#Like it's “just” two or four bosses until you get to reach the end but the real meat of the game is the exploration. Dread is not that

[kaasiand]

I grew up playing some metroidvania Flash games (the Robot Wants series in particular is what I remember most fondly) but had never played any Metroid game up until now, so I started playing the 2D Metroids last week when Zero Mission came out on NSO and I went through them all in release-ish order (ZM as my starting entry, then NES, GB, Super, Fusion, AM2R). I absolutely loved Zero Mission, Super and AM2R (I liked the others a bunch too; imo Fusion's linearity felt justified by the story progressing as you played and also just this raw feeling of constant tension) but then I really did not like the way Samus Returns felt 1-2 hours in (of all things they kept from the GB original it was the fucking screen crunch, and the circle pad just does NOT feel good for this; movement felt wayyy too sluggish in a way that feels typical of 2.5D games to me, and the shooting combat just got completely replaced by the melee counter which I did not like) so I just kinda skipped it and moved on to Dread (which I'm still playing now) and while I enjoy the way Samus's movement feels a lot more (minus the stupid trajectory-locked walljump from Fusion), I don't think I like the game's overall design all that much.

Literally every fucking attack deals 100 damage so you don't get any room for error whatsoever during boss fights, because you can only take like 5 hits before you die; tanking your way through damage always felt like a risk for higher rewards or a way to get something you weren't meant to get earlier on, but now the numbers feel cranked up wayyyyyy too high. You don't get to try and figure out a boss's attack patterns halfway during the fight and learn AS you fight, instead, you have to die a million times when you almost figure something out but failed the execution because every single action requires you to hold three buttons simultaneously and juggle these button combos around constantly. And the game throws a boss at you literally every 10-20 minutes and locks you down one-way paths every single time so the game barely even lets you explore, like, this is literally just a boss rush game at this point and half the bosses don't even reward you with anything. Super and ZM felt like they were actively INVITING me to break the game and go against the game's intentions and even made me wish to replay the games at some point in the future to take things on differently, and I totally understand what made those such genre-defining games. Dread just completely isn't what I was hoping it would be (also where the hell is this game's MUSIC)

[satyricplotter]

(suggestive, slightly explicit content at the end)

Even though you’ve been expecting the visit for most of the night, the Red Hood knocking at your balcony door at 1 in the morning still catches you off guard. You scramble off the couch in a sleepy daze, book falling off your lap and cracking open on the floor. For one long second, the only thing you can think of is that whoever your last assignment was has managed to find you, that you’ve finally been too sloppy and left a trail with which to track you.

That’s your first thought. Your second thought is, of course, Barbara. But before you can reach your phone to shoot your boss a SOS, or, at the very least, an alert, a second rasp at the window panes freezes you on the spot.

“Will you open the damn door?” Red Hood’s unmistakably robotic voice grits out. “It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”

You trip in your rush to open the doors, limbs loose and clumsy with relief. Hood shoulders past you with a grunt, fingers prodding at the back of his head to get at the latch of his helmet. He takes it off in a smooth motion, his hot breath forming a white cloud against the cold air of your running AC. You lock the balcony back up after him as he goes around your apartment, setting his helmet on your dinner table and shrugging out of his jacket. He means to stay apparently. You could’ve lent him an umbrella if he wanted to go back out there. Probably would’ve been best.

See, you don’t like the Red Hood much.

He invites himself over to your kitchen, opening cabinets here and there until he chances upon the dinnerware and pulls out a glass. The Gotham public infrastructure is in such state you have never once attempted to drink out of the tap, but you don’t stop him when he does. It is, technically, allowed. And he had the pitcher full of filtered water right under his nose, so. You wait impatiently as he downs two whole glasses of tap water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand (there is a perfectly usable kitchen towel draped over the oven handle).

He glances over, notices you staring. The corner of his lips quirks up. “How obedient,” he mocks. He pats at his sides, pulls a folded envelope from somewhere in his body (the Bats have endless pockets, you’ve come to learn) and tosses it on the table. “There’s your file. You better be fucking thankful. Traipsed through half the city in this shit storm just to get you these.”

“Thank you, Red Hood,” you say politely, picking up the rumpled envelope and eagerly flipping through the files. “Much appreciated.”

Red Hood rolls his eyes at you, eternally put off by your insistence on following the proper channels of conduct. “Whatever. You got anything to eat?”

“Help yourself,” you tell him.

You walk back to the couch with the file in hand and leave him to make himself whatever he will, already too distracted by the information within to care that you’re gonna have to make a second grocery run when he’s done with your fridge. Red Hood rummages through your cabinets, pulling out far more stuff than he should for a midnight snack. At one point, he asks if you’ve had dinner, and you respond him with an absentminded (and truthful) negative. The files he’s brought are the latest Robin’s swiped from the team’s ongoing investigation on a dicey arms exchange deal that may or may not involve three out of four of Gotham’s biggest conglomerates (sans, of course, Wayne Enterprises). It’s your job to process the info—a task too menial and too tedious for Oracle and Red Robin, respectively, to handle. Besides, Tim’s far more useful on the ground.

It must be about twenty minutes of you pouring over the pages scattered over your coffee table when the man speaks up again. “Dinner’s ready,” he says.

You look up to see him setting two plates of steaming stir fry on the table. He’s taken off his gloves, his utility belt, the domino mask and rolled up his sleeves—the whole nine yards. Only missing the apron. The food looks lovely, but of course it does. Cooking is listed as a specialty in Red Hood’s file, right along with marksmanship and hostile takeovers.

Your lips quirk up at the unexpected kindness, but you shake your head. “None for me, thanks.”

“I said,” Red Hood says, placing his gun on the table menacingly. “Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

Well. So much for kindness. You’re about as dumb as Red Hood’s subtle, which is to say only at your benefit and very much at will, so you only sigh and push the papers aside. He watches you rise and sit, and pick up the fork, before he does the same. You eat in silence.

After a few bites, you stop being disgruntled at his coercion and grateful that he’s got something other than a protein bar in you because you were, in fact, quite hungry. That’s not something you can say—or at least not in any way which he would accept, so you just shut up and eat your meal happily. That seems to be enough for him, as he watches you finish the whole plate with a satisfied expression.

“Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, actually,” you beam.

Even when he stands and brings the dishes over to the sink to wash, you are reluctant to leave your spot at the table. You watch him rinse and sponge the plates and pan, the knife and spoon and cutting board, and your afternoon tea mug. He washes his hands thoroughly and rinses his mouth with the dubious tap water again. A thorough, judicious man. He’s played remarkably nice this evening. You wonder if Oracle’s been pulling his ear to leave you alone.

When he finishes, he walks slowly the remainder of the narrow hallway of your kitchen back to the dinner table and leans against the threshold. The long line of his body catches you off guard, always so unexpectedly graceful despite his musculature, his brutality. You hold his gaze serenely, trying not to cave under his scrutiny.

This is why you don’t like the Red Hood. Every time he looks at you, he sees you wholly. As you are. Not, crucially, as you want. It has been this way since the first time he laid eyes on you—a single glance and he had taken the measure of you. No further explanation, no time to make amends. And what’s worse: he expects you to be honest. He expects you to say what he can read in your face. He doesn’t let it go when you deflect, when you coat your truths in niceties. He wants it raw and open.

You can’t play dumb with Jason Todd.

He breaks the silence first. “Were you expecting Grayson this evening?”

The non-sequitur catches you so off guard you break eye contact accidentally. What’s Nightwing got to do with anything?

“No?” You say, evidently baffled. “Nightwing’s been off-world all week. Why would he be coming around?”

He cocks his head to the side, sucks in the bit of flesh below his lower lip. "So you knew it was me who'd be coming around?"

"Obviously?" What is he going on about? He clearly doesn't believe you, either. It's childish when you stomp your foot and whine, but he always brings out the worst in you. "I'm serious, Hood. I've been waiting for you all evening. Just you."

Jason pushes off the wall and approaches, staring you down with slightly raised eyebrows. “Then, if you knew Dick wasn't coming with, what are you looking so fuckable for?”

Despite how much it bruises your pride, you cannot help but sputter. The staring is one thing, the passing brushes are another—even the stupid pulling at your pigtails like you’re both in kindergarten is… permissible. But this? Coming at you so straightforwardly when all you know how to do is circumvent and hide? Desperately, you respond to the one thing in that sentence you can make sense of: the accusation.

“I don’t like Nightwing,” you whine. Jason fixes you with a look of dry incredulity. You huff. How you despise him. He can’t even let you lie. “And I don’t dress for him either.”

“Hm.” He reaches over to pull at the neckline of your admittedly skimpy top, his knuckle brushing against your chest. “Sure.”

You bat his hand away, and stand up, but that leaves you much closer to him than you expected. Or wanted. “This is not fuckable,” you grit out. “This is… pajamas.”

Jason cranes his neck to take a close look at you, every bit as assessing as the first one had been. One of his large hands comes to play with the hem of your shorts, pushes it up just a smidge, and the pads of his fingers are rough and calloused against your outer thigh. Your eyelids flutter, and he has the nerve to smile.

“That’s a blatant lie, you know,” he says, dipping his head low so the words brush against your lips. “Try a little, huh?”

“This seems like a you problem, my guy,” you snap, so close you might as well be speaking into his mouth. You need to get away. You don’t.

Jason’s smug when you gasp after his hands close around your ass and bring you forward, flush against his body. The hardness in his pants trapped between you, a pressing weight just below where it should be. Should be? What are you—but Jason adjusts before you can scold yourself, lining up your crotch with his and grinding. It feels bigger this way, which is insane because it's already pretty fucking huge, and a hot flash of desire runs through you lightning-quick and just as obliterating. You slump against him, head on his shoulder.

“That’s my problem,” he murmurs against your ear. His thumbs press just under your asscheeks, playful. “You gon’ do anything about it?”

[jiminiecrickets]

MILK & TWO SUGARS. KTH / M!READER

summary. despite being your subordinate, taehyung relishes in his power over you.

wc. 4.9k

tags. boss/assistant au, dom top!reader, bottom!tae, tae films himself to tease you, oral (r. receiving), office/desk sex, unprotected sex, officemates-with-benefits (sort of)

[ requested ]

the train carriage rocks and rumbles, steel and electricity burning beneath your feet. you hover beside the moving join between carriages, counting down the number of stops until it reaches yours. aside from the not-so-inconspicuous journalist snapping pictures of you across the carriage, it has been a fairly smooth ride.

he's wearing a cap, staring down at the flip-out screen of his dslr, pointed just right in your direction. he's far enough away that the photos probably don't seem that creepy – not i-pretended-to-bump-into-you-for-this-picture creepy, at least – and he's not holding the camera low enough to angle your crotch as the focal point, which is more than you can say for some other journalists. sure, you may have had a wild youth, but you were square now – just a guy in a suit on his phone with a messenger bag strapped across your chest. the most interesting thing about you was the fact that a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers stuck out one end of your bag.

for all the other commuters knew, you were heading home to kiss your wife and your two-and-a-half kids. you would like to keep it that way, isolating yourself with earbuds playing a rotation of your favourite songs.

on your phone, your insanely efficient and ridiculously beautiful personal assistant has just stopped using capital letters and proper punctuation.

seriously where are you? your coffee's going cold :(

you huff. you told him to wait a while longer before grabbing it since you needed to stop by the florist, but he had always been strict about your schedule. if it wasn't on the document, it didn't exist.

a couple more stops to go, you reply, glancing out the windows to ensure you're not getting his hopes up. nine minutes.

can't you get here any faster?

no, taehyung. it's always going to be nine minutes.

despite his profile picture only being his initials – KT, matching at least four other people in your phone – he manages to inject a whole lot of personality into his next message.

then don't walk, desk jockey. what can i do to make you gallop? the bubble of three dots pops up. perhaps i can tempt you over with a carrot?

please stop it with the horse metaphors.

but you're the only one i wanna ride <3

you nearly choke on your saliva, hastily pressing your phone screen to your chest for privacy. you steel your nerves when your phone vibrates again, chasing away the heat crawling rapidly up your neck. you take a deep breath and glance down.

a video. you tap the play button and the window expands to take up your screen.

the first thing you notice is that taehyung's not wearing any pants. he's wearing everything but pants, and you even see a flash of his playful smirk as he tightens his tie when he glances down. he smooths it down, down his stomach, and leans back in a chair.

your chair.

holy shit. he's in your office.

he tucks one foot up onto the edge of your desk, polished pointed shoe pivoting as he makes himself comfortable. he rests on the point of his elbow, cradling his jaw with long slim fingers.

he wraps his slender fingers around his cock, revealing it from beneath the bottom of his crisp white dress shirt. only the bottom sliver of his face is visible, soft and shapely pink lips playing at innocence, tucked teasingly between his front teeth.

your music doesn't provide a buffer anymore. on instinct, you darken your screen and slam the mute button, thumb working at the phone's volume button in excess.

but, because you have terrible vices, you slowly edge the volume back up until his soft, breathy moans rattle in your skull like a marble inside a can of spray paint.

"hey, boss," he whispers, fingers rolling over his reddened tip, cock dark pink and shining in his grip. he plays at formality, straightening his jacket lapel with his free hand. his hand drops down to cup his bare thigh, golden and soft, and slides gently over his skin, back and forth – caressing himself the same way you do. he exhales softly, back arching. the chair's leather shifts audibly. "come grab your coffee, already. aren't you thirsty? i sure am."

dropping his leg, he pushes his shirt up around his chest, and lifts his phone above him with a sound between a hum and a moan. taehyung twists in your black leather chair, its tall slim shape highlighting the way he angles his hips to accentuate his waist and hips and the way his soft thighs fill up the seat of the chair.

you close your eyes for a steadying breath, shifting on the spot as the train pulls up to your station. thank goodness you had the epiphany to wear a dark suit today. it'd be a particularly awkward gossip piece for that journalist – yes, still there – if you'd worn something lighter.

"i'll be waiting, big boy," he coos directly into your ears, the breathiness in his voice and the flush to his cheeks letting you know just how long he's been in your chair.

he's going to be the death of you.

you weave your way through the station, hurrying down the stairs with your phone in a death grip, screen off. it pings when the pedestrian crossing lights turn green and your mouth goes dry at the sight of another video, described only by date and file type. you struggle to swallow.

on his knees, lovely round ass presented to the camera, taehyung pumps three fingers in and out of his slick hole, the shine of lube dripping down his thigh. his moans are quick and muffled by the palm over his mouth, his cheeks glowing pink with desire, and his hips jerk as he pulls his knees close together. his cock presses firmly along the seam of the back of his thighs.

hissing softly, he pulls his fingers out with a slick pop, lubricated until the knuckle. he glides his fingertips around his hole, showing himself off with a soft giggle, and rocks back on them until his cock twitches. it leaks as he fucks himself with them.

"ah...! get down here, already – my fingers aren't as thick as yours, baby. m-maybe i could still come on them, though," he moans slyly, the quick slick sound of his pumping fingers jolting shivers down your spine. "gonna fucking come on myself, come on your desk – every time you enter this office, you're gonna remember the way i made you feel." 

he moans with a toss of his head as his hand quickens. his leaking cock pulses and he bounces slightly on his fingers, that little bit of friction from his cock bumping his thighs almost enough.

"what is it... that you said?" he grins back at the camera, dark eyes smoky and devious. "only angels have bodies like mine? well... white was always heaven's colour."

his lips part as his dark brow furrows, his grip tightening on the back of the chair as his hips tremble. his cock explodes with cum, spurting out in thick white ropes that splatter the backs of his thighs like the sweetest glaze. he spreads his jerking, trembling thighs, and his release slowly pools on the black leather between his knees. he pants softly, wordless.

in the silence of your earbuds, your head rings with the anticipation of your pounding heart, nearly sprinting the half-block down to the skyscraper with your last name printed on it. you push through the large glass doors carelessly – they're shatterproof, and they'll survive you shouldering your way through them.

on your phone, taehyung lets out a soft exhale that sinks claws into your brain. glossy white beads drip from the edge of your chair between his unblemished legs, and if that's not a scene of the divine, then you don't know what is.

shit. hastily, you pass the receptionists and slip into an empty elevator someone left behind. swiping your card, you punch the button for the highest floor, and survive the agonising seconds up, dumping your earbuds and phone unceremoniously into your bag.

the elevator dings, and you're shoving yourself through the tiniest gap the moment it appears with a problem in your pants and a problem at your desk.

lazily, taehyung grins, pink tongue swiping over his lips. one hand strokes his pretty cock under the desk, the motion of his arm perfectly clear.

"hey there, big boy," he purrs. "finally here for your coffee, right?"

you grunt noncommittedly, extracting the bouquet of flowers from your bag before dumping the bag on the loveseat by the elevator. you place it in a white vase and wiggle it back into place on the cute pigeonhole shelf.

you turn back to him, and he's standing now, leaning forward over your desk with that same silky smile. "done with playing uncaring? come over here, make me sorry. i've broken your rules, haven't i, boss?"

"you're a real piece of work," you growl, stalking towards him and yanking him away from your desk to survey the damage. time to put in a request for a new chair. you return your gaze to taehyung, who just smiles demurely at you and strokes the bulge in your trousers.

"a piece of art, don't you like telling me?" he teases, nudging your cock with his knuckles. his smile widens as your breath skips like a record player. he pushes you towards the end of your oak desk. "you liked my presents, did you?"

"presents? that was torture," you rumble, placing your hand on top of his head and fisting a handful of his hair. you tug firmly backwards and his eyes roll back briefly as he moans, hands faltering for just a moment as he fiddles with your fly – you smirk at the sight.

his lashes flutter as he regains control, pupils dilating as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. "but you liked them, right, sir?" he asks softly, almost nervously. he fishes your cock out and his breath hitches, his lower lip tugged between his teeth as he stares up at it.

"is the sky blue, dove?" you ask, softening your voice just for him. he melts like chocolate, pressing himself sweetly into you, and you let go of his hair to card it back from his large dark eyes, tucking the stray strands behind his ears. "but i won't say it didn't surprise me. i was on the train."

"your fault when you have a perfectly good car in the garage, sir," he says with a hum, and he kisses the base of your cock. he lifts your hand back to his hair and you guide his head towards the head of your shaft. with a soft moan, he's all yours again to eat and enjoy, those dark brown eyes almost gold in the late afternoon sun.

"i'll let that sass slide because you're usually such a sweet boy," you say softly, humming as he drags his warm tongue over the ridge of your tip. "good. suck."

he loves the way you talk to him with that voice – a voice like chocolate, sweet and thick and dark. he bobs his head, stroking what he can't fit, and he moans when you hit the back of his throat, filling his mouth and stretching his jaw wide. he works at your cock, tongue lapping at the veins, tracing them to your tip and back, and closes his lips around your shaft, gradually getting all of it down his throat.

he clasps your thighs, letting himself enjoy the heft and heat of your cock filling his throat, and his eyes slide closed, the tip of his nose brushing your pelvis. you exhale softly and pat his hair to watch it bounce back into place, tugging the loose beach curls between two fingers and letting them spring back. it's incredibly soft and silky for someone who's dyed his entire head honey blond for at least as long as he's been working for you.

you cup his cheek as he bobs his head, warm tight throat swallowing your cock, constantly squeezing and fluttering, and your hand shifts to his chin, fingers pressed against the bend of his throat where it meets his jaw. gliding your fingers lower, you can feel your cock sliding against the walls of his throat. when he pulls back until just the heavy tip rests on his tongue, you feel with reverence the way he swallows it down, following the movement of the tip of your cock with each finger it passes.

below, you watch in amusement as he jerks himself off, motions quick and shallow but involving the motion of his whole arm from the shoulder. he moans as he swallows your cock, and your head falls back as your cock throbs from the tight vibrations.

"fuck, taehyung, good boy," you groan, listening to him choke and gag on it as if he couldn't get enough. saliva coats your dick, and it drips down his chin. his parted lips allow him to moan and when he closes his lips around it, he redefines the word 'suck'.

his cheeks hollow, his eyes roll back, and he's so warm and wet around you that your control snaps and you yank his head forward, burying your cock deep in him. he whimpers so perfectly when he feels your cum sliding down his throat, swallowing rapidly. his lashes flutter as he pushes himself deeper and his lips press against your base, making you grunt sharply, fingers tightening in his hair.

even when your grip loosens, your uneven breaths steadying, taehyung keeps you in his mouth, feeling his own hot cum drip down his twitching cock. he doesn't stroke himself, doesn't pull away – just contents himself during the aftermath of his high with keeping his mouth full, blinking slowly like a cat at the hazy middle-distance.

you have to slide him off your cock and he protests, whimpering softly as his nails dig into your thigh. you wrap a hand around yourself, pumping it slowly, and taehyung stares on yearningly, licking his lips subconsciously when a bead of cum slides down your tip.

"do i need to look at what you've done," you ask, though your voice remains steady at the end like a statement. "pretty thing, we are in my office. that means no messes."

"doesn't feel as good as when you're in me," he rasps, leaning up and kissing the base of your cock. "please, baby? promise i'll clean up later."

"you can't always get your way through flattery," you chuckle as he stands, tilting and falling against you as if he belongs there, wrapped in your arms. one hand travels further down and cups his ass, squeezing the supple warmth of it. he moans airily.

"it's worked so far," he whispers. "go sit down, big boy. gonna ride you like you deserve."

"what, you're going to tease this gorgeous little ass and i'm not allowed to have a taste?" you tease, and taehyung grins, pressing chest-to-chest with you. "you're a cruel man."

he smiles, still panting softly, and presses his lips to the line of your jaw. "maybe later," he murmurs. "will you clean me up and take care of me afterwards?"

"depends on my mood, pretty," you hum, guided over to your seat and watching as he sets himself atop your lap. you squeeze his thighs, sitting up against his back.

"you're a chivalrous man, boss. you wouldn't force me to walk home with your cum dripping down my leg," he chuckles, placing his ass over your cock and grinding against it. he grips the armrest and turns his head over his shoulder to kiss you, the other hand coming up to grip your hair. "mm – fuck me already. wanna feel your cock fill me up like a whore – been waiting for ages to get you alone for this."

"you could always call me outside of work, you know?"

"but where's the fun in that?" he teases, and sinks down on your cock with a breathy relieved moan that makes you shiver.

holy fuck. he's so damn warm, so wet. for a moment your thoughts fizzle out into pleasant static shooting down your spine and out to your fingers and toes. just being with him, close to him, enveloped by his faint blue cologne, makes heaven an afterthought.

when you come to and open your eyes – despite not remembering closing them – you are met with taehyung's soft smoky gaze, his warm palm cupping your cheek. he smiles, breathless, as he leans in, closing his eyes and pressing your foreheads together. "you're handsome when you come."

after taking a moment to gather yourself, you frown slightly, shifting your hands higher on his thighs. no, you are most certainly still hard. "wishful thinking, much?"

"no, that was better than watching you come." he nuzzles into your cheek and jaw, then presses your foreheads together again with a soft roll of his hips. the action has you gasping and he slots his mouth against yours, taking advantage of the moment of weakness to slip his tongue between your teeth.

knowing he, your quiet, pretty little secretary, is the one to bring you down from your pedestal, fills him with insurmountable pride. smugness, too – a healthy dose of it. after all, the media made you into the country's most eligible bachelor, and still here you were, leaning into his touch like a soft college boyfriend. you've spent every waking moment since you turned eighteen having columnists nipping at your heels and biting into your clothes, your friends, your love life, and anything else they can twist into drama or some moral fault with you. he knows how high your walls are because of it and the fact that you decided to give him a chance, to let him help you, despite looking like every one of the scandalmongers who've ever hurt you, makes him proud.

you'd never truly lost that pureness about you, that faith in people's goodness that most lose the first time they're betrayed by those they love. that is a very hard thing to do when so many close to you have had some dark immortal want to leech out of you.

taehyung's getting ahead of himself. he can start thinking such things when you start calling him your boyfriend.

"i missed you," he whispers, breath hitching as the ridge of your cockhead catches on his rim. he reaches behind himself, guiding himself onto your dick, and his fingernails dig into your shoulder as he throws his head back with a breathless moan.

"yeah?" you murmur, because you can't ever stay upset at taehyung. "it's only been a few hours. fuck. mm – couldn't have known. maybe you should've sent me a few more videos of yourself."

he tries to gasp in offence, but it comes out too breathy, too pleased. he bounces on your lap with his creamy thighs bracketing yours. "pig. why do you want videos when you have the real thing right in front of you?"

"so i can remember you on lonely nights in foreign hotel rooms."

he scoffs, chuckling softly as he circles his hips, making you groan and tighten your grip on him. he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. "give me a promotion, big boy. then your nights won't have to be so lonely."

"you and your silver tongue," you murmur, placing your hands on the curve of his ass, the tiny dip of flesh at the base of his spine. he arches into your touch with a soft sigh, clenching around you and enveloping you in his velvety heat.

"mhm. you know what my tongue can do," he teases, content to fill himself up with you and do nothing else for the rest of the day. he could sit here, pretty as a princess, for the rest of his life and he'd have no qualms about it.

you, however, have different ideas.

you hook your arms under his thighs and rise to your feet, swiping pens and papers clear of your desk and onto the floor with a clatter – he laughs – and you set him down on your desk, kissing his jaw and neck. you nip at his earlobe and he growls in warning playfully, yanking your hair to bring your throat closer to him. he sucks a hickey onto the sensitive skin, the sting giving way to pleasure far too easily.

he spreads his knees and leans back, grabbing your cock with one hand and bracing against the desk with the other, and slips you back inside him with a long moan of bliss. "y-you're so big..."

"don't stroke my ego," you chuckle, stroking his soft, smooth hips and thighs as you thrust hilt-deep into him, easier now that he's adjusted. "god knows it's big enough as it is."

"of course i have to. you're the – the top man." his breath hitches as your cock glides against his swollen prostate, dragging against it roughly with how tightly he's stretched around you. he swears he can follow the line of the veins when it rides against his gummy walls with a harsh thrust. "oh, fuck! baby!"

"that feel good, hm?" you murmur into his ear, the sweet decadence of it rolling over his brain like waves over the shore.

"yes," he moans, eyes rolling back as you press into him, a single shift of the angle of your hips enough to make his back arch and his mouth fall open. "yes, yes! ah, f-fuck, right there – right there, harder, don't stop..."

you know his body like the back of your hand. gripping his thighs until they dimple under your fingertips, you pull out until just the tip rests against his hole. with a snap of your hips, you bury yourself deep in his warmth, making him jerk and cry out. his cock spurts prematurely and he gnaws on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut to will down his budding high. his nails dig into your shoulders.

"i told you," he pants, glistening eyes raising to meet yours. "harder."

what your secretary wants, he gets.

your cock slams directly into his prostate and he gasps, whimpering softly as you set a quick, hungry pace. still unsatisfied, you push your mouth against his, tongue dipping between his lips to taste his coffee.

milk, two sugars.

he always had a sweet tooth.

his damp hair sticks to his temples, the perfect salon waves bouncing rapidly with each smack of your hips against his ass. he moans into your mouth as his cock jerks, swollen and heavy against his slim stomach. it bounces with each powerful thrust and he cries out, the sweet sound echoing in your office for anyone to hear.

he whines softly, a softer sound than he'd ever let anyone else hear. he claws at your shoulders and sides, panting against your lips and submitting to your demanding kisses with messy clouded lust. the slap of skin on skin only arouses him further and he grabs your tie in a white-knuckled grip, tugging your mouth down against his the moment it parts for air.

"close," he whimpers into the kiss, and his eyes flutter back into his skull as your cock punches the breath out of his lungs, fucking him faster, harder, deeper. he opens his eyes, half-lidded and dazed, as you sweep his hair out of his eyes, combing it back gently with your fingers.

you tug. he comes.

his velvety searing heat swallows you whole, animal in its hunger, and he digs his heels into your lower back, forcing your cock deeper in him until you have no choice but to follow him over the precipice, crashing over it like blue waves over white rock. his pleasure is engulfing, almost stifling despite his tenderness. he curls into your grasp, panting and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and his hot, shuddering breath stirs against the fine skin of your collarbone.

when your hips slow to give him a moment of respite – surely he'd want one, you thought, barely able to eke out a gasp of your name – he instead takes the chance to chastise you.

"couldn't you have... finished... any faster?" he huffs, his chest heaving as he gulps down air between words. "you've a meeting in five minutes."

with your thoughts still lingering on the image of taehyung's bliss and the clandestine knowledge that he'd made a mess on your desk, you take a moment to respond. when you do, you're incredulous.

"wait, are you trying to keep me on schedule? now?"

"it's... it's office hours. i still have to do my job." he rolls his eyes, as if you aren't balls-deep inside of him. you remind him with a few shallow, gentle thrusts – he sucks in a shaky breath and tips his head back with a shake to let his bangs fall more comfortably over his forehead. "lord knows you're not the one keeping an eye on your timetable."

"we can talk about that later, and just reschedule that damn meeting. they'll wait for me." you press your lips to the dip just beneath his ear and he hums, lazily content. then, as if remembering that he has to play bad cop and not laze in the comfort of your touch, his eyes flutter open and his mouth thins into a straight line.

"you're making a bad habit out of this," he argues. there he is – your fiery assistant. if you looked at him now, you'd never know he'd just been making dirty videos with sultry smiles.

"the best kind of habit," you murmur, shifting your hips. his breath hitches and his grip tightens involuntarily on your shoulder, making you smirk. "don't worry, taehyung. i'll give you the rest of the day off. you need one – at least today because of me."

his frown deepens at your cheeky comment, even though his cheeks flush. "i don't take days off."

"you always say that, but what are you doing right now? working hard or hardly working?" you tease, sliding your hands up his thighs and hips.

"it's – different," he manages to gasp out, clicking his tongue when your nails drag over the veins of his messy cock. "stop that. you have a meeting, remember?"

you draw your hand back. "i was working when you sent me those videos. i seem to recall you were, too. this feels unfair."

"unfair?" he repeats. "you liked them. you always like them." he pauses. "don't you?"

"i'm not sure the other people on the train appreciate your beauty as much as i do." you kiss him and he hums, accepting your tongue into his mouth with a sigh of pleasure. "don't stop sending your videos."

"is that an order, big boy?" he whispers.

"yes, it is," you reply, and he smiles, brief and sweet. you pull out of him gently, rubbing the join between his hip and thigh soothingly as he moans softly through bitten lips. "now, you have an email to write. that meeting won't postpone itself."

he huffs, allowing you to help him down from your desk. he turns around, leaning over it to grab his laptop from the corner, and you press yourself into his back and ass, teasing your cock against his hole. the coffee he grabbed for you sits cold on the edge of your desk next to the pen holder.

"tell me what the email says," you murmur into his neck, caressing his stomach with one hand and teasing his nipples with the other.

taehyung's breath shudders as he nods, opening up the calendar and shifting the meeting to three days later. moving it a few hours means you look sloppy with your time management, and so does one day. three days looks like a choice – like you have better things to do with your time. these men don't have anyone else to go to, so they'll wait for you no matter what.

"your conference with mr ln has been moved to thursday, august twenty-first. please see attached—" he closes his eyes as your hand wraps around the base of his cock, gently squeezing. "p-please see attached a link to your updated appointment."

you shrug, peppering kisses over the freckles of his neck and shoulder. "good enough. send it."

he clicks send and closes his laptop, pushing it away as you lift him into your arms. he gasps and wraps his limbs around you, holding tight as you move him to the couch on the other side of the room. you hover over him as he pants softly, staring up at you with dark eyes and plump red lips.

"by the way, i've received message that your suit's been delivered to your home," you say with a soft smile. "you're going to outshine everyone at that stupid awards ceremony."

"you say that as if you won't like seeing me in it. you can fuck me in it in the car afterwards. you bought it, after all." his eyes glint dangerously. "maybe i'll wear a surprise under it – to celebrate your successes, of course."

you grin, filthy and boyish, and taehyung's heart flutters. "you've just made me very excited for that day. come grab coffee with me after work – we can test how much space i have in my backseat."

[shalomniscient]

woah…..that zoya post…………now make them kiss (pretty please 🙏)

this took centuries. im so sorry

breaking point || zoya x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. medical talk (or attempts at), kind of graphic descriptions of injuries (?), power bottom reader and service top zoya, unsafe sex in the sense reader wants to be dicked down so bad they diss condoms (practice safe sex gamers), fingering, creampie

notes. i dunno i just think zoya would like a partner with a little fire to them yk?? reader is just internally very horny for zoya but would not admit it even upon threat of death. also head in hands this is so disjointed im so sorry

taglist. @sinsmockingbird for when you awaken my liege

As an ER doctor, being able to keep a cool head even in intense situations is a priceless skill. You clarity and calmness could be the difference between a life saved and a life lost. Thankfully, you and your sister have always been good at being clinically cold—but even you both have your limits. For Iron, it was when she was forced to amputate her arm.

For you, it's watching a few legionnaires haul their Commander into the ER, barely conscious and looking half-dead.

"Trauma room 2, now," you snap, tossing your clipboard aside and pulling your coat tighter around yourself. Of course this had to happen on the one day Iron was in Eastside picking up supplies. Your mind races as you march alongside the legionnaires as they drag Zoya—hardly responsive, head hanging low, pallor to her skin—onto a cot. Your nurses swarm you like a well trained unit, moths to a light, awaiting your orders. You suck in a breath, let each molecule of air settle in your cells, before you dive headfirst into action.

"Four units of O-negative, and two large bore IVs," you command, your voice even as you move to stand next to the cot. The wound on her abdomen is substantial, and for once you're grateful for her frankly ridiculous fashion choices since it lets you save time on cutting her clothes off. Your gloved hands reach up to cup Zoya's pale face, your eyes cold as you look down at her. "Get the OR prepped and call anesthesia now."

"Zoya," you say firmly, gently shaking her head. "Oi, brute. Can you hear me?"

The commander remains silent, and you frown. Perhaps the situation is worse than you thought. One of the legionnaires, just a girl, shifts anxiously next to the bed. "Boss got hit by a Mania weapon," she explains, her voice trembling as if she's near tears. "It was supposed to be for me, but—"

"Do you know what kind?" you cut her off, and internally you flinch at the way she recedes from the iciness of your gaze. But she shakes her head, and you bite your tongue. The pieces of the diagnosis align in your mind's eye—Mania weapon, unknown effect, caused severe lacerations and subsequent hemorrhaging. High possibility of additional Mania contamination within her bloodstream, although as a Sinner risk of further complication on that avenue is reduced.

You draw in another breath. Okay. You can do this.

"You owe me for this, brute," you mutter, before you kick the locks off the cot wheels and start pushing her to the OR. The double doors greet you like the gateway to purgatory, and you push everything beyond your clinical expertise to the furthest recesses of your mind.

Under the bright OR lights, your form casts a long shadow over Zoya's still one. You exhale.

