy. I’m just happy to know I’ve still got that effect on you.”

He opened one eye, giving you a look that was both amused and a little exasperated. “You never stop, do you?”

You shrugged, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm, nope. It’s kind of my thing. Keeps you on your toes.”

Hotch let out a soft chuckle, brushing a stray hair from your face. “I’ve noticed.”

For a moment, the teasing dropped away as your eyes met his, and you felt that flutter in your chest again—the one that came every time you were around him lately. You opened your mouth to say something, but then, just as quickly, you swallowed it down. 

The truth was, the more time you spent with Hotch, the harder it was to ignore the feelings you were starting to develop. But being vulnerable wasn’t your style. Not yet.

So, instead, you leaned in closer, your voice dropping into that familiar flirty tone. “You know, if I’d known I’d be getting this kind of wake-up call, I would’ve gotten you into my bed a lot sooner.”

Hotch smirked, shaking his head slightly. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shot him a wink, masking the sudden swell of emotions that bubbled up behind your teasing words. “I mean, someone’s gotta keep things interesting. Can’t have you getting bored of me already.”

He stared at you for a second longer than necessary, like he wanted to say something more, but instead, he glanced at the clock on your nightstand. His expression softened, and you could see that familiar shift back into the responsible, collected Hotch you knew so well. “I should get going,” he said quietly. “I have to pick up Jack before work.”

You nodded, trying to keep your tone light. “Yeah, don’t want to keep the little guy waiting.”

Hotch leaned over, and before you had time to react, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was brief, but something about it felt more intimate, more gentle than anything that had happened the night before. Your heart skipped a beat, and you stared at the ceiling, trying to process the sudden flood of emotions. Out of everything—the heat, the tension, the urgency of the night—a forehead kiss shouldn’t have meant anything. And yet, it felt like it did.

You were used to the fire, the teasing, the way you could push his buttons and get a rise out of him. But this? This simple, soft gesture had you mentally freaking out in a way you hadn’t expected. It was more personal than you could have imagined, and you could feel butterflies rising in your stomach, confusing you in a way nothing else had.

Why was this—this forehead kiss—so much more than the rest?

You wanted to brush it off, to tell yourself it was nothing, but the flutter in your chest wouldn’t go away. It felt like Hotch was letting you into a part of himself he kept hidden, the part that was vulnerable and capable of gentleness in ways you hadn’t seen before. And that, more than anything, was what made you nervous. It was too real.

As he sat up, his movements deliberate and unhurried, you couldn’t help but stare at him, a mixture of confusion and excitement stirring inside you. The walls you had so carefully built—ones that allowed you to keep things light, flirty, without getting too deep—felt like they were crumbling. And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

As he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his clothes, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of awkwardness settle between you. Last night had felt so natural, but now that the morning had come, reality seemed to seep back in, and neither of you was quite sure what came next.

You watched him silently for a moment, then finally broke the tension with a smile. “So, does this mean I’m getting special treatment at work now? You know, perks of sleeping with the boss and all that.”

Hotch paused, his back still to you, and you could see the slight shake of his head before he turned around, his lips curving into a small smile. “That’s not how it works.”

You grinned, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders as you teased, “Damn, and here I thought I’d hit the jackpot.”

He finished buttoning his shirt and turned back to you, his expression softening. “We’ll talk later?”

You nodded, trying to mask the flutter of nerves. “Yeah. Later.”

Hotch lingered for just a moment longer before heading out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and that unmistakable feeling that something between you had shifted. The playful remarks you’d thrown his way couldn’t quite cover up what you were starting to feel.

And as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but wonder where this would all lead, especially now that you had to face him at work with everything hanging in the air between you.

After dropping Jack off at school, Hotch drove in silence, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. The morning had been routine—making breakfast, helping Jack with his backpack, and walking him to the door—but his mind kept drifting back to you. The night before, the way you had effortlessly broken down his defenses, and the gentle but undeniable connection he felt with you... It all left him feeling more rattled than he cared to admit.

He prided himself on control, on being able to compartmentalize everything in his life—the job, Jack, the team—but you had a way of getting under his skin, making him feel like he couldn’t keep those walls up. It wasn’t just the physical attraction, though that had been there from the start. It was something deeper, something that terrified him. He’d spent so long trying to protect himself, to protect Jack, from losing someone else. He couldn’t afford to risk it—not again.

And yet, he couldn’t seem to pull away from you. He felt drawn to you in a way that went beyond just the banter, beyond the tension that had built between you for months. It was like you could see right through him, past the stoic exterior he put up at work. That’s what scared him the most. You knew how to poke at him, to tease, but beneath it all, you made him feel alive again. You made him feel things he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.

But there were consequences. He was your boss. He couldn’t afford to lose his focus, to let his feelings for you interfere with the work they did. And the team—he couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would affect the dynamic if things went too far. Then there was Jack. The thought of introducing someone into his life, only to risk losing them, felt too close to the heartbreak he’d already endured. He couldn’t let Jack get attached to someone only to watch them walk away.

As he pulled into the parking lot of the BAU, Hotch let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation settling over him. He wanted to keep you at arm’s length, to maintain that professional boundary he had always enforced. But every time he saw you, every time you smiled at him with that knowing look, he felt that pull. He was losing his ability to resist you, and that terrified him. Because he knew—if he crossed that line with you, there would be no going back.

Hotch stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath as he approached the BAU entrance. His mind was still whirling with everything that had happened the night before, but he forced himself to push it aside. As soon as he walked through those doors, he needed to be the unit chief—nothing more, nothing less.

But it was impossible to forget the feel of your skin under his fingertips, the way you’d smiled at him when he finally let his guard down. He couldn’t shake the thought that maybe—just maybe—there was no going back to how things were. And that scared him more than anything.

As he entered the bullpen, the usual hum of morning activity greeted him. Agents were moving around, reviewing files, preparing for the day ahead. Hotch scanned the room, and his eyes instinctively sought you out. You were at your desk, leaning back in your chair, your head bent as you reviewed a case file, looking completely at ease. For a split second, he considered turning around and heading straight for his office, avoiding the inevitable tension that would come from seeing you up close.

But then you looked up, meeting his gaze from across the room. And just like that, the air between you shifted. Your lips curled into that familiar smirk, and Hotch’s chest tightened. He couldn’t help it—there was something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like you saw everything, the parts of him he tried to keep hidden.

You raised an eyebrow, offering a teasing nod as if to say, Well? What now?

He swallowed hard, his mind flashing back to this morning that had felt more intimate than any other moment between you. He wasn’t ready to talk about it—wasn’t ready to admit that it had meant something. But the way you smiled at him, so effortlessly playful, made it hard to ignore the connection that was slowly growing stronger.

As he approached your desk, the tension between you was palpable. You didn’t speak at first, just leaned back in your chair with that signature grin, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Morning,” he said, his voice calm but with a slight edge, trying to maintain his composure.

“Morning, boss,” you replied, your tone playful but with an undertone that hinted at everything left unsaid. “How’s Jack?”

“He’s good,” Hotch said, glancing briefly around to make sure no one was paying too much attention. “Dropped him off at school.”

You nodded, watching him closely. “Good to hear. Busy day ahead, huh?”

He could tell by the look in your eyes that you were testing him, pushing just a little to see how far he’d go in acknowledging what had happened between you. But this was work. He couldn’t afford to slip—not here. Not now.

“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Plenty to do. Let’s focus on the case.”

You gave a small, amused nod, clearly not missing the way he deflected. “Of course, Hotchner. You lead, I follow.”

It was a loaded statement, and he knew it. You were still teasing him, but the weight of the moment wasn’t lost on him. He was the leader, the one who was supposed to set the example, but you were making it harder by the minute.

As Hotch turned to walk away, you called out to him, just loud enough for only him to hear. “By the way... that kiss this morning? Still thinking about it.”

He froze for just a second, his back to you, before regaining his composure. He didn’t turn around, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

“Let’s keep this professional,” he said over his shoulder, his voice firm, but there was something softer beneath it—a warning or maybe a plea.

You just smiled, leaning back in your chair. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Hotch walked away, heading for his office, but the weight of your words lingered. He was caught in the pull of something he couldn’t quite escape, and no matter how much he told himself to stay in control, he knew this was far from over.

The team had been called in to assist with a case in upstate New York—three women abducted, all fitting a specific profile. As you sat around the briefing table, the tension was already palpable. The unsub had a type, and it was impossible to ignore the fact that the women all looked like you. You had noticed it the moment you saw the photos in the case file. And judging by the way the rest of the team kept glancing at you, they had noticed too.

“The victims were taken within a ten-mile radius,” JJ explained, pointing at the map. “All around the same age, same build. Hair, eyes, and height are the same. No connection between them, except for the way they look.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying not to let it show, but the unease settled deep in your gut. You were exactly what this unsub was looking for. And when Prentiss glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, the unspoken truth hung in the air.

“You know…” Morgan said, breaking the silence, “She fits the profile perfectly.” His eyes flicked to you, and the weight of his words hit you like a punch.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. You had seen dangerous situations before, but this felt different. This felt personal.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, keeping your tone as steady as possible, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

Morgan looked to Hotch, and that’s when you noticed it—his expression, usually so calm and controlled, was tight, his jaw clenched. He hadn’t said much during the briefing, but you could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves.

“What you’re suggesting--I don’t like it,” Hotch finally said, his voice low, his eyes darting between the photos and you. “It’s too risky.”

“It’s our best shot,” Rossi chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “We don’t have much time. If we’re going to catch this guy before he takes another woman, we need to move fast. And she’s our best option.”

Hotch didn’t respond right away. You could see the conflict in his eyes, and the way he was weighing the risks against the rewards. But there was something more—something that went beyond just being cautious. He was scared, and you could see it in the way he kept glancing at you.

He didn’t want this to be you.

“Look, we’ll be right there with her,” Morgan added, trying to ease the tension. “We’ll have eyes on her the whole time. The second this guy makes a move, we’ll take him down.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. You knew he didn’t like this plan, but it wasn’t just about the danger—it was about you. It was about the fact that you fit the profile too well, and he couldn’t shake the fear gnawing at him.

“I already know she looks like the victims,” Hotch said, his voice quieter now, but filled with an unmistakable edge. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, but the words hung heavy in the room.

The silence that followed was thick. You knew what was at stake, and so did the rest of the team. The tension between you and Hotch had always been there, but now it felt like the pressure was going to break.

Finally, you couldn’t take the silence any longer. The nerves were buzzing under your skin, and you had to say something—anything—to break the tension. 

So, before you could stop yourself, you looked at Hotch and said, “Well, if you’re that worried, maybe I should wear a sign that says ‘Don’t kidnap me, my boss will lose his mind.’”

It was a bold, almost reckless joke, but you were too anxious to care. You just needed to say something to lighten the mood in any way you could.

But Hotch’s reaction was immediate. You’re not even sure if the rest of the team had time to register what you had said. His head snapped toward you, his eyes dark and angry. 

“This isn’t a joke,” he snapped, his voice sharp and cold. “Do you even understand how dangerous this is?” 

“Hotch, I was just—” you started, but he didn’t let you finish.

“This is serious. If you can’t take this seriously, then you don’t belong in the field,” he barked, his voice harsh, more so than you’d ever heard.

The words cut through the room like a knife, and for a moment, you felt like all the air had been sucked out. You hadn’t expected him to react like this—not in front of everyone. His voice was harsher than you’d ever heard it, and you felt your heart drop.

“I know it’s dangerous,” you muttered, your face burning with embarrassment. But the look on his face—the way he was staring at you, like he was angrier than he had any right to be—made you want to get out of the room as fast as possible.

“You always have something to say,” he continued. His voice loud and laced with frustration. “I’ve let it slide more than I should because that’s who you are, and I get it. But now isn’t the time for your mouth. This is real. You could get killed.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you stood up abruptly, your heart racing. 

“I need some air,” you muttered before quickly walking out of the room. You couldn’t face him—not after that. Not with everyone staring at you like that.

The door shut behind you, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. You knew he was worried, but that didn’t make it any easier. You had tried to keep things light because you were terrified, and now it felt like everything was unraveling.

Back in the briefing room, the tension was thick. The rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable with what had just happened.

Morgan cleared his throat, glancing at Hotch. “Man, that was harsh. She was just trying to ease the tension.”

JJ nodded, her expression was soft but concerned. “She’s nervous too, Hotch. Shutting her down like that… it wasn’t fair.”

Hotch exhaled slowly, his jaw still tight. He knew they were right, but the fear gnawing at him had clouded his judgment. “I know,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “But she has to understand how serious this is.”

“She does,” Prentiss added, crossing her arms. “But she’s used to being able to crack a joke to break the tension, and we all know you let her get away with more than you would anyone else.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately, but the truth in Prentiss’s words hit him hard. He did let you get away with more—he’d always made allowances for your boldness, your quick mouth, because deep down, he liked it. He liked the fire in you, the way you challenged him. But this time, it was different. This time, the stakes were too high, and the thought of losing you terrified him more than he was willing to admit.

Rossi, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “Aaron, we all know this is dangerous, and we all know you don’t like this plan. But if you keep reacting like that, it’s going to affect the way she handles herself out there.”

Hotch sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He was usually the one keeping everyone grounded, but now it felt like his emotions were pulling him in all the wrong directions. He had let his fear control him, and it had come out in the worst possible way.

The locker room at the local PD was quiet, the tension thick as you stood in front of a small mirror, adjusting your clothes. You weren’t in tactical gear this time—your outfit was meant to help you blend in, to look like the unsub’s previous victims. A simple dress, subtle makeup—nothing to draw attention, except that you were meant to draw attention to him.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you straightened your clothes, rehearsing the steps you’d need to take in your mind. The plan was simple, but the risks were high. You were the bait. The team would be watching, but it was up to you to lure him out. It wasn’t the first time you’d gone undercover, but knowing this unsub had a type—and that you fit that type—made this feel more personal.