"Let's begin."

You only finish six hours later.

Your scrubs are stained red up to your elbows, and you can barely feel your feet after being on them for so long. But the heart monitor beeps steadily, and it is the only sound you want to hear now. You thank your nurses and tell them to get some rest. Once they're out of sight, you stumble back and lean against the wall, your eyes slipping shut.

Your hands are shaking.

You exhale. You're barely aware of the fact that you're sliding down the wall until you end up on the floor, the coldness of the tile seeping through your scrubs. The surgery hadn't been easy. Fishing remnants of Mania crystals out of flesh equally as red is always a challenge—often, the patient doesn't survive. Corruption sets in quickly, and all you can do is hand them over to Iron to nip the bud before it blooms.

But you saved her. She's alive, breathing, stable, so why does your heart tremble in your chest? Why does the sight of her blood on your arms make you sick?

Deep down, you know why. But the words knot on your tongue and catch against your teeth every time you try to say them. So instead, you settle for something else. A different emotion, but no less potent. And you pretend that the rush you felt that other day was nothing more than loathing. And whatever it is you're feeling now is just irritation that you had to spend 6 hours stitching her abdomen back together.

"Stupid fucking brute," you mutter to yourself, resting your head on your knees, pulled close to your chest. "Going out and getting yourself hurt like that. Aren't you supposed to be strong?"

You sit on the cold tile for a while, before forcing yourself back onto your feet. Your eyes roam impassively over Zoya's sleeping face, and you can't help but think how... soft she looks, peacefully asleep like this thanks to the anesthesia. It almost makes you want to reach out and stroke her cheek—but you don't, and instead turn on your heel and walk right out of the room.

After all, there’s no point lingering on pipe dreams.

"Doctor!"

You sigh, feeling a headache build between your temples. You turn to the nurse, scowling. "Yes?"

"The, um... the patient in trauma room two is awake," she answers nervously. "And she's trying to—"

Whatever your poor nurse is trying to say is cut off by none other than said patient striding down the hallway, unbothered, even as five of the other strongest nurses you have try to hold her back. She simply drags them along with each confident step. Also, she somehow managed to get her clothes back? You mentally add another thing to your to-do list—you'll have to have a stern talk with whoever manages patient belongings. Zoya stops in front of the front desk and eyes you up and down, and you shoot an unimpressed glare right back at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" you ask flatly, and Zoya shrugs.

"I'm here to say thanks," she responds, and you blink. That... wasn't what you were expecting.

"Oh."

"I'm also going to leave," she adds, and then you scoff, feeling the moment crumble in an instant.

"In your dreams. You're not due to be discharged for three more days." You round the counter to stand defiantly in front of her, and she raises a brow. Around you, your staff shift nervously. If Zoya decides to force her way out, there really is no one who can stop her.

"I'm perfectly fine," she counters, placing a hand on her hip. Your eyes flick down to it, and yes—the glaring wound in her side is healed up, almost beautifully. Such are the 'benefits' of being a Sinner. But you shake your head nonetheless, stubbornly digging your heels in. If Zoya is an unstoppable force, then by God will you be the immovable object.

"You're fine when I say you're fine," you roll your eyes. "Now do I have to put you on a leash or are you going to go back to your room on your own?"

Something flickers in Zoya's eyes, and she makes a derisive noise that has your brow twitching. You can feel your blood starting to simmer just beneath your skin. Really, one of these days she's probably going to give you an aneurysm.

“Hmm, how about this, then? You check me over, and if anything isn’t in already healthy condition, I’ll stay,” Zoya offers, and you cross your arms.

“And if not?”

“Then I’ll leave,” she answers coolly. “Deal?”

Your head throbs. “Fine. Just get in the triage room, I’ll make this quick.”

You stalk your way to the room, Zoya following on your heels like an obedient dog. Like this, it is she who casts a shadow on you, with her once again ridiculous height. It makes you want to see her on her knees.

You banish the though away as quickly as it came and sit Zoya down on the cot. She leans back on both her palms, relaxed as ever, watching as you flit about, pulling on gloves and putting on your stethoscope.

“Breathe in,” you order, and she does. Her lungs sound clear, which is good. You don’t hear the light chime of embedded Mania crystals, which is a relief. Your hand trails down her back before moving to her front, ghosting over her abs.

The injury that had left her bleeding all over your floors is practically gone now—only a thin white line proof it was ever there. You brush your thumb against the scar, and you feel the way her muscles tense beneath your touch.

You do your due diligence, pressing along her abdomen as part of a standard checkup. It’s a perfectly normal procedure to check for organ size, pain and abnormalities, but the thought that this is Zoya you’re touching almost makes your hands tremble. And the way she’s reacting—tense and breathing deep with each inhale—is certainly not helping.

Once you finally finish the exam, there’s a distinct charged feeling in the air. You glance up at Zoya, and her eyes are dark; just like the way they were back then. It makes you swallow reflexively, your blood feeling almost unbearably warm beneath your skin.

You’re still close to her. Your hands are still on her abdomen. You should pull away, but you don’t really want to. A part of you doesn’t even think it can.

“Did I pass, princess?” Zoya breathes, her warm breath fanning across your face. Your eyes narrow, and you look directly into her dark ones like a challenge.

“It’s doctor.”

She smirks. You want to kiss it off her. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl, ready to pull away, irritation overtaking the lust in your system before Zoya grabs both your wrists and keeps you close.

“Fuck me yourself,” she whispers, dangerously close to your lips, both an invitation and a challenge.

A better doctor would’ve stepped away. Good thing, then, that you never were the best, because you meet Zoya’s challenge in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. Zoya grins against you, slipping off the cot to tower over you. Her hands move your arms around her neck as she walks you backwards, all while her tongue plunders your mouth.

Zoya pushes you against a wall with enough force to make you gasp, air rushing from your lungs. Her lips and teeth descend on your neck as her hands travel down to your ass, squeezing once before they find your thighs, guiding them to wrap your legs around her waist. You sigh in pleasure at the kisses she presses against the skin of your neck, one of your hands winding in her silvery hair while the other digs into her shoulder to steady yourself.

You’re now completely held up by her, but the fear of falling doesn’t cross your mind even once. You’re pretty sure Zoya can keep you in place by just pinning you to the wall with her hips. You grind your front against her pelvis, and you both groan at the friction against her growing bulge. Zoya’s fingers find the waistband of your scrubs, and she tugs them down roughly.

You tighten your grip in her hair at that, and she hisses in both slight pain and pleasure. “Careful,” you mutter to her, “you’re not allowed to rip them.”

Zoya scoffs against your neck but nonetheless obeys, and you sigh when you feel her knuckles rub against your clothed clit. Zoya exhales as she feels your wetness seep through your panties and onto her skin.

“So fucking wet, princess,” she coos into your ear, dragging a finger along your slit. She presses lightly on the ruined cloth, delighting in the way it sticks to your drenched lower lips. You nip at her jaw, a scrape of your teeth along the defined bone, and Zoya takes the hint.

Her fingers push your panties to the side, and then sinks knuckle deep into your cunt.

You bite down on her shoulder to muffle your moans, your pussy fluttering around the intrusion. Fuck, her fingers are so thick—she’s hardly done anything and you’re already so close to your peak it’s embarassing. Your legs tighten around her waist as she starts pumping her fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds of her working your cunt open echoing in the room. Her thumb presses against your stiff clit and you squirm, burying your face in her neck and panting for breath.

“Gonna cum, princess?” Zoya asks, a breathless edge to her voice. “You’re—fuck—getting tighter, baby.”

“Keep going,” you snap, somewhere between a snarl and a sob. Your entire body is trembling. You seriously might kill her if she does. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Zoya growls, and pistons her fingers even faster all while her thumb draws harsh circles against your clit. You babble whispered praise into her neck before one final, perfect stroke against that spongy spot inside of you had you creaming all over her fingers. The gang leader grunts as she feels your tightness bear down on her, and wetness seep into her palm.

You pant against her neck as you come down from your high, legs twitching. Zoya withdraws her fingers with a wet squelch, and you shudder. But she doesn’t set you down, not just yet, and you know why—or rather, you can feel why. You pull back, leaning your head against the wall, and all while keeping your eyes locked with hers, let your hand brush against the tent in her pants.

Her hips jerk at the sensation, and you smirk. She’s just as pathetically desperate as you are. You brush your hand up and down the clothed length once, then twice, before finally tugging the zipper and her boxers down just enough for her cock to spring free.

Shit, you feel yourself get wetter at just the sight. Her cock slaps against her stomach, painfully hard and big enough that you’re glad she had the control to finger you open first. Zoya growls again when you pump your hand along her length, gathering sticky pre-cum from her drooling tip and laving it down her hardness.

“Wouldn’t happen to keep condoms in here, would you?” she asks, her voice deeper than usual. You roll your eyes at the question.

“No, we don’t keep condoms in the triage room,” you answer, shifting your hips so her cock now rests against your soaked lower lips. “But we do stock morning after pills.”

Zoya’s eyes flicker dangerously, and she grips your hips tight enough to bruise. “You’re playing with fire, princess.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you retort, moving your hips up and down and letting her cock slide between your pussy lips and bump deliciously against your clit. “I’m on the pill anyway.”

Zoya buries her face in your neck and growls, then angles her cock with your entrance and slowly pushes in. You have to bite your tongue as she enters because fuck, she’s so fucking big. You can feel the way you cunt stretches to accomodate her size, more than it ever has for anyone else and you whimper reflexively.

Zoya squeezes your hips apologetically, kissing your neck as she keeps going. “Gotta relax, princess, c’mon, just relax for me…”

You do your best, and the moment she bottoms out it feels like all the breath has been forced from your lungs. Gravity ensures you have a particularly deep seat on her cock, and it leaves both of you breathless. Zoya meets your eyes, and slowy, she starts to thrust, drawing back before snaping forward in a smooth rhythm that soon has you seeing stars.

She fucks you against the wall with as much force as she can muster without being too loud—the rest of the hospital is just outside the door anyway. She smothers your moans with a kiss, hungry and demanding, her tongue tangling against yours. With each rut of her hips her cock bullies your g-spot and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighten once more.

“‘m going to cum,” you gasp out, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure, “‘m gonna cum, Zoya, please—“

“Go on, then, princess,” she encourages, her thumb starting to work your clit again. “Cum all over this cock like I know you want to.”

You writhe against her, your cunt squeezing her length like a vise. Zoya grunts at the sensation, her thrusts starting to get choppy as she rockets to her own high. Her lips travel from your own then down to your neck, her teeth ghosting the skin there. With one last drive of her hips she buries herself deep inside you and spills her hot cum into your eager cunt, while her teeth sink into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of being filled by and of her, your insides being painted white as she dumps rope after rope of cum into you. Fuck, you’re going to be dripping into your panties for a while after this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as nothing but sheer pleasure courses through your veins.

You don’t know how long it takes before both of you wind down from the high, but Zoya’s still hilted inside you, and a part of you doesn’t want her to leave. You’re both a panting mess, and Zoya draws away from your neck with a breathless sigh.

“So…” she begins, and you can barely manage a noise in response. “I take it I’m clear to be discharged, doctor?”

You only answer her with a quick smack to her shoulder that has her chuckling.

(But you agree, on the condition she comes back for regular check-ups. Zoya has no problems with this arrangement.)

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Four

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note this chapter, except a moment of sickeningly awkward cuteness (I'm so sorry). All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.8k

A/N : The aftermath of last chapter. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Four

You woke to find yourself on the sofa, covered with a blanket, alone and with only a vague recollection of what had happened the night before. Your hand had been bandaged and you felt worse than ever. The room was spinning, your head pounding, and finally you understood why; blood loss. You’d drawn blood and, then, you’d let him drink from you; it had been too much and you’d lost consciousness.

It took a moment more for you to remember everything else that had happened; how he’d pressed his body to yours, how he’d kissed you, and how you’d - oh god, your boss had made you come. 

Panic washed over you for a second, your hand reaching between your thighs, terrified that something had happened after you passed out. No. You breathed a sigh of relief and found yourself feeling silly for even thinking that Billy would do something like that. From what little you knew of him, you didn’t think he was capable of that.

Despite being completely alone, you pulled the blanket up, hiding your face and your embarrassment. You closed your eyes and all you could see was his face, blood covered lips and dark eyes filled with hunger - and not just hunger for blood.

You remembered his lips on your neck, the scrape of teeth - fangs - as you came. Gingerly, you ran your fingers over your skin, searching for puncture marks but, thankfully, found none. 

As much as you wanted to move, to go back to your bedroom, you were too exhausted and, soon enough, you ended up falling asleep again. 

Hours must have passed and you certainly felt better for it when you finally opened your eyes again.

At some point a bottle of water and a note had been left on the floor next to the sofa, though you couldn’t say if they’d been there the whole time or if he’d placed them there after you’d fallen asleep again.

You decided to start with the water, taking a slow drink to steady your nerves before reading the note. It was impossible to stop your mind from going into overdrive, from thinking of all the things that the note might contain; was he going to fire you for your unprofessional behaviour, was he angry that you broke the rule about being in the penthouse after 9pm?

Your fingers shook as you unfolded the note and started to read.

I want to apologise for my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable and I understand if you want to terminate your contract because of it. If you want to leave, please let Lissa know and she will retrieve your things from storage. If you choose to stay, you will have the next couple of days to yourself to recover. I’ll be gone until Friday and won’t need blood before then. 

Whatever you decide, I’ve arranged for my friend Karen to visit you tomorrow and, if you still want to, you have permission to go out with her for the day. If you want to leave, she will help you with whatever you need to do so. Please take care of yourself.

Billy.

You read and reread the note, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. The note felt so detached, almost like he was assuming you’d want to leave. 

(Did you? Was that really what you wanted?)

You read it again before sitting up, noticing the dried blood on your pyjamas. Common sense told you to leave, to get your things and get out of there as quickly as possible. Last night had been stupid and reckless, you’d done the one thing you’d promised yourself you’d never do; you’d let a vampire drink directly from you.

Okay, so he hadn’t bitten you, but what was to say that next time he wouldn’t? But, by the same logic, what was to say that he would? He could have done anything he wanted to you, but he hadn’t. And what he had done you’d allowed. No, you’d been an active participant. You’d enjoyed it. (Who were you trying to kid? You’d wanted it.) He’d told you to stay away and you’d ignored him. It had been your choice to feed him, your choice to let him kiss you, even though you knew he wasn’t in his right mind.

Embarrassed as you were, some part of you had wanted what had happened last night and, now, you had to live with the consequences. 

You read the note one last time. Please take care of yourself, you weren’t sure if those five little words made it better or worse. He always seemed so concerned with how fragile you were, and you still weren’t sure if it came from a place of caring or of liability, but it felt like he was staying away from his own home because of you.

No, you quickly decided, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t. You needed the money and last night was as much your fault as Billy’s. 

Staying was still far better than the alternative.

Eventually you managed to get up and move to your rooms, grabbing yourself a bowl of cereal on the way to bed. You put the TV on, but more for background noise than anything and spent the rest of the day dozing, only getting up to get more cereal.

Instead of thinking about what had happened, you started thinking about tomorrow, about finally being able to go outside and see some of New York City. What would his friend Karen be like? Would she be able to tell you anything about Billy? Finally, you had something to look forward to, even though you were worried that Billy had only arranged it out of guilt.

You felt much better the next day when you woke up, in part because you were excited to finally go outside and see some of the city but, also, because you were looking forward to meeting Billy’s friend and having someone new to talk to. The weather outside looked cold and wet, so you dressed accordingly, pulling a lovely blue jacket and pair of boots from your wardrobe to put on over your jeans and blouse.

Just before midday, you heard someone calling your name, and you quickly went out to greet them. She had stunning red hair and skin so pale you might have thought she was a vampire if you weren’t about to go out in daylight with her. It was enough to make you pause, to make you wonder how she knew Billy, an odd twinge of jealousy filling you for a second.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she smiled and held out her hand. You took it and introduced yourself properly, even though she already knew your name. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, looking down at your bandaged hand for a second. “I caught it taking some cookies out of the oven.”

“Ouch,” Karen winced sympathetically, seeming to buy the lie. “Billy said you wanted to go for coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you answered, feeling overcome with relief the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“You got any place in mind?” Karen asked, subtly looking you up and down like she was trying to get a measure of you.

“I - I don’t know. This is my first time in New York, I don’t really know where anything is.” 

“And this is the first time he’s let you outside,” she stated.

For a second you looked at her, confused, wondering how much she knew, how much she was supposed to know. Lissa had told you that Billy valued his privacy and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to say in this situation. The uncomfortable look on your face must have been enough to tip Karen off that you didn’t know how to answer.

“He has his reasons,” she started again as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and you stepped out, “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but he is trying to look out for you.”

“How do you know him?” You asked.

“I met him through his best friend when we started dating.”

“Oh. And is he...?” You left the question unfinished, not sure if it was polite to ask.

“A vampire?” She smiled the sort of carefree smile that you couldn’t help feel envious of, like she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. “Yes, he is.”

Stepping out onto the street, you couldn’t help but stop for a moment, turning your eyes skyward and taking a deep breath. It took a second for your eyes to get used to natural light and, all the while, Karen stood watching you.

“How long has it been?” Her question pulled you back to the moment.

“A couple of weeks, I think?” You tried to remember, but you’d lost track of how long exactly it had been after the first week. However long it had been, it wasn’t really long enough to warrant that sort of reaction from you. Your cheeks warmed a fraction as you looked at Karen. “I’m not really used to being cooped up indoors all the time.”

Karen just nodded, waiting a beat before starting to walk. You fell into step beside her, your eyes taking in the sights of New York. You had no idea where she was leading you but you didn’t care. You were finally seeing the city and you couldn’t be happier.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself in a little coffee shop, looking at the pastries and cakes on offer before you realised something.

“I don’t have any money,” you told Karen, your cheeks turning red, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind; you always had a purse with you or your phone, but Lissa had taken them and you weren’t going to be paid until you’d completed a year in Mr Russo’s service. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Karen replied, starting to fumble around with her purse before pulling out a black credit card and handing it to you. “Billy asked me to give you this for anything you need.”

The card had your name embossed on it but there was nothing else to indicate - well, anything at all. You didn’t know if it was a prepaid card or if it had a limit, and there was no way of telling where the money would be coming from.

“The PIN is your birth year,” Karen continued, though she seemed more interested in eyeing the food selection than she was in you.

After a moment more, you decided that you’d ask Billy about it when you next saw him (assuming you ever saw him again, after the other night). You choose modestly, not wanting to spend too much on a card that wasn’t yours and that you couldn’t control. For all you knew, you were spending Billy’s money and the last thing you wanted to do was take advantage of this gesture of kindness.

And that was something Karen did notice, watching you from the corner of her eye with a somewhat bemused expression on her face as you calculated just how much money you’d be spending getting a drink, a panini, and a muffin. Then, you held your breath as you used the card for the first time, preparing yourself for the embarrassment of it being declined.  It wasn’t. You breathed a sigh of relief before following Karen to a little table by the window.

Your eyes were fixed on the street outside, watching as it started to rain, but you could feel her eyes on you.

“You’re not like the others,” she finally broke the silence. 

“What were they like?” You asked with a healthy degree of caution, still not knowing what the rules were and what you were allowed to talk to her about. “Lissa said that they disappointed Mr Russo?”

She sat back, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile. You couldn’t tell what part of it she found amusing and you didn’t want to ask.

“Disappointed is one word for it, I guess?” she took a breath, obviously composing her thoughts before continuing. “Did you know that you’re the first one he didn’t interview himself?”

You shook your head; you’d applied for the job by email and had spoken to someone (you now assumed to be Lissa) very briefly over the phone. In retrospect, it seemed strange given the amount of money that was at stake.

Unless he didn’t bother because he assumed you’d disappoint him like the others…

“The problem with Billy - with the whole job, really - is that it usually attracts a... certain sort of person. Most of them have only been interested in the money and spending a year living in the lap of luxury. The others are...” she fell silent, smiling as the barista brought your toasted paninis over and, when you were alone again, she looked like she really didn’t want to finish her thought.

“The others are...?” You prompted cautiously.

“They’re the sort of people who want more from the arrangement than Billy is prepared to give,” she answered and, when you obviously didn’t catch her meaning, she continued. “Billy is a very rich man and he’s going to live forever. A lot of people find both of those prospects very attractive.”

“They want him to...” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, a lump stuck in your throat at the thought. Karen nodded. “And you’ve done this before? Gone for coffee with... someone like me?”

“Not quite like this, but I did spend time with some of them.”

“What do you mean not quite like this?” 

She paused half way through lifting her cup to her lips and, for a second you could have sworn she winced. Still, she took a drink and didn’t try to answer until her mug was back on the table again.

“His rules weren’t always so strict.” Her head shook. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you any of this. Billy has his reasons for why things are the way they are; it’s to protect you as much as it’s to protect him.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions but no words came out. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how or why the rules had changed because you’d agreed to them. You’d agreed to the job and you needed the money, so the last thing you wanted to do was get Karen in trouble and maybe jeopardise future outings like this.

“Thank you,” you told her, then quickly clarified; “for telling me.”

Karen smiled, considering her words for a moment. “Billy is a friend, but trust me when I tell you that if I didn’t believe what he was doing was necessary, I would have told him so.”

“It’s okay,” you conceded quietly, shrugging, “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do this.”

You turned your attention to your food, cautiously picking up your panini, trying not to burn yourself on the molten cheese that was leaking out the side as you took a bite. It was heavenly; toasted just the right amount, the cheese was sharp, and the tuna -

You dropped the panini back to your plate, horrified with yourself.

No. No-no-no. How could you have been so stupid? You felt your chest tighten a fraction, your stomach tying itself in knots. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Karen asked, obviously concerned.

“Tuna,” you stated, your voice breaking. “I’m not supposed to eat tuna. It’s on the list. He’s going to -”

“Whoa-whoa, back up. What list?”

“The list of things I’m not supposed to eat,” you tried to explain, unable to conceal the panic from your voice. 

This wasn’t you - you didn’t break rules, you always tried to stay in line - and, now, you’d messed up. All you could think was that you were going to lose the job, that Billy would kick you out and you’d have no choice but to go home. You were going to end up back where you started all because of a stupid toasted sandwich.

“Hey-hey, calm down, it’s okay,” Karen tried to settle you.

“You don’t understand I can’t lose this job.”

“You won’t,” she reached across the table, taking your hand in hers, “if Billy finds out, we’ll tell him it was my fault, okay?”

“But -”

“No, buts. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain the panic that was clawing beneath your ribs. You’d been raised to be good, to be decent, to follow the rules and not cause problems. You’d been raised to fear consequences and, even though you were far from home, that mindset was difficult to escape.

“Here,” she offered, sliding her plate towards you, “we can swap, I got ham and cheese. You only had one bite, Billy will never know.”

It was like she understood, like she could tell just by looking at you how desperately you needed to keep the job - not just because of the money on offer but because you had nothing and nowhere else to go without it. 

Taking the offered plate, you ate slowly, quietly. From time to time, you’d catch her looking at you, concern on her face. Conversation that followed was stilted and awkward as you picked apart your muffin until it was gone. And, once your mug was empty, the outing was over.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,” she apologised as you started back towards the penthouse. “I’ll make more time next week; we can spend a whole afternoon doing whatever you want. We’ll make it a regular thing, every Thursday.”

Agreeing, you thanked her as she rode the elevator back up to the penthouse with you, making sure you were okay before leaving you with the promise of seeing you again next week.

It was strange to know that you were completely alone in the penthouse for another day but, after the incident with the panini, you were very deliberate when it came to the rules. You sat on the sofa until just before 9pm, watching the cloudy sky slowly darken and give way to night before returning to your rooms, even though no one would have known if you’d stayed in the penthouse longer.

That night you laid in bed thinking about Billy - or, rather, you thought about what it was going to be like to see him again after what had happened. Was he as embarrassed by it all as you were? Did Billy Russo even get embarrassed? Maybe it would be better for the both of you if you just pretended that it never happened.

Friday passed in a blur. Every time you heard a noise in the penthouse, you would creep to the door to your quarters and press your ear against it, trying to hear if he was back. Of course, some part of you understood how ridiculous you were being; Billy was so light on his feet that you’d never be able to hear him. But, still, time and time again you found yourself pressed against the door.

After drawing blood, you moved across the penthouse as quietly as you could, looking for signs that he was home and finding none. Once you reached the kitchen and placed the blood in the fridge, you allowed yourself a sigh of relief before turning and -

There he was.

Standing between you and your rooms, a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher.

For a second your lips parted, wanting to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. Your cheeks started to warm and the silence dragged on for at least ten seconds. Billy looked uncertain, so uncomfortable in your presence. His normally calm and collected demeanour was gone, replaced with a look that made you feel unsettled, guilty even. More than that, you couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked - you hadn’t even realised that vampires could look tired before now.

“You decided to stay,” part-statement, part-question. All you could do was nod, letting your feet carry you a couple of steps closer to him. “I’m glad. I didn’t think you would.”

“I want to stay,” you offered quietly, breathing slowly, trying to keep your heart from racing.

“I’m sorry for the other night. I never wanted you to see me like that,” he said, standing a little taller and seeming to regain some of his usual composure. “It won’t happen again. I never wanted to make you feel unsafe here.”

“You didn’t,” your voice still small as you struggled to find a way to describe any of the things you were feeling right now. “You told me to stay away and I didn’t listen, and I didn’t ask you to stop when I should have. But I just...” you trailed off, not sure how to say the next part.

“What?” He prompted softly, his attention entirely fixed on you.

“I need to make it clear; just because you’re paying me, it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to -”

“I would never think that I’m entitled to fuck you just because I’m paying you,” he interrupted, just as offended by the notion as you were. “Anything that happens here only happens with your consent.”

Did that mean it could happen again if you wanted it to? You didn’t dare voice the question, instead you just nodded.

His gaze dropped awkwardly and yours followed it, noticing something tightly gripped in his hands. A stuffed toy. Before you could ask, Billy had cleared the distance between you, holding out the toy to you. After a moment of confused hesitation, you took it, frowning first at the toy then him.

“When you said you were lonely, you mentioned a dog and I -” he let out an uncomfortable huff of laughter, “- well, obviously I can’t let you have a real dog here but I thought - I hoped - maybe this would help.”

Your gaze dropped to the stuffed toy in your hand, shaped like a beagle with floppy ears and a little pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought you such a thoughtful gift and that sad thought caused your heart to give an uncomfortable squeeze. When you looked back to Billy, you started to realise that there was far more to the man than you��d originally believed.

“I didn’t know what kind of dog you had, so I just...” he continued, trailing off when he saw your smile.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.” 

It was Billy’s turn to simply nod, seeming just as lost for words as you were for a few seconds before deciding to let you go about your evening. “Anyway, I won’t keep you.”

The conversation was over giving you the perfect opportunity to walk away and recover from whatever this had been, only -

“I broke one of the rules,” you blurted out without thinking, not wanting to carry the weight of it after Billy’s gesture.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face but was quickly reined in. “Which one?” 

“I ate tuna in a panini when I went out with Karen,” you stated, sounding so ashamed anyone would have thought you were confessing to murder. “It was just one bite. I forgot tuna was on the list. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, Mr Russo. I promise.”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, or the way the tension seemed to leave his body. His hand found your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“But the list -”

“Tuna is on the list because I don’t like it. If I’d been here and had your blood, it would have been unpleasant for me, but I wasn’t here so I’m willing to forgive it.”

(Well, that explained why certain foods were on the list. They were things he didn’t like - did that mean he could tell what you’d been eating from your blood?)

“I spent twenty dollars,” you admitted a moment later, like you were confessing all of your sins to him. (Or maybe you just wanted to keep the conversation going a little while longer, keep his hand on you a little longer.)

His hand moved to your neck, his cold touch on your skin causing your heart to beat a little faster. And you knew he could tell, you knew he could hear the effect he was having on you. 

“You spent eighteen dollars fifty-five,” he told you, amused by whatever this was. “I don’t think you’re going to bankrupt me.” When his little joke didn’t manage to draw a smile from you, Billy sighed. “I’m the one that should be sorry. I haven’t really explained things to you, I guess because I didn’t think you’d even make it past the second week.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m asking a lot of you. Maybe too much,” he told you as his thumb began to softly brush against your jaw. “The truth is, I need things to be like this. I need to have control. I need to stay in control because when I don’t...”

He didn’t have to say it, you could fill in the blanks. The other night was what happened when Billy lost control, it was what happened when the monster overwhelmed the man.

“But,” he continued, “I know it’s not easy to be the person who’s being controlled. I know you don’t really want this.”

“No, I -” the words started to slip out before you could stop them. Billy looked at you expectantly, silently demanding you finish the thought. Your cheeks felt like they were burning, but he was giving you honesty and you needed to do the same in return. “I’m used to rules. I like knowing what’s expected of me. It doesn’t make things easier for me, but I like knowing where I stand. So, I guess I don’t mind following your rules.”

It was clear he had questions but clearer still that he didn’t want to ask them. You were grateful for that.

“You always have a choice here, little hummingbird, even if I sometimes make it seem like you don’t,” he told you, leaving his hand to linger on your neck a moment more before it dropped to his side. Somehow, you felt colder for the loss of his icy touch. He was quiet a moment before; “do you like Thai food?”

You nodded despite the very sudden change in conversation. “I love it.”

“I’ve got nothing planned this weekend, perhaps we could spend some time getting to know each other a little better? Maybe that would make things a little easier,” he offered, a small smile on his lips. “We could order from a great Thai place I know and I could try to answer some of your questions about things.”

Your fingers tightened on the stuffed toy as you smiled. Finally, you felt like you were getting somewhere, like this could become something bearable, something good.

“I’d like that,” you answered.

“Okay then, tomorrow evening at sunset,” he nodded and looked ready to leave.

Nodding in return, you finally stated to move back towards your rooms. Your hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Why did you help me?” You could tell from his tone that he didn’t want to ask the question, but the curiosity had gotten the better of him. “You didn’t have to help, you could’ve stayed in your rooms. Instead you put yourself in danger to help me. Why?”

You turned back, despite not knowing how to answer him. And, for a few seconds you found yourself looking at him. There was something there, something about his expression, something that made you wonder if anyone else had ever helped him before. It seemed like such an alien concept to him that anyone might go out of their way to do anything for him.

“You looked like you were in pain,” you shrugged, “and, even though I haven’t always felt completely comfortable here, I think you’ve always tried to be kind... in your own way. So, I couldn’t just stand by when I thought there was a chance I could help you.”

Billy swallowed, like he was trying to rid himself of a lump in his throat. Then he nodded, clearly lost for words. That look you’d noticed only seconds before seemed to intensify and Billy didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

“Thank you,” he finally managed, before giving you one last look and turning away. 

For a second you allowed yourself to watch him as he made his way towards the kitchen but you knew you couldn’t linger, not when the pounding of your heart gave you away. Slipping through the door, you quickly shut it behind you, pressing your back against it for a moment. Looking down, you realised that you had the stuffed dog clutched to your chest. It was silly, such a ridiculous gift, but the fact that he’d listened to you, the fact that he’d thought about what you’d told him, it meant so much.

End Note : Billy was having a Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen version) moment when he handed over the stuffed toy. Place your bets on what she’s going to to call it. I know this one was slow and a little cutesy but I wanted to build some more tension before things start to ramp up next chapter.

As always thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much to all my new followers (I did not expect 200+ followers when I started posting on tumblr). I hope you all have awesome weekends!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest

[pixel-percy]

🔎 A Museum AU — You've been hopelessly crushing on your boss for months now, but you never would have guessed she felt the same. 🔎

🔎 Word Count: 1.2k 🔎 Music Vibes: HOT TO GO! by Chappell Roan 🔎 Warning(s): Smut (fingering), public sex, & workplace power imbalance (everything is consensual, no one is manipulated) 🔎 A/N: Was sitting on this idea for a bit and finally managed to get it out. I haven't thoroughly edited this so there are probably some errors, but I hope ya'll enjoy it nonetheless!

You weren’t sure what happened.

The museum had been quiet, clock approaching the witching hour as you gently removed debris from the newest fossil to grace the Croft collection. A gentle hum from the electronics throughout the room steered the silence away from maddening. Despite the push for museum employees to not work past their designated hours, you needed some peace of mind, and this was the only place you could get it.

But now you were lip-locked with the owner, your boss, someone you tried so hard not to think about like this… and her hands were making their way into your shorts.

You gasp.

“Lara,” you whine between swipes of your lips.

She responds by pushing you into the desk you always claimed, the files you’d be looking into, and baubles you liked to adorn the surface of it with, disrupted. You reach back with one hand to brace yourself and accidentally smack your little desk lamp off, the shatter of the bulb against the floor stuttering your movements.

“Shit,” you breathe.

“I’ll buy you another one,” she says and splayes her hand on your jaw to guide your gaze back to her. Your free hand tangles into the bottom of her hair, fingers pushing up into the loose bits that weren't tied in a ponytail. You felt the button of your shorts pop, zipper nudged down as her fingers press against the fabric of your underwear.

The peace of mind you needed was from this feeling. From Lara.

You’d been dancing around each other for months with flirty smiles and accidental brushes of your skin against one another. It had built up, all that suffocating tension, until the night before when your co-workers had somehow coerced the notorious homebody, Lara Croft, into going to a local bar. You weren’t sure if you wanted to attend yourself but they insisted so you decided one drink would do.

Four drinks later, you were taking Lara’s hand and pulling her to the dance floor, the live band’s choice of music feeling practically targeted; rhythm and booze. You weren’t sure if Lara had had any drinks herself, but she had a light tinge of pink on her cheeks. Her eyes were locked with yours, the usual shyness between the two of you gone the moment you placed your arms on her shoulders and she pulled you toward her by your belt loops.

The dance you shared was the definition of intimacy with a little bit of fire tacked onto it, writhing against each other effortlessly. The kiss was unplanned. Just like this one. But it was you who’d initiated it the first time and you who quickly pulled away when you felt her freeze. Embarrassment trickled over your cheeks in the form of a blush and before you could even think to stop yourself, intoxicated or not, you were apologizing and leaving the bar.

 That’s why you were working after hours.

That’s why you were surprised to see Lara walking over to you, that same pink tinge on her cheeks, trying effortlessly to avoid turning her gaze downwards when she spoke.

“You’re not supposed to be here this late.” There was no anger or authority in her voice, in fact, it was barely a whisper.

“Neither are you,” you managed.

Then she was on you, practically knocking you into the fossil you’d been examining. The mask you wore? Torn from your neck and tossed somewhere else in the lab. It was a whirlwind of stumbling and redirecting your momentum from precious artifacts before you ended up against your desk, but worth every second.