You tried to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the briefing room, to Hotch’s outburst. You’d known he was uneasy about this plan, but you hadn’t expected him to snap at you like that. His anger had felt sharp, more than just professional concern. It stung, and no matter how much you tried to shake it off, it lingered.

You took a deep breath, running your hands over the fabric of your dress. You knew Hotch’s outburst had more to do with his own emotions than anything you’d done. The tension between the two of you had been building for months, and now, with everything out in the open, it was all starting to spill over. But you couldn’t afford to let his feelings—or your own—cloud your judgment in the field. Not when the stakes were this high.

The door to the locker room opened, and Hotch stepped inside, his expression tense but less severe than it had been earlier. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice much gentler than it had been before. “I wanted to talk before you head out.”

You didn’t turn around right away, taking a moment to compose yourself. “I’m almost ready,” you said, trying to keep your voice neutral as you continued to adjust your appearance.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier,” he said after a pause, his voice low and filled with regret. “I let my emotions get the better of me.”

You turned to face him, folding your arms across your chest. “I get it. But you can’t snap at me like that, especially when we’re about to go into something this dangerous.”

Hotch sighed, stepping closer. His eyes softened as they met yours, and for a moment, the weight of what was between you both settled into the room. “I know. I was out of line,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I’m not used to being this… thrown off.”

You could feel the tension easing, but the uncertainty was still there, swirling between the two of you. You needed to clear the air before going out into the field. “Hotch, I’m confused about what’s going on with us,” you said, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions. “I can’t be out there with this hanging over my head. It’s messing with me.”

Hotch’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. “I know,” he said softly. “And I don’t want that to affect the way you’re feeling going out there.” He paused, his gaze locking with yours. “But you need to know that I’ve always got your back. No matter what.”

You nodded, but the confusion in your chest remained. “I need to know where we stand, though,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Because this... whatever this is between us... it’s making everything more complicated.”

Hotch hesitated, the conflict in his eyes clear. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “We’re in a complicated situation,” he admitted. “But I care about you. That’s why I’m worried. And I need to make sure you’re safe out there.”

Your heart swelled at his words, but the reality of what was about to happen was still looming over you. “I can handle the fieldwork,” you said, more to reassure yourself than him. “But I can’t have you snapping at me when I’m just trying to keep it together.”

Hotch gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression softening. “I won’t. I promise.” He stepped even closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush your arm. “I just... I don’t want to lose you. And that scares the hell out of me.”

The honesty in his voice made your chest tighten, and for a brief moment, the tension between you shifted into something warmer, something unspoken but deeply felt.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “We’ll figure this out,” you said quietly. “But for now, I need to focus. I need you to focus.”

Hotch nodded, his hand falling away from your arm. “Agreed.”

He took a step back, giving you the space to finish getting ready. You watched as he turned to leave the locker room, a weight lifting off your shoulders—but only slightly. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. But at least for now, you knew where you stood.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you turned back to the mirror, adjusting your appearance one last time. You could do this. You had to.

The sun dipped low as you walked through the park, blending seamlessly into the quiet evening scene. Every step felt heavy, your mind replaying Hotch’s outburst from earlier. You’d never seen him snap like that, not at you. And now, standing as bait for the unsub, you couldn’t shake the weight of it. His fear wasn’t just about the case—it was about you.

Hotch’s voice crackled in your earpiece. “You’re doing fine. Stay sharp.”

You nodded, scanning your surroundings. “Any sign of him?”

Garcia’s voice chimed in. “Closing in on your position. Be ready.”

You kept walking, sensing eyes on you, your pulse quickening. The unsub had a type, and you knew you fit the profile. That fact weighed heavily on you, knowing it made the case more dangerous—but also knowing Hotch had fought against this plan. He didn’t want to lose you.

“There he is,” you whispered, catching a glimpse of movement in the trees.

“Wait for him to make a move,” Hotch’s voice came again, steady and calm, though you knew him well enough to hear the tension beneath it.

The unsub approached, his steps measured. You could feel your heart pound as he closed in, but you held your position, trying to maintain your calm.

“He’s on me,” you said softly.

“Hold steady,” Hotch replied, his voice firm.

When the unsub finally lunged, everything happened in a blur. Morgan and Prentiss rushed in, taking him down before he could get close. You stumbled back, catching your breath as they cuffed him, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

As the unsub was hauled away, you glanced over at Hotch. He stood off to the side, watching you carefully, his expression unreadable. But you knew. You could see it in the tight set of his jaw, in the way he kept his gaze on you for a beat longer than necessary.

Later, back at the mobile unit, you were packing up your gear when Hotch appeared at the door. He stepped inside, his eyes finding yours immediately.

“You did good,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual. “But… that was close.”

“Yeah,” you replied, still catching your breath. “It was.”

A long silence stretched between you, and finally, Hotch spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. “Aaron, I can handle myself.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze lingering on you. “But this… this felt different.”

You stared at him, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you. There was more than just concern in his voice. And for the first time, you both acknowledged it without saying a word.

The air was thick as the team regrouped after the latest brush with danger. The tension in the atmosphere wasn’t just from the case—it was coming from Hotch, standing a few feet away, his body coiled like a spring. His face was unreadable, but you knew him well enough by now to sense the turmoil beneath his calm exterior.

After the debrief, you found him alone, standing near the corner of the room, his jaw clenched tight. You approached quietly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but in typical fashion, you couldn’t resist poking at him, trying to ease the tension.

This wasn’t new—Hotch had always been guarded—but this time, it felt different. More charged. More personal.

With a teasing smile, you leaned in close and dropped your voice just low enough that only he could hear. “You know, it’s kind of hot when you get all grumpy and bothered. Really does it for me.”

Hotch’s head snapped toward you, his eyes narrowing. For a second, you thought he might brush it off like he usually did, but this time was different. The intensity in his gaze had you holding your breath.

Before you could react, you pushed just a little further, unable to help yourself. “Maybe I should be voluntarily thrown in the field to get this side of you more often, huh?”

That did it. The dam broke.

“Do you think this is some kind of joke?” His voice cut through the air like a knife, louder than you’d ever heard it. His usual controlled tone was gone, replaced by something raw and angry. “You could’ve been killed today, and all you can do is flirt? This isn’t a game!”

You stopped in your tracks, surprised by the heat in his words. But you weren’t about to back down.

“God, Aaron,” You huffed, “You need to take a chill pill! Why do you always have to act like this is all on me?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You don’t get to be mad just because you care more than you want to admit.”

Something flickered in his eyes—something raw and dangerous. His jaw tightened, and suddenly, the carefully constructed walls he’d kept up for months began to crumble.

“Care more than I want to admit?” His voice dropped, but it was filled with an intensity that shook you. “You think I don’t feel it? Every time you’re out there, risking your life, do you think I don’t know how close I am to losing you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sheer emotion behind his words stopped you cold.

Hotch stepped closer, his voice lower but no less powerful. 

“I’ve lost people before, and I can’t—” He stopped himself, his breath coming harder as if the words were too heavy to say out loud. “I can’t lose you. Not like that.”

The truth hit you like a tidal wave. You’d known there was something between you, but hearing him admit it—that his fear went beyond professional concern—left you breathless. You took a step closer, your heart racing.

“Then why didn’t you say something? Why keep shutting me out like this?” Your voice was softer now, but the frustration was still there. “You don’t have to act like you’re the only one feeling this.” You paused but felt the need to continue, “Half of the time I act like this--I say these stupid things because I’m starting to feel too much, too.” 

His eyes locked on yours, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. “Once I let these walls down, I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to balance this with everything else.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I’m your boss. And if something happens, it’s not just me—I can’t risk losing you, having Jack lose someone else. This team? It’s not that simple.”

The weight of his words hung between you, the gravity of it all sinking in. He wasn’t just scared of getting hurt—he was terrified of what it meant for the people he loved. For the people who depended on him. For the people, he couldn’t bear to lose.

You took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “Maybe we figure it out as we go. One step at a time. You don’t have to do this alone.”

For a moment, Hotch didn’t say anything. His eyes searched yours, the tension between you crackling in the air. You could see the internal struggle written across his face, but then something shifted. He let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.

The tension between you was palpable, and Hotch’s admission hung in the air like a weight neither of you could ignore. His vulnerability, his uncertainty—it was all laid bare now. And you knew you couldn’t dance around it anymore.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, his voice quieter, the vulnerability in his tone unlike anything you’d ever heard from him before. “But I want to.”

You took a slow breath, searching his eyes, knowing that whatever this was, it had already moved past the point of no return. The line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

“What do you want from this, Aaron?” you asked gently, your voice steady as you reached out and rested your hand on his arm. “Because whatever it is… I’ll be it. If you want a girlfriend, I’ll be your girlfriend. If you just want a fuck buddy, I’ll be the best one you could ask for.” You gave him a small, wry smile, but the emotion behind your words was unmistakable. “If you want a friend, I’ll tone it down—but I’m too far in to go back to being just that.”

Hotch blinked, processing the weight of your words, the conflict in his gaze clear as he battled his emotions. The silence between you was charged, but you didn’t break eye contact, giving him the space to let his guard down fully.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, almost as if he were afraid to say it out loud. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You stepped a little closer, your voice softer now, but still steady. “You won’t lose me,” you said, pausing briefly to let the reassurance settle. “But you’ve got to tell me what you want. I need to know, Aaron. I need to know what this is.”

There was a long moment where neither of you spoke. Hotch’s gaze never wavered from yours, and you could see the internal struggle in his eyes. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached up, his hand brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that made your heart ache.

“I want this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the certainty was there. “I want you.”

His admission made your chest tighten, not in fear, but in something far deeper—something that had been building between you for so long. You exhaled softly, letting the truth of his words sink in, knowing that this was real, that whatever happened next, you’d figure it out. Together.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

[officialdaydreamer00]

Flowers of a summer day

in which your significant other finally agreed to go outside with you for an impromptu picnic.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: short oneshot, this is just angst with a happy ending tbh, idia might be ooc pls don't shoot me (^-^; ), reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours, reader has powers to manipulate plants (mainly flowers) to a certain extent

★ the daydreamer speaks — my entry for @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! this is literally an excuse to stimulate the brainworms hehe. also i was braiding my hair and my brain went "gasp. idea!! :D" and there you have it ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @ferris-the-wheel @xen-blank @twistwonderlanddevotee @loser-jpg @lemonchuu

remember to reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Is all of this really necessary?"

A chuckle.

"Well, yes, it is."

Summer was just around the corner.

The sun was shining brightly, accompanied by clouds bracketed to the clear blue sky. Flowers glimmered, blooming under the sunlight like jewels. The summer's breezes picked up their faint yet comforting scents, carrying them to distant lands. It was hot out in the flower field, indeed, but the forest surrounding it and a pond nearby helped cooled the air down. Birds took places hidden in the trees, singing a special harmony only they could do, tying every pieces of details together for a lovely summer day.

... It was also how Idia found himself sitting under a tree looking towards his beloved's flower field, having his hair braided and played with.

"You're killing me with the sun, Yuu-shi..."

You only chuckled at his incessant mutterings under his breath as your hands skilfully wove through his fiery long hair, braiding in flowers you grew with love and magic every now and then as you saw fit.

"But how can I refuse Ortho when he personally asked for my help?"

"That's—... Fair enough..."

He grew quiet as you continued on with your little mission.

If it was several years ago, someone told him that he'd have someone who loved and cared for him for his entirety, he'd malfunction and dismiss it as a cruel joke one would say to him. Until you came into his life, what with the ruckus in the opening ceremony.

He still didn't exactly get why you chose him. Him, of all people.

Every time he looked at you, you always shined, as bright as the sun, and as serene as the moon. Even in the drkest times, after every trouble you faced during your time on campus, you would still shined, as if nothing could diminish the light of your aura.

And he envied you for that.

Compared to you, he was no one special, a strange individual even, and not in a good way. Seven, he would agree if you outright said that to his face. He hope you didn't think of him so low like that, however, since it's not like you befriended him if you thought so, right?

... Right?

Oh, who was he kidding? Would you still be with him if you saw how weird he actually was? Would you get tired of him? Would you leave him one day? He would understand if you do leave him behind one day, but by Seven, would it hurt so much and he would never leave his room again if you—

—The sound of you humming tore through his suffocating thoughts, saving him from sinking even deeper down that rabbit hole.

'Right... No point in dweling into that anymore...' He thought, focusing on the soft hands threading through his hair.

You chose him. You stayed by his side, willingly. And even after everything he did, you forgave him. And you loved him for who he was.

"And... Done! There we go."

He looked so different in the mirror that you carried along, with his fiery hair cascading down his back, and the peonies and violets woven in the intricate braids. A lovely product of your creative mind.

Perhaps going outside once in a while wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

He felt himself smiling, his hair glowing a soft pink shade. It was a comforting thought, knowing he could live with moments like this. For eternity, if you would agree.

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 31

Eminem x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : Dinner with Reader's Dad ends up being a nightmare.

Tags : Angst - Comfort

MARSHALL’S POV 

Y/N was pacing the room and her nerves were starting to rub off on him. Out of all the people he had ever met, she was the one whose stress was most communicative. With the energy she was giving, she could probably stress out the toughest, best-trained army negotiators. When she had told him that her father wanted to meet him, Marshall hadn’t freaked out. Being a Dad to someone his girlfriend’s age, he understood the idea of parents wanting to meet their children’s significant others. Sure, he hadn’t met a girlfriend’s family in a while, but he wasn’t too scared. The perspective of Y/N’s father being about his age made things less impressive. The way he saw it, it would just be a casual dinner and, worst comes to worst, he would have to state his intentions towards the man’s daughter : make her happy and support her. Not to toot his own horn, but he could think of worse boyfriends than him for anyone’s daughter. After all, he wasn’t a deadbeat, he had a job, money and he loved Y/N unconditionally. So he wasn’t too stressed out. At least, at the beginning. Because as they got closer to the fateful dinner, Y/N was starting to lose her grip. 