Lara’s fingers press against your clit, fabric rubbing gently and coaxing a moan out of you, which she devours. This was a different sort of Lara, one you’d have never expected with the way she presented herself to the world. Well-spoken but soft in practically everything she did… But those calloused fingers that were now touching you, running themselves up and down your folds, made you think twice about the woman before you.

Your legs spread naturally, even without her knees nudging them apart, and you lean most of your weight back onto the desk. Papers join the broken glass on the floor and your miscellaneous items topple over one another.

Everything was spinning. Lara’s lips were hot as they trailed kisses down your neck, teeth and breath against the sensitive skin there. She pushes down your tank top and your loose-fitting sports bra until she can hungrily pull one of your nipples into her mouth. Instinctively, the hand you had in her hair twists and grips her ponytail enough to tug it roughly.

She moans at that, a guttural sound that lets you know that she enjoyed the sting of the motion and that knowledge on its own sends a hot sensation from your lower body up to your already burning cheeks. Lara’s tongue runs over the sensitive skin she’d previously claimed all while her fingers go to work inside of you.

All of this was so much, but this was everything you’d secretly wanted the moment you saw her. You just hadn’t imagined she might have felt the same way.

The museum’s silence felt even louder now that your gasps, groans, and moans filled the space. You’d never have even thought to do this, not in public and certainly not in your workplace, but this was just… so good. And who was going to stop you? Your boss? Well…

Lara’s teeth bit down just hard enough on your nipple to pull you out of your thoughts and make you hyper-aware that you were going to combust at any moment.

“Lara, please,” you cry. Your name escapes her as a mumble against your skin.

Her thumb continues the circles against your clit while her other digits find purchase inside of you, nudging against the exact spot you need. She knew because every time she rubbed it your breath hitched. Jumping each others’ bones felt like a dream not just a few days ago, dropping your gaze from her like she could read your thoughts, and at this point, you were convinced she might have been able to all along.

You tumble over the edge, a moan louder than you intended tumbling from your mouth as your body convulses with every extra touch Lara applies. It’s a quiet comedown, slow, and her lips are back to that softness you would have initially expected from her. She pulls her hands away from your body, propping them on the desk on either side of you, and you take a moment to catch your breath.

“That was… unexpected,” you breathe, a small laugh escaping you.

“Sorry,” she mutters. You manage to pick your head up to finally look at her face, a smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth. A smile grows on your lips in response.

“No need to be sorry.”

“Well, not entirely true.” She nods to the floor on the side of your desk. “I did break your desk lamp.”

“Oh.” Your gaze turns downward. “True… It was pretty expensive,” you exaggerate, face scrunching a bit when you turn back to her.

“How can I repay you?” she asks, lips hovering close to yours once more.

“Mmm,” you mumble, looking between her and the lamp. “I think dinner will suffice.”

“Deal,” she responds, that bit of shyness returning to her demeanor. “I’ll go grab a dustpan.”

“In a bit,” you say. This time it’s you grabbing onto her and gently pushing her back onto your desk, careful to avoid the glass as you drop to your knees.

[sprinkler-ashes]

the great war // aaron hotchner x reader

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

words: 5.5k

description: in which aaron hotchner thinks you’re hot-headed. inspired by the great war by taylor swift.

warnings: angst w/ a happy ending, one (1) steamy car makeout, cursing, typical cm violence depictions

a/n: long time no see, and i’m sorry about that. to make a long story short, summer was very awful on me; i had a breakup and am now back in school + drowning in work. I love this fic so much; it’s probably my favorite i’ve ever written and i hope you love it too <3 also!!! if you have a request for a fic to a song, please send it my way! taylor swift is my go-to, but i am open to any song request <3

you drew up some good faith treaties

i drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

you said i have to trust more freely

but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

You should have known better than to date someone you worked with. No, actually, you should have known better than to date, of all people, your boss.

Date was a loose term.

You weren’t really sure when the lines between co-workers blurred into friendship and when friendship blossomed into early morning coffee dates and late evenings in the office together doing paperwork, and even later nights spent at dinner tables being hours deep into conversation. You knew it hadn’t happened out of nowhere. This thing between the two of you had been building up for years – years of pining.

There was a voice in the back of your head telling you that it was all too good to be true, but you pushed it back as far as you could. Besides, the two of you hadn’t even called it dating, but it sure did feel like it.

But it hadn’t felt like that in a really long time.

Aaron had put a stop to whatever was going on four months ago. He had given you some bullshit excuse that he was your boss, it was wrong of him to be doing whatever the two of you were doing with his subordinate — blah, blah – but you had stopped listening when your heart became so heavy you thought it was going to physically weigh you down.

You had been through breakups before, even some serious ones, but nothing had ever felt like this. 

You tried to stop him, but he was also a man who had made his mind up; it was impossible to get through to him that you didn’t want to end it.

So you went back to work acting like nothing had happened. And it was about to be the death of you.

However, you were a professional. It’s not like the team even knew about you and Aaron. You acted the same as always when you were at work. No one suspected anything because no one knew what you were going through.

You didn’t talk to Aaron unless you had to. Truthfully, you hadn’t spoken to him for anything that wasn’t work-related since he basically dumped you on a random Wednesday evening for reasons you couldn’t fathom, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try.

In the beginning, you tried reaching out. You called, you texted him a couple of times, and you had even been so desperate one night that you sent him an email. Each time, you were met with rejection, and him saying something along the lines that both of you should just forget about everything.

So you did by cutting all contact. You thought to yourself, I’ll show him, but it really did nothing. If it bothered him, he never showed it.

It seemed like nothing bothered him until now. A whole whopping four months later.

“Not only did you blow our cover, but you walked into a hostage situation with no weapon to defend yourself; you didn’t even strap a vest on. You are lucky that no one died or was seriously injured.” Aaron wasn’t yelling – he was actually just slightly an octave below yelling – but it sure as hell sounded like he was screaming because his voice had never been like this towards you.

You frowned, not liking the way he was calling you out in front of everyone – in front of a group of people that you greatly admired and respected. “What else was I supposed to do, Hotch? If I hadn’t gone in there, that woman would have died. I was trying to save her life.”

“Save her life?” he asked incredulously. “From the moment you burst through those doors, you put her in even more danger than she was already in. Not only could she have died, but you also could have.”

“Why are you giving me so much shit over this?” you asked, throwing your hands up in anger, not paying attention to the awkward glances your team was giving each other. “I’m not the only one who's done this, and I won’t be the last. I don’t care to risk my life trying to save someone else. I’m sorry that I blew everyone’s cover, but I won’t apologize for saving her.”

Aaron shook his head, his demeanor that was normally unreadable was completely gone. “You’re on probation, effectively immediately-”

“What? I, Hotch-”

“You will not physically assist in any cases for the next two weeks. You will still travel to cases, but you will work directly from the police department. You will not be allowed to go in the field.”

He kept talking, his mouth moving a mile a minute listing off all the things you were allowed to do and what you couldn’t do, but you couldn’t focus on anything he was saying. You were so tempted to slap your boss across the face and if it wouldn’t have technically been workplace harassment, you probably would have.

“Hotch, we’ve all made mistakes,” Derek Morgan said. “No one ended up hurt tonight. With all due respect, I think a two week probation is a little harsh.”

You wanted to thank Derek for sticking up for you, but you couldn’t form words at that moment. Your feet were on the move faster than you could even think as they took you to the SUV that you’d arrived in, not wanting to hear Aaron talk to Derek about you. All you wanted to do was get on the jet, leave the small Arkansas town you were in, get back to Quantico, and try to stop thinking about Aaron Hotchner.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t as easy as you liked to think.

You rode back to the hotel with Emily and JJ, who had let you sit in the front seat, and didn’t dare look either of them in the eye. Emily tried to make small talk to lighten the mood, but you could barely even think about anything other than your probation and the way that Aaron had talked to you in front of everyone. She eventually took the hint, and the three of you rode back to the hotel in silence.

You finally turned to Emily once the SUV came to a stop. “Do you know if we’re leaving tonight or in the morning?” Normally, if you finished a case late, you always preferred to spend the night in the hotel in order to get some rest, but there was nothing you wanted more than to just go home now.

“Uh, tonight,” Emily said with a grimace. “Sorry, I know you usually hate leaving immediately after.”

You shook your head. “Not this time. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to go home more than I do right now.”

Emily eyed you up and down, taking in your slumped, exhausted body. Her eyes flickered up to the mirror, catching JJ’s eye who was giving an equally worried look. “Do you want to talk-”

“Not right now, Emily,” you interrupted. “I’m going to pack my stuff up. Can you send me a text when it’s time to go?”

Emily looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t, sensing you obviously didn’t want to talk about it right now. “Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “See you guys soon.” With that, you were out of the SUV before either of them could unbuckle their seatbelts and on your way to the entrance of the hotel you were staying in along with the rest of the team.

Typically, you shared a room with someone, but luckily for you, it was your turn to get your own this time, which you couldn’t have been more thankful for when you swiped your keycard and finally got to be alone for a minute.

You knew that Emily meant well. She had been one of your closest friends since you had joined the team. You felt a tinge of guilt at how closed off you had been to her in the car when she was just trying to make sure you were okay. However, you really weren’t okay, and you really didn’t want Emily to know the full extent of what was going on.

After hastily packing your things and grabbing a quick shower, you received a text from Emily that it was time to go. On your way down to the lobby to meet her, it was finally setting in that you were, quite literally, exhausted. You’d been awake since before daylight and a quick glance at the time shining on your phone reminded you that you had been awake for nearly seventeen hours.

You rode with Emily, JJ, and Rossi to board the jet, but ended up napping the entire short duration of the drive. Truthfully, you hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until Rossi had nudged you awake.

When you were finally in the air, you allowed yourself to catch a glance at your infuriating boss who was still, as usual, in his suit with his tie and jacket discarded, writing in a file.

Probably writing me up, you bitterly thought to yourself. You knew you had done a not-very-smart thing, but by the time you figured out that the original plan the team came up with wasn’t going to work, it was too late. If you hadn’t darted through the door and startled the unsub, the poor woman who was taken hostage was going to meet a very similar fate that four other women faced.

You could admit that it was a rash, last minute decision, but you didn’t regret it. You saved a woman’s life and helped capture an awful man who would have never stopped if not caught. It felt like Aaron was punishing you for something that wasn’t the decision you made tonight. Two weeks on probation felt a little extreme to you.

Twenty minutes into the flight, Derek, Rossi, and JJ were already asleep while Emily looked like she was close to following. Spencer was nursing what you thought was his second coffee in the short time on the jet, a pair of headphones in as he watched something on the tablet he had propped up.

That left only you and Aaron sitting in silence.

This had been a particularly hard case that had to be solved in under seventy-two hours in order to prevent any more victims since you, with the help of Spencer, figured out that the unsub operated on stalking and kidnapping his victims on a specific schedule. Hardly anyone had gotten much sleep in an attempt to solve the case as soon as possible – hence why nearly everyone was asleep.

Aaron finally spoke after nearly fifty minutes into the flight from his seat in front of you after Emily and Spencer had finally drifted off, though you weren’t sure how Spencer was even sleeping considering he had downed two coffees. “You should get some rest.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said bitterly, keeping your eyes straight ahead. “I’ll be getting lots of rest in the next two weeks considering I can’t really do anything else on probation, so thanks, but I’m good.” The words were tumbling out before you could even comprehend what you’d said. In a normal situation, you’d be worried that speaking to your boss like that would result in its own consequences but considering you were already on probation, what was the harm?

He said nothing.

—

It was nine days into what felt like the most excruciatingly long probation known to man, and you still had five more days to go.

You had just gotten back from a case in Maine where you, unfortunately, barely got to do anything other than help out at the police station. In addition, you had to finish several online modules assigned to you by Strauss on safety in the field, which was, in your opinion, ridiculous considering you had been at the BAU for a good amount of time – long enough to know all about safety in the field.

“I think I’ve gone past the point of exhaustion,” Emily said as you came off the elevator as she stifled a yawn. “Is that a real thing?”

“Yes, my beautiful friend who I am so happy to see. That means you need to get home and rest.”

Penelope Garcia was there to greet you at the elevator, a warm smile lighting up her face as she gave Emily a hug then turned to you. “How are you doing?”

“I’ll be fine in five days when this stupid probation is over,” you told Penelope, watching her give you a sympathetic smile.

“I’m heading out, but you have my number if you need me,” she told you with a comforting pat to your arm. “Goodnight ladies.”

Penelope was on the elevator to leave as you and Emily, after waving off Penelope, filed off to your desks to pack up to go back to your apartments.

“Got a hot date tonight?” Emily asked jokingly.

You laughed and shook your head. “Haven’t had a hot date in a long time. What about you?”

It was true. The last date you had been on was four months ago with the man who also happened to be your boss and who also happened to be your number one enemy right now.

“Just with Sergio.”

You and Emily were already on your way out to leave for the night officially until you stopped in your tracks when you reached the elevator. “Ugh, I just realized I left my phone charger at my desk. You can go on without me.”

“You sure? I don’t mind waiting,” she said as she stepped into the elevator.

You nodded. “Go on; it’s late. Have a good night, Emily.”

A huff left your mouth as you turned back on your heel to walk back to your desk. Your hands grasped the charger laying under several files that you (probably) needed to look at, but tonight was not the night for that.

However, you realized it was definitely not your night at all when you tried to turn your car on, only to be met with a sound of spluttering.

“Not tonight,” you groaned, repeatedly trying to turn your key to start the engine, but the car never started, much to your luck. “Are you serious right now?”

Your car was by no means brand new, but it was a good car and not often did it give you problems. Except for tonight. Or in other words, the one night you desperately wanted to go home, take a shower, and go to bed.

You weren’t really sure of your options. You could probably call Emily. She couldn’t have gotten too far down the road. Maybe she could give you a ride since her apartment was on the way to your place. Another option was calling an Uber, but –

Your car door opening knocked you out of your train of thought. Your brain immediately went into fight-or-flight, and you chose fight as your hands instinctively reached for the pepper spray on your key ring.

“Hey! It’s just me.”

It was Aaron with his hands outstretched into a surrender position, his suit jacket hanging from the crease where his arm bent. “Why are you sitting in the parking lot in the dark with your car unlocked? Do you know how easy it would be for someone to-”

“Come up and kidnap me? Yeah, I learned all about it in my online safety training this past week as if I didn’t already know,” you sassed with an eye roll. “I think my battery is dead. I usually keep jumper cables in here, but I cleaned my car out last week and must have taken them out. I’m probably going to have to call an Uber.”

You didn’t know why you were telling him all of this. The small voice in the back of your head knew why, but you weren’t willingly to actively think about it. You had enough on your plate right now.

“I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Like hell you will,” you told him.

“You do know I’m your boss, and you technically can’t speak to me like that?”

“You won’t fire me. You'll just put me on probation.”

He paused, his eyes closing momentarily before opening them again and going back to his stoic demeanor as usual. “Let me drive you home, so I will know that you got home safely. Please.”

You wanted to say no, but it was late and getting a ride home from Aaron meant that you didn’t have to bother Emily or lose money on an Uber. The only thing you’d be losing, in your opinion, was what little dignity you had left when it came to Aaron.

It’s just a ride home, you told yourself in your head.

“Fine.” You had admitted defeat. “Give me a second.”

He turned his back to you and started to walk away from your car. When you knew for sure he couldn’t see you, you positioned the rearview mirror so you could see yourself in it. Before you could stop yourself, you attempted to fix your hair as nicely as possible and then took a moment to stop what you were doing. You scoffed at yourself and shook your head.

“What is wrong with me?” You asked yourself aloud. “He doesn’t care. Neither do you.”

However, after you grabbed your things, you did sneak one more look in the mirror before getting out of your car and locking it. You were glad when you took another look to see Aaron not looking in your direction. 

 You made your way over to Aaron’s signature parking spot, the same one he parked in every morning, and met him there, his hands typing something out on his phone until he noticed your presence.

Without missing a beat, he opened the passenger door for you. You wanted to tell your heart to stop when that familiar flutter came back like it used to all those months ago. You opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could say anything.

“No need for a remark. I’m just opening the door for you.”

“I was going to say thanks.”

A ghost of a smile danced across his face as he shut the door. It was so quick if you weren’t paying attention then you wouldn’t have seen it.

Your eyes adjusted to the interior of Aaron’s car, déjà vu hitting you from the first time you were ever in his car. But you forced those thoughts back down with a grimace and a reminder of how that ended the first time.

With one hand gripping the wheel and the other holding onto the back of your seat as his torso turned, eyes watching behind as he backed out, you thought you were going to throw up. Not because you were sick, but because Aaron was so damn attractive in doing the simplest things like backing up a car.

“You can turn on the radio if you want,” Aaron told you. “Your cord is still in here.”

You bit your lip, eyes locking onto the green cord still plugged in. “I’ve been looking for that everywhere. I had to buy a new one for my car.”

Back when you were frequently with Aaron, and he was typically the designated driver when you went places, you often complained about the lack of music in his car. He only listened to whatever was on the radio. He had no CDs nor did he have an AUX cord, claiming something about never being in his personal car long enough to deal with music in it.

After that day, you put your AUX cord in his car the next time you were in it and controlled the music, often giving him a performance to your favorite songs in the car as he drove. Aaron never complained like a lot of guys would. Instead, he would watch you belt a heartbreak ballad with an amused smile.

But that was months ago. And things were much different now.

“I would’ve given it back to you, but it’s slipped my mind. Feel free to take it with you.”

The happy memories that the AUX cord brought back were pushed to the back of your head again at his words. He told you to take it because there was no point in it anymore. You two were done.

You didn’t plug the cord into your phone. You didn’t play a song. You sat in the terrible silence, wishing it wasn’t silent like before, but it was silent, and Aaron was acting like nothing was wrong. 

Another awkward moment passed as he kept driving, the route to where you lived engraved as he had driven there many times. Aaron didn’t have to ask you where you lived because he knew. He knew from all the late nights he dropped you back off. The thought of all the previous times you’d been on this exact same drive under different circumstances made your head hurt.

“Why did you put me on probation?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“You know why I put you on probation. You comprised the safety of yourself, the team, and-”

“I compromised the safety of myself, the team, and the victim, yes, I know, but you put me on a two week probation when I can name off countless times that others on the team have done worse and didn’t get put on a two-week probation,” you argued back. “I know I messed up, but at the end of the day, it feels like you’re punishing me for something.”

He nodded, his eyes staying trained on the road. “I am punishing you for something, and that something is compromising-”

“I swear if you say compromise one more time-”

“Compromising your safety and the safety of others.”

You didn't say anything. Your arms were crossed as you looked out the window and into the dark as objects moved past you, reaching closer to your destination.

Aaron spoke your name, but you didn’t want to look at him.

“What?”

“Look at me,” he said as the car came to a stop at a redlight.

You reluctantly looked over, not prepared to see him already looking at you. You swallowed, trying to keep your gaze on him.

“I’d rather you be angry with me than even thinking about the possibility of you getting hurt.”

You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to because he kept going.

“When I saw you run into that warehouse, it was one of the only times in my life that I have been so scared that I couldn’t think straight. I put you on probation because you did something reckless. All of us outside thought we lost you when we heard the gunshots. I know you and a few others thought probation was too harsh, but it’s important for you to know that if you’re going to storm a hostage situation, you have to communicate with us. The team cannot lose you,” Aaron told you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I can’t lose you. Understood?”

You were pretty sure that at this point your voice was gone. You simply nodded.

The light turned green, and Aaron started driving again, his eyes finally breaking contact. “Finish out your probation next week and then put it behind you.”

There were no more words spoken. It was silent. You didn’t know how to respond to anything he had just said to you.

Except you did have one question. You weren’t even sure if you wanted the answer to it.

“If you can’t lose me,” you started, fiddling with the sleeve of your top, “then why did you end things?”

“It was for the best,” Aaron said, breaking your heart all over again. “I’m your boss-”

“You being my boss didn’t seem to be a problem when your mouth was on mine every time you dropped me off from dinner.”

He didn’t seem to have an answer for that. You sat smugly in your seat waiting for him to say something.

“You want the truth?”

“I’ve only been asking you for the truth for four months now,” you shot back.

“I fell in love with you.”

Aaron said it so casually that you had to do a double take, your mouth slightly opening. Out of all the things he could’ve said, you did not in a million years think that would be it. Your heart was pounding, and there was a moment where you thought that you had imagined him saying that he fell in love with you, but he really did say it.

He continued. “I thought it was best to end what was going on between us because things would’ve only escalated, and I didn’t want people to think negatively about you. You’re a strong woman in a male-dominated field. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are. You should be taken seriously and unfortunately, going out with your boss doesn’t look good on paper. I hurt you, and I’m truly sorry for that.”

You hadn’t even realized it when Aaron had finally pulled up to the huge parking lot of your apartment building, which was surprisingly vacant for a Thursday night. The words he’d said were dancing around in your head. You hadn’t done anything wrong. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Even after everything, all you really wanted was him.

“Aaron,” you said as you turned to him when he put the car in park, “I mean this with all due respect, but that’s not just your decision to make. I should get a say. I wish you had told me because for the last four months I’ve been going crazy with overthinking. That’s why it hurt so much when you put me on probation. I thought you were punishing me for something between us. Please don’t shut me out because I’m in love with you, and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about what people say about me.”

“But people will talk about you-”

“So?”

“And there’s also Strauss-”

“Who we can deal with. I’m not afraid of Erin Strauss,” you cut him off again.

He raised his eyes before you spoke again. “Okay, maybe I’m slightly afraid of her, but that doesn’t change anything. You don’t choose who you fall in love with. If people want to talk about me for being in love, then let them. I just want to be with you, so please stop trying to protect me. I can handle anything.”

“Okay,” Aaron said after a minute. “Okay. If you want to do this, there is a lot to discuss work-wise.”

“That’s fine. I have a lot of time to discuss things. I’m on probation.” 

Every other time you had brought up your probation, it had been with anger, but this time, there was only a grin on your face. Even though you were still mad about that damn probation, which was another conversation for another time, you figured you might as well make a joke out of it.

Aaron couldn’t keep a straight face. “Yes, you are for five more days. You still have one more module on safety in the field to complete.”

“Screw you,” you said half-jokingly.

“You wish,” he shot right back.

“You’re damn right I do.”

It was as if there was a shift in the air. You’d spent four months without him and in that moment you had decided you never really wanted to go another second without him. There was still a lot to talk about between the two of you, but for now, all you really wanted to do was kiss him.

Even when the two of you were “seeing” each other, or whatever it was, there wasn’t much physical affection. Aaron always kissed you before dropping you off at night, but it was always short, sweet, and simple. Tonight, you didn’t want short, sweet, and simple as your goodbye kiss.

“You should be getting in. It’s late,” he told you, but neither of you made an effort to move. In fact, it felt like you had only gotten closer. You could feel Aaron’s breath fan your face.

You leaned even closer, your face only inches from his. “You gonna tell me goodnight?”

Aaron never replied, only moving to close the small gap between the two of you, his lips pressing against yours in a way that almost felt desperate.

You were the one to take it a step further as your mouth opened wider and one of your hands slid up to rest on his shoulder. Aaron gladly took the hint. His tongue was in your mouth and before you could process it, one hand had moved to cup your face while the other rested on your thigh.

He pulled back for a moment, but only to mess with something under his seat. You gave him a confused look, still breathing heavily. “What are you doing?”

Aaron’s seat had scooted back further to open more room between him and the steering wheel, and you realized what he was doing now. He simply shrugged. “The console is in the way.”

With that, you laughed and maneuvered yourself across the center console that Aaron seemed to hate at the moment. His hands instinctively grabbed your waist in an attempt to help you move over and onto him – literally.

You took in your current situation for a moment. You were straddling Aaron Hotchner in his car in a parking lot. If you had told yourself earlier in the morning that this is where you would be, you would not have believed it.

His lips were back on yours before you could think about anything else, hands still gripping your waist while yours moved to his hair. You were pressed against him, your chest to his, and left no room between the two of you.

“This okay?” He mumbled as his warm hands snaked underneath your shirt, now resting on your bare hips. He pressed a kiss to your jaw while you nodded, a deep breath leaving your mouth. He smiled against your jaw before reattaching his lips again, but this time to your neck.

You couldn’t think of the last time you felt like this. Your body felt like it was literally on fire, and Aaron’s mouth wasn’t doing anything to extinguish that fire – only making it worse.

As much as you loved the hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, you cupped his face, guiding him back up to your lips. Your hands slid to tangle in his hair, earning you a throaty sound from him, which only encouraged you further as you smiled against his lips before going back to kissing him.

Aaron pulled back only a few seconds later, both of you breathing heavily in a hot and flustered state. “As much as I’m enjoying this, we probably shouldn’t get too carried away in here.”

“What? Car sex isn’t on your bucket list?” You joked.

He laughed as you leaned into the hand cupping your face. “You deserve better than a car the first time.”

“So what I’m hearing is car sex after the first time?”

Aaron gave you one of his rare grins, and it lit up your entire world. “You are impossible.”

“I’m just kidding,” you said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I really should be getting in the bed. My boss is making me come in at eight-thirty tomorrow for a meeting.”

“Oh really? He sounds very smart.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and with the help of Aaron, you moved back over to the passenger seat. “I will see you bright and early in the morning.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You gave him one last kiss before gathering your bag and opening the car door. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight,” he told you.

You shut the door and with a smile on your face, waved to him one last time before making your way towards the entrance of your apartment building.

However, before you could get very far, you heard Aaron’s voice calling your name. You turned around to see him with his window down.

“Did I forget something?” You called to him and watched confusedly as he shook his head.

“Your hair looked fine earlier. You didn’t have to fix it just for me.”

[fizzyapplecandy]

The eyes are the mirror of the soul

Based on your votes, this is the first story! The other two will come along soon.

Enjoy X

Ateez San X Fem Reader

Police detective San

Genre: Angst, Horror, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers, Mature scenes and language

Words: 7.8k

You thought breaking up with your boyfriend would be simple. After six months together, four of them showed you how much of a psychopath a person can be. However, when you saw on the news that several women died with features similar to yours, you assumed it was a coincidence. When the first letter arrived in the mail, you knew you were screwed. The cops eventually became involved with your life. One detective, Choi San, was assigned to be your personal bodyguard. He was confident you were safe, but the darkest evil always finds its way into someone's home.

"I've told you about a thousand times, stop calling me! I don't know how you manage to reach my number over and over! Just stop it!"

I hung up the phone, again, and rubbed my tired eyes. It was 2 a.m. and I was severely stressed. My ex, Jaehyun, has been calling me for about a month now, trying to get back together with me. Never in a million years did I think we would end up in this position. It was almost perfect for about two months. We met randomly in a cafe when I spilled my drink on his shirt. After apologizing profusely, he told me I could make it up to him with a date, and I did just that.

We had it good, seeing each other almost every day, texting until the sun came up, going around and exploring various places... It all came to an end when he started changing. It was like he became a completely different person. There were times when I feared he would become violent, but luckily he managed to bang up almost every surface of mine and his apartment, instead of my face.

After I gently broke up with him, he seemed fine. How wrong of me to assume something like that. I haven't had a good night's rest in a while, and it was messing with my head all the time. I work as an assistant in a private language school, so my boss and the other teachers are a bit lenient with me. I'm lucky to have support in that area, otherwise I would be jobless as well. In all of my 27 years on this planet, I've never felt this afraid.

I became paranoid after the break up. I kept seeing shadows out of my second story window, but I blamed the lack of sleep for that. The misplaced items in my flat were also blamed on that, too.

I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on my couch. The TV was on, playing some kind of sitcom. I couldn't bring myself to laugh, even when I found the jokes funny. It became too depressing so I switched around the channels.

"...this is the second victim found in a similar position as the first one a week prior. It appears it was a woman in her late twenties, with her long hair cut short, eyes gouged out. The missing hair and eyeballs are yet to be found..."

Now that was creepy. What kind of freak takes someone's eyes out? I remember Jaehyun saying the eyes are mirrors to one's soul, and mine were his favorite ones. My eye colour changes in the sun, so he loved taking pictures of my eyes when we were outside. Funny how that came to me while listening to this tragedy.

I twirled around a strand of my hair. Jaehyun always told me I should get a haircut, to make myself more mature. I loved my luscious locks, I've taken good care of them over the years.

I shook my head. Why was I thinking about this now? Maybe it was the wine affecting me. I should really stop drinking so late. With another long sign I grabbed the remote to turn the TV off when an image flashed on the screen. It was a picture of the latest victim, followed by the previous one.

My breath got caught in my throat.

The two pictured were side by side, and if I turned my head to the left I would see my graduation picture framed by the TV.

The resemblance between the three of us was astonishing. But that was only a coincidence, right? There is no way...

I shook my head and plugged the TV out of the wall. I wasn't taking any risks now. I speed-walked to my bedroom and shut the door, locking it as well.

There goes another sleepless night for me.

.

.

"Good morning Mrs Jung, how are you today?"

"Oh, good morning dear! You know me, my old bones are giving me a hard time."

I smiled at my elderly neighbour. Mrs Jung was widowed last May, but she's been a fighter ever since. I love meeting her in the morning when I pick up my mail from downstairs.

She waved at me and went out, probably to buy some more cat food for Simon.

I looked through my mail as I went up the stairs and noticed the usual. Phone bill, electricity bill, magazine subscription... I paused on the steps when I reached a black envelope. It was smooth, almost like it was made of suede. What in the world?

I ran to my apartment and threw the other bills on the counter. I ripped the top of the envelope and found a note inside.

My blood ran cold as I read the familiar handwriting.

"Dear, beloved, worshipped Y/N,

Long time no see baby! I've been missing you this whole time! But, you see, I've found a way to look into your gorgeous eyes again. It may be unconventional, but it works. Those two ladies have nothing on you though. I want you to know that.

Y/N, you're the one baby. And I believe you are going to do the right thing and submit yourself to me soon, unless you want more innocent girls to go missing.

I don't want to bore you with details, this is not why I'm writing to you.

You look amazing baby, even better than before. The view from your window is gorgeous.

You'll find a way to contact me, right? You'll make this work? You better do Y/N. If you know what's right for this world.

                                                 Yours truly, J. "

Oh my God. Oh my God!

My hands started shaking like crazy and I dropped the letter on the counter. I think I was about to pass out before I hit the wall behind me. I slowly slid down to the cold kitchen floor and covered my ears. This has been my panic response since I was a child. I tried to tune out everything to keep myself calm, but I couldn't.

This lunatic was going around murdering girls that reminded him of me? What on Earth was I supposed to do now?

I felt myself spiraling even more. There were telltale signs of a panic attack coming in. I haven't had one of those for months. I knew I had to stop it before it got even worse, so I crawled towards the freezer and got out an ice pack. The shock of the cold pack on my legs and arms brought me back to reality. It was enough for me to grab my phone and dial the police.

"Seoul Police Station, how can I help you?"

"I need to report a potential murderer."

.

.

"So, miss Y/N, this will be the agenda from now on. You will be escorted at all times, knowing the killer is infatuated with you we believe he will try to strike you down sooner rather than later. Our detectives are working on locating him, but in the meantime your life will stay the same as always. He can't notice something is off about you."

I nodded and waited for him to continue.

"It will be suspicious to have our detective in uniform trailing behind you everyday, so we have to make it look like you two know each other on a more personal level. Mr Choi is the best detective we have in our station, and he has gladly accepted the job."

I was like a broken doll at this point, only nodding and staring straight ahead.

For the past two days since my phone call, I've been in and out of the station. We've established that the letter was sent by Jaehyun, since he wasn't careful about leaving his fingerprints. He wanted everybody to know it was him. He was connected to the killings and there was a warrant for his arrest. The media wasn't notified yet, because my life would be endangered even more if they put me in the spotlight.

I was nervous about meeting this detective, who was going to become my live-in boyfriend. Officer Jung saw how nervous I was so he told me to wait in the room. He was going out to get my new boyfriend.

After a while, the door to Mr Jung's office opened. I expected him to walk in as well, but when I turned around my mouth almost hit the floor.

He was beyond gorgeous.

The man lifted his hand in a wave and smiled.

"Hi there. Y/N, right? My name is Choi San. I'm your new bodyguard of sorts."

I slowly stood up and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Yeah... I'm Y/N. My ex is the psycho killer. Sorry, that was a really bad introduction."

San chuckled and closed the door.

"I know this isn't very convenient for you, and it will probably be messy, but it's for your own good. I will try to be the best fake boyfriend I can. I'm not messy, I clean up after myself and I make a killer lasagna. So, all in all, I think we'll do just fine."

I smiled lightly and nodded.

"I guess so. I'm sorry about all of this... I kind of feel it's my fault. If I hadn't broken up with him then maybe he wouldn't have done all of this." 

San stepped closer to me and shook his head.

"Hey now, stop that. You aren't responsible for someone's bad decisions. The guy is sick in the head and who knows, maybe you would have been his first victim. It's not going to be easy, but I promise you, I will do everything in my power to protect you. You have my word Y/N."

We looked into each other's eyes and I think I stopped breathing for a second. San's gaze was intense, and I felt like he was looking right into my soul.

"I must admit, you do have pretty eyes."

I froze for a second and San noticed my rigid posture.

"Sorry, that was tasteless of me. Too soon I assume?"

I nodded slowly.

"Yeah... It's fine. Thank you."

We went back to staring at each other when the door opened again. Officer Jung walked in with a stack of papers.

"So, I take it you kiddos introduced yourselves. Now, let's go over the plan once more, shall we?"

.

.

"You can put your bag in the spare closet down the hall, it will fit all of your clothes as well. I bought you some new towels and a toothbrush for some reason, even though you probably have your own. There is a guest room across from mine, I put a mattress in there because I usually use it as a home office, so I don't have another bed. I hope that's not a problem. I guess some nights you might want to sleep in my bed, it's only fair."

San came with his things a couple of days later, ready to start this whole journey of catching my psycho killer ex. How my life became a blockbuster, I have no idea, but it is what it is. He set down his bags beside my couch and looked around.

"Nice place. I like the whole vibe, it's homey. And, Y/N, you do realise we have to sleep together?"

My eyes widened just as his did.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. We have to sleep in the same bed, together. That's what I meant."

I nodded and waved him off.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that. But why?"

I was a bit nervous to share a bed with a complete stranger. After everything happened with Jaehyun, finding another man wasn't on my agenda. I suppose this was a completely different situation.

"I have to be next to you to make sure you are safe. Besides that, we have to be convincing. If he is watching you, he will notice my absence in normal, relationship things, so we have to make sure it looks like the real deal. I'm sorry, hopefully it won't last long. My sole purpose is to make sure you are safe, and that bastard gets locked up in the end."

I nodded in understanding. I knew San was right, so I had to suck it up and share a bed with him.

"Okay, but I'm on the left side because I've always slept there, no negotiation."

He chuckled and picked up his bags.

"No problem, I prefer the right side actually. I'm gonna go put these away and then we can sit and talk this through one more time."

"Do you want some coffee? Or tea?"

"Coffee would be great, thanks."

I went to make us two cups of coffee while he unpacked his stuff. After I poured us some much needed caffeine, I put the cups on the living room table and sat on the couch. I always have a blanket draped over the seats, so I pulled it over my legs. I could hear him rummaging around, and after about 15 minutes he joined me on the couch.

San was an attractive man, that much I could notice. He had this calm aura around him, which made me wonder how he got into this world of crime and murders.

"You know, if you want to ask me something, you can. I can feel you staring at me."

Good God. My cheeks flared up and I took a sip of my coffee to collect myself.

"Sorry. It's a bad habit. I was just wondering... How come you decided to be a detective? I assume this job can't bring you any good memories. I work as a teacher's assistant. The job brought me more joy than anything else in the world. I can't imagine..."

San could tell I was struggling to come up with a way to ask him about his job, so he stepped in to help.

"Hey, I get it. This line of work isn't for everybody. You see horrible things, but at the same time, you are the one stopping them from happening. My dad used to be a cop in our small town, but then he got shot. Drug arrest gone wrong. His shoulder never recovered, so he had to retire. He owns a taekwondo studio now. I trained there before I went to the academy. I think part of me does this job because of him. I never imagined they would promote me to be a detective, but I've always had a knack for solving the unsolvable. So, here I am now."

Impressive. San looked about my age, so becoming a detective this young had to be a huge accomplishment in his life.

"That's... Wow. Good for you. But how do you handle all of this?"

He took a sip of his coffee before answering.

"I guess you get used to it. We are trained by a psychiatrist on how to handle these tough situations. Yes, we solve cases and save people, but there comes a time when you can't be faster than your enemy. These killers and stalkers are smart, at times smarter than us. You have to calculate their steps even better than they do. Thinking one step ahead has saved so many people. Other times, it goes to show that we are still human, and we can't predict every step they take."

I shivered and pulled my legs closer to my chest. Is he saying that as a warning? That maybe...

"Hey now, I can feel you overthinking. We've got this in the bag. That bastard won't take a single step into this apartment. Not one step close to you. I won't allow it Y/N. You're safe with me."

I looked at San and took a deep breath. The determination on his face was unmistakable. He wanted Jaehyun to be locked up, and so did I.

"Thank you, San. I know that, and I do trust you. It's just hard. I never imagined myself in this situation. And those poor women... I can't help feeling a bit guilty."

He shook his head and put his cup on the table, turning towards me fully.

"You can't be responsible for someone's actions. This is solely his doing. He didn't have to do this, but he chose to. You can't read his mind, and you can't predict these things. He's a lunatic, and you are lucky you escaped on time. Let me tell you something about his character. He's doing this without thinking it through. That's good for us because we can gather evidence to lock him up for good once he's caught. It seems like he wants to be caught, but he has to get to you before that. This is where I come in. Once he's vulnerable, he's mine and no one else's."

"Do you think... He wants me dead?"

San sighed and took one of my hands in his. My eyes widened slightly, but I didn't pull away. It felt nice. His touch was warm, and it felt sincere.

"He wants you, that much is fact. I don't think he particularly wants you dead, but he isn't sane enough to make that decision. He may want you beside him, but one rash move and you're gone. I'm telling you again, that won't happen, and I want you to try not to think in that direction."

He gently squeezed my hand before letting go. He stood up and stretched. His white shirt went up and I could see the outline of his hard abs. The man was going to be the death of me if I continued slobbering over him like this.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you put on a cartoon to pump up your mood a bit. I know The Powerpuff Girls are on Channel Three. Don't ask how I know that, it's embarrassing."

I could see his cheeks becoming a bit pink and he all but ran to the bathroom.

Tough detective San watching the Powerpuff Girls? I bet Bubbles is his favorite.

With a laugh, I turned on the TV to search for Channel Three, but I was abruptly cut off by the News Station. I wish I wasn't.

"...the body was found behind a bar, eyes gauged out like the previous two victims. Everything points to the same perpetrator. Police are on the scene, carefully directing people away from the alley. This is the third woman found in a month, and the killer left a message next to her. In what we assume was the victim's blood, there was the number '12' hastily written on the pavement..."

Twelve. As the number on my apartment door.

"Hey Y/N, where did you say the towels were? In the closet or..."

San stopped talking when he saw my frightened expression, the grip on my TV remote and my wide eyes. He looked at the TV and realised what was going on. He walked up to me, turned the TV off and pulled me up.

"Y/N, listen to me carefully. Go into your bedroom and find me a blue hair clip. Do you have something like that?"

I nodded. A blue hair clip? What does he want with that?

"Okay, can you answer me in words?"

"I... Yes. I have one."

"Good girl. Now, go find it."

I felt like my body went into autopilot. I rushed to my bedroom and sat by my vanity. I could see my expression in the big mirror. I looked terrified. But I couldn't dwell on that too much, because I had to find the hair clip. After rummaging around my bags, I pulled out a tiny blue butterfly clip. I forgot I had this, it must be ancient. I felt relieved as I stood up to go take it to San.

Just as I turned around I saw him leaning on the doorframe of my bedroom.

"Feeling better now?"

Huh? I guess I do feel...

"Wait. This was some kind of tactic?"

He smiled and nodded.

"I had to distract you. It's best to put a person into a completely different situation so that your brain focuses on something else. I don't know why I came up with the hair clip, but I had to think of something. You were going into a panic attack it seems?"

I reached out my hand and placed the clip into his open palm. He twirled it around while looking at me.

"Yeah... Ever since this whole thing started they've been coming and going. I can manage them sometimes, but this one was tough. He wrote my apartment number next to that poor woman, San. He's insane."

San put the clip in his jean pocket and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Y/N, we're going to get him, I promise. Please, go get some rest. I'm gonna take that shower now and I'll be in bed soon. Make yourself comfortable, and leave the right side free, will you?"

I chuckled and nodded.

"I sleep on the left, remember?"

.

.

"So this lock has a code system, and it has to have four digits. Think of something you won't forget easily, but at the same time, it has to be something Jaehyun doesn't know."

San was installing my new lock, and I was trying to be helpful by holding the flashlight over his head. Last night was... Interesting to say the least. I knocked out before he came out of the bathroom, so I spared myself of the embarrassment of our first night together. However, when I opened my eyes in the morning, I could feel his arm draped around my stomach, holding me. I wiggled out quietly and kept silent when he asked me if everything was okay during the night.

I didn't want to make him heel awkward, I could do that for the both of us.

After breakfast, we went down to a hardware store to buy another lock and key. San already had the security system, so we've been at it for some time now.

"When is your birthday?"

He turned towards me and quirked an eyebrow.

"My birthday?"

I nodded and turned off the flashlight.

"That's something he won't know for sure. I mean, he doesn't even know your name so it's the only logical option."

"You think you'll remember it?" He smirked and stood up. He towered over me, and in the small hallway space, I felt like he was a step away from pushing me against the wall.

"If my life depends on it, I think I will."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked into his eyes. We stared at each other for some time before his phone rang.

"I have to take that, you punch in the code three times. It's 1007."

With that, he looked me up and down again before disappearing into the bedroom to take the call.

I felt like I could breathe again. After entering the code, I locked the door and went into the kitchen for some water. San was taking a long time with the call, so I assumed it was important. Judging by his expression when he came out, it only confirmed my suspicion.

"That was officer Jung. I need to go down to the station. Jaehyun left a message in front of the station. I think he's onto us, but I could be wrong. It may be a warning to the police."

He looked at the floor and took a deep breath.

"Well... What did he leave? Was it like the letter he sent me? Did he do something like that?"

"Ah... I don't think you want to know."

I pushed myself to walk right in front of him.

"Tell me. I need to know."

San looked into my eyes, an apologetic expression marring his face.

"He sent them a pair of eyeballs. They don't know if it's another victim, or one of the older ones. He said the eyes weren't of use to him anymore, but he wanted to keep the rest for now."

I think I'm about to puke my lunch out. I closed my eyes and put my hands over my ears. This was not the time for a panic attack. Before long, I felt San's hands go over mine. The additional weight brought me a sense of relief. I opened my eyes to look into his concerned ones.

"Don't worry, you don't have to make me look for blue hair clips, I've got this one." He smiled and put his hands down.

"So I assume they want you to look into it?" He nodded.

"Yeah. Are you okay with being alone? I know the sun is about to set, but I'll try not to take long."

"It's fine. This is your job after all. Go, the faster you leave, the quicker you'll come back." With a final nod, he went to the door, put on a jacket and his shoes and turned towards me.

"Be safe. I'll call you when I'm on the way back." I waved him off.

"Yeah, yeah. Go be a detective." He smiled and out he went.

It was a bit creepy after he left. I couldn't shake off the weird feeling of being watched, but I knew I was safe in my newly equipped apartment. I noticed the stack of papers on my kitchen counter. I haven't looked into my mail all day. San was the one who brought it up, but we didn't go through it since his hands were already full.

I sorted out my bills and pamphlets when I reached another black, almost suede, envelope.

This has to be a joke.

With a sigh, I opened up the second letter.

"My dear Y/N,

I'm a bit angry with you. We are separated for only a month, and now someone is moving in with you? Are you that desperate? He isn't even that handsome, but I couldn't really tell. He better watch out though. I don't like sharing what's mine.

I can't wait to be with you again baby. I've missed looking into your eyes terribly. Those other ladies don't stand a chance against you.

Why don't you write me back? You know my address. It's true that I don't spend time there anymore, but I'll check for your response for sure.

Take care baby, we'll meet again soon.

                                                                With love, J."

.

.

"So we know he is lurking around the neighborhood, but we can't tell his exact location. He's moving around too much, but the bastard knows how to hide."

Officer Jung was a man in his late forties, married for twenty years with a son and daughter. He's been in the police force since he was twenty-one, but he's never had a case like this. Jaehyun was a dirty bastard, and he was as sly as a snake. He was giving them a hard time, but there wasn't a crime Officer Jung wasn't able to solve.

San admired his determination. He was like a role model to him, as his parents live in the countryside and he doesn't see them as often. It seems like this case was affecting Mr Jung more than any other. San could say the same thing. In the small amount of time he's spent with you, he could tell you were a lovely person. You just had this spark following you, a pep in your step without even noticing, and your eyes were truly incredible. He was afraid of getting attached to you too soon, but he couldn't stop it even if he tried.

"Y/N called me. He's left another letter for her. He knows I'm with her. He's directly threatening me, but he doesn't seem to know I'm working for the police."

Officer Jung nodded.

"That's good. We'll keep it that way. That poor girl must be frightened. You're free to go, son. Go take care of Miss Y/N. I assume you two have become acquainted?" He had a small smirk, and a suggestive wink told San all he needed to know.

"Officer, with all due respect, we aren't in an ideal situation to be talking like that. I'm doing everything I can to make Y/N feel at ease, but it doesn't seem to be working."

"I get that boy, but you have to understand the poor lady. She's a direct target. Go home and make sure she knows we're catching this bastard."

San shook hands with Mr Jung and made his way outside to his car. The Sun had set an hour ago and he knew Y/N was probably wondering where he was.

Never has he felt such a strong attraction towards someone as he does with her. From the moment he laid eyes on her he knew he was screwed. Now he was terrified of what could happen. Without taking his eyes off the road he dialed her number. After two rings her angelic voice answered.

"Hey San. Are you coming back?" I'm speeding back, doll.

He held it in and replied calmly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. We had to have a meeting. But I'm gonna be there in about 15 minutes, so hold on tight. You did a good job today, staying alone." She chuckled, and it made San smile.

"Well I didn't have much of a choice. I cooked dinner in the meantime. I heard you make a killer lasagna? Well, I think you might have some competition buddy."

"We'll see about that. Do you need me to pick up anything on the way?"

"No! I mean... No. Just come home, I'm at my maximum here."

Home. He hasn't heard that one in a while. It sounded nice coming from her.

"Don't worry, I'm coming as fast as I can. Cut me the biggest piece of lasagna you can." Y/N chuckled and cleared her throat.

"Coming right up sir!" She hung up the phone without knowing how much of an impact her simple words had on San.

Boy, was he in trouble.

.

.

A week has passed by without trouble. No new murders on the news, no letters, no calls from the station. Everything seemed to be going just fine.

Except the sheet amount of sexual tension between herself and San.

It was undeniable. Every time he passed by her in the kitchen to grab something he would put his hand on her hip. When she walked into the bathroom, he was just about to exit, towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his hard chest. The heat was on as the weather got colder, and she was walking around in tiny shorts which made San blush every time she bent down to pick something up.

The fleeting glances, the not so subtle touches, the rosy cheeks every time they are beside each other in bed... It all came to a culmination one Saturday morning.

San was always looking for something to hug while he slept. After your first night together you brought a pillow for him to embrace. This time, neither one of you even thought about bringing that stupid pillow to bed.

During the night, you two naturally gravitate towards each other. In the morning, while the sun tried to pry its way into the room through your blinds, San had his arms wrapped around you from behind. You woke up first, feeling hot all over. Your thin shorts weren't a big enough barrier between your ass and his rock hard length.

You were at an impasse. Do you wiggle out of bed and pretend like nothing happened, or, do you let yourself be caught in his embrace and finally give into the desire you two feel for each other? It seems like San was ready to answer the question for you.

You could feel his strong arms tightening around your mid section, his big palm caressing your stomach. You could hear him letting out a big sigh.

"Y/N... Are you awake?"

You could never get enough of his morning voice.

"Yeah..."

"Y/N, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but... If you don't stop moving around I won't be able to control myself."

Without answering, you slowly moved your hips over his hard-on. San grunted and you were on your back in a second. He was hovering above you, his angelic face illuminated by the morning light.

"You're really asking for trouble, you know?" You lifted your brow.

"Me? You're the one running your hands all over me." He laughed and laid his head on your chest, putting his arms around you again. He was like a big cat, invading your space with his warmth.

"You're going to get me in so much trouble." His voice was a bit muffled with his face squashed between your breasts.

"Hey, you're the one feeling me up."

"I told you I can't control that! Besides, you are too soft to resist."

"So what are we going to do about that?"

He lifted his head and placed his chin on my chest before looking into my eyes. I could see him contemplating.

"Listen, I think we are both on the same page here. However, my priority right now is your safety. Maybe when this is all over, we could go on an actual date? I think that would be nice, you know?"

He wants to take me out?

"Really? You want to go on a date with me?"

"And why is that so hard to believe?" I shrugged and started playing with his hair. He looked like he would melt in a second.

"I don't know, it's all so messed up. Maybe you don't want anything to do with me after this is over."

"That's not going to happen. I like you, Y/N. I want you, it's ridiculous how much. I just don't want to compromise your safety for my selfish desires." I nodded and placed a gentle kiss on his head. His blinked and pulled himself up on his forearms.

"You know, maybe we could break my rules, just this once." My brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

San smiled and got closer, our noses almost touching.

"Say, Y/N... Have you ever made out with a police officer?"

I giggled. "No, I can't say I did. Why?"

"Well... Would you want to?"

I bit my lip and nodded. Why the hell not?

"Good to know."

And just like that, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was more passionate than I could have expected. San was going slow, but as time went by, we picked up the pace. Our hands were exploring every inch of our bodies. My legs were firm around his waist, with his tangled in my hair.

We rolled around the bed, laughing in between kisses. After what felt like an hour, or more, we finally stopped to catch our breaths.

"That was... Wow." I laughed again.

"Yeah, wow. But San..." He turned to look at me.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought you were a detective, not an officer?"

"Oh, yeah... Well, you just made out with a police detective. You can cross it on your bucket list."

I couldn't help the giggles, and San joined me. We naturally gravitated towards each other again and, soon enough, we got lost in each other's lips.

What we didn't know at the time was that a pair of dark eyes was watching everything from the building across the street.

.

.

The morning went by quickly. San and I didn't leave the bed for a good two hours, rolling around, laughing, talking, kissing... There was so much kissing it kind of makes me dizzy thinking about it.

When we finally decided to get up, we got a call from officer Jung. He was concerned about the silence on Jaehyun's end, but they didn't have anything new on him. I could see it was affecting San, but he tried acting tough in front of me. After the call ended, we decided to lounge around all day.

By nine o'clock, we were hungry and exhausted from all of the kissing we were doing.

"I don't feel like cooking really. I think I want to melt into this couch if I'm being honest." San chuckled and kissed my forehead.

"I get you, but we do have to eat. Do you want me to go to that pizza place down the street? We can order and I can pick it up. I know the delivery driver creeps you out."

I shivered a bit. "Yeah, he always tries to look down my top. You wouldn't mind doing that?"

He caressed my cheek before pinching it.

"For you? Not at all. Let me call them and I'll be on my way."

After placing the order, San put on his jacket and shoes and kissed me again.

"I will never get enough of this." I smiled and gave him another peck.

"Nor will I. Go now before I starve."

He laughed and went out. He didn't bring his car keys, but I knew there was no need, as the place was literally down the street. I heard the lock click and I pushed the button to activate the alarm. Funny, it always glows red when it's on, but now it wasn't shining. Maybe the batteries weren't good anymore? I'll have to tell San when he comes back.

I went into the kitchen to take out some plates and cups. I looked around for candles to make it more romantic, but only found one.

"Guess this will do."

After setting everything up on my living room table I went to my bedroom to put on something nice. I know I don't have to try, but I felt like San deserved it.

I was about to pull my shirt over my head when I heard the door clicking. It's been about ten minutes since San left, he couldn't be back so soon?

"San? Is that you?"

There was no response to my question. It was eerily silent.

I was just about to turn around when I saw him.

The reflection in my vanity mirror.

"Hey there baby. How have you been?"

"Jaehyun?"

.

.

San was practically skipping towards the pizza joint down the street. His day couldn't be any better. Not only did he kiss the most beautiful woman in the world, he was certain she felt the same as he did about their connection. When this whole mess becomes history, he will take her on the best date of her life. She deserved nothing less.

Once he reached the family owned business, he told them his name and order number and they quickly packed it up for him.

He must have been gone for about 20 minutes when his phone rang in his pocket.

"Officer Jung? Is everything okay?"

Why was the old man calling him on a Saturday night?

"San! My boy! We have a big problem! Where are you? Is Y/N there?"

"Woah, hold up. She's not with me, I left her at home to pick up our dinner? What's going on?" Mr Jung was awfully quiet on the other end.

"Mr Jung?"

"San... You need to run back as fast as you can. He called the station, he's going to do something to her tonight. I've already sent out a patrole, they are coming as fast as they can. There was an accident on the bridge tonight, they have go take a detour. San, my boy, run and save the poor girl."

San's blood ran cold instantly. How could he have been so foolish? He left her, all alone, with a serial killer out to get her. He threw away the pizza box and sprinted down the street.

He could only pray go get there before something terrible happened.

.

.

"Jaehyun... Please... You don't want to do this."

He stepped into the room and closed the door.

"Do what baby? I'm here to take what's mine. Do you know how hard it was watching you with that loser? He even made you change your locks so I couldn't get in! But I found a way, I always do!"

He kept stalking towards me until I was backed up against my vanity table.

"Do you have any idea how much I've missed your eyes baby? Your beautiful, warm, stunning eyes..."

"Please, I don't want to die."

He put his hands on my cheeks.

"No, no, no... Baby, don't worry about that. I mean you have to die, but not yet. I have to make up for lost time, you know?"

I slowly grabbed my eyeliner pencil from the table, trying to be as discreet as possible.

"Yeah, I think I get it... How do you want to make up for it?"

He seemed to lighten up at my fake enthusiasm, and he put his hands down, but he didn't step away.

"I knew you'd come around baby. Well, we have all night to decide once you come with me. We can't do anything here, your bed is filthy from that idiot sleeping in it."

Just as he was about to kiss me, I jammed the pencil into his eyeball.

He screamed and I pushed him out of my way, running towards the door.

"You bitch! I'm gonna fucking kill you! Oh, you're in for it now Y/N!"

I opened the bedroom door and I almost made it to the front of my apartment before he tackled me to the ground.

"Not so fast you slut. You think you can run away from me? Think again, you bitch."

I struggled underneath his weight, trying to push him off with my legs. He was too strong for me.

"Let me go, please! Please, you don't want to do this!"

"Shut up!" He smacked me right across the mouth, and I could taste blood on my lips.

In the midst of my struggle, San appeared before my eyes. Poor San... He was going to be devastated.

I was about to give up when I heard the sound of my door being broken down.

"Well, well... Isn't that the bastard himself?"

"Get the fuck of off her before I put a bullet between your eyes."

I looked up and I couldn't help but fear the expression on San's face. He looked dark, and the gun in his hands wasn't helping.

Suddenly, Jaehyun pulled me up and put his arm around my midsection. He had a pocket knife in his other hands, aimed straight at my throat.

"Listen up pretty boy. One wrong move and her blood will be all over the walls. You know what I hate about you bastards? You come in in the worst possible moments. We were just about to run away and have the time of our lives, isn't that right baby?"

He caressed my throat with the knife and I could see San struggling to keep himself composed. He cleared his throat.

"You think I care about her? I'm just a detective waiting to put cuffs on your hands boy, nothing else. This was all an act, and you fell for it easily. Honestly, you call yourself a killer? Pathetic."

I knew San didn't mean any of those words, but it hurt hearing him say them out loud.

"Jaehyun, baby... You need to let me go. I made a mistake in the bedroom, that wasn't nice of me. But I got scared, you know? Please baby..." San was looking into my eyes as I started pleading with Jaehyun.

My ex was slowly loosing his grip on me. I could hear his breathing becoming laboured.

"You really mean that baby? Wanna come with me now?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, yes. I'll come with you."

He slowly lowered the knife, but he stopped suddenly.

"You think I'm that stupid you bitch? You're gonna get it now, and Loverboy will have front row tickets."

I closed my eyes waiting for him to push the knife into my throat when a loud bang rang through my ears.

A bullet whizzed past my ear and right into Jaehyun's head.

If San didn't grab me I would have gone to the ground along with Jaehyun.

I let out a yelp.

Everything went dark for a moment.

"Y/N! Come on baby girl, come back to me."

I opened my eyes and stared straight into San's. I could see my living room ceiling. We were still inside?

"What happened?"

He sighed in relief. "You scared the hell out of me."

He pulled me up into a hug and that's when I saw it.

Jaehyun's lifeless body sprawled all over my living room floor.

"Oh my God... San... Is he?"

"Yeah, he is. I'm sorry Y/N, but he was about to stab you. I couldn't let that happen." I looked up at San and threw my arms around him. I squeezed his shoulders like my life depended on it.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. You kept me safe. You did it."

I could feel him caressing my hair and kissing the top on my head.

"Always baby girl, I'd do anything for you."

We could hear the sirens finally blasting from outside. In no time, my apartment was full of police officers, AMTs and a forensic unit. They had to take care of Jaehyun's body.

Officer Jung walked in as well.

"Y/N! San, my boy! Oh thank God!" He threw his arms around us.

"Hey Mr Jung..." He jabbed San in the forehead.

"Thank God you were one of the best shooters in your class. Nobody could have pulled this off besides you. I'm proud of you."

Mr Jung helped us stand up and took us outside of the building. San didn't want to leave my side even when another policeman came to take out statements.

Soon enough, we were sitting on the steps of my building, a blanket around our shoulders. We watched as a black van drove away with Jaehyun's body inside. It felt surreal.

"You know everything is going to be okay now, right?"

I looked at him and admired his manly features. I nodded.

"I know... I have you by my side now, if we are still on for that date?"

San smiled and kissed my forehead.

"Hell yes we are."

[supercriminalbean]

Hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Hotch x Male reader, the team get a case that leads back to an old unsolved case of a group of children going missing and start showing up dead at different ages from sever injuries from fighting(?)

Reader is part of the bau but has alot of secrets to hide including being one of the younger children that went missing and managed to escape but not without physical and emotional scars (being forced to play a cruel game of survival of the fittest for the entertainment of the Unsub who streamed the gruesome cruelty)

Maybe the unsub captures reader cause he was the one that got away and the team start to peice together reader was one of the missing kids by how fast reader state of mind went to a primal kill or die (like readers afraid he'll die there and no one will ever find him or know or care so when they do he's relived and breaks down but another part of him think he doesn't deserve it cause of what he's done to survive)

Hotch being there for reader

FIGHT CLUB

Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader.

Summary: The reader is trying to find the group that ruin his life, but keeping it a secret from his team is differcult when he has to ask them for help.

Warning: Dark fic. Blood, fighting, death, abuse, kidnapping, swearing, drugs, unsub violence, bad eatting habits, bad self care, scars, angst. This whole fic is just dark and strange the ask it self is amazing and may help you know if this is something you can handle. (Any other warnings let me know xx)

Words: 9.4k

A/N: Hiiii! Omg this ask 😍😍 I love you!! I had to split this into a couple different parts due to I'm up to 12k words and got so much more i wanna add to it right now. Next part will be posted next week (hopefully!!) I just couldn't wait to post this. I did change it a little and hope this is what you were after. 🖤🖤 thank you for the request my love.

Part two. Part three. Part four.

Another body has shown up, and if you're right another kid will go missing in just a couple hours a few towns over from the latest body. You know it's just a matter of time as you read the article, one that barely has any information of the latest victim found, another teen boy. While the article prints out you give the detective on the case a call, you know you shouldn't, you should just let this go until your team is called in properly. But hey, there is no harm in asking innocent questions, is there? 

“Hello, this is Detective Rose,” An older man answers.

“Hello Detective, I'm with the FBI, SSA agent (Y/L) from the Bau unit” Your voice comes out sharp as you hold back the emotions swirling in your mind. If this is the group you believe it is, you're going to have to bring your team in, but no way could they know just how long you have been looking for them.

“Oh Agent, how can I help?” The man's voice is filled with confusion.

“I heard you found a body of a teenage boy, I read in the report he was badly injured and a 

John doe, look I think he might be connected to a case I'm working and I need you to send me all the information and photos of this boy you have as soon as you can” You don’t have time to explain to him, nor the patience.

“Case, but there's only one body?” There's a small arrogance laying under his tone as he speaks his next words. “Plus he seems to be a runaway, he doesn’t seem like the type anyone would be after”

“Excuse me” You can’t help but sneer into the phone, anger filling you up. “How dare you, he is a child, someone has to be missing him and even if not he deserves justice, so I figure you better send me what I asked for before I called your boss” Venom seems to drip from your words as your grip the phone like your life depends on it. Silence fills the other end and your patience seems to dry up, opening your mouth to send him another order when he finally speaks up again.

“Of course we don’t need that, files and photos have been sent, reach out again if I —” You hang up before he finishes speaking, you don’t need anything more from him. 

~~~

Sitting on your couch, your mind spinning as you go through the new photos of the crime scene you have received. This is it, this is them, no doubt about it. He fits the victimology, he’s the right age, fit and covered in so many cuts and bruises it’s impossible to see his face. What makes your heart drop the most is the cut on his left forearm, two other previous victims also had it. You know how they got it, hell you got one quite similar to it. Which means you know where they are being kept and where they are going next which means it's time to bring your team in. Grabbing the pile of older files, ones that you have collected over the years, pulling the top few files off the top for the team to see, placing the older ones at the bottom of your to go bag. You can’t let your team know just how long you have been investigating this case. If you do things could unravel and your past could be exposed, the one thing that could never happen, because if it does you might not have a job any more. 

Your phone starts dinging, your alarm going off. Great you pulled another all nighter, something you have been warned against many times in the past month. 

~~~

Hotch has been on your ass a lot lately about looking after yourself, he’s the only one who can tell when you're struggling. Maybe that's why you're having a hard time figuring out how to bring this case to him. You know he’s going to know this isn’t just a regular case for you, you might be good at hiding your personal life and emotions from the team but that doesn’t include Aaron. You're not sure how you grew close to your boss, you two have hangout, outside of work many times, even including getting to know Jack and spending many weekends watching his soccer games, and of course getting ice cream afterwards as a reward. Somehow Aaron managed to get you to join them both for movie nights and your friendship has never been stronger than that night. But then you had to go and ruin it, pulling yourself away from him, when things started feeling real. You started feeling like you belong and not just with him, but with the team you're surrounded by. Belonging somewhere is something you have never felt before and it's terrifying, so you pull away from them all. Space is a good thing plus there were only a few reasons you took this job a few years ago and you need to remember that.

~~~

You're the first one at the office that morning, even beating Hotch to the office for once. You wait at your desk, your desk is different from the others. They all have personal items on their desk, things that make their desk seem more welcoming and comforting. Except yours, its fill of paperwork and a small fake desk plant that Garcia placed there one day that you just didn’t have the heart to move. Aaron arrives not long after you. Aaron stops by the glass door when he spots you, and he’s glad you're facing the other way so he can just watch you for a moment. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, the last few weeks you have been more off than normal. You're someone who keeps to themself and he knows that, maybe that's why he was surprised when you were spending a lot of your time with him and Jack. Not that he minded at all, he loves spending time with you, maybe more than a boss should but he shouldn’t be blamed when it comes to you, you're different. But when he was spending time with you, he managed to figure out your tell, and how you go inside your own mind when things aren’t right. Maybe that's why, even when you started putting more distance between you both, he couldn't help but remind you to get some sleep or remind you to eat, the two things you always seem to forget about. Aaron lets out a small breath, preparing himself for whatever the reason is that you're the first one here. The glass doors open and within a second you're spinning around in your chair, and the first thing Aaron notices is the files in your hands and then the bags underneath your determined eyes.

“Good Morning Hotch” Your voice is full of energy, which he can only put down to the empty coffee cup beside you.

“Morning, you’re here early” Aaron stares at you questionably, raising his eyebrow when you don’t respond.  “Is there a reason why?”

“I need to talk to you, it's important” You jump up quickly, meeting him in the middle of the room.

“Alright, my office then” He bites back a sigh as you nod enthusiastically, climbing up the stairs before him. He can’t help himself but compare you to a puppy, one who uses up all their energy but still refuses to back down when it's time to rest. He’s waiting for you to burn out, it may have been three years with you on the team, but he can’t help but wait for you to break. He doesn’t understand how anyone could keep going at the pace you do without any consequences.

~~~

You both enter his office, Aaron places his bag down before taking a seat at his desk, signalling you to do the same, so you do.

“Okay so I found—” You can’t help but start, holding your own homemade files,your leg bouncing as you speak.

“Stop” Hotch holds his hand up to silence you, dread fills your eyes as you do. “Did you sleep last night?” Accusation dripping from his words, his stern stare digging straight into your sole, making a strange shiver roll down your spine.

“That's not important” The confidence seems to slip by as he stares at you longer, you can’t help but sink in your chair, the uncomfortableness just making you want to run.

“But it is, I need to know my agents are looking after themself” Aaron holds back the proper lectures he wants to give you. Sometimes he wonders how you managed to become a full functioning adult with the way you treat your body, running yourself so low he wonders how you're alive at all.

“I look after myself perfectly fine Aaron” You have to physically bite your tongue to hold back the taunt you want to say instead, but you need him to listen to you instead.

“Do you, because you didn’t sleep last night, and can you even tell me the last time you ate something homemade?” 

“Last night” Smirking cockily at him, you indeed did make something last night so he can suck it.

“It doesn’t count if it was your usual cheese on toast” Aaron smirks as yours slowly disappears. 

“Okay, uncalled for Hotch” Grumbling as you place the files down before crossing your arms. “Look I get it, I need to improve, but I need your help on something much more important, please?” Your mask starts dropping, the fear and doubtfulness visible for just a few seconds, before you pull yourself together again, your face hardening up again.

~~~

“Tell me what this is?” Hotch reaches for the files, the pile alot bigger than he first thought it was.

“Someone is kidnapping teenages all over the country, and just hours surrounded the kidnapping another teenage is found dead a few towns over from the new victim, I have found about seven different cases over the course of 18 months so far, but the dead victims are never the ones from the recent kidnappings, they look older almost like they could have been kidnapped years prior maybe, they all have the same marks all over their body, the victimology is the same” You take a deep breath as Hotch flicks throughs the file. “The ones being taken are either from abusive households or already living on the street, they aim for the ones who are strong but not confident, they seem to find the quiet ones are go after them, but they are quick, they don’t leave much room for the kids to escape, they move fast” Your words seem to run from your mouth, the rush to get out of your mind and into Aarons ear makes you forget to breathe. The urgency is great and he just doesn't understand. 

“You keep saying they” Hotch looks up the files, his boss face activated, his lips pursed together. His eyes burn into you once more, you have to do everything in your power to not physically respond to that call out, unfortunately your body straightens up, your throat clutching. 

“I believe it has to be at least two unsubs if not more, and one of them could possibly be a woman” You take a deeper breath as your heart starts to pace, your mind screaming at you to stop as Aaron's eyes narrow more.

“And why do you think that?”

“Because they're fast, they move around the country, and according to the autopsy the kids are well nutritious, they cause of death is mainly blood lose, or hits to the head, I think—-” You quickly cut yourself off. No you can’t say that, you can’t let that detail out quite yet, he won’t understand, no one will understand not yet. “I think they must be keeping them somewhere safe before they dispose of them” You change the words that almost slip out quickly, but not fast enough for Hotch to not notice. Hotch watches you closely as you grow quiet, waiting for his response. Your leg bouncing as your nails dig into your arms, your eyes begging him to say something, just anything.

“What do you think they are doing to them if they are keeping them for so long then?” His question is innocent enough, but oh lord. Your stomach is now on fire, your eyes darken with anger as you speak.

“Training them to fight each other, fight to the death and then they keep the strong ones for who knows what” Oh but you know, oh you know too well what they are keeping them for and that makes you want to be sick. 

~~~

Silence fills the office as he stares at you, the anger that fills your eyes is something he hasn’t seen before, and he has seen you angry. But this is different, this is almost a murderous glaze in your eyes, something that makes Aaron uncomfortable. 

He knows what he has to do, even if he doesn’t like it. 

“How long have you been investigating this, how did you manage to get all of this information?” His voice is low as he speaks, his words filling with disappointment as he speaks.

“A few months” A lie, you both know that. But Aaron knows better than to question that right now, the can of worms that could open could be too hard to close.

“Why are you just bringing this to me now?” His voice raises, the disappointment sweeping out. “You should of came to me as soon as you saw a pattern forming” 

“I know I should have, but I wanted to see if I was right, maybe see if I could find any clues before bringing the team into a goose chase” You try to reason with him, gulping as if you know what you have to say. “I think I found them, and if I'm right another person was taken last night and I have a feeling that another body will be found near the state line of Nebraska and Wyoming, we need to take this case, we need to save them” A shaky breath leaves you as you lean forward, placing your hands on the desk, your eyes pleading. 