Stop stressing out, babe, he chuckled. It’s going to be fine. Plus, I know how to make a good impression. 

Sorry, she groaned. It’s just… You meeting my Dad, you know ? I can think of a thousand things that could go wrong. 

It’ll be fine, he said softly. Plus, he knows what to expect, right ? The fact that you told him you’re dating me and that he is willing to meet me has to be a good sign. 

Oh, he has no idea who you are, she said. 

Is that a family thing ? He chuckled. Like a collective decision not to know too much about me before meeting me ? 

No, I mean… I don’t know if he knows who Eminem is, actually, she said. He hates rap and hip-hop anyway. But as far as he knows, your name is Marshall and you’re american and… that’s about it. 

He opened his eyes wide. He wasn’t expecting that. Not that he was counting on his fame to woo Y/N’s dad, but he thought that the man having an idea of who he was meeting would play in his favor. At least, there wouldn’t be an element of surprise. Better yet, he could have been surprised in a good way, upon discovering that his daughter was not dating an asshole, as it was a common misconception about him. 

So he doesn’t know anything about my job, my age… ? Marshall asked. 

Hum… No, she said sheepishly. I wasn’t too sure how to break it to him on the phone… 

Ok, he sighed. I mean, it can still go well. Is there anything I should know about him ? Other than the fact he might despise what I do for a living ? 

You could still word it differently ? She suggested. And say that you’re an entrepreneur in the music industry ? I mean, you own a studio… 

Sure, he nervously chuckled. What else ? How do I make a good impression ? 

Well he’s already pissed off that he has to come to us for dinner, she pointed out. So we might want to have wine ready. 

It’s for his own good, he said. If we’re followed by the press, I’m not sure he would enjoy having paparazzi waiting outside of his place... 

I know, she said. But I think we might want to make it up to him with food and wine. And other than that… Hum… Don’t be too American, I guess ? 

What the fuck does that mean ? He asked. 

Look, my dad can be a bit of a snob, sometimes. Judgy, too… He thinks all American people are over the top and flashy. So maybe no chains or massive jewelry and something with a button wouldn’t hurt, I guess. 

Babe, oddly enough, I didn’t bring a shirt or a suit on tour with me, he pointed out with a smile. The best I can do is a sweater. 

Sweater it is, then, she said. And you should wear a belt. Like, properly. No ass on display. 

Alright, he chuckled. Though you usually like my ass on display… 

And no jokes, too, she said sternly. 

I’m not stupid, Y/N, he said. I’m not going to joke about our sex life in front of your father. 

No, I mean… He doesn’t really do jokes. At all. 

Now, he was definitely more stressed out and already bored. He already expected the culture shock, knowing that Europeans are a bit different from Americans on a few aspects. Thankfully, Y/N’s dad spoke English so that was one less thing to worry about. But regardless, it was shaping out to be incredibly boring. As far as he knew, her Dad was an accountant whose hobbies were literature and opera. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but he couldn’t really relate to him. 

The plan was to have dinner delivered in their penthouse suite, since going to her dad’s place or the restaurant would be too complicated. The dining room area was welcoming and, apparently, formal enough. Too much for his own liking, but apparently, the man enjoyed things with structure. Her father was about to arrive when Y/N was getting ready. She was dressed in a little navy dress that looked quite conservative. She was pretty, as usual, but he was used to her sporting a more casual look. Not to mention that she spent most of the time in his clothes anyway. 

I’m sorry, you didn’t mention that your Dad was a priest, he giggled. Why the fuck are you dressed like you’re going to church ? 

He’s a little formal, she said in an annoyed tone. 

He’s your father, he said. Why would he care what you wear to dinner ? It’s just us in the suite, you could be wearing PJs… 

I told you, Marsh, he’s a little strict, she shrugged. You know, I only started dressing casually when I came to America. Before that, I would never be caught dead wearing leggings and a hoodie.

Fine, he chuckled. Are we ready now ? 

I guess, she groaned. I just want to get it over with. 

He pulled her in for a kiss. He wanted to get over it too, and focus on the bigger picture : in two days, he would fly back to Detroit while she packed her things before joining him and,

after that, the fun would begin. He would actually have her by his side and get to experience life with the woman he loved. The idea was making his heart swell with joy, as well as the fact that his daughters were really happy for them. When he asked for their blessings, a couple of nights ago, they were nothing but supportive. He didn’t even need to plead his case : they could see what a breath of fresh air Y/N was for him. He had never thought about bringing a woman into his family, but he was so happy he had found her. Now that they were going to live together, he wanted nothing more than to give her the life she deserved and provide her with the safe space she needed. He knew the past few months had been trying for her, and he would be there for her as she let her mind and body recover. Caring for her had become second nature to him anyway, ever since they had met. 

Y/N received a call from reception, indicating that her father was here. He could see her anxiety levels rise once again, as he tried to give her a reassuring smile. He kissed her forehead before she went downstairs to meet her Dad, before bringing him into the room. While she was gone, he inspected himself in the mirror. He was dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater. He had even trimmed his beard for the occasion. He looked rather random. That was the kind of look he usually donned for appointments like PTA or meetings, where he needed to be taken seriously and look like an adult, instead of the man-child he definitely was, dressed in jeans and hoodies, or tee-shirts with rap album covers on them. A couple of minutes later, his girlfriend came back to the room with a man that looked nothing like her. He assumed she took after her mother, because he couldn’t have guessed she was related to this man. He was rather tall and carried himself like a military man, with a stiff posture. He looked rather serious. No, gloomy was a more appropriate word. He wasn’t really one to judge solely on vibe, but he immediately felt ill at ease. One look at the man and he could tell the father was nothing like Y/N. In spite of her usual shyness, she exuded warmth and softness. A far cry from her dad, who seemed cold and distant. As soon as they got through the door, he went to them and shook his hand. 

Papa, this is Marshall, my boyfriend, Y/N said. Marsh, this is Jean, my father. 

Bonjour, Marshall said as they shook hands and made eye contact, deciding to try one of the three words of french his girl had taught him. 

Bonsoir, the man replied in a corrective tone. 

Marshall looked at Y/N, a bit lost. 

It means “good evening”, she explained. Bonjour is for the day. 

Oh, right, he said. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, sir. 

Likewise, the man said in an emotionless voice. 

They went to sit in the living room area where Y/N had prepared a glass of wine for her father and soda for the both of them. 

I got your favorite wine, she said with a shy smile. 

Are the two of you not drinking with me ? He asked. 

I don’t drink, Marshall simply said. 

I don’t feel like drinking, Y/N said softly. 

He could tell she was uncomfortable, and he distinctly remembered her telling him that her father knew nothing about her addiction, recovery, nor her sobriety. She had always been a bit shy, but seeing how uncomfortable she was in the presence of the man who had raised her gave him red flags. Something felt off. Or at least, as a father, he would hate for his girls to be this tense around him. But then again, he understood that not everyone’s relationship with their parents was fun. 

Americans usually fail to enjoy wine properly, Jean pointed out. 

We actually have decent wine, you know ? Marshall said with a smile. 

Only because they come from french vines, the man replied. Are you sure you don’t want to try this, Marshall ? 

I’m good, he said. I don’t drink, for health reasons. 

He wasn’t ashamed of being sober. Usually, it was quite the contrary : he was proud of his journey and he had come far. But when meeting your girlfriend’s dad, saying you’re recovering from addiction makes you seem like a raging drug-addict and alcoholic, which isn’t exactly the best look. Jean nodded and understanding and they sipped on their beverages as they made small talk. 

So… Y/N told me downstairs that you are an entrepreneur ? The father asked, giving him his time to shine. 

I am, Marshall nodded. In the music industry, actually. 

I don’t know if she told you, but I am a big fan of music myself, Jean continued. What kind of business do you do ? 

Well I own a recording studio and a label, Marshall explained. There are a couple of other things, but I am mainly into recording, producing and songwriting. 

Have you been doing it for a long time ? 

About twenty-five years. 

He could see Jean’s stare intensify. 

How old are you exactly, Marshall ? He asked in an inquisitive tone. 

Fifty-two, Marshall replied as calmly as he could. 

He knew he looked a few years younger - thanks to genetics, healthy eating, exercising as well as a good skincare regimen prescribed by his daughters - but surely, his age couldn’t be such a surprise, right ? Or at least, that’s what he thought when he saw his girlfriend’s father’s face decompose. Jean glared at his daughter who immediately looked down. 

So, you’re into opera, right ? Marshall asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Indeed, Jean said. What kind of music do you produce ? 

Mostly hip-hop, Marshall said. Though I’ve worked with artists of various horizons. 

Anything I might have heard ? 

Well, you might have heard some Eminem stuff, he said with a soft smile. 

Y/N threw him a panicked glance. The man in front of him might hate hip-hop but he still had to be honest. Hiding from his father-in-law that he was a big recording artist was probably not the best way to go and get his approval. Life had taught him that honesty was, by far, the best way to go. 

I have heard of him, Jean simply said. I cannot say I care for this type of music. 

I get it, that’s not for everyone, Marshall said with a shrug. 

It is that I don’t think it qualifies as proper music, the man continued. Does it even pay the rent ? 

Marshall tried his best not to roll his eyes. He had heard countless times that hip-hop is not actual music and he was sick of people failing to understand the artistry behind it. However, now was not the time to argue. The question about paying the rent was also incredibly stupid, in his opinion. The man was sitting in the penthouse suite of one of the most expensive hotels in Paris. Of course, it paid the rent. He didn’t want to be an asshole who flaunted his wealth, but the judgy look on the other man’s face was almost prompting him to list his assets. 

Well, it certainly bought the house, Marshall said with a forced smile. 

Alright. What brings you to Europe ? Jean asked. Business ? 

Yeah, Marshall said. I just finished the second part of my tour, actually. 

Your tour ? You are an artist too ? 

Dad, Y/N interjected. What Marshall means to say is that… He’s Eminem. 

Marshall smiled. At least that was clearer now. It was the first time he had ever had to disclose who he was in such a way. Jean turned to his daughter with a confused expression and said something in french. Y/N’s eyebrows were furrowed as she replied something, visibly uncomfortable. It was incredibly frustrating for him not to understand a word of what they were saying. From what he gathered, it wasn’t a very pleasant exchange. 

We should order our food, Y/N said after a while. 

Her expression was one of confusion and sadness. She seemed visibly hurt by something her father had said. He hated seeing her this way, but he also didn’t want to interfere. They ordered food from the room service and kept on making awkward small talk. As the meal arrived, they settled in the dining room. 

Forgive me for being so blunt, but I am rather disappointed, Jean said. 

What disappoints you ? Marshall asked. 

When I agreed to let Y/N study in America, I did not expect for her to end like this, he explained matter-of-factly. No one wants their daughter unemployed and making poor life decisions. 

He saw Y/N duck her head down. The remark was not aimed at him, at least not directly, but it stung. It was no wonder why she didn’t mention her father too often : from the looks of it, he was an ass. 

Ever since her mother’s death, I have raised her on my own and tried to instill good values in her. I certainly did not expect her to repay me by failing miserably to start a career and deciding to be some sort of potiche for a rapper. 

A what ? Marshall asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Potiche, Y/N repeated with a sad look on her face. It means “vase”. It refers to, hum… a woman who is basically a trophy wife. 

Marshall’s eyes darkened. He wasn’t necessarily expecting the man’s blessing - not that he cared too much, Y/N was an adult - but having a man his age insult his own daughter was wrong on so many levels. He tried really hard not to spit in the man’s face but it was getting harder by the minute. If he hadn’t gone to anger management classes and therapy, he probably would have thrown him out already. 

I mean, she just became a doctor, Marshall said tentatively. You must be kind of proud. 

The degree doesn’t mean much if she doesn’t find a job, Jean pointed out sternly. I guess she’s just too lazy. 

Not to contradict you, but I’ve actually seen her work on her dissertation, he said. Your daughter is really impressive. I think she deserves credit for her work. 

It’s not too hard when everything’s been handed to you, the father pointed out. Do you have children, Marshall ? 

I have, Marshall replied. Three girls, actually. They’re 31, 28 and 21. 

So I guess you understand the disappointment I’m facing, then. No one wishes for their daughter to fail her professional life and be in a relationship with someone who could be their father.

Y/N was staring at her plate, visibly on the verge of tears. He grabbed her hand under the table and interlaced their fingers. He stared at Jean, who had a cold expression on his face. Not approving of their relationship was one thing, but what kind of father could belittle his child in such a way ? 

Look, Marshall said, I understand where you’re coming from. If one of my daughters told me they were in a relationship with someone my age, I wouldn’t be too happy. In fact, I’d probably want to punch the man in the face. But I want you to know that I have good intentions when it comes to Y/N. I love her, I care about her and I want to make her happy. 

And, for my career, I’m going to send out applications as soon as I move in with Marshall, Y/N said. We have it figured out. 

You are not moving in with him, Jean said. 

Both him and Y/N turned their heads and stared at Jean. The way he said it sounded final. As if he were talking to a little girl. However, she was a grown woman, an adult and she didn’t need to ask for permission. In fact, the whole meeting was more of a courtesy rather than an actual obligation. Marshall would gladly remind him, but it was not his place and he knew it. His girlfriend said something to her father, in french. Her tone was soft, at first, as it was most of the time when she talked to people, but as the conversation kept on going, it got more animated. Jean was talking loudly and he could see his girl having trouble being assertive. However, she said something that prompted her father to slap her, before screaming something. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Marshall got up and threw his fist in the other man’s face. It was bad enough that he was making Y/N feel bad, but he would not get away with hitting her. 

YOU PIECE OF SHIT ! Marshall screamed as he grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to get up and shoved him against the nearest wall. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TOUCH HER! 

The man was taller than him but he was in such a fit of rage that, unless his opponent was Mike Tyson, he could probably take out anyone. He kept on screaming, out of his mind, as the other man yelled as well, trying to get out of his hold. Lucky for him, Jean wasn’t much of a fighter. He was firmly holding him by the collar, slapping him just like he had slapped Y/N. He kept on screaming and slapping, telling him what a piece of shit he was, and how undeserving of being a father he was. 

You’re fucking lucky your daughter’s in the room, Marshall finally spat. I wouldn’t beat up someone in front of their child, but I swear to God, if I see your motherfucking face one more time, I will fuck you up ! 

When he finally let go of Jean, the man addressed his daughter, who was still sitting at the table, in a state of shock. He yelled something in French and was about to approach her when Marshall intervened between the two of them. The man yelled something he couldn’t quite understand, still in French, before storming out of the room. Marshall closed his eyes for a second, to regain some composure. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had not been in a state of rage in a long time and the sensations felt foreign. He could feel his cheeks burning. He took a few deep breaths to try and soothe himself. If he didn’t, he might as well chase him down the corridor and strangle him. Seeing him slap Y/N had brought back memories of being abused as a child. His mother had never hit him too much, but the same couldn’t be said of some of her boyfriends. He had always sworn that if he witnessed it, he would intervene and make sure the person regretted their action. Didn’t matter who or when. 

When he opened his eyes, they landed on Y/N, who was silently sobbing, face in her hands. For a quick second, he had almost forgotten about her. He immediately went to her, to make sure she was alright. He kneeled by her side and tried to grab her hands, so that he could examine her face. As he tried to touch her, she jerked and looked at him with terror on her face. Suddenly, it hit him : he was the one that scared her. The realization was enough to make his heart sink, as he took a step back. 

Please don’t touch me, she whispered. Please. 

Ok, he said softly as he held his hands up. I won’t touch you. I just need to make sure you’re alright, baby. 

Tears were still streaming down her face and her chest was heaving. He had to fight against his own urges to touch her, wipe her tears and take her in his arms. He was about two feet away from her but it felt too big a distance. He looked at her cheek : the slap hadn’t left a mark. Evidently, it hadn’t been too violent. On a physical aspect, at least. He knew full well the psychological effects of such a gesture. 

I didn’t mean to scare you, baby. I’m so sorry, he said softly. 

Who are you ?! She blurted out. Wh-What… What did you do ?! 

He sighed and looked at her face. It was crumbling, filled with doubt and uncertainty. She had never looked at him like this before. Sure, their first argument was one to remember, and she had certainly looked at him with hatred and disgust, but this look was different. It was a look of fear. 

He hit you, Y/N, he said. 

You hit him ! You hit my father ! 

Yes I did, he replied sternly. No father, hell, no parent should ever raise a hand on their child. 

It’s… my fault, she said. I said something he didn’t like. I-I shouldn’t have, really. This one is on me. 

So what ? He asked. I’m sorry but that doesn’t justify shit, Y/N. I’ve raised three kids, four if you count Nate. Do you know how many times they’ve been insufferable and thrown shit in my face ? A lot. But I can tell you I have never, ever lifted a finger on them. That shit is not ok. 

She looked down and buried her face in her hands once again. He wasn’t sure if he should approach her or not. She seemed so distressed, he decided against it, although it broke his heart. After a minute or so, she got up and made her way to the bedroom. He followed her, making sure not to be too close. 

Baby, talk to me, he said softly. 

Please, no, she said. I need… I need a minute. 

He nodded and she went to the bathroom. He heard the lock click. He sighed and sat on the bed. He absolutely did not regret his actions. For all he cared, Jean could sue him, he didn’t give a shit about it. What worried him was what Y/N would think of him. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as someone violent by the person he loved the most. He heard the water running and figured she would take some time. He went back to the living room area and grabbed a can of coke. God knew he needed a sugary drink. The wine bottle was still on the table, half full, as well as the plates of their meal. To be fair, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He sat on the couch and let his head fall back against the headrest as he tried to think of how he would possibly navigate the situation with Y/N. About forty-five minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, wearing her PJs. 

Good night, she called from the bedroom. 

We should talk, first, he said before joining her. 

She seemed a little less distraught, though she still had a frown on her face. She was getting under the cover when he sat on the edge of the bed. 

How are you feeling, babe ? He asked carefully. 

I don’t know, she said. I’m not even sure how I am supposed to feel. 

Did he hurt you ? How is your cheek ? 

I-It’s fine, she said. I’m just… I don’t even know how to say it. But you… You were… Terrifying. 

I am so sorry, my love, he said. I didn’t mean to scare you. But I saw him hit you, and I lost it. 

It wasn’t you, she said. It was someone who looks like you, but it’s not you, Marshall. I’ve never seen you like this. You’re not this angry, scary person. 

Well it was me, he sighed. I hate that you had to see me like this. I hate that side of me. I used to be this very angry person but I worked on it. It takes a lot for me to get angry like this, you know ? 

You were so intimidating, she said. Suddenly, you were yelling, a-and you were slapping my dad… And I couldn’t help but think “that’s not him, that’s not my boyfriend, that’s not the man I am moving in with”... 

He sighed and took his head in his hands. He said nothing for a couple of seconds before looking at her. 

I am so sorry, Y/N. I keep on saying that, but it’s true. I need you to know that I would never do that shit to you, he said. I know it must have been very scary for you, especially because you have never seen me like this before, but I want you to know that I would never, ever scream at you like this, let alone lay a finger on you. 

I know, she whispered. But… He is my father. And you hit him. 

He is your father, he replied. And he hit you. And I am not ok with that. I am not ok with anyone hitting their child, ever. I am not ok with him hitting you, and especially not in front of me. I… Fuck. Has he always been violent like this ? Was he abusive to you ? 

No, she said. He is not like that. I mean, yes he is, but he usually isn’t that bad. 

Meaning ? 

He has always been really tough on me, she said. Really strict. But he never really hit me. Maybe once, when I was a teenager. But it’s never been a habit, you know ? But it’s my fault, I swear. 

How is that your fault ? He asked. How is your father hitting you, your fault ? 

Because I stood up to him, she said sheepishly. And I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t respectful and I shouldn’t have. 

What did you say ? 

I said… I said that I wasn’t asking for his opinion and that I was old enough to do whatever I wanted, she explained. And then, he said that I was his biggest disappointment and I should be thankful for everything he did for me. And when I said I didn’t care he… he slapped me. So you see, it’s my fault. 

He shook his head and sighed. Her thinking it was her fault was wrong on so many levels. At least, he was relieved to know that he hadn’t been violent to her when she was growing up. Everyone was not that lucky. However, the fact that a fifty-something man was not able to handle the fact that his grown-ass daughter was making her own choices and slapped her when she stood up for herself was frankly appalling. So was the fact that Y/N didn’t seem to realize that. 

Arguing with your parents, it happens, he said. Even if you had been super disrespectful, which I don’t think you were, him laying a finger on you would not be ok, babe. And I’m not even going to get started on the fact that he’s been belittling you all evening. 

He was always like this, you know ? She explained. I was never good enough. But I suppose it was his way of striving for excellence. He wanted the best for me. We don’t come from money, you know. When he was growing up, he was dirt-poor. We don’t have much, we’re typical middle-class, but he worked hard for everything and he was able to give me a good chance in life. And he single-handedly raised me. I owe him everything. He is my father. He is literally my only family. 

It’s kind of his job, though, he said. As a parent, that’s literally what he is supposed to do. And I’m sorry but the fact that he comes from poverty doesn’t justify shit. I come from a poor, dysfunctional family too, I should know. I’m a father, I understand the wish for your kids to do good, but that will never be an excuse to behave the way he behaved. 

She ducked her head down. He knew his words weren’t exactly what she wanted to hear, but he’d rather tell her the truth. 

I can’t move back, she whispered. 

What ?! He asked. Of course you can. And you should. 

Marshall, no, she said. Before he left he literally told me that if I moved to Detroit, I would have to forget him and his support. 

His support ?! Oh yeah, clearly he’s the most supportive person ever, Marshall said sarcastically. Before you went back to France, we knew each other for a whole year. Shall I remind you of all the times he came to visit you ? Of all the times he was here for you, during your recovery or after you were assaulted ? Oh wait, that’s right : NONE. Literally zero. That man has no idea what you’ve been through and he doesn’t see all that you’ve accomplished. You don’t get to call yourself “Dad” just because you helped make a baby. It takes more than that. So why the hell should you care about his so-called support ?! 

Because I don’t have a family ! She cried. Marshall, you are the love of my life and I would follow you anywhere. And I told you I don’t care about marriage and children if I get to be with you and I meant it, but I can’t do it if it means that I am losing the only family that I have, the most important person in my life. 

What kind of father would do that to his daughter ?! Do you even realize how wrong that is, Y/N ? He asked as he was starting to get worked up. 

I want to be with you, Marshall. I do. But… 

No « but », he said firmly. That’s bullshit and you know it. If anything, that’s one more reason why you should move. Are you seriously going to live with him after that ?! 

I can’t lose my only family, she cried. You’re a family man. You understand, right ? 

What I understood long ago is that you get to choose your family and who is part of it, he said. Talia and Jamal are your family. And I can be your family too. But even if that weren’t the case… would you really be willing to turn down opportunities to be happy and live your life just to please your father ? 

After all, that’s all it came down to : her independence and her happiness. If she told him she’d be happier in Paris, he wouldn’t mind. It would hurt him, crush him, of course, but he would understand. But judging by what he saw tonight, her sudden reluctance had nothing to do with happiness and everything to do with her fear of disappointing her Dad. She was sobbing uncontrollably and it broke his heart. All he wanted was to make her sadness go away. If he had the choice, he’d rather take her pain so that she could be free of it. 

All I’m saying is… don’t make a decision tonight, alright ? He said softly. Just like you needed to think before accepting to move back, you need to think about it. And you need to put yourself first. Not me, not your Dad, not anyone else. You. 

I don’t know, she whispered in a croaky voice.  

Come here, he said as he gestured for her to come in his arms. 

She looked at him and had a second of hesitation, but she got out of the covers and nestled against him. He engulfed her in his embrace. He could feel her tears on his neck. They stayed like this for a while, not talking, not moving either. 

I love you, he whispered in her ear. I’m so sorry you didn’t get the evening you deserved. 

I love you too, she said quietly. Thank you for tonight. You really tried to make a good impression on my Dad. 

Didn’t work but… Yeah, he shrugged. I tried. 

I’m sorry he didn’t like you, she added. I wish he would have given you a chance. I tried telling him that you make me really happy, you know ? 

I know, babe, he said softly. I don’t need his approval or any blessing from him, though. It would have been nice if we had gotten along, for sure, but as long as I have you, I don’t care. I’m good. Yours is the only approval I need. 

I would be crushed if your family hated me, she pointed out. I don’t know how you do it. 

Mostly, it comes down to being an ass and not giving a fuck what people think, he chuckled. You, on the other hand, care too much for your own good. But it’s ok because my family likes you. Let’s look at it this way : it’s 50% of our families that approve of us, that’s not bad, right ? Plus, if you consider the number of family members… Odds are in our favor, you know ? There’s only one of him and a lot of people in my family. And I know you like good statistics. 

She chuckled for the first time all night. Her soft laugh was music to his ears. Even though her face was puffy from crying, she looked quite adorable and he could not refrain from kissing her temple. He stared into her big doe eyes and smiled at her. 

Let’s try and save our evening, ok ? He offered. We could order some dessert and watch the Office. 

I’m not really hungry, she said. And you hate the Office. 

Hate is a strong word.

You said you hate Michael and he makes you cringe, she pointed out. 

He does, but I know that Jim and Pam make your heart melt, that Jim’s pranks make you laugh your ass off and that you have a soft spot for Dwight, he said with a smile. So we can watch it. I know it’s one of your comfort shows. 

You remember ? She asked surprised. 

I do, he said. Six months was not enough to forget about you. Six lifetimes wouldn’t even do it. You’re still all over the house, you know ? I still have your movies in my Netflix account, bottles of that non-alcoholic wine you love in the pantry and your perfume may or may not be in my bathroom. 

Really ? She asked with an emotional smile. 

Really, he said. You’ll be right at home. I promise. 

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. He had to convince her to fly back to Detroit with him. For her sake, as well as his. They cuddled in bed, watching the stupid TV show. He could tell she was bothered and her mind was wandering, but at least she smiled at the lame jokes. Most of his attention was on her, as well as trying to find ways to get her to make the right choice. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast. 