“Aar, please trust me on this” Gulping thickly as you see his eye flash with something unreadable as you say his old nickname, one you haven’t used in months.

“I need to make a few phone calls” He looks away from you as he picks up the phone. Standing up you smile slightly at him, thanking him quietly as you make your way out. 

~~~

The team soon arrives within the hour, where hotch is up in his office on the phone the whole time. Your body is on edge, sipping on your third cup of coffee as your mind runs. The team all stood around, talking and laughing as they usually do. Of course they try to get you to join in, but with one glance at you, they know this morning is not the time to get you to join in with them. It's Dave that talks to you this morning, his eyes couldn’t help but keep drifting to you as the team standing around teasing Reid and his crosswords. 

“Hey kiddo” Dave stands in front of you, pulling you from your mind, and mainly your eyes off Aarons offices.

“Ah, Morning Sir” Forcing a small smile as you do your best to focus on him, and not whatever conversation is going on inside the office right now.

“How many times have I told you Rossi, or Dave is fine? '' He smile’s down at you, hating to see the bags underneath your eyes, or the fresh scratch mask around your wrist. You wear long sleeves half the time, but that doesn’t stop the team from seeing the way your scratch at your arms when you get overwhelmed. 

“Right sorry” Pushing a small chuckle out, as you give him a weak smile. “My bad”

“It's okay, are you doing alright?” Rossi looks down at you worriedly, you weren’t the most talkative but right now you don’t even seem to know how to be your regular self.

“Fine si– Rossi” Your body tenses at the slip up, your eyes flicker back up to Aaron's office.

“Alright, if you ever need to talk kiddo you know I'm around” He smiles at you, one that's full of concern. A part of him wants to reach out, place a hand on your shoulder so you get the message, but he knows it won’t work with you. You don’t react well to physical touch, you jump when someone gets too close. The team remembers the first time Garica tried to give you a hug, you jumped back, hiding behind Morgan who was closest to you in that moment. She touched your shoulders, and you have never moved so fast, your body tensing your hands rolling into fist. You apologised as soon as you calmed down, you gave them no reasoning as to why. But they understood and no one has tried to touch you since, they even became your human shields when random people would try to hug you as a thank you. You were extremely grateful for that, it's been like that for three years now and still no one asks you why and you owe them so much for that.

~~~

Hotch finally emerges from his office after another hour, a sour look plastered across his face, and when you catch his eyes you know why. They found the body. 

“We got a case” Hotch calls out to his team, everyone's head shoots up to him. A deep unnerving tension seems to fill the room due to the seriousness on his face, and the way his eyes never leave yours. The air seems to leave your lungs as you stand up, grabbing your notebook off your desk before following the team into the conference room. Hotch waits by the door as the team walks in, placing his hand up in front of you to stop you. 

“One moment” His voice is low as he speaks, not wishing for the team to overhear.

“We found two bodies, one of them is Jason Ducan” Aaron speaks softly, as he watches your face flicker with recognition at that name. 

“They found a body” You stare up at him, your eyes now empty of emotions, putting them on the backboard as you prepare for this case.

“Jason Ducan, he was my first missing kid when I worked here” Your breathing hitches as fear flashes through your mind, doing your best to keep your poker face on. Do they know where you work, have they been keeping tabs on you for the last three years? Or maybe they never stop keeping tabs on you. 

“He doesn’t fit the profile, he was seven, from a good family. He was too young there is no way they would take someone from a family like that, it would be too difficult” Your mind spins as you speak, your words speeding up, slipping over each other in a hurry. Hotch hates the far away look that creeps into your eyes, almost more than he hates the numbness that dominates inside you. Taking a deep breath, hoping he doesn’t make it worse, Aaron slowly reaches out to you, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. You flinch sharply, your eyes narrowing on his hand, on his familiar touch. Aaron is the only one allowed to touch you, and only at certain times, only when you're ready for it, and normally you welcome his touch. Today is not the day you welcome it, his touch feels like fire, it sends painful memories of your past through your mind. 

“Don’t” Your voice is low and full of danger, a shaky breath follows as he doesnt let go immediately. 

“You need to tell me if this case gets too much, okay” Aaron words hold no judgement as he lets you go and just like he expected you stroll straight past him, anger radiating off you, as you fall into the chair beside Morgan.

~~~

Hotch starts the briefing, grabbing the team's attention with your homemade files. He informs them of everything you had told him that morning, minus your theories. 

“So you made these files?” It was Morgan who asked the question. The one thing that had confused the whole team, because this screamed to them as an off the books case, something Hotch would never do. 

“No I did” You speak up, leaning forward. You almost feel bored as Hotch gives the team the basic information, information you have been sitting on for many years. Everyone's heads turn straight to you, curiosity and surprised looks all over them. The quiet one who normally seems to keep to themself, is investigating a crime alone, and somehow convince Hotch to make it a real case. Oh you could feel the questions and doubt spreading throughout the room, and all you do is smirk at them as you lean forward.

“I didn’t think much of it at first, but something didn’t feel right so once I saw a second body drop in the same way. I started investigating a bit more, but I was always weeks behind, so in my time of hoping for new leads I went back and searched months back trying to find anything” You give them a brief explanation, making sure you don’t make eye contact with anyone, not needing to lose your nerve right now. The room stays quiet, giving you the confidence to keep talking, so taking a deep calming breath you continue. 

“After I got an alert last night of a kid going missing, I knew it was them. Conor Blue, he fits the description that the unsubs go after. He’s between the age of Nine and fourteen, he came from an abusive household and he’s into sports which isn’t always a go to, but something I see they prefer” You speak slower than this morning, remembering to breathe as you do. Hotch might be hard to convince, but making sure the whole team has your back on this case, is something you didn’t think through. You needed their help, because without the team, you can’t get close enough to get rid of them for good.

“How long have you been looking into this?” Emily asks, looking over at you with concern. She can see ghosts in your eyes, and whatever answer you give her, she’s not going to believe you. 

“About four months” Your lie is solided, you know that, you made sure all the files you gave them only look that old. Even if they have older information inside you can say it's from research. 

“He came to me this morning, and I have been on the phone with a few detectives” Aaron glances at you as he says that, your stomach drops. He knows you used your FBI statues to gather information you weren’t supposed to have, opps. “And It seems to be happening all over the country, so we need to make a fast move on this case, two new bodies were discovered this morning” Hotch continues, the team watches you instead of Hotch. They all notice the tense look on your face, the way your eyes darken, your lips tightening as a way to stop yourself from interrupting the boss. Photos pop up on the screen as Hotch keeps speaking, your eyes land on the photos, your stomach twisting. Jason laid in the dirt, his body covered in bruises and blood, a hopeless look in his eyes. But what makes your mind ache is the body laying beside the ten year old boy. A 20 year old guy. He looks strong, someone who you know could only live that long in that place, if they were extremely strong and brave. The marks around his neck send a shiver down your body, your stomach swooshes so much you think you're going to be ill. He’s the only one that ages with that mark, and there is only one guy who would do that. He’s still there, and that's all your fault.

~~~

“So (Y/n), any theories?” Rossi the one to ask you, his eyes on the notebook that you're clutching tightly.

“Quite a few” You glance up at Hotch, silently asking for permission to take over, he gives a quick nod and with that it's your turn. “It's a team, I want to say at least two older ones that have been doing this for many, many years, and if anyone has lasted long enough they would train them to join them, using them to find more opposition. They need a good routine of fighters, more opportunity for them to grow” You speak in a matter of fact, your fingers tapping away at the table.

“What makes you think they are fighting each other?” JJ glances at you from the photos.

“Easy, look at them, there is only one way someone can get that many bruises and cuts on them. Also not to mention the autopsy results mention multiple broken bones that have healed, internal bleeding due to multiple blunt force trauma”  Your not sure why but air soon becomes harder to inhale, it feels thick and the room starts heating up. Everyones eyes are on you, but you can’t look at them so you're focusing on the files in front of you instead. “Also look at their hands, they aren’t just defensive wounds, they fit back, also they are strong, it's like they train them. Plus they are well nourished so I guess someone is looking after them, my guess is a women is one of our unsubs” 

“That’s one hell of a theory” Morgan says, his eyes burning into you. His gut is full of distrust when it comes to you with this case, something doesn't seem right.

“I know, but have a look and you will see why I’m right, also this case is nothing like we are use to, I have many theories and most of them are strange but, you can see why” You speak from gritting teeth, your hand now gripping the table in front of you. 

“We are going to Nebraska, wheels up in thirty” Aaron eyes stay on you as you zoom out of the room, dying for some fresh air. 

~~~

“Jupiter wake up” Her viciouses voice fills your ears, as a piercing pain invades your side. A sharp hiss slips through your lips as your eyes shoot open, your body shooting up into a sitting position, pushing the thin blanket to the side. Inside you feel numb, nothing inside you is alive anymore, years of training has made you the perfect soldier. 

“Morning Ma’am” Your voice is emotionless, your eyes are dead as you stand up looking up at her. Keeping your hands behind you, your head slightly bent. 

“We have a new comer, you are to welcome them this morning, I don’t care if they live or die just clean up your mess” Her voice is assertive, a cunning look on her face as she leads you down the hall and past the other trainee soldiers. Some of them are still asleep, most of them without blankets, only winners get comfort items. You stroll past the training room where your fellow soldiers are lifting weights before being allowed to eat. You glance at them a part of you wishing you could join them, but that's not your task this morning. Instead you get to fight, and you get to choose the outcome, oh you do enjoy these fights. You always win, and even better, it doesn’t take much effort. Ma’am leads you to the empty swimming pool, where most fights to the death take place. As you walk over to the edge you spot your opponent, he looks small and extremely frightened, barely a challenge. He’s already got blood over his face as he hides on the corner of the pool, the area where the bloodstains seem to be less. A small chuckle leaves you as you check him out, the thoughts of destroying him winding you up. Licking your lips softly before glancing over at Ma’am waiting for permission to go down.

“Go on, but try and make it fair” She laughs softly, enjoying the murderous gaze in your eyes. In a matter of seconds you're jumping into the pool, smirking darkly as you make your way over to him. The boy looks to be about 14 or 15, a couple years or so younger than you. He looks up at you, a confused and scared look plastered over his face, it grows when you stop a few metres back from him. 

“Y you… you're alive” His whisper is barely audible, but it makes you freeze. That voice, you know that voice, how? 

“Come here, now” You growl at him, gritting your teeth as you stare into his eyes.

“I thought you died (Y/n)” He takes a small step forward staring at you with hope. Oh how wrong that looks for a place like this. 

“That's not my name” You spit at him, a horrible shiver dripping down your spine. 

“Yes it is” He speaks more confidently as he steps closer. “Your name is (Y/n), we used to be friends” That name, why do you know that name, it's wrong, it's so wrong. 

“I don’t know you” You sneer at him, taking a step towards him, dangour radiating off you.

“Yes you do, we used to be best friends, (Y/n) please you have to remember me, its Ryan” He begs you to remember. You freeze, Ryan. You know a Ryan, but he’s younger than him, Ryan was ten last time you saw him. But this can’t be him, because that part of your life is long gone, and who the hell does this guy think he is turning up claiming to be a part of that time. You react quickly with a sharp growl escaping you as you launch yourself on him.

“I don’t know you!” You scream as you grab him by his neck, and punch him repeatedly with your other hand. You're a lot stronger than him, using all your strength to pound into him. You let go of his neck, he falls forward with a gasp, begging you to stop but it falls on deaf ears. You knee him in the stomach as he falls forward, grabbing his hair holding him in place as you let him have it. 

“I don't know you” You scream as your anger explodes. “I don’t know (Y/n)!” You shove him into the wall, his body slides down, so you kick him, as you scream repeatedly. “I don't know Ryan” You keep screaming, blood starts to pile around him, as you lose control. “I don’t know you!”

~~~

“I don’t know you!” A scream invades the quietness of the jet. Everyone's head turns towards the scream full of pain, landing on you. You're asleep at the back of the jet, shaking violently with tears streaming down your face. Aaron is up in a matter of seconds, running quickly towards you. The team stays quiet, letting Hotch take control of this situation. He drops to his knees beside you, small whimpers and cries leaves you as you stay dead asleep. 

“(Y/n), wake up” He places his hand firmly on your arm, giving you a rough shake. But nothing, you stay asleep but your cries get louder. 

(Y/n), open your eyes” Aaron shakes you again sharper and luck is on his side. Your eyes shoot open, breathing heavily as you scan your surroundings. The jet, you're on the jet, with your team. Oh shit your team, everyone is watching you, they stare at you with unreadable emotions on their faces, and you hate it. Soon you let your eyes drop down to the man beside you, fear enters you quickly, yanking away from his touch you straighten up quickly.

“Sir, I’m so sorry sir I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I am extremely sorry sir It won’t happen again” Your words fly out of you with fear, your breathing picking up, your hands shaking uncontrollably as you watch him, waiting for the punishment. 

“It's okay” Aaron gulps, hating the fear you're experiencing, the panic attack that’s consuming you. “You are okay, you are safe here” Aaron speaks calmly, taking the chance to place his hand on yours, he’s grateful you don’t pull back.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep” Your voice grows quiet, your lip quivering as the adrenaline dies down. 

“It's okay you're allowed to fall asleep” Aaron reassures you, his thumb running over the back of your hand smoothly.

“I am?” You look up at him hopeful, your eyes full of tears. You almost seem child-like as you ask that simple question.

“Yes you are, I only woke you because you were having a nightmare” Aaron smiles softly at you, hoping he doesn’t embarrass you as he informs you.

“Oh no” You yank away from his touch, panic filling you. You know you sleep talk occasionally, what the hell did you say?

“We all get them, its okay”

“No.. what did I say?” You stare at him with a look of horror. Aaron's face drops, he knows that look, he’s seen it almost everyday of this job. A look victims have when they open up to much of their past, scared their abusiver will come back for them.

“You didn’t say much” He tries his best to comfort you but he knows that determined look in your eyes. “You said ‘I don't know you’ ” 

A small sigh leaves you as you lean your head back in relief, that's all you said then you are fine, you can recover from that. “Thank you” You force a small smile, before raising your voice, turning to look at your coworkers who all seem to be pretending not to pay attention anymore.

“Sorry for disturbing you”

“You're not disturbing us” Hotch is quick to correct you, hating to think that you would think you're a bother. “If you want to talk about it–”

“No thank you, I’m fine” You interpret him quickly, a sharp glare and turning your back to him is all the dismissal he needs. 

~~~

You're in the SUV with Morgan and Rossi, heading downtown to the morgue. You sat in the back seat, reading through the Jason Ducan files, before sighing loudly and laying your head back. The two men in the front seat share some curious looks before glancing back at you.

“You alright back there” Morgan questions you, a small smile on his face.

“Not at all, this makes no sense at all” rubbing your forehead as the frustration causes another headache. “Why the hell did they take Jason Ducan three years ago he doesn’t fit the profile and they wouldn’t of dumped him like that he would of hide the body better, you would think they know not to show of the bodies we are investigating” You can’t hide the frustration and anger invading you, your hand squeezing into fist and you think back. He was a clue back then yet you were so focused on moving on you didn’t see it, this is bad. 

“Maybe your profile is wrong” Dave shrugs as he speaks, as if it's a casual thing.

“My profile is not wrong!” You snap at him, the anger burning away at your chest.

“I still don’t understand your interest in this case” Derek turns around to face you, a distrustful look in his eyes, one you can’t help but return.

“Well, no one was looking into it, someone has to care. I'm sorry if that irritates you Derek” Glaring deadly at him, as his eyes widen just slightly at your comeback before turning back to the front.

“I was just asking.'' He grumbles before glancing at Dave who is staring at you through the rearview mirror, watching as your face drops as you cross your arms. 

~~~

You are shown the bodies and as the doctor talks you can’t hear her, the words flying over your head as you grab some gloves and start touching the bodies. Three pairs of eyes on you, watching like a hawk as you move like lightning. Your hands travel around the older unnamed victim's neck. The dark unformed bruises with a slight cut you can tell were made with wire, your stomach spinning as you move away from it and down to his feet. 

“His neck wound was made by wire” You state as you kneel down by his feet, anger flooding through you as you see the scars. They are doing it again. “Holy shit” Your words are barely audible, but Morgan catches them, his eyebrow narrowing as he watches you.

“What did you find (Y/l)” Morgan makes his way over to you, spotting fear deep inside your eyes before you quickly mask the emotion once more.

“You need to ring Garcia” You look up at him, gulping thickly. “I think they are recording them” 

“What, how can you tell?” It's Rossi that asks as he walks over, joining you and Morgan at the feet of the victims. 

“Look at this” You show them the bottom of the left foot of the victim, where a big L is cut into along with the name victory which looks like it has been tried to be cut out. 

“Okay” Morgan looks at you puzzled. “How did you get that they recorded them from this?”

“The L, It means they lost, I bet they showed this to the camera to show them that they truly did lose this time” Maybe what you said doesn’t make sense to the profilers, but it's what they do. But they stopped, you know they stopped. You couldn’t find them on the dark web so they had to have stopped but you never relooked when the bodies started dropping again. 

“You can’t know that” Morgan goes to argue with you, a hand on his arm stops him. He turns his head to see Dave shaking his head at him. Morgan stares at him stumped wanting to argue but he can read that look in Dave’s eyes, there is something more going on here. 

“It makes sense, they can earn money this way and also they are sick twisted little fuckers who can find other twisted fuckers to enjoy in on their torment as well” You speak quickly as you pull your phone out, taking photos of his foot. 

“Okay I guess I’ll call Penelope then” Morgan sighs glancing at the dead set look on your face before walking out. You go to move onto Jason Ducan, touching his foot lightly before freezing. You stare at him for a few moments, your body frozen in place. He’s too young, his family loved him. How could they take him from them? It doesn't make sense.

“(Y/n), do you want me to do it?” Dave calls out to you kindly, breaking up your thoughts.

“No I got it” You reply letting out a small breath before pulling back his foot and taking a photo. A small W has been crossed out and replaced with a L, your heart crashing into your stomach as you see it. In a flash you're pulling away and making your way outside for some fresh air.

~~~

You lean against the SUV as you ring Reid, who is driving to see the other body that was discovered last night. 

“Hey (Y/l), You're on speaker phone” You can hear Reid smile through the phone.

“Hey guys, are you at the body yet?” You focus on slowly your racing heart beat as you speak to them, readying yourself to pass on the information.

“Not yet, we are still two and half hours out from the town” Emily response, glancing at the phone as she drives. 

“Okay that's fine, I just have a few things I need you to look at when you get there” Taking a breath as you think back to the cut on Jason's foot. “On his left foot I need you to see if there is anything cut into it, I am sending you a photo of the other two victims' feet okay” You quickly send them the photos.

“Okay I got it” Reid replies after a few moments.

“Oh that's gross” Emily groans.

“That's because you hate feet” Smirking just a little at her reaction.

“It's not my fault they are smelly and gross” She laughs just a little.

“Also you two should be driving through a small town called Cobar, it's a small town with a big population of homeless teenages It might pay to stop and talk to them, see if they have seen anything out of place lately” You take a sharp breath as a strange feeling starts filling you as you think about that place.

“Sure we can do that” Emily nods, her face tightening into a frown. “Hey, um are you okay?” 

“I'm good, why?” Your lips pull into a thin line as you line.

“Because this case seems to be weighing on you alot” She explains, tapping her finger on the steering wheel.

“Nope It's just another case, I gotta go” You quickly hang up before she can ask more questions. Reid and Prentiss share some strange and concerning looks as the phone beeps.

“What is he hiding?” Emily mumbles to herself as she stares out at the road.

~~~

The rest of the day goes by quickly, you three end up meeting up with JJ and Hotch back at the precinct. Rossi and Morgan go and talk with Jason Duncan's parents once they arrive trying to get more information from them. JJ works with other precincts where the other bodies and missing boys have been reported, trying to get all the information she can. You and Hotch work together trying to organise a timeline for the last 12 months, and with all the information you already have some parts are easy to fill in. Until he starts questioning you on the one part you can’t answer. 

“They shouldn’t be here, they should have gone east” Hotch sighs as you both stare at the map laid across the table. 

“I agree but they didn’t” You don’t agree with that, but according to the timeline it makes sense. 

“But do you agree?” Hotch looks up at you, doubt playing across his face. 

“What are you getting at Hotch?” Huffing little as you pick up your coffee, staring back at him.

“You said they would be coming this way, so why would you think that?” There’s his stern look eating at you. Making your stomach sink as you hide the truth from him. The truth is, you know their base is around here. This town is the first thing you remember when you escape but you can’t tell him that, no one can know. 

“I don't know” You lie, and it's a bad one.

“Don’t lie to me” 

“I'm not lying!” You don’t mean to snap at him, but fear and guilt were eating away at you and you can’t contain it anymore.

“Then tell me the truth” His words are sharp and to the point, but his face stays calm, his eyes soft and caring as he stares at you.

“Fine, I had a feeling like this town means something, because look at the pattern here Aaron” Your shoulders tenses up as you lean forward, pointing at the map. “Look, they always avoid this town, and they always avoided leaving bodies in this state until last night so since they did that I decided to take a risk and wait for them to leave us something around here and do you want to know what I’m thinking right now” A smirk slips onto your lips as you speak, a feeling of excitement spreads throughout you as you share your idea.

“You think their base is around here” Aaron finishes your thought, not liking that smirk on your face. 

“Exactly and if they left us this breadcrumb it only means two things, one they are somehow becoming sloppy or two—”

“They know you are investigating them” He finishes your sentence again, dread filling him due to just how close you are to this investigation.

“Not me, but someone yes and we can use that” 

“How?” 

Luckily Aaron's phone rings just before you have to answer that.

“It's Garcia” He glances at you before answering it, placing it on speaker. “Hey Garcia, what do you got?”

“Well boss man, I got good news and some gross news” Penelope's sweet voice floats through the phone. 

“What's the good news Garica?” You straighten up as you hope.

“Well our unnamed victim is Liam Clark, he’s 19 years old and went missing five years ago in florida” Garcia informs you both just as the door to the conference room opens and the rest of the team walks in. 

“Alright, can you send through his family information please” You sigh, leaning backwards in your chair, the stress of the case becoming too much. 

“Will do my love, now are we ready for some more information?” Her voice starts filling with dread as she types aways.

“Hit us with the good stuff baby girl” Morgan speaks up, coming to sit on the edge of the table by the phone.

“Oh I wish it was good news chocolate thunder, but (Y/n) was right.” She sighs as Aaron phones dings. “I found their profile on the dark web and all their live streams have been saved, there are hundreds of them, maybe even closer to a thousand, and they got back many, many years” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I haven’t looked at them all yet but there are some that are over 25 years old” 

Your heart sinks, your palms becoming sweaty as realisation sits in. Your videos are still up, your team could find out in a matter of seconds what you are. 

“25 years…” Your voice is as quiet as a mouse, your throat tightening up as your team glances over at you. “How did no one see this?” Your voice gets louder, filling with anger as you jump to your feet. 

“They hide their tracks well” Reid speaks up, his eyes focused on you.

“Bullshit, no one can hide their tracks that well!”

“Okay you need to take a breath” Hotch gets up, walking closer to you. Watching the anger firing up inside your eyes.

“No, we need to find these monsters and make them pay, they have hurt and ruined so many innocent people's lives” You spit the words out, your hands squeezing into fist. 

“Is that all?” Morgan questions you, getting up, standing uncomfortably close to you.

“What's that meant to mean!?” Your body is already in defensive mode, locking itself down as Morgan has a determined look inside his own. 

“Well you seem to be hiding something from us and I would like to know what that is?” His questioning is dangerous, he steps closer to you. The rest of the room falls quiet, your eyes burning into his.

“How about, none of your damn business Morgan”

“It is my business when you drag us into it” He huffs back at you. “Just tell us what you're hiding” He steps closer, his breath lingering on your skin.

“Back the fuck up Derek” Your voice is lower, and full of danger. You can feel yourself about to snap and if you do, you don’t think you will be able to stop.

“We barely know you, so why don’t you just tell us what the hell is going on” Derek demands to know “What is wrong with you (Y/n)?” His hand raises up, and before you can process what is happening. Bam. Your fist collides with his mouth and you see red as he stumbles backwards. You follow him, a low growl leaves you as you punch him again, this time aiming for his eyes. He manages to block, trying to hold you back, but you don’t stop trying to get a blow on him. You can hear voices all around you but you can’t hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Soon there are arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you away from Morgan. You struggle against them trying to break free as you stare daggering at Morgan who is being confronted by three people of your team, you don’t recognize them. Soon there is another person in your way, your body tenses as you see them. They quickly place their hands on your cheeks which make you freeze, the anger vanishing from inside you. Your vision starts easing up and faces start becoming recognizable. The person who is holding your face gently, has beautiful eyes, and a soft smile.

“Your safe (Y/n)” JJ speaks softly, “Just take some breaths” You stare at her, and soon start copying her breathing. Rossi lets you go, moving towards the rest of the team as you calm down.

“Let me go JJ” Your words are as cold as ice, the numb empty look in your eyes being replaced by guilt and anger. 

“Okay” She takes a breath before removing her hands and as soon as she does you bolt out the door.

~~~

You keep running once you get outside, you don’t stop, you can’t, you just can’t. Your mind is spinning and the only way you know how to get it to become quiet again, is to run. So that's what you do, you run. The sun is already set so you enjoy the darkness as you run. You can’t believe you lost it and punch Morgan, but what the hell is he getting at? Now what the hell are you meant to say, what lie are you meant to produce that will cover your ass. You're not sure how long you have been running for, but you're running out of breath when you see a corner store and think oh why not. Checking you have your wallet you head inside grabbing a bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes. Walking back out you open it, throwing the rubbish in the bin before lighting it and taking a long drag. Closing your eyes as you inhale it, it's been a long time since you last smoked and god does it just hit right tonight. Slowly you begin walking back to the precinct, enjoying the nicotine hit. You know you're about halfway to the precinct when you decide to check your phone after feeling it ring a few times. 

Missed phone calls: Aaron Hotchner (6)

Penelope Garcia (3)

You're not sure how many smokes you have consumed already but the pack is way lighter than it used to be. You really should ring them back instead of lighting another one, but oh well you think as you bring one more to your lips. Pulling out the lighter just as a car pulls up beside you, groaning softly as you recognize it. You keep walking, not caring to look at him as he rolls the window down. 

“Get in the car” Hotch yells at you, following you.

“Nope” You go to light the smoke instead when he stops the car and gets out. 

“We are an hour walk from the precinct, get the hell in” Aaron doesn’t bother to hide his anger, holding himself back from grabbing that cigarette from your hand.

“Or what?”

“Or you're fired, and I’ll leave you here” He huffs angrily, seeing you weighing up your options.

“Fine” You take a long drag on your smoke before stomping it out and climbing in.

~~~

The ride back is quiet, as you stare out the window.

“How angry is everyone?” Your voice is quiet and empty. Almost empty because Aaron can detect a small trail of sadness and fear in your words. 

“Morgan winded you up on purpose, he pushed you too far. That wasn’t okay what either of you two did” Hotch ignored your question, because he knew you wouldn’t accept that fact no one is angry. No, everyone is just worried and concerned about you, something you don’t know how to spot or accept when it comes to yourself. He wishes you could just trust the team, trust him enough to let them help. 

“I have a past” You pull yourself closer as you stare out the window, thinking about your next words carefully. 

“You don’t have to tell me” Aaron quickly tells you softly, needing you to know there is no rush.

“And if I do want to tell you?” You glance at him quickly, and for a moment you forget he is your boss and see him in the light of your friend. 

“Then I'm here to listen” He smiles lightly at you. You nod quickly looking back out the window, and then slowly you move your hand towards him, which he happily takes sliding his fingers between yours.

“I was abused growing up, no one cared and nobody knew, I never told anyone” You stare out the window, emotions settling down as you speak. “This case brings back memories I never wanted to relieve back up, I have to find these people so that we can save these kids” Your voice is sweet as you speak, this is a side no one but Aaron ever gets to see.

“And we will get them and we will get them help” Aaron smiles weakly as he pulls up. “But once this case is over we need to get you some help too, okay?” His thumb slides over your hand as you glance at him. If only he knew that nothing on earth can help you, and at the end of this case you don’t think you will still be on this team.