[plutoccult]

ALWAYS THE ARTIST, NEVER THE MUSE

pairing: eren yeager x gender neutral reader

description: you know you shouldn’t have let yourself fall for eren, but you did anyway, and it only left you with nothing but hurt when you knew his heart belonged to another. after months of torture, you finally have the strength to let go, granting you the happiness you so desperately needed back in your life.

word count: 1.7k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: happy december? no, angsty december. this particular one shot is a little personal for me because it’s based off a final conversation i had with someone who i essentially let have hold of my heart for far too long and finally had the strength to let go of them a few months ago. he’s like jake gyllenhaal minus the age gap. i say this because he gave me the ability to relate to the moment i knew aka not being there for my 21st birthday! insane! i did however make it less personal by giving it some how i met your mother vibes, but there’s still inklings of my personal life in it. writing helps me heal and express my feelings in a way that i’m comfortable with, so i feel good writing this as part of my healing journey? corny to use fanfiction for healing, but to each their own. sorry if this is too angsty, but imagine how my life has been LMAO. anyway, big shoutout to my friend @toorubobatea for beta reading this. i really wanted her to read it before i posted it, so thank you queen!! and now i hope you guys can enjoy it just like she did! mwah! and i’m tagging @jeanboyjean since she so kindly asked me to <3

you knew that the day you met eren yeager, your life would never be the same, but my god, did it your life turn upside down. pulled in so many different directions you couldn’t tell what was left or right anymore. you felt like you were losing yourself in the process, but you wanted more of him like you wanted to breathe air.

it was always a mistake. one beautiful, soul-crushing mistake. he’d lead you on with mixed signals and uncertainty, but you lived for the thrill because it was the only interesting thing going on in your life. it’s “for the plot”, as you’d always say. even if your friends told you a million times he was bad news and you would only get hurt in the end, you didn’t care.

he was just your friend, that’s what you two always claimed; just friends, but you always sensed a hint of a lie in those words. you couldn’t be just friends. not when he remembered everything you said down to what you had for lunch last week or that time your mother fainted as she watched you get stitches for the first time as a kid. not when he spoke to you everyday like clockwork, a routine that seemed to come easy. how could you ever be just friends? how could it not be more?

you were inevitably in love with eren yeager, and it crushed you when you realized he never once had those feelings for you. not only that, but he was in love with someone else; mikasa ackerman, his best friend since childhood. it all made perfect sense, and you wished you never met him in the first place. but even then, you couldn’t keep yourself away from him. as long as he didn’t know of your feelings, everything would be fine, right? oh, how you were so, so wrong.

you tortured yourself every time you spoke to him. you listened to him as he pined for mikasa, too scared to admit his feelings to her. of course you knew what it was like to be in that position, the one you wanted was sitting right in front of you and he didn’t seem to have a clue. it frustrated you so much, but even so, you’d rather have something instead of nothing with him. such a sad way to feel, such a sad way to live when you think about it now. always the artist, never the muse. constantly crafting for others, nothing ever created just for you.

you’d push those feelings deep down into the darkest pit of your heart, but no matter how hard you tried, it would all come back every time you saw his face or even thought of him. those thoughts of maybe if you were prettier, funnier, and just overall better plagued your mind, but you had to shake them away. one day, you knew, you’d ultimately become fed up and blow up about it. it was the only way you knew how, the only way you could be free.

so now here you were, sitting at your usual booth in your favorite bar—assuming it may no longer be yours after tonight—waiting for eren to arrive so you could talk. you assumed he could sense your seriousness and urgency when you texted him, but you figured so be it. one way or another, you’d do this.

he arrived like you expected. you refused to let him make you second guess yourself, so you kept your cool and acted as normal before you dropped the bomb on him. besides, the shot you took before he showed up was quite the help, plus the drink you swirled around in its glass now.

eren walked over to the bar to grab a drink before heading over to the booth, expecting you to stand up and greet him with a hug like always, but you remained in your seat, clutching your drink in your hands.

“hey, i got your text.” he said as he sat down across from you.

“i see that.” you reply. he noticed you were acting different, not like the y/n he knew. it was obvious you had something on your mind, and since he knew you so well, eren could sense you were going to spill your guts about something.

“what’s up? is something wrong?” eren asked. this was it.

“i just.” you pause. oh god, you were really doing this. “i just wanted to say that i’m done with whatever this is.”

he’s silent, he doesn’t know what to say. you feel like the words are all coming out like vomit. you almost wish you were spewing real vomit right now, but you weren’t quite drunk enough for that. you had to get through this hellish conversation first, at least.

“i’m done. i’m not going to make a fool out of myself anymore. i’m done trying. i’m giving up.” you say, tears threatening to stream down your face, but you fight them away. “i’m done exhausting myself of trying to be something i’ll never be because deep down i know i’ll never be yours.”

eren should’ve seen this coming. all those times you fell silent when he ranted to you about his love problems. you always wanted to scream in his face about how the one person in this world that actually wanted him was always right there, that it was you. even so, he could never give you what you wanted, and he felt like the worst person in the world because of it.

you wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t say anything. if this was going to be your final conversation, he might as well say something. “well, speak now or forever hold your peace because i’m clearly not holding mine.”

“i mean, it’s just not what i was expecting to hear.” eren finally spoke. “i’m just shocked.”

“trust me, i never expected to say it either, but if i’ve learned anything, it’s that i care too much.” you tearfully admit. “too much about you when i know where your heart belongs and it’s not with me.”

“i’m sorry, y/n. i never meant for things to get like this.” he said with sincerity, although you wondered if it was all a lie. “and you must know that there was never any hostile intentions behind any of my actions.”

“that’s funny. it always seemed like there was.” you looked down at your drink, quickly moving your gaze back to him as he spoke once more.

“no, you…” eren paused, trying to put the words together in the best way he could. even if he didn’t seem like it, he did care someway, somehow. “you’ve been there for me when i needed someone most and i’m really, really grateful for that, but i can’t give you what you want, and i’ve been unfair to you as a result. i’m sorry.”

huh. this really wasn’t what you were expecting. where’s the insults? where’s the twisting of your words? why is he actually being apologetic and taking accountability? you wanted to say this was crazy, but this is eren you’re talking about. you always knew he was too good. too good to ever be yours, even.

“you know, this is usually the part where you flip out and make it all my fault instead by calling me delusional and crazy.” you force a laugh. might as well laugh through the pain, right?

“i’m not gonna flip out.” eren said.

“why?” you question him.

“because i know i’ve done wrong by you.” he replied.

“well, that’s a shock.” you take a sip of your drink, tempted to chug it, but eren’s words shocked you into stopping the liquid from going past your lips.

“it shouldn’t have to be, y/n.” he frowned. “you deserve someone who won’t weigh you down. you deserve to move on, even if it’s not flattering for me.”

you set down your drink as you let out a sigh and briefly cover your face, rubbing your eyes before showing yourself once more. “i hate that you’re being so nice about this. i was expecting to yell at you or something.”

“do you want to?” eren asked you.

as much as past you would have loved to, you didn’t have the energy to be bitter anymore. “no… i’m okay. this is better.”

“you sure?”

“yeah, positive.” you say, followed by silence. there wasn’t much for you to say anymore, and you couldn’t beat on this dead horse any longer. it was time to finally say goodbye, no matter how much it pained you to do so. “um, i guess we should just end this here, huh?”

“yeah, guess so.” he looked away. this hurt eren too, but you both knew this was for the best. you’ll be thankful later down the road.

“would it be totally wrong to sneak in a taylor swift quote right now?” you ask, almost immediately regretting the question.

“no, go for it.”

“eh, maybe not. too corny.” you thought it would be best to keep those words to yourself. besides, it was too hard to pin it down to just one thing. he was worth a hundred songs, ones you may never listen to the same way, but that’s okay.

“she’s a wise, wise woman, you know.” eren said, a grin slowly creeping up on his face, despite the circumstances.

“yeah, she is.” you softly smile. at least you could end this on a little good note.

“goodbye, y/n. i wish you the best in everything.”

“goodbye, eren. i really hope you get her someday.”

and with that, you placed a twenty dollar bill on the table and left the bar, no longer claiming it as your favorite and leaving it to eren, along with your favorite place to sit. like with everything else in life, nothing lasts forever, nothing stays the same, and that’s okay. you knew that now.

it was such a strange feeling, having this weight lifted off your shoulders. you had been burdened with this boulder for so long you forgot what it felt like to be weightless. you were finally clean of eren yeager, light as a feather, but most importantly, happy, and freeing yourself of such delusions was the greatest gift you could ever receive.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[braidlottie]

and i used to believe, no one could love you like i do.

pairing: lottie matthews x gn!reader

summary: having dinner with your estranged mother and girlfriend beside you already sounded like a bad idea to begin with. but like always, your mother still managed to reel you in.

word count: 1.4K

tags: h/c (hurt/comfort), reader has mommy issues, soft!lottie!!!!’!! :((( like very soft and gentle :(, crying, arguing, somewhat happy ending, reader likes spongebob?! possibly self indulgent but everyone can enjoy 🩷

title inspired by voyager by boygenius

also, happy halloween!! 🎃

“you ready, honey?” your girlfriend’s voice bringing you out of your thoughts, her hand ready to ring the doorbell.

“uhh, yeah. i’m just a little nervous.” you wiped the sweat off the back of your neck. you couldn’t figure out why you were sweating in such snowy new york weather. you despised how anxious your mother made you, your heart about to jump out your chest at the sound of her name.

when your mother had called you out of the blue and asked you to have dinner, you were hesitant at first, thinking about the fight that the two of you had last easter that had your family talking for months. but lottie, being the angel she is, came along with you because she knew you needed the support. this isn’t lottie’s first time meeting the woman either. you introduced them to each other a couple months ago when the two of you first got together. your mother thought she was nice, but, she thinks she’s “way too old” for you.

“i got you, baby. i’ll be next to you this whole time, okay?”

*****

“what’s that?”

“um- a cake. i made it for you.” you smiled nervously at your mother, trying to hand it to her. “well, don’t just stand there, put it on the table. dinner’s ready, anyways.”

lottie watched the awkward and somewhat harsh interaction, a smile playing on her lips when she stuck her hand out to your mother.

“lottie, right?” it was your turn to watch this unpleasant exchange between the most important women in your life. “charlotte, actually.” lottie corrected, pursing her lips. it was silent for a while, just the sound of silverware clanging together while you were setting the table.

“hasn’t been giving you any trouble lately, i hope?” you saw your mother look back at you in the corner of your eye and lottie smiled back, trying to keep the mood light. “no, we’re just fine, thank you.”

“mom, i thought dinner was ready-”

“yeah. it is. i was just waiting for you to set the damn table.” she laughed to herself walking into the kitchen for the dish. you sat down with a huff, staring at the painting on the wall across from you. you just wanted it to be over. lottie sat in the chair next to you, taking your hand in hers and kissing it softly.

“okay, let’s eat.”

*****

“the food was fabulous.” lottie finally broke the silence. she wiped her mouth with her napkin, folding it up nicely next to her plate. “did you enjoy it, honey?” lottie put a loving hand on your shoulder. she knew you didn’t. it was spaghetti. you HATED spaghetti. ever since you were a little kid, you always shook your head at it.

you took the last sip of your beer and shrugged. “yeah, it was pretty good.” you spoke in a monotone voice, twirling your fork around in the half eaten noodles. you forced yourself to eat some, not wanting to start another unwanted fight with your mother.

“well, it looks like it wasn’t. you barely ate any of it.” she sipped her wine, shooting you a look. “yeah, because i don’t like spaghetti, mom.”

“what the hell? you loved spaghetti. it was your favorite.”

“no, i only ate it so you wouldn’t say i’m ungrateful, like you always do.”

“yeah! because you are.” your mother dropped her fork in anger, you felt the same when the unexpected sound made lottie jump.

“oh jesus christ-”

“i gave you a roof over your head, food, clothes on your back and shoes on your feet, and you act like this. so yes, that is why i say you’re ungrateful.” the women counted examples on her hand.

“that’s basic things a mother is supposed to do for their child, mom! i just wanted you to-”you clenched your jaw, trying not to let your emotions get the best of you.

“i just wanted you to reason with me. i just want to have a regular relationship with you, but you make it so difficult.”

“you’re the one making it difficult, y/n! you’re dating someone half your age, and no offense to you lottie, but y/n does not need to be in a relationship with you-”

“you can talk about me all you want, but leave my girlfriend out of it. i’m an adult, mom. okay? this is MY relationship, i don’t need any fucking body telling me that it’s wrong! because it’s not! we love each other, and you’re just upset that i’m happy.” you shot up out of your seat. lottie had never seen you so angry, she could’ve swore she saw steam coming out of your ears.

“get the hell out of my house.” your mother stood up now. “NOW. and don’t even think about coming back here without an apology.”

“not this time. i’m so sick of forgiving you and forgiving you and you end up doing the same thing i forgave you for each time.” you walked to the front door, grabbing your coat and beanie. “hope you like the cake.” you slammed the door with all your might, knocking a frame off the wall in the process and hearing it shatter from inside the house. lottie watched you walk back to her car in the blistering cold through the window, not sharing a word with your mother. she just grabbed her belongings and gave her one last look of disapproval. this time, the door was shut with a creek.

*****

lottie turned the heat on full blast, warming up the freezing car at a red light. she knew you were freezing, so was she. “you wanna go get something, sweetheart? a hot chocolate, maybe?” you shook your head and leaned closer to the window, resting your forehead on it. lottie was trying her best to cheer you up, but you just wanted to get home already so you could spend the rest of your night sulking in bed. the older woman sighed and pressed the gas, the green light glowing into the dark car. the snow had started back up, but it was light, making it okay for lottie to drive in.

the silence in the car was so loud, the two of you reliving the moments with your mother, but also trying to forget it at the same time. lottie had finally turned down her street, passing all the cars covered from roof to tire in snow. the car hummed gently as lottie parked it, chiming because she was too close to the curb.

the keys jingled in her hand when she turned off the ignition. “give me a hug, baby.” her voice scratchy, unbuckled your seatbelt, allowing you to crawl over the gear stick and into her lap. she slipped your beanie off, feeling your cold nose on her neck and how you trembled in her touch.

she kissed your temple, all that she was doing made the dam finally break behind your eyes. lottie watched you take a deep inhale, your face crumpling up and a sob fall from your mouth. “oh, my angel…” she trailed, just letting you cry it out.

lottie never wanted to say it in front of you, but she hated your mother. she hated the way she treated you. she didn’t even think you were her child because of how kind and caring you were. the two of you were the exact opposite. snow covered the windshield, your sobs muffled in lottie’s coat. you took your head out for some air, turning away from lottie. you looked into the gray night sky, resting your throbbing head on lottie’s shoulder. “i’m sorry.” you sniffled.

“don’t you dare ever apologize for something like that, you hear me? look at me,” she held you up by your arms, looking straight into your sad little eyes. “none of that was your fault, honey.” lottie wiped your cheeks, almost wanting to cry as well. you mirrored her nodded and she pulled you in for another hug. “let’s get inside and warm up, and i’ll put on a movie, okay? what do you wanna watch, darling?” the two of you got out of the car, your wet cheeks already freezing from the cold. “..spongebob.” mist came from your mouth, and did the same to lottie, when she chuckled lovingly at your answer.

“spongebob it is. let’s go sweetheart.” she held your hand, walking up the front yard to the door, kissing you reassuringly before you went in.

[frickingnerd]

“because i will protect you”

pairing: shinjiro aragaki x gn!reader

summary: shinjiro notices you come home from school with a black eye and wants to find out who hurt you!

tags: protective!shinjiro, hurt/comfort, injured/abused!reader, shinji attending school to protect reader from bullies, happy end

a/n: “because i will protect you” has to be one of my favorite persona 3 songs, so i had to name this oneshot after it!

“who did this to you?”

shinjiro sat next to you on the couch in the lounge, an ice pack gently pressed against your face, trying to cool down that black eye of yours. he knew that this wasn't there when you left the dorms this morning, so clearly this happened sometime during or after school.

“you don't know them…”

despite of how close shinjiro sat to you, you glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. you were embarrassed about the whole situation. as if being picked on at school by some upperclassmen wasn't enough, now shinjiro knew about it too. and knowing shinjiro, he wouldn't drop the topic until he was convinced you were safe again.

“oh, i'd love to get to know them! why don't you tell me their names?”

you could hear that shinjiro was being sarcastic. of course, he wasn't interested in getting to know your bullies. the only thing he'd introduce them to would be his fists. but violence wouldn't fix your problems. if anything, violence would only lead to more violence.

“can't you just pretend you never saw anything…?” you pleaded quietly, eyes still glued to the wall, instead of shinjiro. “i– i don't want things to get worse…”

shinjiro sighed quietly, pulling away the ice pack and resting his arms on his knees, as he leaned forward. for a moment, he quietly starred forward, seemingly thinking about how to solve your problems, if you didn't want any help. but eventually, he sat up again and took your hand, making you look at him for the first time since the two of you sat down here.

“what if i attended school again? when i'm around you, nobody will dare to lay a hand on you again!”

you could barely believe what you were hearing. shinjiro had stopped attending school a while ago. not even mitsuru or akihiko could get him back into gekkoukan, yet here he was, suggesting to return to school, if it meant keeping you safe.

“i–”

you wanted to reject his offer. you didn't want him to come back just for you. but then you thought about what this would mean for shinjiro. this was the first time he had suggested returning to school. even if it didn't feel right to use his kindness to get him back there, you knew this would be good for him. he could finish his education alongside his friends! and the longer you thought about it, it wouldn't be too bad if you had someone by your side who would look out for you.

“i-if you're truly sure that this is what you want to do…” you started, hesitantly. “then, would you come to school with me tomorrow?”

shinjiro looked a bit perplexed that you actually accepted his offer. you were so resistant, but now it seems you had changed your mind. perhaps you had finally realized that it would be good to have someone by your side, to look out for you!

with a smile, shinjiro nodded and gently squeezed your hand: “then it's settled!”

[rengokuology]

I just read the Lexi Howard fanfiction and your writing got me back into my euphoria phase and I absolutely adore Lexi Howard! Could you please do a Lexi Howard x fem reader where the reader is really hyperactive in the moment but someone tells her she is being annoying and getting on their last nerve, so she like goes quiet and is holding back tears and biting her nails like a nervous habit, but Lexi obviously notices so Lexi pulls her aside and comforts her?

HARSH WAVES TO CALM WATERS. . .

LEXI HOWARD x FEM! HYPERACTIVE! READER

WARNINGS, hurt to comfort fanfiction ( i love this type of fanfics— )

DEAR REQUESTER, hellooooo!! as someone who is kinda inexperienced with writing this type of fanfiction, if i did anything wrong or you didn’t like it, let me know so if you want to re-request and such but anyways, i hope you enjoy!!

today, for her, has been very shitty.

well, like everyday, the beginning was normal! she went to school with the help from maddy, then she met up with her friends and her girlfriend, then went to her next classes, etc, etc.

all of that was interrupted though when an insensitive asshole told her that she needed to shut up because everybody was getting tired and annoyed of her ranting.

so, now here she was, sitting at the lunch table with her friend group and staying silent, something that hasn’t been quite common but they didn’t notice.

she was biting her nails while thinking— no, not thinking, overthinking and glancing at her girlfriend and her friends talking.

‘are they annoyed with me? they do seem annoyed. or maybe it’s just school? it could be school or— or nate! or maybe. . . maybe it’s me.’

she kept trying to reassure herself in her mind and chasing her thoughts to stop but no matter what, those thoughts kept running and basically playing ‘tag, you’re it’ with her in her mind.

she chewed on her nails, looking down at the lunch table and started to breath more and more heavily, more faster. . .

eventually, her thoughts started to corrupt her whole entire body and her body started to feel shaky and rough yet so light and far out of reach while a churning, burning feeling of doubt started to arise in her stomach.

‘what. . . what about lexi? she doesn’t hate me, she isn’t my girlfriend for no reason!’

‘or is she faking? maybe she is faking and i’m just too oblivious?’

‘no, stop thinking that, lexi loves you, you love lexi and your both happy!’

‘but lexi has been spending a lot of time with fezco. . . did she fall out of love?’

‘or maybe she wasn’t in love? is it just a prank or something?’

‘did maddy bribe her to date me? or maybe cassie?’

‘no, they wouldn’t do that, lexi wouldn’t do that’

‘but people can fake being in love and shit so maybe. . .?’

‘no, that can’t be possible. i’m not oblivious.’

‘but it can.’

her breathing grew heavier and faster by the minute, her hand starting to shake a little as tears started to brim her eyes without knowing.

everything felt wrong, not right, she felt too light, like she was in the sky almost, floating but falling at the same time.

she kept biting at her nails, caring for people who saw but she couldn’t stop.

‘are people looking at me? oh god, they’re looking at me.’

‘no, no, they’re just looking at their friends!’

‘or is it me? they look like they hate me.’

she kept overthinking and overthinking, she couldn’t focus on only one person, one thing, and because of that, her nerves of anxiety were spiking and her hand shaking to the point where people can tell by just a glance.

she couldn’t stop, chasing her thoughts and begging them to end their madness but nothing happening.

it felt too wrong, too light, she needed to run. . .

“hey, are you ok?”

suddenly, (reader) was brought back to reality by her girlfriend, (reader) turning her head towards lexi.

“sorry, what did you say?” “i was asking if you were ok?”

lexi told her, a concerned look on her features as lexi had her attention directed onto (reader).

‘she’s lying, she doesn’t care. she’s acting.’

‘or maybe she does? maybe she does care?’

‘no, that can’t be it. . .’

(reader) quickly nodded, a reassuring and small smile gracing her lips as she stared back at lexi, still not knowing that tears were in her eyes.

“yep, i’m fine!”

she wasn’t fine.

and lexi knew she was lying, taking a quick glance at the girls bathroom door before turning her eyes back to (reader).

“you wanna go to the bathroom real quick?”

(reader) now leaned against the tiled wall, looking down at her hands and picking at her painted fingernails while avoiding lexi’s gaze and calming herself down slowly by being alone with her girlfriend.

"did something happen today or. . .? i just saw you weren't talking like usually do and you were shaking and everything, i just want to make sure your ok."

lexi told her, looking at her as she leaned on the tiled wall opposite of (reader) and waiting to listen to her.

"i'm fine. . ."

(reader) claimed, glancing up at her to see her expression to see lexi's face twisted with concern and want to help her girlfriend. however, her mind was running of thoughts and questions on whether or not she was acting about being concerned, trying to see if there was anything different.

"it's ok if you don't want to talk about it (reader), just know that i'm here for you, ok? i don't want you to suffer alone."

lexi told her girlfriend as (reader)'s eyes glanced back down at her chipped nails again, the nail polish on different sets of fingernails almost being off.

the two stayed in silence for a little before. . .

"do you hate me, lexi?"

(reader) suddenly asked, not wanting to look up and see her reaction, just in case if it was bad.

"no, i don't. . . why?"

"there was this guy in my class and he told me to shut up because my class was getting tired and annoyed of me and i, uh, i kinda started overthinking it. . ."

lexi sighed, still concerned for her girlfriend who was obviously going through a lot at that moment.

"can i hug you?"

(reader) nodded as lexi hugged them, the side of (reader)'s head laying on lexi's shoulder.

"i love you, ok? to the moon and back and nothing's going to change that. no matter what asshole says or what happens, i will always be here no matter what and i’ll always love you for who you are and what you do in life. . .”

lexi told her, pressing a kiss in her hair gently while holding her with her arms wrapped around (reader)‘s waist.

(reader) was smiling at her girlfriend’s words, just staying silent as she silently adored her girlfriend and how sweet she was. her overthinking thoughts died down as lexi comforted her. of course, they didn’t disappear but one thing (reader) knew is that when lexi talked and comforted her, they would go away for so many minutes and give her the calmness she loved and all she knew in those minutes. . .

is that her overthinking was like harsh waves and lexi would calm them.

AUTHORS NOTE, hello again requester!! if you didn’t like this or anything, please let me know so i can edit this post or do a new request but besides that, thank you so much for reading and requesting!! i hope you have a good day or night, goodbye!!

[rosemary-morgan]

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 3)

(Pictures found on pinterest/google. That one with Javier/John is mine. Collage made by me 🌺)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

The third chapter is online 🥰 thanks to all who read and like my story 🐝🌺 I hope you will enjoy the this chapter too!

@fangirl-ramblings @rose-of-black-blood @livingdeadgirly @coaxium-captain-rex @12timetraveler @butterballchannie @charlesjaviersimp @ashethesimp @planetahmane @snoowply @sylum @noodle-tm @karmashatty

If anyone of you want to be tagged to not miss the newest chapter, please let me know 🙏 If you want me to take you off the list, please tell me

👉Read part 1 / part 2 / part 4

Warning: Very emotional (I think), hurt and comfort

Summary: The wait seems to have no end for you and you are about to just give up. Why wait for a man who has probably finally finished with you? But this little spark of hope... Could you let go so easily? What helps you during this time is the reunion with John Marston, who has always been a good friend to you...

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 3)

"Good morning, miss."

"Good morning!"

The man behind the counter smiled sympathetically at you as he told you that still no letter had come for you. He was sorry to see your sad eyes.

"I'm sure it will come soon. Just be patient, miss."

With a gentle nod, you thanked the man and suppressed your tears. Two weeks had passed and there was no word from Javier. You had hoped so much that he would reach out for you. Your last meeting had gone well! So why hadn't you heard from him? Was he still angry with you? Were you that naive? It hurt terribly. You'd been waiting for Javier for so many years… Maybe it was time to just give up, forget about him. Obviously he didn't want to know about you anymore.

"Y/N?"

Hearing your name, you were surprisingly jolted out of your thoughts. You turn around, curious to know who it could be. And when you saw the young man in front of you, you could hardly believe your eyes.

"John?!"

"Oh, my… How are you?"

Neither John nor you hesitated. Instantly you fell into each other's arms and John hugged you tightly.

"John! What a joy to see you!"

It instantly gave you back so much joy and so much strength, that you were able to push back your disappointment in Javier. You had not expected John at all, and the joy was great! Very, very great! The last time you saw John was when you escaped together. After that, you lost sight of each other but you were so happy that he was alive and that he had made it. You slowly broke away from the embrace to look at him more closely.

"You look… different, John."

He looked like a hard-working farmer. He had let his beard grow a little, so the scars on his face were even more noticeable.

"You look different too…. ehm, good! You look good."

You had to laugh at his words. I guess he still had a hard time with compliments.

"Thank you, John! Where's Abigail? Jack?"

"Oh, um…"

John cleared his throat, looking down at the floor, because it didn't seem easy for him to talk about his family.

"She… she took Jack and left me, Y/N."

Frowning, you couldn't even realize what John had just said at first. But judging from his hurt look, it was just as he had said.

"Oh, John. I'm so sorry about that…"

"Yeah… Me too…"

More broken hearts…

The silence that fell between you didn't please John at all, so he tried to steer the topic in another direction.

"What brings you to Strawberry, Y/N?"

"I live here now. Not far from town!"

"Wow. It's beautiful up here. You picked a nice place to live."

"Yes. It's quiet and the people here are very friendly."

John smiled warmly at you and you returned his gesture because it was so good to see an old friend again. It helped you make your day a little better.

"And what about you John? I'm surprised to see you here!"

"I'm currently living on a farm near Little Creek River. That's where I work too."

It was nice to hear that he had found a job to live an honest life. He had also moved on, shedding his past. Not the memory, certainly. But the way of life.

"I'm very proud of you, John."

"Oh, thank you…"

It was unusual for the young man to hear such words, they came very rarely. But it only reminded him of how loving you always were to him and the other members. You were always good at building other people up, giving them courage and a good feeling.

"I… actually came here to receive some supplies. For the farm."

That's when John walked up to the counter, asking the postal worker for his goods.

"Can I give you a ride, Y/N? My wagon's outside."

"Sure. Why not. Thanks!"

John had some goods, which he stowed on his wagon with your help. During the trip at home, you couldn't get the fact that Abigail had left him out of your mind. But you also didn't want to pry and ask what exactly had happened. Nevertheless, you wanted to show him that you would always have an open ear for him because you knew all too well how painful a separation was. The way home was not long.

"Thank you, John."

"You're welcome."

You got down from the car and looked up at John. You had just met again, after all, and you didn't want to let him go just yet.

"John, why don't you come in for a cup of tea or coffee? How about it? I've got some pie there too!"

"Blueberry pie?"