“Okay” You nod forcing a small smile before pulling away and making your way inside.

~~~

You walk in quietly, followed by Aaron. The team is staring up at the tv, watching some of the latest fights. You freeze as you catch a glance of his face on the screen. You knew he was still there but the look in his eyes is killing you. He's gone, replaced by a murderous robot, his skills are fast and sharp. 

“Ryan” His name slips off your tongue before you can stop it, your body tenses up as you stare at the screen and the way he gets his opponent down in one quick move. Emily pauses it as everyone's head turns to you once more. This time everyone looks at you with concern as they see the tears forming in your eyes, which you quickly push away once you let everyone get a good look.

“You know him?” Reid asks you, tilting his head as he asks you. 

“Um y yeah..” You take a deep breath. “I went to school with him” It's a lie, but you know it's golden. “He went missing when he was around 15 years old, we were best friends then one day he didn't turn up to school and well” You take  a deep breath as Aaron leads you to a chair, your arms shaking just a little. “He was officially determined missing a week later, his parents were absent, they didn’t care for him” That wasn’t a lie, he told you about his parents and how much they hurt him and how they were barely at home. 

“Oh (Y/n)” JJ places her hand softly on the table beside your hand, not touching but showing you she is here for you. You give her a soft smile in response. 

“If he’s been there this whole time it's been twelve years” Twelve years, he is never going to be the same.

“Jesus christ” Morgan groans with regret as he looks at you. “That's what you were hiding?”

“I had a feeling he was there.. I was just hoping I was wrong” Your voice is weak and tiredness is starting to take over. It's been almost 48 hours since you last slept.

“Now we got a lead, tomorrow we get Garcia to look into him but let's call it a night it's late we all need sleep” Hotch states, everyone nodding in agreement including you as you stare at Ryan's face on the screen. That's all your fault.

[punkshort]

Listen

Summary: You and Joel explore an abandoned library and you get under each other's skin.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe, no use of Y/N. (Can be read as stand alone, only backstory that needs to be known is Joel was once reader's boss but I included a small blurb about it to explain)

Warnings: language, smut (MDNI 18+), roleplay, dom/sub dynamic (very light, nothing extreme), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, creampie (don't do this, muy dangerous)

Word count: 5.7K

A/N: if anyone wants to be removed from the taglist, just shoot me a quick message or comment. I kept the same list from the main story but I don't know if you want to be included in the one-shots.

May 2006

"I could kill Tommy for tellin' you 'bout that place," Joel grumbled as he shoved food in your backpack. You lifted your head from the paper you were scrutinizing on your kitchen counter to look at him.

"Oh, come on. It's a quick trip, we'll be back around dinner," you told him, looking back down at your list.

Tommy and Joel had recently found a small, abandoned town in the mountains. One day, after they had come back from a supply run to pick over anything useful, Tommy mentioned at dinner that there was a library in town.

Joel had groaned and immediately buried his face in his hands the moment the words left Tommy's mouth. You had just been telling Joel that you and Carrie were looking for some textbooks, so the two of you got to work writing up any type of topic either of you could use for gardening and medicine.

He tried arguing with you, he tried begging you. He tried offering to do the trip himself, but nothing worked. You had told him he could either come with you and help carry the books back, or you would find someone else. Of course, he caved.

"Please, just gimme the list, I'll take care of it for you," he tried pleading once more, but you shook your head as you shouldered your backpack and shoved your handgun in the back of your pants.

"Joel, we talked about this," you said, swinging the door open and marching down the steps, heading towards the stables. It was early. The town was about a four hour ride away from Jackson. You wanted to get a move on so you could be back before dark.

"Hardly," he scoffed, catching up with you. "Didn't exactly come up with a compromise."

"Sure we did," you told him, turning the corner of your street. "The compromise was you coming with me."

He huffed and stayed quiet until you reached the stables. You always had this way of making him feel like he was in charge, but in reality, you ended up winning any disagreement you've ever had. He was grumbling to himself, wondering how on earth you managed to talk him into this when you turned and tossed him a bright smile over your shoulder with a wink, and he felt his heart flutter. Oh, that's how.

Carl already had a horse saddled up for you when you arrived. You expressed your gratitude, especially considering how early it was, and led the mare out of the barn. Joel shoved his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle, settling in before reaching an arm down to help you up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and gave the back of his neck a quick kiss before you pressed the side of your face into his shoulder blades.

He sighed as he led the horse through the gates and towards the woods. He didn't used to be this soft. People used to do what he asked, when he asked, and they thanked him for it. You were never one of those people, though. From day one, you stood your ground and never let him shake you. Even his own brother dreaded Joel's outbursts at work. Men used to cower at him on job sites when Joel demanded answers on why something was done wrong, or why a job was taking longer than it should. He was never a people pleaser, and he didn't care. He got the job done, he got results and he made a lot of money doing it.

Then you were hired a few months before the outbreak and turned his world upside down. He found himself going out of his way to try to cross paths with you. He looked forward to the monthly meetings he had with your department just so he could catch glimpses of you throughout the hour. Then, there were the few times you found yourself in his office, delivering reports or checks for him. Those moments lingered with him for days, itching until the next time he got you alone again.

It all worked out in the end, but there was a big misunderstanding that drove a wedge between you. Before you had a chance to work it out, the outbreak hit, and you both ended up traveling across the country together, seeking safety while trying to stay alive. He often wished he had a chance to have a normal relationship with you, one that didn't include life or death scenarios, but one that included traveling, theater, dinners and drinks. If only he hadn't wasted so much time before.

"You're so quiet, are you okay?" you asked him, your breath tickling his ear. He smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. This wasn't so bad, either.

"I'm fine. Just wish you'd listen to me now and then. Last time we left Jackson, things didn't turn out so great," he mumbled, still partially annoyed about the trip, worried about your safety outside the walls he helped build.

"Well, I don't know about that. I seem to remember you having a good time in the end," you teased, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Quit tryin' to distract me," he said gruffly, knowing your game well enough by now to tell when you were trying to take the focus off of anything bad.

"Sorry," you whispered, not wanting to push your luck. Joel sighed, feeling guilty.

"Just... promise you'll listen to me when we're out here? No dawdlin', and don't leave my sight. If I tell you we gotta wrap it up, we wrap it up. Understood?"

A shiver went down your spine at his domineering tone.

"Yes, sir," you said obediently, smirking into his back. You didn't want to push his buttons, but it was so easy, and you always got excited at the chance to explore outside of Jackson. You never thought you'd want to leave once you discovered the safety within the walls, but you found you eventually became a little stir crazy. A quick trip like this one would scratch that itch for a while, you just wish Joel understood you wanted a little freedom.

"Hey, what'd I say? Stay behind me," Joel hissed as you moved through the library. He had just been there less than a week ago with Tommy, but that didn't mean anything. You rolled your eyes when he turned his head and fell back behind him, your gun drawn at your side. It was an old building in desperate need of updating, the hardwood floors squeaked with nearly every step you took. If anyone or anything was in there, you'd know it by now considering the amount of noise you were making. You knew he had every reason to be anxious, and you tried to be understanding, but you were getting annoyed.

Once he finally determined the building was empty, you happily got to work examining the aisles, pulling books off the shelves and carrying huge stacks over to a conference room and piling them on top of the long, wooden table. You imagined local students maybe booked this room in the past to study or work on projects, considering the room was so close to the reference section.

Joel stayed close, but he paced around a bit, clutching his rifle as he routinely peeked out the windows. He knew there was a slim to none chance he would spot anything. He and Tommy had been to this town three times already, and he never saw a thing. But he refused to take any chances. Not with you.

Bored, he wandered down a row of books, idly reading the titles on the spines as he listened to you drop more heavy books on the table. He paused when he saw a familiar title and shouldered his rifle. He picked the book up and skimmed the first few pages. He leaned up against the bookshelf as he continued to read, completely losing track of time until he realized he hadn't heard you make any noise in a while. He paused and flicked his eyes up, listening closely for any sound from the conference room, but he heard none. He dropped the book and hurried down the aisle, rounding the corner as his head whipped around, looking down the aisles for you as he jogged.

The door to the conference room was wide open as he barged in, glancing around the small room, but you were no where to be found.

"Shit," he whispered, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to keep the panic at bay. He turned around to check out the other side of the library, whisper-shouting your name as he went. His chest was beginning to constrict as all the worst case scenarios flooded his mind. She had a gun, she would have fired a shot if she was in trouble.

Just when he thought he was going to completely lose it, you emerged from the last row of books with a few paperbacks tucked under your arm. You saw Joel and gave him a smile before you could register the look on his face. He let out a huge breath he hadn't realized he was holding before he grabbed you roughly by the shoulders, making you frown.

"What'd I fuckin' say?!" he seethed, giving your shoulders a harsh shake.

"Excuse me?" you said, squirming away from his grasp.

"I said 'don't leave my sight', and what'd you do?" he said, raising his voice at you. His jaw was clenched as he stared daggers into you. You scoffed and pushed past him, heading back to the conference room.

"I'm an adult, Joel. Stop treating me like a child," you said over your shoulder. "Besides, you were the one who disappeared. I couldn't find you to tell you where I was going."

"I don't fuckin' care, you wait til I'm back and then we go together," he growled, following you back towards the other side of the building. You whipped around to glare at him, making him skid to a stop on the worn out wooden floors.

"I get why you're worried, Joel, I really do, and I appreciate your concern. But I just want a little freedom to live my life. And you're not the boss of me!" you snapped, throwing your free hand up in the air before turning on your heel, back to the privacy of the conference room. You just wanted to pick the best books possible based on what you and Carrie needed so you could get the hell out of there and go home.

Joel's blood ran hot at your words. He remained rooted to the ground where you left him, seething, as he replayed your argument in his head. Maybe he overreacted, but he was too pissed off to think clearly. Blood rushed in his ears as he angrily raked a hand through his hair, thinking again about how soft you've made him. He never considered it a bad thing before, but out in this world when he needed you to just listen to him, it could be a bad thing. You've always been capable, he knew that, but there's been too many close calls in the past and your safety was his only concern. He couldn't risk losing you, it wasn't an option.

He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to stomp out his anger, running his palm over his mouth as he paced back and forth, gripping his revolver. Your words just kept bouncing around in his head over and over. Then he stopped, letting his hand drop from his mouth as he stared at a fixed point on the wall, thinking about your last words: you're not the boss of me.

He shoved his revolver back in his holster and he walked calmly over to the conference room. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching as you stood in front of the table, diligently checking your list and sifting through piles of books, setting aside the ones you wanted to take by tossing them with a grunt towards the empty duffel bag next to the table.

He could tell you were still angry. You refused to look up at him, even though you knew full well he was standing there watching you. Your mouth was pressed into a thin line and your brows furrowed while you worked, determined to ignore him.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice firm. You stopped what you were doing and sighed before you met his gaze.

"Joel, I really don't feel like -"

"Nuh uh. Wasn't up for debate. And that's Mr. Miller, to you," he said, staring you down. You froze, confused, as you searched his eyes for any playfulness, but found none. You hadn't sat down, but you hadn't said anything either, the gears still turning in your head.

"You said I ain't the boss of you," he told you, pushing himself off the doorframe as he entered the room, sliding the rifle from his shoulder and leaning it against the wall. "But you forget, sweetheart, there was a time I was. Maybe you need to be reminded," he said lowly, his fists coming to rest on the table across from you as he leaned forward, issuing a challenge.

He could see the realization click. Your breathing quickened and your cheeks had a light dusting of pink across them as you slowly lowered yourself into the chair behind you, keeping your eyes glued to his face. He held back the smirk that threatened to pull across his lips, refusing to break the facade.

"So you can do what you're told," he murmured, leaning back from the table, looking down at you. You still didn't say anything, but the anxious tapping of your finger on your leg gave you away. He slowly made his way around the table, his eyes never leaving your face. You kept your head straight, looking ahead at the empty doorway, but you studied him from your peripheral as he approached.

He came to a stop right next to you and watched as your lips parted to accommodate your need for more air, your chest rising and falling faster than usual under your V neck T-shirt, where he could just make out the swell of your breasts from his angle. He hummed appreciatively and reached out a finger to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, taking pride in the way your breath caught in your throat.

"Did you get those reports for me, sweetheart?" he asked quietly, dragging a knuckle gently down your cheek and watching as the heat crawled up your neck.

It took you a moment to understand the game, but you caught up. And once you did, it felt like you had been transported back in time. You were reminded of how painfully nervous he used to make you, but instead of putting you off, it was making you squirm in your chair with anticipation.

"No," you all but whispered, then cleared your throat so he could hear you. "No. Didn't have enough time, I'm sorry Mr. Miller."

Still staring straight ahead, you felt rather than saw him stiffen next to you, and you swallowed roughly. He tsked and shook his head with a sigh. He gripped the back of your chair and flattened his palm on the table, leaning in so he was mere inches from your face.

"You wanna explain to me what's more important than the reports I asked for?" he growled in your ear, and he watched you visibly shudder. When you took too long to respond, he spun you around to face him so fast, it pulled a gasp from your throat, and you had to reach out to grip the arms of your chair in order to steady yourself.

"Answer me," he demanded through gritted teeth, his hand coming from the back of your chair to grip your chin firmly. It took you by surprise how into this he was, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if this had been building up for a while, but you pushed the thought away, trying to focus on the moment.

"I overslept," you squeaked out, inwardly cringing at the lame excuse. But Joel didn't miss a beat. He dropped your chin from his hand and straightened up, still glaring down at you.

"You overslept," he repeated, disappointment dripping from his words as he stared down at you. You slowly dragged your eyes up to meet his. Looking up at him meekly, you nodded.

"See, that ain't good," he told you with a shake of his head, crossing his arms. "How do you expect to make it if you're so goddamn irresponsible?"

You briefly wondered if he was still pretending or if he was trying to warn you about survival, but again, you pushed that thought away for another time.

"Can I make it up to you?" you asked him shyly, shifting your weight as the ache between your legs grew, desperately needing attention. You saw a flicker in his eyes at your question, but he refused to break.

"Gonna have to fire you, I'm afraid," he said sadly. "I've fired people for less, and you need to learn."

"Please, I'll do anything," you begged him, scooting to the edge of your seat.

"Anythin', hm?" he repeated back to you, quirking an eyebrow. You nodded eagerly as you finally allowed your gaze to flick down to his jeans, his belt right at eye level from where you sat. You could see his erection straining against the denim, and your tongue shot out to lick your lips instinctually.

Joel let a lazy smirk tug across his face.

"You wanna suck on the boss's cock, huh?" he asked you teasingly, and again, you nodded, your adrenaline squeezing your throat to the point where you had trouble finding your voice.

"Go ahead, then. I ain't stoppin' ya," he said, his voice gravelly, his accent thick. Your hands flew up from your lap to his belt, fumbling with the buckle until you pulled the leather loose, then got to work popping the button on his jeans and carefully pulled the zipper down. All the while, Joel watched you through heavy lidded eyes, his breath only stuttering momentarily when you took him in your hand and began to slowly pump him up and down.

You looked up to him for approval as you twisted your wrist, your thumb swiping over his slit and dragging his precum down his shaft with your fingers.

"Don't got all day," he snapped. "You either want this job, or you don't."

"I want it," you whispered, your eyes glazed over with lust.

"Then fuckin' show me," he said, thrusting his hips into your hand. His mask slipped slightly when your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, a low groan rumbling from his chest as his eyes slid shut.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as you pulled him in deeper, your tongue swirling around his girth while your head bobbed up and down, taking him in further and further each time. Your fist gripped his base to hold him steady, your swollen lips brushing against your fingers as you did your best to take him down your throat. His hand tangled in your hair, and you whimpered when his hips jutted forward, triggering your gag reflex. You sputtered around him before you pulled away with a sharp gasp, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your watery eyes up to meet his. He tutted and shook his head, trying to ignore how his cock twitched when he saw your wrecked face.

"Am I too big for that pretty little mouth?" he asked you, and your mind bounced back and forth between answers.

"Yes. I-I mean, no, I can do it, let me try again," you stammered, reaching out to him before he smacked your hand away.

"Up," he commanded, and this time you didn't hesitate. You shot up from your chair so fast, your head was spinning.

"Take 'em off," he told you, his eyes flicking down to your pants. You quickly slid out of your boots and shimmied out of your jeans while Joel watched you, his hand lazily stroking himself as you worked. You were about to pull down your panties when he stopped you.

"Not those," he said roughly, and you gulped and nodded. You had never seen this side of him before, and you felt like your brain was short circuiting. Sure, he used to be gruff and a bit of an asshole when you first met, but whenever you had slept together, he was usually very soft and attentive. He tilted his head towards the table.

"Hands," was all he told you, and you immediately turned to flatten your sweaty palms against the old, smooth wood. You hardly ever found a reason to be embarrassed around him anymore, but when he tapped your ankle to make your legs widen and he spread your ass so he could see the mess you had made between your legs, you felt the heat burning into your cheeks.

You jutted your hips back, eager to feel his fingers on your aching center, but he refused to touch you where you needed him most. Instead, he slid his cock between your legs, rubbing himself against your clothed heat, languidly thrusting back and forth.

"Joel," you whined, the ache inside you becoming painful. Your eyes shot open and you let out a yelp when his hand came down on your ass, your skin stinging from the aftershock.

"What'd you call me?" he muttered angrily in your ear. You had no idea how he was able to restrain himself this long when you thought your legs were already about to give out from under you.

"M-Mr. Miller. I'm sorry," you moaned, your head falling forward between your shoulders as he continued to rub himself against you.

"Messin' up a lot today," he mumbled behind you. You screwed your eyes shut as the tip of his cock prodded your clit, your lower abdomen tightening with each thrust. Joel watched each time he pulled back as his cock glistened with your arousal, even through your underwear, your inner thighs were slick and wet. Knowing you couldn't see him, he allowed a grin to spread across his lips, loving how docile he made you in a matter of minutes.

"Please," you whimpered, desperately begging for him to relieve you.

"Please what?" he shot back, squeezing your hips as he continued to drag his cock against your folds.

"Please fuck me, Mr. Miller," you croaked, on the brink of tears. Joel chuckled at the strain in your voice.

"First sensible thing you said all day," he told you, pushing his jeans and boxers further down his legs. "But tell me why I should listen to you, when you don't bother listenin' to me?"

"I'll listen!" you cried out, your fist pounding on the table in frustration. "I'll listen... just, please," you said softer now, "please, please, please." You sounded pathetic, begging for him bent over a rickety old table in some beat up town, but you only had one primary need at the moment, and you couldn't think about anything else.

"Good girl," he whispered against your ear, and you shuddered underneath him. He hooked a finger inside the soaked fabric and pulled them to the side, revealing your aching cunt to him. He hissed through his teeth, desperate to touch you but he knew you wanted it even more, so he refrained.

He lined his leaking cock up against you, just barely touching you, but the contact made your whole body jump, your nerve endings acting like fireworks under your skin.

"Gotta be still," he muttered, and he waited for your breath to even out and your body to stop fidgeting before he continued. He leaned forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"I ain't gonna be gentle," he warned you, then dropped his voice to a whisper before adding "tell me if it's too much." You whined and tipped your head back, but he waited until he heard you whisper back okay before pushing himself inside you with one quick motion, bottoming out with a heavy groan.

Your walls fluttered around him at the sudden intrusion, frantically trying to accommodate his size as he pulled back and slammed into you again and again, punching the air from your lungs.

"Oh, fuck," you cried out, falling to your elbows on the table. His grip on you was sure to leave marks as he pulled your hips back against him over and over, driving himself as deep as possible inside you. The burn that was akin to pain quickly dissolved to pleasure as your body relaxed and welcomed him in, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Two leftover tears fell from your eyes and landed on the table when you squeezed them shut, your jaw slack as he rammed into you, each time hearing a soft grunt from his throat from the effort. He leaned forward and ran a hand under your shirt and up your stomach, yanking down on your bra and freeing your right breast, which he greedily squeezed in his palm before pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making you squeak.

"Fuck me, Joel," you said breathily, and your eyes quickly snapped open at your mistake. "I mean-"

His hand disappeared from your breast and rested gently on your ass, rubbing the already pink skin as he waited for you to correct yourself.

"You wanna try that again?" he asked, attempting to show you mercy.

"Mr. Miller," you said shakily. "Fuck me, Mr. Miller." But you chewed on your lower lip, your breath shallow as you braced for impact anyway. Joel raised an eyebrow as he slowed his hips, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smug grin.

"You want it, anyway, don'tcha?" and you nodded, your teeth sinking into your lower lip now so hard you were sure you would draw blood. You let out a gasp of relief when his hand came down again on your ass, the stinging on your skin spreading throughout your whole body, drawing out a filthy moan.

"Fuck," he muttered, and he could tell he was beginning to lose himself in you. He quickly pulled your right leg up so your knee was resting on the table, opening your hips even more as he picked up a ruthless pace. His left hand released your hip in favor of gripping your shoulder while his right hand acted as a brace for your leg so it wouldn't slide down to the ground.

"Please, Mr. Miller, I need..." you groaned and dropped your forehead to the table for a moment when the angle changed, and he began hitting that sweet spot inside you only he could find.

"Whaddya need?" he panted through clenched teeth, his hand squeezing your shoulder to keep you still as he pounded into you, chasing his release.

"Need you to touch me," you whimpered pathetically, bringing your head back up, doing your best to stay upright and not collapse into a puddle on the table.

"I think only good girls get that," he said lowly, his eyes dark as he watched the side of your face contort in pleasure. "Do'ya think you've been good?"

"No," you whispered, shaking your head.

"Why weren't you good?" he questioned you, the power now going straight to his head.

"Because I didn't listen," you admitted weakly. He nodded and hummed in agreement.

"And what're you gonna do from now on?" he pressed, leaning forward so he could make sure he heard you answer.

"I'm gonna listen," you told him, and he grinned from ear to ear.

"That's right," he said, his right hand traveling under your elevated hip to reach your clit, pressing firm circles over the bundle of nerves and eliciting a groan from your mouth. He could tell by the way you were squeezing him that you were right on the edge of an orgasm. His fingers picked up the pace, swirling around your clit with the expertise and knowledge only he had over your body.

"I always take care of you, don't I?" he gasped in your ear, feeling his own orgasm approaching. You nodded, your heart trapped in your throat as you tipped over the edge, your vision going spotty and curses falling from your lips. He gently sunk his teeth into your shoulder blade and removed his hand once he felt your weak thrusts trail off.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm close," he grumbled, dropping the act and letting his eyes slide shut as he rested his forehead against your upper back, his left hand still firmly planted on your shoulder. He felt your body shudder underneath him, an aftershock of your own climax.

"Come inside me," you said softly, and his eyes snapped open, not sure if he imagined it or not.

"What?" he rasped, and when you repeated yourself, but louder, his breath caught in his throat. He had only done that once before.

You could feel his hesitation, so you turned your head to the side, trying to catch his eye.

"It's okay," you assured him, trying to wordlessly explain that, like before, the timing of your cycle will work out in your favor, knowing that you were about to get your period any day.

He groaned, the unexpected permission to fill you sending him careening towards the brink. He slammed into you mercilessly, and you winced as you tried to breathe through the overstimulation, knowing he was close when his hips stuttered against you. He let go with a loud moan, falling forward as his hips slowed, filling you with his hot spend.

He gasped against your back, his breath hot through your shirt as his hips involuntarily thrusted shallowly forward until he stilled, quietly catching his breath.

"My leg," you reminded him after a moment. Your hips were sore from the angle, and your body was giving up on you.

"Oh, right," he murmured, picking himself off you and sliding out of you with a hiss. He hooked his finger back around your panties and put them back in place, effectively trapping the sticky mess against you, but you didn't care. Your body felt weak and you just wanted to collapse to the floor, which is exactly what you did. Joel joined you, his eyes closed with the back of his head resting against the wall. He blindly tucked himself back into his jeans with a sigh.

You rolled your head to the side to take in his relaxed face, eyes still closed as he breathed deeply. With a grunt, you stood up and scooped your jeans off the floor, shoving your legs back through them carelessly and then squatted to lace your boots up. You looked back up to find Joel watching you, his face breaking out into a smirk when your eyes met.

"C'mon, Mr. Miller. We should head out soon," you teased, smacking his leg as you straightened up.

"I like that a little too much," he said with a sigh as he stood to help you pack up the books in the duffel bag.

The ride home was relatively quiet, the both of you exhausted. The sway of the horse and the feeling of him everywhere was enough to knock you out cold. You thought at one point you may have dozed off against his back for a few minutes, but you weren't sure.

When you arrived back in Jackson, the sun had just set. You slid down from your horse with a wince. Riding a horse in general made your hips and back sore, but combined with the events of the afternoon made your legs almost crumble when you hit the ground, but Joel was right there to catch you, like he was expecting it.

"Told you I always take care of you," he muttered in your ear, and you smiled.

You walked hand in hand slowly down the street, the string lights twinkling above your heads, as you made your way home. When you passed by Tommy and Maria's house, Tommy poked his head out the door to get your attention.

"Why don't you guys join us? Maria made stew," Tommy offered, and you felt your stomach rumble at the words. You briefly thought about declining and just going back home to sleep, but ultimately your hunger won out.

"You look wiped," Maria said after dinner, joining you on the couch while the men made themselves drinks in the kitchen.

"Yeah, long day. I haven't done a trip like that in a while," you told her, readjusting slightly on the couch. The dried mess between your legs had become incredibly uncomfortable and you were dying to go home, but you were too lazy to move.

"And we agreed you ain't doin' any more for a long time," Joel said, entering the room with Tommy.

"That right?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You glanced back and forth between the two brothers before slowly nodding.

"Yeah," you said. "Not for a few weeks."

"Months," Joel corrected, sitting next to you on the couch and draping an arm around your shoulders.

"Months," you repeated after a moment, and Joel had to bring his glass up to his lips to hide his smirk.

Tommy shrugged and asked Maria where a certain record was, causing the two of them to stand in search for it, bickering about who was the last to see it. Joel leaned into you and planted a soft kiss on the side of your head.

"Good girl," he murmured, making you blush. You agreed to his terms for now, but you knew the disagreement was far from over.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 1: let’s hear it for the dog.. let’s give the dog a hand..

April 14th, 2025, 12:21 PM

Rhea smiled as she opened gifts from her coworkers, the room buzzing with excitement and joy. The company had thrown her a baby shower to celebrate the recent announcement: she was having a boy. At 21 weeks pregnant, she was both thrilled and overwhelmed.

Bruce Prichard, her boss, approached her with a bright smile, presenting his gift with a flourish. As Rhea unwrapped it, her eyes lit up at the sight of a boxed sleek black crib. “This is perfect!” she exclaimed, running her fingers along the box. Bruce leaned down and kissed the top of her head, chuckling. “It fits your persona, Rhea. A little dark and stylish.”

“I can’t thank everyone enough,” she said, her heart swelling with gratitude.

“All right, everyone,” Bruce clapped his hands, regaining everyone’s attention. “Now, let’s get back to work! We still have two finishers to finalize for WrestleMania weekend! Let’s do it, folks!”

Rhea watched as the gifts were escorted to her car, her spirits lifted, but she couldn’t shake the weariness in her bones. At 21 weeks, the pregnancy had begun to take its toll; her once toned body was transforming, and she was experiencing the usual discomforts, including swollen feet that seemed to throb with every step. Bruce noticed her struggle as she attempted to get up from her chair.

“Need a hand?” he offered, concern etched on his face.

She shook her head and added, “No, I’ll manage. Just give me a moment.”

“Okay, I’ll forward you the flight and hotel info for WrestleMania in a bit,” Bruce said as he stepped away.

Rhea managed to get up and make her way to her office, she opened the door and stepped into her workspace, adorned with memorabilia from every era of her career, including photos and portraits of Jey in his eras that brought a smile to her face. She sank into her ergonomic chair, the comfort almost lulling her into relaxation. With a sigh, she opened her binder and flipped through pages of notes and ideas for her future brother-in-law Jonathan’s storyline, eager to brainstorm for the upcoming Friday.

Just as she was getting lost in her thoughts, the phone rang. Rhea pressed the speaker button, her voice steady as she answered, “Demi Bennett speaking. How may I help you?”

“Ms. Bennett, this is the principal for The Mead School calling in regards to your stepson, Jeyce Fatu.”

Rhea’s heart sank, a knot forming in her stomach. “Put him through,” she said, bracing herself for what was to come.

The principal’s voice came through the line, sounding professional yet concerned. “I’ve tried reaching Jeyce’s mother, Ms. Takecia Travis, and his father, Mr. Joshua Fatu, but there’s been no answer. Is it okay to proceed with discussing the matter?”

“Go ahead,” Rhea replied, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders.

“Jeyce got into another fight at school,” the principal said, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Rhea closed her eyes, suppressing a sigh. “How many days is he suspended for this time?”

“Four days,” the principal replied, his voice matter-of-fact.

“Okay,” Rhea said, resigned. “And as usual he’ll stay for detention until 5 PM today?”

“Yes, that’s correct. I’ll ensure he’s supervised.”

“Thank you,” Rhea said, her heart heavy. As the call ended, she felt the familiar frustration bubbling within her. Jeyce had been struggling lately, and despite her efforts, it seemed things were only getting worse.

Without hesitation, Rhea dialed Jey’s number, the phone ringing in her ear. She could only hope he would pick up and be ready to discuss their son’s troubles together. As she waited for him to answer, she couldn’t help but think about how much their family dynamic had shifted since she found out she was pregnant. Balancing her work life and their family had always been a challenge, but now it felt like an uphill battle.

“Come on, Jey,” she murmured, hoping he would answer soon.

“Hey, babe! How’s my favorite pregnant porcupine doing?” Jey’s voice came through, teasing yet warm.

Rhea couldn’t help but laugh at his playful nickname. “Bad news for Jeyce,” she replied, her tone shifting as she braced for the inevitable reaction.

There was a long sigh from Jey. “How long this time?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Four days,” Rhea said, her voice tinged with frustration.

“Guess he isn’t going to WrestleMania,” Jey remarked, his disappointment palpable.

“Babe, really?” Rhea shot back. “He could still go..”

“Ah, there you go, babying the boy,” Jey teased, but Rhea could hear the hint of seriousness in his voice.

“He is my mini me,” she countered, defending her stepson.

“Sure, but I don’t think headbutting people whenever they say something bad to him is good character development,” Jey replied, a chuckle escaping him.

Rhea couldn’t help but laugh again. “True, but he’s just reacting to what he feels. The school tried calling Takecia, but she isn’t answering.”

“Remember, babe? Takecia is with her mom,” Jey reminded her gently.

“Fuck, I'm stupid..” Rhea said, feeling a mix of guilt and annoyance. It was hard to keep track of everything, especially with all the changes happening around them. Takecia had been with her mom in San Francisco the past week and Rhea had still forgotten, with Rhea finally healing from her overdose back in October, her brain was getting stronger but now her pregnancy brain was in effect.

“Don’t stress,” Jey reassured her. “Jaciyah will pick up Jeyce after his shift at Pizza Hut.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at home,” Rhea said, relieved to know they had a plan in place.

As she hung up, Rhea reflected on how much had changed since they moved to Stamford. Just a few weeks after Rhea and Jey settled into their new home, Takecia and the boys made the move too, just twenty minutes away. It felt like a whirlwind, yet it brought a sense of family closeness that Rhea had longed for.

Jaciyah, in particular, had surprised them all. The seventeen-year-old had acquired some hyper-independence, taking a job at Pizza Hut to save for his own car, even though Rhea, Takecia and Jey had more than enough money to buy him one outright. He wanted to earn it himself, and Rhea admired that about him.

Rhea leaned back in her chair, thinking about the dynamics of their blended family. Jeyce was still adjusting to the changes, and with Jaciyah’s new responsibilities, Rhea felt the weight of being a stepparent growing heavier. But she wouldn’t trade it for anything. The challenges were just part of their journey together.

She took a deep breath, ready to tackle the rest of the day. Balancing work, family, and the impending arrival of her baby boy wouldn’t be easy, but she knew they could face anything as long as they stood together.

—

5:09 PM

Rhea gathered her things, stuffing the freshly printed itinerary for Vegas into her backpack. With a deep breath, she rose from her chair, turned off the lights in her office, and made her way out of WWE Headquarters. The office buzzed around her as she moved through the corridors, but her mind was already drifting to the comfort of home.

As she stepped into the crisp evening air, Rhea’s eyes fell on her brand-new plum-colored 2025 Chevrolet Tahoe Z71, gleaming under the lights. It was Jey’s thoughtful gift after her old Jeep’s sugar mishap. A sign of his love and support during this life chapter. Climbing into the driver’s seat, she took a moment to appreciate how much their lives had evolved.

The thirty-minute drive home was peaceful, a welcome break from the chaos of work and the nonstop demands of her blended family. Soon, she reached her gated property, the house standing tall and inviting as she entered the security code. The gates swung open, and Rhea drove up the pathway to the garage, pulling in beside Jey's car—his ole' reliable Mercedes. She parked, then carefully climbed out, trying to ease the pressure on her swollen feet.

Once inside, Rhea armed the security system and placed her backpack on the counter. “Jey?” she called, her voice soft but carrying through the house. She barely had time to set her keys down before Jey appeared, his warm smile easing away the fatigue from her day. He walked over and gave her a gentle kiss, his arms briefly wrapping around her as if shielding her from the day’s stresses.

“How was work?” he asked, his gaze filled with concern as he led her toward the kitchen bar.

“It was fine,” Rhea replied, sinking onto one of the breakfast stools. She stretched her legs, letting out a small sigh of relief as she did.

Jey immediately noticed her Vans, slipping them off gently to reveal her swollen feet. His expression softened even further as he knelt down. “You need a massage?” he asked, already running a careful thumb along her arch.

Rhea gave a small, grateful smile. “Not now. Maybe once I lay down so I can finally get some sleep.”

Jey nodded, his hand lingering on her ankle as he looked up at her. “You don’t have to do it all, you know. We’re in this together. And that means giving those feet a break every now and then.”

Rhea chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just hard to slow down. You know me.”

Jey rose, pulling her gently into his arms. “Well, tonight, we’re slowing down,” he promised, leading her to the living room. He helped her settle into their plush sofa, propping her feet up with a couple of pillows.

As she leaned back, letting out a sigh of relief, Jey disappeared for a moment, only to return with a glass of water and her favorite blanket. Draping it over her, he took a seat beside her, his hand instinctively resting on her growing belly.

Rhea placed her hand over his, a contented smile on her lips. The hustle, the stress, the chaos—it all melted away in moments like these. She looked at Jey, her partner, her rock, and she knew that despite everything, they were exactly where they needed to be.

Jey had his arms crossed with a playful grin as he asked, “So, what’s the craving tonight?”

Rhea smirked, her hand resting on her belly. “The baby wants fried Cajun chicken bites again,” she replied, feigning innocence.

Jey laughed, shaking his head. “Good thing I took out some chicken to defrost. Anything else?”

Rhea’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Fried pickles… and mac and cheese.”

Jey raised an eyebrow but chuckled, reaching over to kiss her forehead. “Alright, let me get to work then, chef’s orders,” he said, making his way to the kitchen with a smile.

As Rhea settled back into the couch, she grabbed the remote and scrolled through the movie options before settling on a horror classic, Scary Movie. She’d barely gotten comfortable when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Jaciyah appeared, flashing a warm smile as he walked over and gave his stepmom a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Rhea,” he greeted, plopping down beside her. “Almost there with my savings. My next paycheck should do it.”

Rhea beamed, proud of his determination. “That’s great, Jaciyah! Have you found any cars you’re interested in?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, I found this truck I like. Just need a co-signer.”

Rhea tilted her head thoughtfully, her smile unwavering. “Well, ask your dad first. If he says no, then I’ll co-sign for you. You deserve it.”

Jaciyah’s face brightened. “Thanks, Rhea. That means a lot.”

As they started watching the movie, Rhea took a quick glance at Jaciyah. “Have you talked to Jeyce today?”

Jaciyah nodded, his face falling slightly. “Yeah… they keep teasing him at school about you and Dad. You know, the usual stuff.”

Rhea sighed, rolling her eyes. “I love my mini-me, but I wish his temper wasn’t so much like Jey’s. He’s always ready to fight back.”

Jaciyah gave a small laugh. “Yeah, I get it. But I’ve got my mom’s temper. I can keep it cool… most of the time.”

Rhea chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That you do, Jaciyah. And you balance him out. I’m glad you’re around to look out for him, even if he doesn’t say it.”

Jaciyah’s face softened, his respect for Rhea clear in his expression. “I got him. And I got you, too. I also got my diploma in the mail.”

“Proud of you son..” Rhea said as she hugged her stepson once more, in order for Jaciyah to work he had talked to Jey and Takecia about enrolling in online school, to which they agreed.

The two continued watching the movie, laughing together at the silly scenes. In the background, the comforting sounds of Jey prepping dinner filled the house. Rhea couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace, surrounded by the people she loved, creating small moments that felt like treasures. It was a rare kind of happiness, one she knew was worth holding onto.