You had to smile, because John seemed to remember that you had baked a lot and liked to bake for the gang.

"Yeah, that one."

John playfully screwed up his face like; damn it! That's the one I love so much!

"I really appreciate it, but I can't. My boss is waiting for his delivery. He's very impatient, you must know."

"Oh… okay…"

Of course you could understand that he was busy, but it was still a pity. You would have liked to have had more time with him. Maybe this was one of the few opportunities you would have to see each other. When John saw the look on your face, he took heart. His boss could wait a bit, he would think of an excuse.

"I…think I have time for a piece of pie. And coffee doesn't sound bad either."

Satisfied with his decision, you lead him to your home. It was a small, pretty cabin. You had put up lots of dried flowers. There were some in the tiny hallway, in the kitchen, and even in the bedroom. In your kitchen there was a big dining table. The living room and kitchen formed one room. There was even a fireplace in the living room to keep you well through the winters.

"Nice place you have here."

"Thank you. I feel very comfortable here too. Sit down John, won't take long."

"Thanks."

While you made the coffee and placed some of the cake on the plates, John looked around silently. Everything seemed to have its place.

"John, um…would you like to talk? About Abigail?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

You had brought him out of his thoughts, had barely caught what you had said.

"If you want to talk. About your current situation with Abigail."

But John just puffed, shaking his head.

"There's not much to say, Y/N. She took Jack and just left me. Just like that."

He was angry, you could tell.

"I'm… not a perfect man now, Y/N. But she always wanted the perfect guy. One who doesn't make mistakes. But that's not me. I try hard to live an honest life!"

"Oh, John… I know it hurts…"

You were a poor judge of the situation. Abigail must have had her reasons for leaving him, but what she had done it for, she couldn't say. With a sad expression on your face, you put your hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

There was only a soft sigh from John as he stared down at his hands.

"I haven't heard from them in almost a year…"

You listened to his words as you poured the freshly brewed coffee into the cups to bring to the table.

"I sent many letters, even went to see them once, but Abigail seemed to have finally finished with me."

"I… I don't know what to say, John."

Only that you were very sorry and had actually hoped that he and Abigail would become the family they deserved.

"Like I said," John said, glancing at you as you took a seat next to him. "There's not much to say."

♦♦♦♦

With a tender smile, you put your hand on his, squeezing it gently. You wished you could tell him that the pain would become more bearable with time. But you couldn't, because it would simply be a lie. The only thing you could do was tell him to look forward.

"You know John, they say what you love, let go. If it comes back to you, it stays with you. Forever."

But John could only chuckle at your words, yet he thought it was sweet of you to try to cheer him up.

"You're a good woman, Y/N. I hope Javier knows what he threw away back then."

When his name came up, you averted your eyes from John. John was certainly right about that, but, well….

"We've all made mistakes in our past, John. Javier's not the only one…"

"We were like brothers. He had said so himself. And then? Then he sided with Dutch and Micah. To me, he's nothing but a traitor!"

Hearing John talk about Javier hurt you deeply, but you couldn't blame John either. He was hurt and disappointed in Javier.

"Oh, John…we have to stop judging the mistakes of others. It doesn't undo anything either."

Your voice was soft, it almost seemed to John like you were on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry… I know how much you loved Javier. I… shouldn't have mentioned him."

Should you tell John about Javier? Maybe they could talk things out? Maybe they could become friends again? Like they were back then? But John was clearly not on good terms with Javier. Maybe it wasn't the right time yet.

"It's all right, John. All that was… a long time ago…"

"Yeah…"

"Javier, good work in Saint Denis! The customer is very happy!"

"Mhm… thanks…"

Mister Hazard owned a small carpentry shop. Javier was one of his best workers and he was very proud of him. And Mister Hazard was a man who cared about his workers. He could tell by the look on Javier's face that he was not well at all. He had been very withdrawn for several weeks. Javier had always radiated a kind of sadness and sorrow, but it had gotten worse.

"What's wrong, Javier?"

Mr. Hazard sat down by the fire with Javier. The latter was carving on a piece of wood, probably just to get his mind off things.

"Nothing… it's… everything is fine…", Javier said with a quiet sigh. Okay, he wouldn't believe himself either. Mister Hazard was not a moron.

"Come on. What's wrong?"

Javier gazed into the fire for quite a while, his blade passing over the piece of wood again and again, slowing down and slowing down. Until finally he began to speak.

"You know, I often miss my home. But… then, well… I've lived in America for so many years now, my heart, my soul, belong here too. They belong… To her."

"Mhm… and what is her name, my friend?"

Javier sighed heavily, turning his gaze to Mister Hazard.

"Y/N. Her name is Y/N. And because of a very stupid decision, I had thrown it all away. Had thrown her love away. Our plans, our future. Everything."

Javier shook his head as he inwardly cursed himself. Mister Hazard nodded at him, now able to slowly comprehend what was going on inside the young man.

"I've made some stupid mistakes too, Javier."

"I doubt they were as big as mine, Mister Hazard."

But Mister Hazard just chuckled, put a hand on his shoulder, looking at him.

"Son, listen to me. I know that it can be hard to forgive yourself. But I also know that self-pity and self-loathing only make things worse."

Javier's pained expression was hard to bear, for Mister Hazard really liked him.

"If there's a chance to make it right, take it Javier."

But Javier shook his head slightly, biting his lower lip gently.

"I… have seen her. A few weeks ago, I met Y/N. After five long years, and I wanted to run away. Like a coward."

Javier gasped, laughing at himself.

"She wouldn't let me go."

Mister Hazard leaned back a bit as he listened to the young man.

"I… almost couldn't even look her in the eye. I can't even forgive myself. How is she supposed to love me anymore?"

But once again, Javier was only given a gentle smile. Mister Hazard was a bit older than Javier and had gained his life experiences and he wanted to share them with him. He could understand all too well how he felt and he wanted to prevent him from making any more mistakes.

"Some people are capable of loving someone so much that they would forgive anything. They would go through hell to preserve the life of a loved one. Y/N came up to you even though you committed a grave mistake. She wouldn't let you go because she didn't want to lose you again."

After all these years, Javier got the chance to pour his heart out and it was good to hear that there was hope. Deep down, Javier knew that he was only making things worse with his stubborn head. Maybe this conversation needed to happen to wake him up.

"Don't let your love pass, Javier. Everyone makes mistakes and what happened can't be undone. But you can learn from them and you have to look forward."

Javier's gaze turned to the campfire and instantly your beautiful face came before his eyes.

"Tell her how much you love her and how much you long for her."

"I…"

"Now the time has come. Your paths have led you back to each other. This is no coincidence, my boy."

"The look on her face… when I broke her heart back then…"

Pain filled Javier and he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut to suppress the pain in his chest.

"You know what I regret, Javier? Huh?"

Javier looked to his boss, whose eyes had become glassy, and he sighed deeply before speaking up again.

"That I had often not been a good husband to my Marie. I ask her forgiveness every day, for every day in the course of our marriage that I had put the fulfillment of my desires above hers."

Javier knew that Mister Hazard had once been married, and Javier could be sure he knew what he was talking about. So he listened to him carefully.

"To forgive me for every moment I broke her heart and didn't give a damn."

Javier sat back, close to tears, because the man's words touched him. He saw himself in this story.

"And I ask her to forgive me for the countless moments I neglected to tell her…how…. infinitely I loved her."

A small pause occurred between them. It was obvious to Mister Hazard that the memories of his wife tormented him greatly, and yet he shared them with Javier.

"I…"

Mister Hazard swallowed, the lump in his throat growing larger, and he averted his eyes from Javier for a moment.

"I was so sure that we would still have time for this. But that was a mistake, Javier. And now I stand at her grave every day and have to ask her forgiveness. Hoping that maybe she'll hear me, maybe she'll see me."

♦♦♦♦

Javier felt the salty tears running down his cheeks. This man carried this pain with him and it opened his eyes.

"Therefore Javier, now is the time. Don't run away from her, but reach out for your love. Enjoy the day together as if it were your last. And live!"

The young man had understood and he was grateful for this conversation.

"If you want to make love, do it now! If you wanted to ask forgiveness, ask now! Because if you don't, you'll end up like me, and you'll never be able to hold her in your arms again, Javier."

"I… understand. I understand…"

Javier knew it was now or never. Instantly, the young man rose from his seat and walked toward the stables to retrieve his stallion. He had lost far too much time…

You were just about to pour freshly brewed coffee into your cup when there was a knock at your door. It was still early in the morning and you were not expecting anyone. But you thought it might be John. In the last few days he had come to visit you quite often. But at this hour? It was only seven o'clock in the morning. Still, you went to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Y/N…"

Your eyes grew wide as you recognized the voice.

"It's me, Javier."

Instantly you opened the door. Could this really be? You could hardly believe it when you saw him standing in front of you.

Javier had ridden all night to be with you as soon as possible. Judging by the expression on his face, he looked very saddened and you saw again the shame, that guilt in his eyes.

"May I… come in, Y/N?"

You looked at him, your words stuck in your throat…

[jiwoneiric]

seashell, kim minji x pham hanni

— hanni broke the necklace she gave minji and paid the price.

genre: fluff, hurt comfort, angst in the middle

tags: bbangsaz, minji is angry, miss pham is guilty, happy ending

word count: 2,175

//italic is for when they talk in English//

“Pham Hanni!”

You sternly shout, yet the shorter girl takes zero hints from your tone. She cheekily runs around your room with your treasured seashell necklace. 

“You still keep it, huh?”

She annoyingly teases you, not being careful at all while swinging the poor necklace around. Your face is so close to exploding while being patient with Pham Hanni. 

“Hanni. Just give me back the necklace, would you?”

You grit your teeth as she stuck her tongue out. Oh, your same-aged friend is really testing your patience today out of all day. Today when you literally just came back from your extra practice the dance teacher gave to you for ‘not doing well’ earlier. Today when you were just being humiliated in front of your members by the same dance teacher.

“Ahh!”

And your horrible nightmare comes true right in front of you. Hanni stumbles upon the chair, resulting in her falling down along with the necklace.

—

It has been two days since you last interacted verbally with the shorter girl. You and Hanni are so used to clinging to each other. Well, at least, you are. But now that you’re upset with her, your huge ass ego won’t let you be near her. You wonder if she has noticed your distancing yet but seeing how she can still smile brightly when Haerin once again kisses her cheeks, you assume that she isn’t. 

You huff in annoyance and leave the room, not knowing that a pair of eyes follow your movement.

“Minji.”

You recognize the voice, quickening your walking pace as the steps behind you are getting so too.

��Kim Minji!”

You are forced to turn around as a strong hold on your wrist makes you to.

You saw how Hanni opened her mouth to speak but keeps mum. But why?

“M-minji…”

You let out a quiet gasp as you feel tears falling down your face.

“Don’t follow me.”

That was all you can say to her before retreating to your personal practice room.

—

You know Hanni was probably trying to mend things back but you don’t know what come over you that you were crying earlier. Perhaps because seeing her reminds you of the shattered seashell two days ago. It was so unlike you to be upset over a small thing like that and also to cry in front of her or anyone. Yes, never in a lifetime you suppose. The expression on Hanni’s face earlier shows how shocking it was for you to cry. You are supposed to be the strong wall around the members, comforting them whenever they cry but once in a very while, you cry too, just never in front of others.

You snapped out of your thought when soft knocks are heard on your door. It’s her. You gulp as you nervously wipe your tears before letting her in.

“Come in.”

You let your back face the door to hide your tear-stained face. Soft steps occupy your hearing as they get louder before finally stopping right behind you. You have your face hidden between your knees, your chin touching your chest as you feel yourself tearing up again. 

“M-minji…”

You hate how she stammered, hate that you are the cause of it. You can’t even lift your head to look at her.

“A-about the seashell…”

Just in time, you hiccup, making it more obvious that you just finished crying. You noticed how she had withdrawn into sullen silence after that. You don’t know why but you can feel a strong tug on your heart because of the uncomfortable silence in this room.

Just then, you heard the door closing. You assumed she went out after getting tired of your stubborn ass.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Minji.”

You mumble to yourself as you cry again. You hate how Hanni might stop approaching you again for a while.

Just then, you are pulled into an embrace. A tight and warm embrace.

“Minji, I’m so sorry for breaking your seashell. I really am.”

You found yourself sobbing even harder. You are genuinely confused as to why you are crying now. Are you glad she didn’t leave? Or are you sad that the seashell is broken? No, you think you are crying because of how pathetic it is for you to cry over a damn seashell. 

“I’m sorry, Hanni…”

You sob as you clutch her shirt with your shaking hands. You feel sorry for putting her in such an uncomfortable position the past few days. You try stopping your sob by putting your arm over your mouth. Your other hand is used to wipe tears flowing over your face harshly. 

“H-hey, you are going to hurt yourself that way, Min.”

You sob even harder upon hearing the nickname she used just now. You were about to hide your face in between your knees again when she holds up your cheeks with her hands, wiping the tears for you instead.

Out of nowhere, you suddenly hiccup, erupting small laughter from Hanni.

“Does this mean, I am forgiven now, Minji?”

You nod, leaning into her touch now that you slowly stop sobbing.

“But, on o-one condition.”

You notice how she lets out a small chuckle when you sniff. Despite your runny nose, you never feel this warm.

“Spill it.”

“Make me a new one.”

“Sometimes I hope I can see this side of you more often.”

You are puzzled, is Hanni wishing to see you cry often? Isn’t that a bad thing to witness?

Noticing your puzzled look, Hanni continue to explain.

“No, not the crying one. The clingy and not-leader-like Minji. It’s just that since we have officially debuted, I feel like you have become distant from me like you have become the fair Newjeans’ leader Kim Minji, not the stupidly funny and Hanni’s friend Kim Minji. You know what I mean, right?”

Right.