As soon as Jey called everyone for dinner, the almost-thirteen-year-old Jeyce came down from his room, looking less than thrilled. The four of them—Jey, Rhea, Jaciyah, and Jeyce—gathered at the dinner table, quickly saying a prayer before digging in. Rhea noticed Jeyce playing with his food, pushing the fried Cajun chicken bites around his plate without really eating.

In an attempt to lift the mood, Rhea smiled and said, “Guess what, babe? Bruce gifted us a black crib today. Said it matches my ‘persona.’” She chuckled, hoping to get a laugh out of the table.

Jey looked over at her, a slight grin crossing his face. “That’s great, babe. It’ll fit right in with the rest of the setup.”

Jey’s gaze then shifted to his younger son, Jeyce, who was still listlessly moving his food around. With a gentle but firm tone, Jey asked, “So, little man, what’d you do at school today?”

Jeyce barely looked up, muttering, “You already know what I did, Dad,” his voice laced with frustration.

Jey raised an eyebrow, his tone tightening slightly. “Don’t be snippy, Jeyce.”

Jeyce rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath. Rhea, sensing the tension, decided to jump in, her tone lighthearted as she said, “What happened to my little man who used to jump into my arms every time he saw me?”

Jeyce looked up at her, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defiance. “I’m a big boy now, Rhea.”

Jey shot his son a warning look. “Keep up that attitude, and you’re going straight up to your room.”

But Jeyce, seemingly unbothered, pushed his chair back and stood up on his own, heading toward the stairs without a word.

“Jeyce!” Jey called after him, frustration evident in his tone.

Rhea gently placed her hand on Jey’s arm, stopping him from going any further. “Let him go, babe,” she said softly, her voice filled with understanding. “He’s got a lot on his mind. Maybe he just needs some space.”

Jey let out a heavy sigh, his hand still gripping his fork tightly as he watched his son disappear up the stairs. He glanced back at Rhea, his eyes softening at her calming presence.

“It’s tough, you know?” he said, his voice low. “I don’t want him to feel like he has to handle everything alone, but he’s shutting me out.”

Rhea nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “He’s at that age. It’s confusing, with everything going on in his life and at school. Just give him a little time. He knows you’re here for him, and he knows I am too.”

Jey looked back at his plate, nodding slowly. “Yeah… you’re right. He’ll come around.”

Jaciyah, quietly observing the entire exchange, finally spoke up. “He just needs to cool off, Dad. I’ll check on him later.”

Rhea smiled at Jaciyah, grateful for his understanding nature. “Thank you, Jaciyah. You’re a great big brother.”

They continued their dinner in a quieter, more reflective atmosphere, each lost in their thoughts, yet finding comfort in each other’s presence.

—

After dinner, Jey assigned dish duty to Jaciyah, then gently helped Rhea up the stairs, her swollen feet making each step a bit more challenging. As they reached their bedroom, Rhea sighed and mentioned, “All the gifts from the baby shower are still in the Tahoe. Think you and Jaciyah could bring them in later?”

Jey gave her a comforting smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Let’s get you settled first, baby. Gifts can wait.”

Rhea let out a grateful sigh as she finally sat down on the edge of their bed, taking a moment to catch her breath. Meanwhile, Jey opened their dresser, pulling out one of his oversized WWE shirts. Since she’d started showing, he’d ordered all his shirts in extra-large sizes, knowing they’d bring her comfort. They had become her go-to for sleep, helping her find a rare moment of relief during restless nights.

He passed her the soft, worn shirt, and she managed a small smile, memories of the countless times she’d snuggled into it, finding comfort in his scent. “Thanks, love,” she murmured.

Jey turned on the shower, testing the water until it was just the right temperature. Then he helped her undress, his touch gentle and caring. Rhea leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage with you gone for a week,” she admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

Jey rubbed her back reassuringly. “You’ll be alright, babe. You’ll see me at WrestleMania, and then I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rhea nodded, though the thought of him being away tugged at her heart. “Yeah, but WrestleMania’s just a moment. Then it’s RAW, SmackDown, and you’re off again…”

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can. And once I’m back in the ring, it’s not just about me anymore. This run? It’s for us… and for our boy.”

Hearing the resolve in his voice, Rhea felt a wave of pride and support. Jey was finally about to get his long-awaited championship run, and she knew just how much this comeback meant to him. His shoulder was stronger than ever, his spirit renewed; he was ready to make his mark as a solo competitor, reaching heights they’d both dreamed about.

They stepped into the warm stream of the shower, their hands naturally finding each other as they let the water cascade over them. Showering together was their small ritual—a shared moment of peace in their busy lives, especially now, in this new chapter of their relationship. As he gently massaged her shoulders and caressed her growing belly, they shared soft smiles, silent assurances, and a deeper connection than words could capture.

After the shower, Jey helped Rhea into his oversized shirt, which draped comfortably over her, instantly making her feel cocooned in warmth. She climbed onto their California king bed, sighing as her head hit the pregnancy pillow, her body finally surrendering to the need for rest.

From the vanity across the room, Storm, their loyal cat, watched them with a quiet intensity, his green eyes reflecting his protective nature. The dogs, meanwhile, were out enjoying the vast expanse of their backyard, likely chasing fireflies or sniffing around under the moonlight.

Jey brushed his fingers through Rhea’s damp hair as she nestled into the pillow, her eyelids already growing heavy. “Get some rest, baby,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll bring up the gifts with Jaciyah, and I’ll be back in no time.”

Rhea picked up the remote, flipping through streaming options until she landed on a movie she’d been meaning to watch, St. Elmo’s Fire. As the familiar sounds of the opening credits filled the room, she nestled further into the pillow, feeling a rare sense of calm.

—

As they lay sprawled across their bed, surrounded by piles of baby clothes in every shade of blue, gray, and white, Rhea and Jey organized each tiny onesie and pair of socks with careful hands. The abundance of gifts from their friends and family was overwhelming in the best way, and it filled their room with a sense of warmth and excitement for their little one’s arrival.

Jey broke the comfortable silence between them. “I finally got the papers from Julian. The divorce is finalized.”

Rhea looked up, her face softening with relief. “That’s good,” she replied, a gentle smile touching her lips. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “As soon as this baby’s out of me, everything we’ve been dreaming about can start.”

Jey’s eyes softened as he gazed at her, the woman he’d fought so hard to be with. “You confirmed the dates for Samoa in October, right?”

Rhea nodded, glancing down at her growing belly with a fond smile. “I did. October in Samoa, just one wedding, one celebration. I think it’ll be perfect.” They had agreed on a single ceremony close to Jey’s roots, keeping it intimate and meaningful so they wouldn’t be away from their newborn for too long. It felt right—grounded in family and culture, just as they wanted their life to be.

Jey’s hand drifted over her belly, his thumb tracing gentle circles. “Our little guy will get to see his parents tie the knot in one of the most beautiful places in the world.”

Rhea chuckled, leaning into his touch. “And he’ll probably sleep through the whole thing.”

“That’s okay,” Jey murmured, his eyes shining. “He’ll know he’s surrounded by love. That’s all that matters.”

They sat in contented silence for a moment, surrounded by the soft fabric of their baby’s clothes and the quiet joy of their plans. In that simple moment, with dreams of family and a life they’d fought for within reach, everything felt complete.

As Jey settled into the bed beside Rhea after putting the clothes up in the baby’s room, he turned to admire his very pregnant almost wife, her beauty radiating in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He gently placed a hand on her round belly, and Rhea grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “The baby is kicking!” she exclaimed, moving Jey’s hand to the right spot just in time for him to feel a firm little kick.

“Wow, that kick is like a superkick!” Jey laughed, his heart swelling with joy at the sensation. “This kid has some serious energy. Are you sure he’s not training for the ring already?”

Rhea chuckled, her expression playful yet exhausted. “This damn Samoan kid won’t stop! I swear he’s going to be a little fighter.”

Jey smiled, feeling a mix of pride and love. He took a moment to soak in the reality of it all—their journey, the baby, and their future together. “Oh, and I forgot to mention, Trinity and Jon will be in next Friday to sign the papers for their house,” he added casually.

Rhea’s eyes lit up. “That’s great! I miss them.” It was true; ever since moving to Stamford, Rhea and Jey hadn’t had much time to catch up with Jon and Trinity. “Trinity told me they wouldn’t move until April, but I’ve been seeing her pictures. She’s absolutely glowing with those twins.”

Jey nodded, recalling the images of Trinity’s growing belly and the radiant smile she always wore. “Yeah, it’s hard to believe they’re going to have two little ones running around soon. It’ll be great to have them nearby again.”

“Absolutely,” Rhea agreed, her tone laced with anticipation. “It’ll be nice to have family close by, especially with everything happening.” She shifted, wincing slightly as another kick jolted her belly. “This little guy sure knows how to make his presence known.”

Jey laughed, leaning closer to press a kiss to her forehead. “He’s just getting us ready for what’s to come. We’re going to be a wild and crazy family.”

“Wild and crazy, indeed,” Rhea replied, her heart filled with warmth as she intertwined her fingers with his. Together, they lay back against the pillows, dreaming of their future as parents and the adventures that awaited them.

—

April 15th, 2025 7:00 AM

It was 7:00 AM when Rhea rolled out of bed, the sound of her alarm echoing in the quiet morning. After a refreshing shower, she began dressing in her black cami dress, layering a pink “Yeet” crop top over it. The combination felt comfortable yet stylish, perfect for a day at work. However, she struggled to put on her socks, bending down with a slight huff before finally managing to get them on.

Slipping on her Vans, she leaned down to give Jey a soft kiss on the lips. He stirred slightly, responding with a sleepy smile. “Have a good day at work, baby,” he murmured, still half-asleep.

“Get up and set up the crib baby..” Rhea teased, a playful smile spreading across her face.

Jey nodded, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and Rhea leaned down for another kiss before heading downstairs. She grabbed her backpack from the kitchen counter, glancing around the house that was beginning to feel like home. As she made her way to the garage, she could already feel the heaviness of her growing belly. By the time she climbed into her car, she was out of breath but determined to start her day.

Rhea opened the garage door, the cool morning air filling the space, and she navigated her way out of the driveway. The drive to WWE Headquarters was familiar now, and as she parked her car in the covered parking lot, she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

She walked towards her office, the usual hustle and bustle of the building surrounding her. The excitement of a new day at work filled her with energy, but a part of her couldn’t shake off the anticipation of what lay ahead—both at work and at home.

Once she reached her office, Rhea took a deep breath, ready to dive into her work. She flipped on the lights and settled into her chair, excited to tackle the projects lined up for the day while cherishing the vision of her family growing.

—

January 6th, 2025 11:39 AM

Jey leaned over the mechanic’s workbench, arms crossed as he listened to the man explain the unfortunate state of his Jeep. “What do you mean the Jeep is no good?” Jey asked, disbelief etched across his face.

The mechanic, wiping his hands on a rag, sighed and pointed to the engine. “Putting sugar in the gas tank messed everything up. It’s not worth the cost to repair it.”

Jey felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “My fiancée is not going to be happy,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

The mechanic offered a sympathetic smile. “Would you like to sell it to us for parts? I can give you a good deal.”

Jey considered the offer, then nodded. “I’ll have to get with my fiancée first,” he replied before heading to his Mercedes, the weight of the conversation lingering in his mind as he drove back home.

As he approached the house, Jey spotted Rhea perched on a ladder, carefully taking down the Christmas lights. “Really, babe, let me do that,” he called out as he parked.

Rhea looked down, a determined expression on her face. “We have to get this done before the movers come and get everything,” she insisted, tugging at a stubborn strand of lights.

Jey shook his head, stepping closer. “The movers aren’t coming until the 21st babe, We have time.”

Rhea paused, her brow furrowing. “But we still have to get Jeyce enrolled in school, and I have to do a web meet and greet with my new OBGYN, you need to settle on a physical thera-”

Jey cut her off, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I would really appreciate it if you could stress out in front of me and not on a ladder, babe.”

Rhea groaned, climbing down from her precarious position. “I know, I know, but we have to do everything before the move,” she replied, exasperated.

“Not everything has to happen at once,” Jey reassured her, placing a hand on her waist. “You’re making yourself crazy. What happened to tackling one thing at a time?”

Rhea sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she met his gaze. “You’re right, but it just feels like there’s so much to do.”

“Take a breath,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll get through this together. One step at a time.”

Rhea nodded, a small smile breaking through her stress. “Okay, but you’re helping with the lights, too.”

Jey chuckled, the tension between them easing. “Deal. Just promise me you’ll try to take it easy. I don’t want you up on that ladder worrying about everything.”

“I promise,” she said, leaning in for a quick kiss. As they stood there, surrounded by half-untangled lights and the scent of winter air, Jey couldn’t help but feel a rush of love and excitement for the future they were building together, even amidst the chaos.

Jey held Rhea close, their moment interrupted by a sudden loud yelp that sent a chill down their spines. Both of them exchanged worried glances before bolting inside the house, calling for their dogs. “Barry! Bella! Luna!” Rhea shouted, her heart racing as she scanned the living room for any signs of the dogs.

Rhea’s eyes landed on the back door, ajar and swaying slightly in the breeze. Panic set in. “Jey, the door is open!” she exclaimed, rushing toward it.

“Babe wait!” Jey pleaded, but Rhea was already sprinting outside.

As she reached the porch, her worst fears materialized. Barry lay on the ground, foaming at the mouth, his body trembling uncontrollably. “Oh my God, Barry!” Rhea cried, her voice thick with fear.

Without hesitation, Jey scooped Barry into his arms. “We need to get him to the vet—now!” he said, his tone urgent as they raced toward his Mercedes. Rhea held Barry close, her heart pounding in her chest as Jey slid into the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life, and Jey sped down the road, weaving through traffic as he tried to keep his composure. “Just hang in there, buddy,” Rhea murmured to Barry, gently stroking his head. She could feel his little body shaking and fought back tears.

“Rhea do you know if he ate something?” Jey urged, his eyes focused on the road.

“I don’t know! They were just inside..” Rhea replied, panicking.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jey reassured her, his voice steady despite the fear in his own heart. “Just stay calm.”

They pulled into the emergency vet clinic, tires screeching as Jey hopped out and rushed to the back of the car. Rhea followed, clutching Barry tightly. “Please, he needs help!” she cried, her voice rising with desperation as they rushed inside.

A Vet Tech approached them, concern etched across her face. “What happened?”

Jey quickly explained, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “He was fine a minute ago, and then he yelped and started foaming at the mouth. We think he might have eaten something he shouldn’t have!”

The tech nodded, her expression serious as she took Barry from Rhea’s trembling hands. “We’ll take him back right away. Please fill out this form,” she instructed, leading Barry into the back as Rhea’s heart sank.

Rhea quickly filled out the paperwork, her hands shaking as she tried to keep her composure. Jey stood beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “He’s going to be okay,” he whispered, though he didn’t quite believe it himself.

“I just can’t lose him, Jey,” Rhea admitted, her voice cracking. “He’s my baby.”

“I know, babe. I know,” Jey said, pulling her closer. “We’ll do everything we can for him.”

As they waited, the weight of uncertainty hung heavily in the air, and all Rhea could do was hope and pray that Barry would be okay.

[chiefdirector]

Shooting | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Three Years Ago

Tim took a deep breath as he prepared himself. In reality he knew that he would be fine, he had participated in raids like this one dozens of times, but it didn't stop the nerves coming up. He shot a glance to the line of officers behind him, and then he looked back in front of him. This time, instead of facing the back of a leather jacket, he made eye contact with (Y/N).

You okay? She mouthed, as not to alert anyone in the vicinity of their location with the sound of conversation. 

Yes. Tim replied, nodding alongside his silent confirmation.

I love you.

I love you too.

Within less than a moment's notice, the senior officer on site gave the visual go ahead for the raid to start. Tim followed closely behind his wife as they, alongside Metro and a SWAT team, rushed forward to ambush the residents in the house.

From the streets, the house seemed like any other in its neighbourhood. The exterior walls were neat and tidy, the garden was something to be proud of, not a flaw in sight. The property seemed as if it had come straight from a Home-Owners Association’s dream. The inside was of a similar manner, it was modern, clean, and bright. It was pristine, except from the methamphetamine laboratory in the back half of the residence. 

The cartel that used the residence as a home base clearly had no clue of the raid happening until the moment they penetrated the doors of the property. Pretty quickly the quiet and serene neighbourhood was filled with the sounds of glass smashing and bullets being fired. Tim fluidly moved through the house, keeping his six covered as he tried to locate the boss’s wife who was supposedly here. 

The boss was out of town on business, leaving only his partner to run the business in his absence. It gave Sargent Grey and his cohort the perfect time to try to shut down the operation. 

“Lopez,” Tim whispered to the officer next to him. Once her eyes were on him, he gestured to the door at the end of the corridor. Lopez moved forward to position herself to open the door and counted down from three with one hand, the other still clutching her weapon. 

They burst through the door, guns held high as they entered the office. The office was the only room in the house that wasn't immaculate. Papers were strung across the desk, with nearly twice as much spread messily across the floor. The drawers in the cabinet behind the desk looked as if hastily opened with little regard to what was inside. The lamp in the far corner was smashed to pieces; it was mostly covered by a small woman standing in front of it.

She stood tall and proud. Her face was like stone, and her eyes were cold. Recognition instantly crossed Tim and Angela’s faces: the wife. She was not what they were expecting. Reports had described her as timid and mild, someone who would be easy to get to cooperate with their case.

“LAPD. Drop the gun!” Tim said, keeping his gun held high, holding his aim at the wife’s shoulder.

The woman kept her weapon held high. 

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Lopez said, taking a small step closer to the woman. “Just drop the gun and we can resolve this nicely.”

“And if I don't?” The woman scoffed. 

Lopez took another couple of steps,getting closer as she spoke. “Let's not go down the road. It’ll be easier if you cooperate ma’am.”

Quickly, the woman turned to face Lopez, her gun aimed at her face. Before she had time to pull her trigger, Tim shot a single round into her shoulder. The woman ricocheted backwards, the gun dropping from her grasp as she fell. Blood spilled from her shoulder running down her dress turning the material from white to crimson. She hit the ground heavily as her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness. Lopez moved quickly to remove the gun from reach before getting down to the woman’s side. She motioned for Tim to join her.

As Angela started to put pressure on the bullet wound, Tim reached for his radio. “I need an additional RA Unit for a woman, mid-thirties, with a gunshot wound. Unconscious but breathing.” He placed the radio back on his belt before kneeling down next to Angela. “You alright?”

“Yeah I’m good,” She stopped talking for a moment, listening to the sounds around them in the rest of the property. “It sounds like it’s quieting down. We better wait here though.”

Tim stood up. “You're right. Do you think there is anything to help stop the bleeding… First aid kit maybe?”

At his question, Tim heard a familiar chuckle coming from the door. Even though he recognised the voice, he still turned suddenly and took his gun out again, his mind and body still on the defensive. 

“This place was a meth lab and you think they cared enough about health and safety for a first aid kit?” (Y/N) walked into the office, looking around at the carnage that had taken place here. “This is going to be a headache to sort through in evidence later.”

“(Y/N), why are you here? Are you okay?” Tim moved towards his wife, eyes looking frantically up and down to check her for any injuries. She looked fine, except for a little graze on her forehead but that wasn’t anything that Tim couldn't take care of later. He stopped himself though, clocking how frantic his words sounded. Remedying that, he took a deep breath and continued. “Has everyone else been taken-”

“Hey, hey hey.” Lopez interrupted, bringing the Bradfords’ attention to her. “She’s awake again.”

Tim nodded, moving towards the door, somewhat satisfied to know that (Y/N) was okay. “That’s good, you two wait here, I’m going to see if the RA Unit is here yet.”

(Y/N) hummed in agreement as her husband left. She spared a glance his way before drawing her attention to Angela and the bleeding lady. “Ma’am? Ma’am.” She said, squatting down to her side. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Regina.” The woman spat.

“Right Regina, you’re under arrest. You will be taken to the hospital before being processed.” Angela said, still maintaining pressure on Regina’s shoulder even though she squirmed underneath her.

Regina gritted her teeth, (Y/N) couldn't tell if it was in pain or anger. The bleeding woman cried out as she turned her head to fully focus on (Y/N). “He will pay for this. You all will. He doesn't know what he has done. He shot me and my husband will make him pay.”

Part Four | Part Six

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424

Tags are open :)

[tsumuhours]

AMERICAN JESUS PAIRING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: alternate universe – gang world, smut, oral, flirty suna WORD COUNT: 10k

Life always has a weird way of fucking you over.

Whether it be in the form of finding an injured member of a notorious gang near your apartment, or trading silence for safety, or how he pulls you into a complicated relationship which goes against integrity and... possibly laws.

mature content !

Life always has a weird way of fucking you over.

Not to say you haven't deserved half of the mandated karma – you haven't always been the best person, given the borderline psychopathic attempt of climbing to the top – but a break, or a nice surprise would be a great change in routines.

Whoever said success is a lonely road was, painfully, correct. To think that you spent your high school years working hard to get into an ivy league, spent those four years working at internships to make those desired connections people dream of!

Only to get out at the age of twenty-two and spend the next year as some glorified, under-paid, under appreciated, assistant. And no, that's not what the job description is supposed to entail, you're meant to be an associate – associates are not supposed to run around getting coffee – with the main purpose of developing your career and hopefully making partner in seven to ten years time.

Not to mention, since the city has unbelievable prices of living, you had to move to a neighbouring borough just for the possibility of having a studio apartment that isn't the size of a closet for the same price. Is it the most convenient?

No, not really, considering the fact the commute is over thirty-minutes and you have to go back and forth from work at unreasonable hours because your boss insists on bringing you to every little, insignificant meeting, or post-work drinks at nine at night – which is an excuse for the woman to spiral further into alcoholism – where you will inevitably end up carrying your boss back to her penthouse on the upper east side.

And no, it doesn't get better, because afterwards, after spending two hours at an expensive bar with the drunken, divorced, mess of a boss you have by the time she gets home safe, you're expected to deal with the city's delayed – and inconsistent – subway times at this ungodly hour and spend the next thirty-minutes in a train with rando's and sketchies.

Oh! No, that's not where it ends, because by the time you get off the subway, it's almost midnight, and you have to take a lovely – scary – ten-minute walk alone to your apartment, but walking anywhere at night is terrifying... Except for the rumour, or fact, that violence has been making its way around the borough, and according to new statistics – regarding the quarterly crime rate review – it's been looking a bit too stabby for your liking.

Now, this walk home is nothing different to how it is every day. You stride down the street with purpose, clutching your taser, and eerily aware of your surroundings. Although, remember how life always has a new way of fucking you over through some odd, irrelevant, way of testing your resilience?

This is one of those occasions.

Let's say it's not common for a man to be curled up in the small alley where residents keep their trash, but then again, crime rates have increased by a percentage that can make anyone uncomfortable – still, committing those types of crimes in a residential neighbourhood where people are simply trying to live their lives is ridiculous. Have some class.

Sure, as a law abiding citizen or natural samaritan would help, but no, not you. Living in a densely populated city means one thing, and one thing only, keep your head down. It's a game of see nothing, know nothing. Everyone minds their own business, that's how you stay safe and avoid danger – including scammers, or the random cult recruiters.

So, you intend on reaching for your keys to the front entrance of your small building, until you hear a small groan come from the neighbours dumpster alley. Sighing, you swallow your pride – and maybe your safety – holding your phone in one hand, and taser in another, and go over to look. The flashlight turned on, as you flash it on the curled up body.

You cannot see his face, but you instantly recognize the leather jacket and matching bandana. Of fucking course, out of everyone in the world, you happen to come across a member of a gang – as if this is some cruel joke from the universe. What do they call themselves? The Foxes? That awful group that parades around in black and maroon, with their emblem of a fox printed on leather jackets that they display for the world to see.

You're reluctant to step forward, maybe it's the threatening affiliation this guy has wound himself with, or the blood on his hands – literally and figuratively – as he grips onto the side of his stomach. The thing is, you've got a massive report to read over and playing doctor with someone is not on your list of side-quests – as it doesn't benefit your position, or reputability on the job any better. However, people are always watching, so if word were to magically get out that you saw a member of this notorious, tight-knit gang and ignored him, that could put a dangerous target on your back.

But, if you help him, you can probably lawyer your way into securing safety for your silence. You could exchange saving his life, for him, inevitably, saving yours in turn – ensuring that you're home, your spaces, where you are at all times is a no-go zone. Sure, that means turning your back on the entire legal system you've spent studying is thrown on the backburner, but you need to look out for yourself.

What is success if it means you've got strangers pinning a vendetta against you, and watching your every move before they strike? How could you ever reach partner if you get killed? How could you ever live with the benefits of making partner, if you get killed before you can exercise those benefits?

The short-term pride is not worth it if you don't get to brag about it... and silence for safety seems like the best option on the table. No one ever said that law always has to be good, it's unjust – at times – unfair and just as corrupt. Only ten percent of people who go into this job do it out of the good of their heart, the rest, the majority do it for the money and respect.

And it isn't part of your job description to be a good person, you're not a doctor. You didn't pledge to an oath about refraining from causing harm or hurt, or to act honestly and responsibility. No, you are conducting yourself with dignity and conscience – and as far as you care, freedom of speech and association still exists, and what you're doing isn't necessarily illegal unless you get recruited or actively participate in a crime.

And since when helping someone not die a crime? He's part of the Foxes, for christ sake. They can invoke power anywhere, he can potentially make you untouchable. You can live your life somewhat more peacefully if it means that safety is a guarantee. If you save one of them, they have no choice but to repay you. That's how the system works.

Sighing, you step closer, bending down to get a better look at him. Flashlight illuminating the severe wound on the side of his stomach, the blood surrounding his black top and his hands. "Fuck my life," you mutter. He's practically losing consciousness with every second, you doubt he's capable of standing up by himself, and there's no way you're going to attempt to fix him by a pile of trash.

So, you do what you can, gently lifting up his upper body, draping his arm around your shoulders as you begin to stand. God is he big, and getting him up the stairs will undoubtedly be a struggle. Still, as if on impulse, his feet start moving as you carry more than half of his weight towards the front door of your building, up the stairs to the second floor – where your apartment remains.

Forcefully, pushing open the door, you find all the strength in your body to lead him to the couch – internally crying at the stain that will taint the grey cushions – where he falls over and lays on his back. Absolutely winded, you walk into your bathroom, searching for that old – raggedy – first aid kit in the cupboards along with cotton balls and comically large band aids that you have no reason for owning.

God, it's as if this was planned, fucking written in the stars. Yes, you were meant to end up in this situation because you are one of the only people in the world who thought it'd be fun and convenient to own large band aids that can temporarily cover a stab wound. Good going!

Gathering all the materials in your hand, you walk over to the couch where he remains in limbo. Again, you're no medical professional, no, the most training you have consists of a short one hour life skills lesson and a topic on human physiology that was part of your biology course in high school. So, yes, you're a bit rusty – but that doesn't mean you're incompetent.

Kneeling down on the floor, scattering the items next to you on the floor, reaching for the cotton balls and bottle of disinfectant. But as your fingers graze over the skin on his torso to lift up his shirt, he flinches, and for the first time since running into him, you look at his face with an offended look on yours – as if he's able to see you through his shut eyelids.

He catches you off guard, the delicate and mesmerising features. Strong jaw, dark hair, furrowed eyebrows that mix in well with the discomfort he must be feeling. Yes, he's beautiful, but he's also bleeding out on your couch and part of an infamous gang that got himself stabbed. Letting out a frustrated, hmph, you lift up his shirt to examine the wound – as if you have any idea what you're doing.

First, you need to unarm him. You run your hands through the pockets of his cargos, pulling out a phone, wallet, and pocket knife, then dig through the pockets of his leather jacket finding nothing alarming.

Next, you cover your hands with latex gloves, then get to work. Letting the cotton balls absorb the disinfectant before running it along his skin, in which he finches in response. "Stop flinching, I'm helping you." You mutter, sure, maybe using water would be a better alternative than bathing him in on the shelf disinfectant, but water is not going to effectively clean him up.

You don't even know what you're doing, and your body, mind, even fucking adrenaline knows that by the way your hands shake. Do you need to stitch him up? You don't know how to suture a wound, you don't even know how to stitch! You don't even own string, yarn yes, but you doubt that sealing someone up with lilac yarn is the most sanitary or safe.

So, of course, you do the most reasonable thing and search it up, and given the short research it confirms that you don't have to do anything – then again, how many people get stabbed and don't receive certified medical attention?

Hands still shaking, you dive into the medical box, looking for antibiotic ointment. "I hate you, you know?" You begin speaking to yourself as you uncap the cream, "You're bleeding out on my couch. Is it a good couch? No, it is uncomfortable, and by the way your legs hand off the arm rests, it's not the biggest. But it's my couch, I found it on the street."

You apply the cream around the puncture, hearing his quiet groans and incoherent murmurs. After that, you reach for the band aid – or non-adherent pad as they call it – peeling off the back and gently placing it over the puncture. It's not a good replacement for proper medical care, but it will suffice until he manages to crawl his way back to wherever he lives and gets professionally treated.

"You better pay for a new couch, or a deep cleaning." You continue, beginning to pack up all your things before standing as you remove your gloves, and move to the kitchen to toss them out. "I have things to do, you know?" You say from the kitchen, washing your hands thoroughly.

That's partially a lie, the things you claim to have insist on reading a fucking brief or case while sitting on your couch watching something on Netflix – because cable is a waste of money – with one of many microwave meals stocking up your small white fridge. Still, this momentary distraction has moved those plans to tomorrow night. A Saturday night.

"I don't know who you are, or what your rank is in this stupid gang of yours, but I don't care." You continue your rant, grabbing a glass of water and pain-killers – placing them on the small cushioned ottoman, because who has the space to own a coffee table? – pacing back and forth in your apartment, where you can finally kick off your shoes by the front door and grab the purse you discarded by the small circular dining table next to the fridge. "I have work to do."

You storm towards your bedroom, dumping your purse on your bed and digging through it for your laptop and thick file, then you grab a highlighter sitting on the bedside table. And hopefully by the time he wakes up, you would have done something worthwhile and beneficial to your career.

So, yes, in conclusion, life always has a weird way of fucking you over. 

An hour has passed since you fixed up the stranger who lays, practically comatose, on your couch. Since then, you've changed out your clothes, showered, and gone through at least fifteen pages of this case you're supposed to assist with and eventually write a report for. Sitting in bed, music softly plays through your laptop as you bite on the end of a highlighter, re-reading the same paragraph over and over again.

It's safe to say that your mind is a bit distracted, maybe it's the fact you're harbouring a criminal in your apartment, waiting for him to wake up and possibly kill you. The Foxes are notorious for many things, heists, robbery, petty murder, but particularly famous for the sale of illegal goods – whether it be drugs, or unlicensed arms – and you happen to have one sitting in your living room.

All for what? The fear of getting murdered? Having a target on your back? Trading integrity for safety? To be fair, those are all valid reasons why you've decided to take him in. You can call the police, turn him in, do greater good for the grand community. He's docile and helpless right now, you've searched him for weapons and you keep his belongings hostage on your bed. But, what are the cops going to do?

You hear a groan coming from the living room, and immediately shoot up from the bed, swinging your feet over the mattress and feeling them hit the cold wooden floors as you turn around to grab the baseball bat leaning against the mattress.

The first, and big thing he feels is pain. An unbearable type of pain on the side of his stomach. He places a hand over the plaster, expecting to feel blood or an infection, but jolts awake when he's proven wrong. He sits up, painfully, and scans the apartment for any sign that will tell him where he is. The messy decor of the room, the glass encased bookshelf that's filled to the brim with trinkets, novels, DVD's, CD's, and records. Behind him, on the wall are framed movie posters and paintings. Lamps, candles, and a full wall tapestry behind the tv. A plethora of coats and bags hanging on the door. So much clutter in this little living room.

He turns his gaze to the small kitchen, a shelf lined with snacks, spices, a bowl of onions and garlic, and a concerning amount of liquor. On the counter, are dishes, coloured pots and pans, empty jars. Whoever lives here loves their fair share of pink, grey, and light blue cups, bowls, and plates. They apparently also love their fair share of tea and instant chai latte mixes, and colourful string lights.

He has no idea where he is, or who happened to pick him up from the streets. All he knows is that he was ambushed by the Crows and left for dead, talk about sending a fucking message. Understandably, he turns his head to look behind him, where you stand holding a baseball bat to your side. He reaches for his pocket, where his knife always remains, only to feel nothing. You've disarmed him.

While he should be focusing on that thought. The logical sense that you must know who he is; hence why you've hidden all his belongings and why you're holding a baseball bat for defence, or the fact that you must've called the police by now. But no, his mind is focused on who you are, why you've brought him into your apartment to avoid death, and how those little shorts look on you. Those little black shorts, that tank top, and that big knitted cardigan.

So what if he's about to get arrested, he loves this sight.

"You brought me here?" He asks, watching the way you nod your head.

"You were bleeding out near a pile of trash, and while I considered leaving you for dead, I figured that I could get something out of saving your life." You explain nonchalantly, well as nonchalant as you can given that you've invited a known criminal into your house.

"Who do you work for?" He questions. There are always upcoming rivals or new recruits circling the scene, they love dirty work and favours – an eye for an eye – and will extort, abuse, and come up with the worst reparations. While you don't look threatening at all, especially in that little outfit, he can't underestimate you.

"Specter and Hastings, the law firm." You reply, causing him to laugh out of pure irony. Out of everyone he could have gotten entwined with, it had to be a lawyer. The universe really loves to play games on him, doesn't it?

"What do you want?" He sighs, "Names? Operations? You want me to snitch?" He'd rather die than rat out his friends, his family, just cuff him and take him down to the station because he's not speaking.

"No." You say, "I want safety." A flash of curiosity flashes across his face, allowing you to elaborate. "I want to make sure that wherever I go will be unharmed, untouched, or fall victim to whatever wars you guys get into. I want to be left out of danger, and never have to worry about getting followed home, mugged, or stabbed. I want the guarantee of safety... for my silence."

"What?"

"Is it so hard to understand?" You huff, "I save your life, you look out for mine. And in doing so, I will pretend that I didn't potentially break a law by not turning you in, I will turn a blind eye and ignore that tonight ever happened."

She's looking out for herself. He can't blame her. If anyone were to find out that she left him for dead, she would be a target. However, as someone whose job literally regards the law, you can't blame him for thinking you're hypocritical and maybe the slightest bit untrustworthy. If you can't even stick by your career, how can he expect you not to snitch on him?

"So?" You say, "Is that a good arrangement?"

"I can't guarantee anything sweetheart," he claims.

"Fine, then can you at least keep the stabbings out of this neighbourhood?" You question, "When I get home at night, I'd rather not come across another bloody body and risk getting more blood on my couch out of fear of being targeted."

That he can do. He can tell the guys to avoid this particular area, in exchange for a stranger – who happens to be a lawyer – that saved his life. Not to mention, you didn't call the cops, didn't turn him in, and you're supposedly open to turning a blind eye. In regards to the blood he got on your couch, he can easily fix that. He nods, "That I can do." There's no reason why he should deny anything, you already know he's part of the Foxes – that's the only reason you bothered saving him – and you are well aware about the culture and how no good deed goes without payment.

"Okay, great." You nod, resting the baseball bat against the frame, you've negotiated poorly, and your terms and conditions are promised to be met. Now, you can move along with your life. "Excuse me for a moment," you say, disappearing back into your bedroom to gather up all the things you took from his pockets.

In your short-lived absence, the man glances over at the painkillers and glass of water on the ottoman. He grabs the packet, reading the warning on the bottom half of the box that informs the users of the small percentage of codeine and its addictive properties, only to ignore it and swallows down the pill. It's drugstore painkillers, so of course, it's not going to be the strongest but when it kicks in, it'll help.

You return holding his things, hanging them to him before sitting on the curved back armchair next to the couch. You are unsure of what to do, or say to the brunette. You've never been put in a situation where a gang member is sitting in your apartment, wounded, and you've offered up your silence in turn of safety. Is it time for you to kick him out, or should you try to make conversation?

He, on the other hand, glances down at his phone, texting away to his friends about what happened and how he'll be back soon. There's no doubt that they're all mad about the situation, how he got ambushed by their rivals, and left by a pair of trash bags to bleed out. Though, it's not all that bad, he got saved by a pretty girl who graces him with skimpy shorts and a tank top that loves to plague his imagination. Better yet, this girl happens to be a lawyer, and if he plays his cards right, he can get a run down of loopholes and secure defence.

"So, do I get a name?" You ask, wrapping your cardigan closer around your body. "Or is that confidential? I'm not going to rat you out, I'm barely a lawyer, let alone a narc. And I need a solid ally in case anyone part of your... um, group ambushes me."

"We're allies now?"

"Are you going to give me a name or what?"