You were so focused on being a good leader and example for your members, especially since they are younger than you, and have half-forgotten about the fact that you have a same-aged friend with you. You mean, it’s not your fault that the said friend acts like she’s younger than Hyein most of the time. 

Still, it hurts you so much upon knowing the fact that Hanni has probably felt this way for a long time now.

“I’m so—”

“Minji Kim, can’t you just stop saying sorry for now? I might kick your ass if you say that word again!”

You smile weakly as you examine Hanni’s annoyed face. 

“Yeah, yeah. I won’t.”

You accept her extended hand to help you stand up.

“Let’s go to the bathroom first.”

You are genuinely confused by the sudden suggestion.

“What for?”

“Are you really going to let the kids see your tear-stained face and worry them?”

You pout as you shake your head in disagreement. She then pulled you by your wrist, leading the way to the bathroom.

—

“You know I can do it myself, right?”

You question Hanni as she keeps on insisting to help wash your face. It is not like your hand is occupied or anything.

“Look! You are acting like our leader back!”

You froze upon hearing that. You frown too, noticed by the shorter girl. Still, she just lets out small chuckles before continuing to wipe your tear stains. You could only stare at her but why does she look a little bit too beautiful now? Is it the lighting here? No, you don’t think that’s the case. You have looked at her under the same spot a thousand times already before. Was it the makeup? No, she’s barefaced now you can see how cute her face is right now that you want to give her lips a peck. 

Wait, what?

Startled by your own thoughts, you accidentally step back, startling the stared girl as well.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head in denial. Quickly, you cover your flustered face with a white lie.

“N-nothing. I was zoning out earlier.”

You look at how she nods in understanding before reaching out for your hand once again.

So, you grabbed her hand and noticed how soft and small it actually is compared to your hand. You wonder why it is getting hot here when it’s like -2.4 celsius outside.

—

“Our unnie finally made up, guys!”

So, they do notice. You scratch your non-itchy neck while forcing a smile. You notice the stares on the intertwined hands of you and Hanni so you are about to let go before Hanni squeezes your hand.

Right, you were about to act distant again. You squeeze her hand back, assuring her with a soft smile.

“Hey, why are unnies flirting in front of us like this?!!” “WE ARE NOT!”

Both of you shouted in sync, leaving the younger girls giggling uncontrollably at their unnies’ flustered faces.

“Wh-whatever! Let’s continue our practice!”

You semi-shout, trying to hide the fact that you’re flustered by their comments. You walk your way to the computer to replay the playlist of your group’s songs to practice. What you did not notice is how you still have Hanni’s hand in yours, practically pulling her with you too.

It was when you turn around and is met with Hanni’s flustered face that you realised that fact. Both of you keep on staring at each other as if it is some staring contest. 

Haerin’s strong push on both of your shoulders was what snapped both of you out of the trance.

“You guys act like you didn’t see each other’s faces every day!”

Haerin’s snicker left both of you blushing hard, looking everywhere but at each other.

——

It really was a normal day for you and your members. Just getting back home from the Music Bank stage, you were planning to dive into your bed and let sleep consumes you before someone pulls you into the other’s room right before you can reach the doorknob. You thought it was Haerin in her teasing mood again but got surprised when you are met with Hanni’s face at least five centimeters away from yours.

“I-I have a surprise for you!” 

You observe the flustered girl when she backed away from you a little. Although as flustered as the shorter girl is, you remain a calm expression on your face.

“What is it?”

You stare as she searches through her stuff—her messy stuff—searching for something only she knows what. When you notice her stopping at a certain item, you try to peek from behind but she cuts you from it by clearing her throat.

“Now, close your eyes, Min.”

Although only her back is facing you, you can make out how nervous she is from the staggering of her voice. Not wanting to tease her, you obligingly close your eyes, restraining your lips to curve upwards when you feel her shaking hands taking yours up, making you attach both hands together.

You can’t suppress your smile anymore when you feel the cold metal alongside what you guess is a seashell, though it’s a different shape from your previous one. You open one of your eyes, doing so with the other one when you caught Hanni already on her bed, covering herself under her comforter.

You grin alone as you wear it around your neck before you practically jump onto her, ensuring that you won’t hurt in the process.

“Yaa, Kim Minji!”

You let out a loud laugh, entertained by the glare she’s giving you right now. Despite that, you wrap your arm around her, trapping her inside your tight bear hug. Knowing that no one is around you, you nuzzle your nose warmly into her hair, sighing upon smelling the familiar scent from Hanni’s favourite shampoo.

“Thank you, bro.”

You want to say more but you conceal them all in, not being the type to easily express your feelings through words. Instead, you caress Hanni’s hair, snuggling your face deeper into it to hide your reddening face in hopes that she won’t notice it, let alone tease you about it.

“Give me a kiss then.”

You stiffen upon registering the words that just get through your hearing. What? Kiss Hanni? Your face gets even redder and hotter than it already is.

“U-uh. You don’t have to if you don’t want…”

You notice how Hanni’s voice gets weaker along with her grip on your hoodie earlier. Awaken from your daze, you pull her closer, making the smaller girl let out a small sound, causing a smile to erupt from your face.

“I never said I don’t want to, though.” 

You look slightly down as you meet her gaze, her surprised gaze as you lower your face to be on the same level as hers.

“Just…”

You watch as hope and excitement fill her face. 

Too bad.

“Not now!”

You jump out of the bed, screaming and running around the house as she chases you down. You didn’t fail to notice her reddening face, ears and teary eyes. Oh, you might be dead first before you can kiss her.

“Kim Minji, you are dead!”

[circus-complex]

Shattered Touches

Rating: General

Relationship: Pei Ming/Qi Rong

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ambiguous/Open Ending, but implied happy ending, Modern AU, the love language that is waiting, qi rong has a breakdown, POV Pei Ming

Qi Rong slowly starts to grow distant from Pei Ming. Pei Ming tries to make ammends.

Also on AO3

Full work under the cut

If you had told Pei Ming two years ago he would be dating the Night Touring Green Lantern, he would have scoffed in your face. But now, he was cuddling with Qi Rong, a horror movie playing on the TV. Qi Rong kept yelling at the screen, while Pei Ming simply watched him.

Pei Ming kissed the top of Qi Rong’s head. “Baby, stop yelling. You’re going to wake the neighbors.” A slight smile danced on his lips, betraying his lack of gravity in the statement.

“Pah. They should feel blessed to hear my words.” Qi Rong retorted. Pei Ming shook his head but didn’t respond.

Qi Rong yelped at every jumpscare, and laughed at every drop of blood shed. Pei Ming hugged him tighter.

Once the credits started rolling, Pei Ming untensed. He hadn’t noticed how hard he’d been holding Qi Rong until he pulled his hands away. Small red marks dotted his arms. It was probably going to bruise. Pei Ming gently traced them with his finger and frowned.

“Oi, what’re you doing?” Qi Rong turned his head. His expression went flat once he saw the tiny, oval dots. “Oh.”

“Does it hurt?”

“...eh.”

Pei Ming waited for Qi Rong to say more, but silence was all that followed. He sighed.

“Come’on, let’s go to bed.”

“Ugh, do I have too?” Qi Rong whined. Even if he was an adult, Qi Rong always argued like a child.

“Yes, you have too. It’s already midnight.” Pei Ming picked him up and unceremoniously carried him to bed.

“Fine.” Qi Rong buried himself under the layers of sheets. He preferred to have at least three blankets, while Pei Ming would do just fine with one.

Once Qi Rong stopped fussing with all the blankets, Pei Ming settled in. It only took two minutes before Qi Rong turned towards him, pouting. Pei Ming smiled, knowing his lover.

“Come here.”

Qi Rong didn’t waste any time moving closer. Pei Ming hugged him, placing his chin on Qi Rong’s shoulder.

“This ok?” Pei Ming asked.

“Yeah,” Qi Rong mumbled, too tired to make any remarks.

It had taken a long time for Qi Rong to be comfortable around Pei Ming. When they had first met, Qi Rong refused to be any closer than a foot apart. But slowly, so very slowly, Pei Ming gained his trust.

The first time Qi Rong had touched Pei Ming, Pei Ming thought he was going to pass out

The first time Qi Rong had hugged Pei Ming, Pei Ming thought he was going to explode.

The first time Qi Rong had kissed Pei Ming, Pei Ming thought he was going to ascend.

But progress isn’t always linear.

✦✦✦

Qi Rong had been distant lately. He barely replied whenever Pei Ming texted him, or gave cold responses.

Pei Ming wasn’t usually the type to get anxious when his partner moved on. But this was the first time he actually felt something. And he didn’t want it to end. This wasn’t just a fling or a one night stand. This was real, and he didn’t want it to become imaginary.

One night, he found Qi Rong on the couch, bundled up in a fluffy green blanket. His hair was frizzy and he wasn’t wearing any makeup. His eyes were tinged red, like he had been crying.

“Qi Rong? What’s wrong?” Pei Ming sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“Nothing,” he muttered, shifting away. Pei Ming knew better than to move closer. He didn’t say anything either. Trying to get Qi Rong to talk would only push him further away. And Qi Rong was already balancing on the edge of a cliff — pushing him would invite death to their door.

“I-” Qi Rong started. His voice cracked with the first syllable. He didn’t continue, instead burying his face further in the blanket.

The two sat in silence until Pei Ming’s ears started to ring. It was rare for Qi Rong not to talk, something must actually be wrong.

“Why do you love me?”

Oh. Those five words crushed the silence into dust, grinding any pretense of calm to shreds.

With each passing moment Pei Ming thought over his answer, Qi Rong shrank further into himself.

“I love the way you don’t take shit from anybody. I love the way you care for others, even if you won’t say so.”

Qi Rong’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. Pei Ming continued.

“I love that you’re passionate about the things you love. I love how strong willed you are.”

“How do I know you won’t just discard me like everyone else?” Qi Rong hiccuped in the middle of his sentence, and tears welled up anew in frustration.

“I love you, and I want to continue loving you till the end. I know there isn’t truly a way for me to prove that, but please, Qi Rong, take my word.”

Tears started to roll down Qi Rong’s face. Qi Rong rarely cried. It was a silent display of sorrow, not meant to be seen. It was the way you cry when you don’t want your parents to notice lest they get mad, when you’re in school and you don’t want to be hurt further.

“But couldn’t you do so much better? I’m a criminal, I don’t have a job, I dropped out of high school, I don’t even have a good body. I’m a mess, and you’re,” Qi Ron gestured at Pei Ming, “so, so much better than me. You could get a hot girlfriend like everyone expects you too.”

“Qi Rong, stop. I don’t want that. I want you.”

Qi Rong turned to face Pei Ming. Tears stained his scarred skin, and oh, Pei Ming loved him so much.

Slowly, ever so slowly, did Qi Rong untense. He inched closer to Pei Ming, swaying just enough to lean towards him.

Pei Ming waited. He waited. He waited, and would wait forever.

To wait, to let Qi Rong know he would not leave, was all he could do.

[pancake-breakfast]

[20 Question Fic Writer Game]

Shamelessly stolen after I saw @needle-noggins did this....

How many works do you have on AO3? 39, but that's deceptive because two of them are alternate endings to two others and 31 of them are 100-word drabbles.

What is your AO3 word count? 51,620

What fandoms do you write for? Primarily Attack on Titan (mostly Eruri), but also Jujutsu Kaisen (mostly Satosugu), Given, Sk8 (Matchablossom), the occasional Chainsaw Man (AkiAngel), and a handful of others

What are your top five fics by kudos? What You Want (Eruri), What You Want: Reflection (companion piece to What You Want), Balanced within the Ring (AkiAngel drabble), It Keeps Away the Bad Touch (AkiAngel drabble), No Accounting for Taste (Satosugu drabble)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Sure, as long as I think the comment was made in good faith. I want people to know their comments were seen and appreciated, and sometimes I want to rant a bit about my writing process.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmm.... Probably A Slip of the Heart (Orufrey), but don't read it unless you're up to Chapter 40 in Tongari Boushi no Atelier/Witch Hat Atelier, as it has some MAJOR spoilers.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? This depends a bit on what one feels qualifies as a happy ending. I think I have more funny endings than actual happy ones (and more angst than funny ones). Maybe A Rewarding Meal (Matchablossom) or No Accounting for Taste (Satosugu)?

Do you get hate on fics? Oh, I'm not NEARLY popular enough for that.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have written smut, and I might again in the future, but it's not really my thing. If I'm gonna write it, it's probably gonna be some sort of yaoi hurt/comfort.

Do you write crossovers? Not really, though I do have an idea for a Promare crossover series with... um... everything, really.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Alas, no. Though I might try translating some of my fics on my own for funsies.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Yes, but nothing that's posted on AO3.

What's your all-time favourite ship? Yeah, there's a reason my longest project is Eruri.

What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will? It's a Satosugu one that's a bunch of unsent emails from Geto to Gojo.

What are your writing strengths? Uhhhh... I feel like this is a question best asked of those who've read my fics.

What are your writing weaknesses? I get very caught up on things being as canon compliant as I can make them. Also, I like starting my sentences with conjunctions.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I mean, why not? But it's a good idea to get someone with fluency in that language to double-check it for you. Buuuuut don't let bad grammar in a foreign language stop you from writing what you want to write. If you're writing it for formal publishing, your agent/editor/publisher will help you clean it up. If you're writing for informal publishing... well, have you seen the spelling/grammar/syntax people use in their native tongues? Seriously, just go for it. Maybe be prepared to take some flack from native speakers, though.

First fandom you wrote for? Ooh, gonna show my age here. Transformers/Beast Wars.

Favourite fic you've ever written? Definitely the What You Want series, but specifically the epilogue, Memories and Promises, which can be read without reading any of the rest of the series.

Tagging @revenantghost, @nepentheisms, @iwritenarrativesandstuff, and anyone else who'd like to steal it from me the way I stole it from someone else.