You've already seen his face, and he doubts you'll ever be able to say anything to the authorities without ratting yourself out in the process. Also, he's sure he's never going to see you again, or the maximalist, messy design of your apartment... including the row of CD's and records that you keep in that bookshelf despite being in the age of digital streaming.

"You can call me Rin," half a name, but one nonetheless. "Yeah, Rin is good, or Suna, whatever floats your boat." If he could, he'd try and leave, but he doubts he's in a good enough physical state to do so. Also, being stuck in an apartment with a pretty girl makes him want to stay even more. "Do I get a name from you?"

"No."

"Whatever you say sweetheart," Suna shrugs. "So... a lawyer, what made you go down that route?" He questions, wanting to get his mind off the unbearable ache in his body and sharp pain on his side, as he lays back down on the couch. Might as well get some information on you while he's here.

"I'm doing it for the money." You reply, crossing one leg over the other – unaware of how his eyes follow your movements – as you lean back against the seat, finding some sort of strange comfort in talking to a criminal. "I'm an associate, and in ten years I hope to make partner and move out of this place to somewhere closer to my job. I'm aiming for an apartment on the upper east side, maybe west."

"Is that all?" He hums, watching as you glare at him, "Just for the money?"

"Isn't that why we do anything?" You remark, "For the money, so we can sustain ourselves and live. And it's not like I'm doing court law, or criminal justice, I'm mainly interested in business law – contract and tort law – which is what my firm focuses on, including divorce law, because that's where all the money is."

"So, you're just a lawyer who conveniently knows how to bandage up a wound and goes around saving gang members?" Suna comments, "Oh, and how can I forget the whole trading a life thing for safety."

"Well, it's better than running around on the streets causing havoc." You retort, "Besides, becoming a lawyer is in my blood, meaning both my parents are lawyers and I was told as a young girl that I'd be a good one. Whether or not that was a compliment, can be debated. It's a stable career, a respectable one, and once I move up the ranks, I'll be able to order myself town cars."

"And law is something you really want to do?"

You're quiet for a moment before getting up to walk to your kitchen to brew yourself a cup of tea, "Yes. It is. I don't see what else I could do; the arts are a dying career where only one in a million makes a name for themselves, I don't plan on being the next big entrepreneur, and I hated biology and anything medical." You flip on the kettle, hearing it begin to boil as you dig through your tea bags. "Besides, law seemed easy enough, and there's nothing wrong with sitting through prenuptial meetings."

Suna feels a lot better about getting trapped with a lawyer now. He was initially scared of getting trapped with a potential narc with a six-foot pole up their ass, but you, you're just like every other sleazebag lawyer who's in it for the money. It's refreshing.

"Yeah, and I guess there's that whole thing of justice, but I don't even work in that field." You continue, "The justice system is fucked up anyway, and why would I want to contribute to that? I mean, I could get an innocent life out of prison but then again, I could fuck up and let a guilty person run free or risk them getting a reduced sentence. But, I don't work in that type of field, I just praise the people who do."

You wait for the kettle to finish boiling, and once it does, you pour the water into your mug, adding in honey or sugar into the mix before walking back to the living room. Not before grabbing a bag of chips from your shelf, tossing it at him. He is a guest, can't be that rude.

Reluctantly, Suna accepts it. He hasn't been around you long, but the way you've abandoned your baseball bat and returned all his belongings must mean you don't see him as that big of a threat. Well, how could you? You saw him at his weakest, and he hasn't given you a reason to be afraid... or he hopes he hasn't. Additionally, you're not that much of a threat either, you're smart enough to get through law school, attend an ivy, and work as an associate at a well-known firm in the city. And while he doesn't see much of what you do in your private life, he can see the few small framed photographs on the lamp tables next to him.

He can see you partying with friends, clearly drunk at the time when the photograph was taken, which must mean that you do know how to have fun in whatever spare time you have. Also, your refusal to give him a name eliminates the idea of him ever searching you up online. Meaning, whatever worries he's supposed to have can easily be debunked.

"So, what exactly is your role?" You ask.

"I work in the background, I help plan out whatever, I stay on guard, I'm there to protect them." He explains as vaguely as he can, not wanting to give the gorey details of his role or job description. By the way you nod, it's clear you accept that fact since you don't bat an eye or demand an explanation. Both of you know that the less you know the better. "Are you not scared of me?"

You can't blame him for wondering. Usually, you'd be terrified or the slightest bit frightened, but enough has happened tonight to make talking to a criminal the most normal thing. However, he's not exactly the worst presence. Sure, you can see the way he's looking at you, feel his gaze burn into your skin, how they trail up and down your body – and while it gets a piece of your heart racing, at least you know that he isn't planning on harming you.

"No." You shake your head, "I mean, you probably would scare me if I were to be walking alone on the street at this time of night, and I would definitely be terrified if you happened to be with all your friends. But you're alone, in my apartment, I can see your face, and you're wounded. You can't hurt me, at this point in time, I'm a lot stronger than you."

Unfortunately, you make a good point. He doubts he can walk comfortably, let alone act as a proper threat. "Right, of course," he hums, noticing the obvious blood stain on your couch. "Sorry about that, sweetheart." He comments, "I'll get you a new couch."

"Good," you say, biting back a smile. "I'd prefer one in cream, or even this light grey. In terms of style, I'd like one with a wider back and comfy cushions – like a cloud couch – if you can find one that will fit this apartment, that'd be great."

Suna's lips twitch up in a smile as he listens to you give him a detailed description, you avoid his eyes, staring down at the steam coming out of your mug. He tries to sit up to get your attention before it fades away – and for the act of dramatics, he lets out an exaggerated groan, which causes you to rush towards him – you place your mug on the lamp table behind you and crawl onto the floor in front of him.

You push him back down onto the couch, the force being more painful than when he tried to get up, you lift his shirt up to examine the damage you poorly tried to cover up, it looks fine physically, but you can't imagine what he's feeling. "I can't do much, as I said, I'm not a licensed medical professional." You say, moving down his stained shirt. Your touch ignites a trail of flames along his abdomen that takes all his willpower to fight.

"At least, I'm alive and not curled up by a pile of trash." He remarks.

"Yeah, but who's to say that's going to happen again?" You question, "Next time you get into a situation like this, I can't guarantee that someone will be there to patch you up in time."

"If it's not you patching me up, I don't want to live."

"Oh," you say, surprised, backing up from him. "Well, that doesn't give you an excuse to show up to my doorstep all bloody if it does end up happening again."

It has been a week since you've seen Suna.

Last friday you were nursing a gang member back to life with the promise of safety for silence, and a new couch – both of which you aren't sure you're going to get anytime soon. Instead, you still clutch your taser while you walk home, and you've done your best to wash the stain on the couch cushion. However, nothing is getting rid of that disgusting, faded stain, so you've opted to flip it over and hope time will make you forget.

The individual lamps and overhead lights illuminate the apartment, the candles flames are burning– casting a mixed scent of florals, vanilla, and lavender – creating the perfect ambiance for a Friday night in.

You sigh, collecting a mountain of rice – from your ready-made curry – on your spoon, curled up on your couch, gaze fixed on the television that plays an old show you were obsessed with in your teens. Beside you, is a glass of wine filled with ice cubes, and the bottle is placed on the floor awaiting refill. What else is there for you to do than stay home on a Friday night?

"Previously on Pretty Little Liars," you hear play through the speakers, shoving a mountain of food into your mouth, "It's Mona– Hanna won so Mona loses..."

You sink down into the couch, suddenly engrossed in the recap. It's been a while since you've had time to catch up on television, so the recaps serve a well-needed purpose to remind you of the over-the-top drama and plethora of plotholes. There is nothing better than unwinding after a long, long, week at work. Grabbing the wine glass, ice cubes clinking as you bring the drink up to your lips.

It's an odd combination, putting ice cubes in wine– that's unheard of – but you don't mind the diluted taste, also, you aren't the biggest fan of wine, it just seemed classier than making yourself a sad looking cocktail. Though, given the fact you're watching one of the more questionable teen mystery dramas, wine with ice does not seem like the worst situation.

You could have easily gone out, but all your friends are all too tired to go out, and drinks at bars are far too expensive. And let's be honest, going out by yourself is possibly one of the most depressing things a person could do, also that would mean walking home by yourself intoxicated. Obviously, that's not the smartest or safest decision, given the current rise in crime.

Engrossed in the show, absentmindedly feeding yourself until you're scraping the plastic container with your spoon picking up scraps. Sighing, you slide off the sofa, dragging your feet towards the kitchen where you toss out the empty container and dump your spoon into the sink. Half of your attention is still focused on the television, not wanting to miss anything going on.

Drifting back towards the couch, leaning against the armrest as you refill your wine glass, bringing the bitter alcohol to your lips and tasting it on your tongue. This will be your second glass of the night, the first glass came and went as quickly as the previous episode did.

A loud knock on the door sounds throughout the apartment, causing you to choke on your drink. Frightened, you place the glass down on the lamp table, pushing yourself away from the couch as cautiously and quietly as you can. Walking on your tiptoes back to the kitchen, reaching into a drawer for a knife.

Of course you're not going to open the door, you're not stupid. You're simply going to sit against it, clutching the knife until whoever is on the other side goes away... like a responsible, intelligent, adult. It could be someone with the wrong address, despite how persistent they are on knocking. And no criminal would think of knocking either!

Maybe you should turn off the television, give the illusion that no is home, or alternatively, you could turn the volume all the way up and drown out the sound of their fist pounding against wood. Nevertheless, hiding out in front of this door with a knife seems like the safest option. If things go wrong, and the intruder does break in, you can stab them and leave their body on the street.

Crime isn't news around this area, unfortunate things occur all the time! And the police, being police, won't bother stepping in. It's an accidental murder in a bad part of town, or another victim to gang violence, they won't bother finding out it was a kitchen knife that caused the death. Morally, will it crush you? Yes. It will.

You lean back against the door, the continuous knocks do not falter... Until they do, you hear them rest their head against the wood. Maybe they've finally given up. Slowly, you get up from the floor, the faint noise of police sirens flying by. You backpedal until your back hits the counter, reluctantly, you place the knife on the surface behind you.

Heart racing in your chest, then you hear it. You hear him. "Sweetheart, open the door." His voice is muffled, but a simple piece of wood is not going to hide the exhaustion lacing his tone. "Please," he adds.

You hope that your home isn't the new hideout for gang members running from the police, but you can't stop yourself from quickly striding towards the front door and swinging it open. "Oh my god," you gasp, catching him in your arms before he plummets onto the floor. Stumbling back, you quickly catch your balance and drop him on the couch – the same way you did last week – where he falls back, arms resting on the back cushions.

Apparently, Suna has taken an involuntary liking towards you and insists on showing up outside your apartment, and door every time he gets hurt. At least, this time around, he's not shot, stabbed, or badly wounded, he just looks a little... beat up. Busted lip, and black eye that's beginning to form. You know this is not the time, but god does he look so good.

Lord knows what he's gotten himself into, why he's bruised or why out of all the places he could run, he ran here... to you. What happened? Why is he suddenly out of breath, unable to stand, and exhausted on your couch? You climb over him, straddling his lap, and grab his face between your fingers, forcing him to look at you. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" You huff, slapping the side of his face to jolt him awake, "This is no time for a nap Rin, you need to tell me what happened."

Even in this dazed state of mind, even after running five blocks, being chased by both the police and the Crows as a distraction while his team can get away. Getting cornered, beat up (not as bad as the others), picking the lock to get into your building, then running up the stairs, and waiting for you to let him in. He can still appreciate the sight in front of him, including those shorts, his hands running up your thighs, leaning his head back while his lips turn up into a smirk.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I had to run, and believe it or not, this is the safest place for me." He mutters, sitting up to lean in close to you. "And I know you won't refuse me," he hums. Suna's breath is hot against yours, his touch running up and down your thighs setting a fire to burn and a shiver to involuntarily run down your spine. He kicks off his shoes, opting to make himself comfortable on your couch.

"This is not your safe haven," you scoff, pressing a hand flat on his chest to push him back from you as you climb off his lap. You storm over to the kitchen, opening the small freezer hatch on your fridge to pull out a frozen bag of peas for his eye. Sure, it's not your job to care for him, but you can't help doing it – as if it has been engraved in your memory after one experience. You toss the frozen peas at him, which he luckily knows what they're for. "I did you a favour, which you have yet to return, by the way."

He holds the frozen bag of peas up to his eye, this is not the warm welcome he's been expecting, and for your information he has kept up one side of his deal. He has kept your street a no-go zone, and he has been making sure that you are safe. Sure, his methods are a bit stalkerish, he's been trailing you to and from work – lurking from the shadows and wiping out any potential threats that come your way. In terms of the new couch... he's working on it.

"Don't tell me that you're running from the police," you say, beginning to pace back and forth in your living room. "What do you think you're doing?" You exclaim, "You can't keep coming here to hide from the police! Do they know what you look like? Do they know that you came here? Do you know that my entire career can be ruined?"

"Calm down sweetheart," Suna hums. "No one knows I'm here, you're fine. And speaking of the police... yeah, I'm running from them, but I managed to get away through a couple short cuts. Trust me, you're safe." He stands from the couch, one long stride taken to reach you, his hands running down your arms in a somewhat reassuring manner. With one hand tilting up your chin, "And I wanted to see you."

His eyes are mesmerising, a perfect combination of green, yellow, and grey. It's hard to not melt under their gaze. Your hand wraps around his wrist, moving his touch away from your face before turning on your heel to walk towards your bedroom. He hates to see you leave, but he loves to watch you walk away. Maybe this is the universe repaying him for almost dying, it sent an angel in the form of you.

"Wanted to see me," you mutter to yourself, packing up the mess on your bed. The files, loose papers, highlighters, notes, and your laptop. You move them to sit on your cluttered vanity. "As flattering as that is," you continue, "I'd rather you come see me when you're not running from law enforcement. You owe me."

"Sorry to add insult to injury, but I was wondering if I could camp out here for the night?" Suna asks, leaning against the doorframe of your room. He knows you're not going to deny him refuge, whether you want to admit it or not. You don't have it in your heart to leave him out in the rain. Even if you want him gone, he's not going to leave. He's never been that good at taking hints – hence the black eye and busted lip. "Just for the night."

"One night." You sigh, "Only if –" there's always a catch "– you avoid robbing my bank, and stay clear of where I work, and make sure that everyone knows that. And no more attracting police to this side of town," you list. "And if you're going to stay here frequently, I'm going to need some sort of compensation."

"Is that all?"

"Yes." You nod, "now," you begin pushing the brunette back into the living room and onto the couch. Since he's here, may as well check up on how that old stab wound is going. You force him down onto the sofa, his back hitting the cushions – the wind escaping his lungs – as you lift up his shirt. There's still a nasty cut that's bound to turn into an even worse scar, but at least it's healing correctly.

"You sure are quite aggressive," he comments, propping his head up with his hands as he looks up at you. "I don't mind, kinda like it." He purrs, softly laughing at the way you pull his shirt back down and storm up off the ground, grabbing your wine glass and downing the rest of the contents. "I was just teasing babe, no need to overreact."

"Are you aware that you're an idiot?" You comment, placing your glass and the wine bottle on the kitchen counter.

"Do you like that I'm an idiot?" He retorts. He's got a bit of a little infatuation with you. A hot shot associate with a morally grey high ground, and a weakness for criminals like him. It is not everyday a pretty normal girl like you fixes him up and lets him into the apartment while he's running from the cops.

"The same way I like how I continuously find myself harbouring a fugitive." You reply, "It could be better. And can you please either use the frozen peas or put them back in the freezer."

You have better things to do! Sure, the situation could be worse. At least Suna is decent to look at, and he's alright company who doesn't want to kill you, and you have felt the slightest bit safer on your walks to and from work. Though, it's not like you're thrilled to have him in your apartment.

He gets up from the couch, places the peas back where they belong, then slides in next to you. He grabs the wine bottle, taking a swig from the bottle. You watch him intently, the way his Adam's apple moves, the beginning traces of a bruise forming around his eye, and the cut on his lip. He still wears that stupid leather jacket, but at least there's no blood on his hands, legs, or torso. Suna glances at you from the corner of his eye, holding the bottle firmly in his hand, "Take a picture. It lasts longer."

"I would," you say, "but that would mean proving a direct affiliation with you. And lord knows if you ever get caught, I'd rather die than testify in court and risk losing all respect I have in this industry."

"I get it," he shrugs, "I'm bad news, but that doesn't mean I'm necessarily a bad person. I mean, you make money off people's brokens marriages, shouldn't that equate to something? I think that we both do bad things, but we're not bad people."

"Comparing me to you is a low blow," you snort. "That's like comparing apples and oranges."

"They're both fruit aren't they? They both grow on trees, they both make juice." Suna argues, "One is sure, significantly better than the other, but that all depends on personal preference."

You meet his eyes, seeing nothing other than the greyish-green hues. He's got that tough exterior that can draw any girl toward him – including you – the danger that people write about, the allure and flirty personality that makes him less of an asshole and more human. He is the fallen angel that the universe sent to you as a form of twisted karma and dilemma of morals that cross a line. He's beautiful, prideful, a criminal, but has got a strong sense of loyalty and protection. Why else will he make himself the scapegoat to every situation?

"Yeah, well, anyone with a brain can tell who's the better one of the both of us."

"If this is about breaking the law," he says, placing the bottle down on the counter. He steps in front of you, trapping you between his arms, pushing you back against the counter as his body presses against yours. "You're breaking a lot by being here with me, hiding me from the law, trading silence for safety, I'm sure there's something in the constitution that you've broken by not turning me in." He lowers his voice, dipping his head down to yours, "I'm sure if I string enough together, you can be charged with aiding and abetting."

"That's one thing out of the many covering your roster."

He bends down, lips brushing against your own. Heart pounding against your chest. He's so close. Remnants of his cologne fill your senses; oak, wood, musk, sweet amber, cardamom, raspberry. He's addictive in all the ways he shouldn't be. A real fallen angel. Beautiful, perfect, but dangerous, treacherous, and duplicitous. But what does that make you? You're addicting, the light in his dark tunnel, his bittersweet obsession that he cannot indulge in.

"You don't care." He rasps, "If you did, you would have kicked me out. You like me, you like having a dirty little secret, you fucking revel in it."

You don't respond, verbally that is. You break the small gap between the two of you. He reciprocates the action, deepens the kiss, presses you further back against the counter. A hand gripping your hip, while the other travels up your neck, holding under your jaw tight between his fingers. His body against yours, fingers wrapping around the belt loops of his jeans trying desperately to pull him closer. It's messy, driven, and lustful.

Your hands travel under his shirt, feeling the burning skin and the shiver that runs down his spine. The hand he has on your hips, his fingers dig harder into your side while the one around your neck shifts to the nape, reaching up to tug at the roots of your hair. The throaty moan that he elicits from you sends him into overdrive, fuck you're addictive. He wants you, so bad. He needs you.

Palms placed flat on his stomach you step forward, pushing him back onto the couch. He takes in the sight of you, standing over him in those little shorts and tank top that hugs your body so well. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap, and his hands instinctively run up the back of your thighs, sliding under your shorts. Rough hands making themselves comfortable, holding the flesh in his hands, squeezing hard as he helps you grind down onto him. He's hard as a fucking rock, and your moving against him so needy. The friction against your clit, slow and tortuous, small whimpers and staggered breaths that Suna swallows.

Your hands move to move the leather jacket off his body, which he tosses across the living room, leaving him in a black muscle tee that shows off all the hidden, scattered tattoos on his arms you've never had the pleasure of seeing. His fingers grab the front of your tank top, tugging down the fabric to expose you to him. His cold hand cupping your tit, the pad of his thumb running over a hardened nipple as goosebumps scatter down your body and you press down further into the bulge in his jeans.

"Fuck," he groans at your reaction, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw, neck, collarbones, before his lips wrap around your chest. His tongue pressing against you, teeth grazing your skin, while his hand continues to work and massage against the other.

Your back arches, hands tangling themselves in his brown hair, continuously grinding against him as his leaves scatter hickey across your chest. "Sweetheart, you're killing me." He murmurs, reconnecting your lips together. You hum against him, lifting your arms in the air as he pulls off your top, throwing it across your apartment before he does the same with his shirt.

You begin to kiss down his chest, his torso, his stomach, falling down to the floor in front of him – between his legs – as you undo his belt. Suna's eyes fixed on you, the sweetly dangerous glimmer in your eyes as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He lips his hips, allowing you to pull them down – jeans and briefs – letting his clothes drop to the floor. He shudders the second your hand wraps around his dick, head dropping back and hands gripping onto your hair.

Wrapping your lips around the sensitive tip, you tease the spot hearing desperate whimpers escape his throat. Tongue flat against him, head beginning to bob back and forth, cheeks hollowing out as you literally suck the soul out of him. The salty taste of pre-cum on your tongue, his hands firmly entwined in your hair as he lets out a strain of whimpers, bucking his hips up, controlling your movements making you take him deeper in your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

Tears begin to prickle in your eyes. Head moving back and forth at a faster pace, his hands knotted in your hair as he takes control, fucking your mouth. Looking up through teary eyes, laying eyes on a sinful sight. His abdomen flexing, head thrown back, eyes shut, and Adam's apple moving at every repressed whimper and moan. You grip onto his thighs as he increases his pace.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Breathless moans coming out in repeated pleas that chase a high. He's so close, impatient, and seeking a heavy and desperate release. "Just like that baby, keep going."

You don't stop, you continue as a mess of fallen tears, pre-cum and saliva. You can't breathe, throat filled with his cock. He fucks your throat, using you for pleasure. He fucks your mouth, swollen head hitting the back of your throat, shuddering as you to swallow or gasp for air. You feel his dick twitch, and in seconds a hot load is shot down your throat and his grip on you loosens. You swallow down his cum, tongue and lips cleaning him up. Once, your lips remove themselves from his cock, he wastes no time to pull you up and reconnect your lips, tasting him on your tongue. You stand from your knees, and he pulls down your shorts along with the simple black panties, then pulls you down onto the couch, laying you on your back.

He hovers over you, hand wrapping itself around your throat as he kisses you. The other, spreads your leg, calloused rough fingers pressing against your cunt. Using the arousal to rub against your clit, a harsh play of light and rough. Fingers pressing hard against your clit, causing a strained moan to sound through the living room, he rubs against the bud. Playing between teasing movements, to forceful mechanisms. He's fast and slow, teasing you, edging you.

"Rin," you muster out, biting down on his lip which pushes him to give you what you need. Working his fingers swiftly, skillfully, roughly against your clit. You squirm beneath him, he's vicious against you, his free hand kneading your tit in a hard grasp. "Fuck, Rin." You moan, chest rising and falling, as he quickens his pace. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you grip onto the armrest of the couch, mouth agape.

Legs twitching, as he brings you to an insatiable climax. His fingers are covered in your slick. He brings them up to his mouth, getting a taste of what he's missing out of. He doesn't waste time, wrapping your legs around his shoulders before he buries himself in your cunt. Lips wrapping themselves around your clit, sucking on it, his tongue moving at a rapid pace. He feels how sensitive you are. Fingers digging into your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You're a mess, a writhing, mess. And the way he looks up at you through half lidded eyes, buried between your thighs. You sink your hands into his hair, looking for something to hold onto. A groan rumbles in his throat, sending you farther over the edge. He increases his pace, devouring you like a starved man who hasn't eaten in years. He's pushing you over the edge, your heels digging into his back, pulling at his hair, forcing him deeper into you.

To add fuel to the fire, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curling into your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips into his mouth. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly matching the pace of his tongue. He continues until he feels you come undone, pleasure and heat clouding your vision as he pulls away from you. He examines the sight, leaning in close to you.

"I need to feel you." He pleads, the blood already rushing back to his dick, "I need you sweetheart."

You nod, "Please." Whispering, "It's fine, I'm on the pill." You reassure.

He almost collapses right there and then, letting out a whimper as he slides into you. Feeling you raw and whole, he's going crazy, losing his mind at the way you suck him in. Your walls around his dick, warm and so good that he could come right there and then. His find is spinning, he's going absolutely feral over being in you. He slowly moves out, before bottoming out, stealing your breath in the process. That's all he needed, the feeling of having you grip around him.

Suna thrusts into you, picking up a faster speed and your ragged breaths urging him on. He revels in the way your tits bounce, his movements causing the sinful shake of your body. Your nails digging into his back, scratching the skin. If he could save this as a permanent memory in his mind, he would, and he'd replay it over and over again in his dreams. He bottoms out, rolling his hips each time he does so, thrusting in and out at a faster speed and pace.

He then pulls out, the lack of touch jolting you back from your daze, only for him to flip you over onto your stomach, harsh grip on your hips as he lifts your ass in the air. He grips onto the flesh, holding it in his palms while he tugs them towards him in a big thrust. You let out a moan, face buried into the couch cushions, as he pounds into you.

Dick reaches deep into your cunt, watches you shake under him, the couch shakes, and the lamps shake. He holds both your wrists in his hands, pinning them behind your back, as he pushes himself faster, rougher, crazier than he did before. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoing throughout the apartment, mixed in with your strained whimpers and his throaty groans. "You like this?" He mutters.

This is so much better than he imagined. All the nights he spent with his hand wrapped around his dick in the shower and in bed. The thought of you crumbling beneath him, moaning out his name, becoming nothing but putty underneath him. The thought of him pounding into you relentlessly, feeling you bare and raw, the way your walls wrap around his cock. Imagination never could have prepared him for this, it's so much better than he imagined.

You're so wet around him. He fucks into you, in and out so quickly that you can't even grasp onto the feeling despite your cunt quivering and tightening around him every time he fills you. He lands a hard slap on your ass, only to rub over the red spot, roughly massaging and kneading the flesh. Suna continues to go harder, faster, more feral, moving both your hips to meet. Back is arched and he pushes you further down into the cushions, if that's even possible.

"You're no saint sweetheart," his hips stuttering, "you fucking love getting fucked dirty by a criminal." He rasps, tugging you up by your arms, whispers close to your ear sending a shiver down your spine. "Tell me how much you love it," he instructs. "Go on."

"I love it." You breathe out. Suna forcefully pushes you back down onto the couch, harshly pounding into you, "Fuck, so good."

"No one's ever gonna fuck you as good as I will. I'm going to make you mine, I'm going to corrupt you, I'll protect you." His voice falters at the feeling of you tightening around him, his cock twitching in response. "Fuck, you're mine. Mine only, and I'll fucking kill anyone who comes near you."

You listen to him, losing all sense of strength in your body. You're so close, he knows you are. "Rin, please keep going, I'm so close." You whimper, and he endures, picking up his pace and pushing into you faster, deeper, and harder until you become a limp mess, tightening around him, giving him the greenlight to release.

He cums inside you, white liquid filling you and dripping out as he pulls out. Your hips fall to the couch, as you flip over in time for him to collapse on top of you. If you didn't need a new couch before, you definitely need one now. His arms wrap under your body, he lays between your legs, head resting on your rising and falling chest, hearing your heartbeat in his ears. You brush your fingers through his hair.

He meant what he said. You're his, and he will fucking kill anyone who comes near you. 

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

For those of you who don’t know, I decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus, which is comprised of 9 units. I have completed four of the units (here is my queer cinema syllabus round up post with all the films I’ve watched and written about so far). It is time for me to make my way through Unit 5- Lesbians, which includes the following films: The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (1995), Bound (1996), Water Lilies (2007) [Skipping for now until I can get access to it], Saving Face (2004), D.E.B.S. (2004), Set It Off (1996), The Handmaiden (2016), Carol (2015), Imagine Me and You (2005), Two of Us (2019), Rafiki (2018), and The Color Purple (1985).

Today I will be talking about

Saving Face (2004) dir. Alice Wu

[Run Time: 1:31, Language: English and Mandarin]

Summary: A gay Chinese-American and her traditionalist mother are reluctant to go public with secret loves that clash against cultural expectations.

Cast:  -Joan Chen as Hwei-Lan Gao -Michelle Krusiec as Wilhelmina ‘Wil’ Pang -Lynn Chen as Vivian Shing

__

I love when people actually have the opportunity to write and direct stories that absolutely ooze their cultures. I am not Asian, but the family dynamics that exist as a result of this story happening to an Asian family are incredibly legible and makes the film very fun to watch as writer and director Alice Wu completely scrambles the relationships between characters/families.

This was a really smart film to include in this syllabus considering the pathway to the end of the syllabus is leading towards BL shows. Saving Face follows a storyline that feels very similar to a lot of what we will see in BL when it comes to parents and their queer children trying to reach some understanding of each other. It also has some of the visual motifs that are very popular in the BL I have watched like the use of vertical walls to signal a barrier between characters (though obviously this is not unique to BL) and honestly with how many workplace BLs we’ve gotten that have made me less than enthusiastic about the actual power dynamics at play, Saving Face does a really good job showing how power dynamics can manifest in the workplace when you just so happen to be dating your bosses daughter. 

gif by @filmreel

My favorite part of this film honestly is the family relationship, how evident it is that behavior is learned and passed down between generations, like when Hewi-Lan tells Wil she worked nights so Wil could eat preceding Hwei-Lan’s father (Wai Gung) telling Hwei-Lan that he endured hardship so she could have a better life. 

It was really fun to watch how Wil and Hwei-Lan’s relationship shifts, and how they both grow as people, that Hwei-Lan starts the film wanting to give Wil’s neighbor Jay a paper plate when he comes to dinner so she can throw it away afterward and not wanting to eat too much soy sauce so her baby doesn’t “become dark”, to Hewi-Lan thinking that Vivian is racist and being mad about it to Jay and Hewi-Lan hanging out, using face masks, eating, and watching dramas together, irrespective of Wil’s presence. 

Or starting the film with Hwei-Lan strategizing with her friends about potential male suitors for her daughter for the Friday night Planet China dances, to Wil running through her own channels to develop a roster of possible Chinese men to send her mother out on dates with towards the middle of the film when they are still trying to find someone that will marry her in order to prevent further shame or disgrace from befalling their family as a result of Hwei-Lan’s pregnancy. I loved Wil helping her mom get ready for the dates and even though it was parentification, I enjoyed that role reversal of getting to see her mom be hesitant, doubtful, and self-conscious, and if nothing else I loved that moment for how genuine Wil is when she tells her mom she’s beautiful.

Or getting the lines about how everyone in the Chinese community is two degrees of separation from anyone else, and how that one off-handed line truly feels like the biggest non-family explanations for why Wil is so hesitant to be physical intimate or queer in public. As an example, you can tell she’s a little worried that Vivian told her mom that they were dating. And I liked the reveal towards the end that Hwei-Lan has known this whole time that Wil is queer but is willfully ignoring it, and that the set ups she has been trying to do for Wil at the beginning of the film are because Hwei-Lan caught her being queer and not because Hwei-Lan doesn’t know she’s queer. So you get the added layer of hesitancy around Wil’s engagement in her romantic relationship with Vivian, especially because Vivian’s parents are a part of their social circle and that puts Wil at very high risk of her mother finding out. 

gifs by @mrgaretcarter

And she has very good reason to be because Vivian is out to both of her parents and the second that Vivian’s father sees Wil and Viv in a room together he immediately clocks their relationship and exerts his power as Wil’s boss to basically force Wil to break up with Vivian.

I’ll talk about this more in the Favorite Moment portion but I absolutely loved the scene where Hwei-Lan expresses her concerns about her impending motherhood (“I am going to be a terrible mother”) and how it pairs with Hwei-Lan’s response to Wil coming out (“I am not a bad mother. My daughter is not gay.”) How the saving face cycles and Hwei-Lan has been willfully ignoring Wil’s queerness and how Hwei-Lan was going to marry a man she did not love, for the second time to save face for her father, and how it took Wil barging in and essentially giving her permission to be happy to finally abandon that and follow her own heart. 

gif by @lonesomedotmp3

And how in doing so, she is finally able to accept Wil’s sexuality, support her mad dash to the airport to try to save her relationship, comfort her child in heartbreak, and play an active role in getting Wil and Vivian back together. 

Favorite Moment 

My favorite moment is when Hwei-Lan and Wil are talking about Hwei-Lan’s pregnancy and Hwei-Lan actually voices some of her fears about becoming a mother, the first time she’s really talked at length about her pregnancy, and it is doubly important to me because Hwei-Lan is saying all of this to her daughter. Like, just read this part of the script: 

Hwei-Lan: I'm going to be a terrible mother.             Wil: What? Hwei-Lan: I don't even like babies. Stephen's always bringing his kid to the shop. All that drooling. Gross. You were different. You sprung from the womb already grown-up. And I had your father during your early years. He was really patient.                    Wil: You have me.

It is very important to me because the transition in to Hwei-Lan and Wil living together has not been the smoothest, and because Hwei-Lan has been thrown out of her parent’s house by her father because of her pregnancy and so the only person she really does have to rely on in that moment is her daughter. And it is nice to know that despite all of the things they maybe don’t understand or refuse to acknowledge about each other, that at the end of the day they are there to support.

gif by @lonesomedotmp3

We even see it with Wai Gung, who says at the end of the film that when the baby girl is born he will be over at Hwei-Lan’s apartment every day to take care of his grandchild. Sure he covers that with the excuse of not trusting what will happen if her parents are in charge of raising her, but that’s an excuse, you just know that Wai Gung is going to absolutely adore his granddaughter. 

Favorite Quote

“Are you lonely?” // “No, I have you,”

Score

9.5/10

I absolutely adored this film.

[marksbear]

So I loved the Aaron as a sugar daddy but I now really need the cards flipped where he is now dating a celebrity who spoils both him and Jack out of love ;))

I'm happy you loved it Anon! And I hope you like this one!

AARON HOTCHNER X CELEBRITY MALE READER

The BAU unit is having one of their quiet and slow days in the office right now.

Everyone is doing their own thing. Spencer is reading, Derek giggling at his phone most likely texting a girl, J.J and Emily talking up a storm while Penelope is nearby Morgan's desk staring at Hotch's office.

"He's been on the phone for about fifty minutes now." Garcia finally blurts out catching everyone's attention. "Actually it's only been thirty two minutes." Reid corrects her looking up from his book giving Penelope his attention. "Same thing." Penelope responds with a groan.

"He has been on the phone for a while." Emily says looking at her bosses office as well. "Well maybe the bossman got a sweet lady friend on the phone." Derek adds turning off his phone with a smirk.

"You're all so nosy." J.J says playfully with a small laugh.

"It's what we are best at." Derek says adding in on the joke before sitting up. "How long until he notices that were staring at him?" Penelope questions while the team all stare at Hotch's open office.

As if on cue Hotch turns his body around looking at his team all watching him. "Okay gotta call you back, mhm. mhm.. Yeah I got it and don't work too hard. Okay bye." Aaron says one more time to the person on the phone before hanging up and staring down at his team with a glare.

"Reid pointed it out first." Morgan lies with a smirk on his face while the rest of his co-workers agree and lie with him. "Wha-It wasn't me!" Spencer says looking at the team. "That's four against one. Who do you believe Hotch?" Emily questions with a smirk.

"That it was all of you." Hotch answers rolling his eyes in the process.

TIMESKIP

After work finally ended everyone agreed to go to a nearby restaurant and have dinner.

The restaurant was nice and welcoming. The team's table was filled with laughter and smiles. The only bad thing about it was Aaron kept checking his phone 24/7 non-stop.

"Okay who's the girl?" Derek says taking a hold of Aaron's hand as soon he was about to reach for his phone. Aaron shots Derek a glare before answering. "It's nothing."

The whole team gives Aaron a "Be for real." type of look.

"Okay fine. It's just that i'm worried for Jack since he's with his new babysitter." Aaron lies to the team before putting his phone in his pockets. "New sitter trouble or what?" Morgan asks with concern filling his voice.

"Not really it's just that when him and Jack are together for a long time chaos is bound to happen." Hotch answers trying to avoid all the pair of eyes that are on him. "How about we all go to your house and see what's up. If they're a mess we can all clean it up." J.J offers getting money out to pay for everyone.

Before Aaron could protest the team all leave tips and got their belongings before leaving the restaurant to go to their bosses house.

TIMESKIP

Aaron gives the team one more look before unlocking the door stepping inside the house watching everyone come inside. "This place looks even better than the last time I was here." Emily points out looking at all the expensive toys and objects laying around.

Spencer walks to a counter picking up a silver white Rolex. "Wow...This collection hasn't even been released to the public yet. Only three people in the world have this. And the watch isn't fake either it has real diamonds and gold in it too." Spencer rants before putting the watch down.

"Hey where is the little man?---" Emily gets cut off by a loud childish scream from a different room as well Jack running out of the room laughing. "Daddy! Daddy help!" Jack squeals running behind Aaron hiding.

Aaron lets out a chuckle already knowing what or really who his son is running from.

"Y/n, stop scaring my son!" Aaron shouts before picking up Jack off the ground bringing him into a hug. "Couldn't help myself he's just so easy to get." A voice calls out from a room where Jack was running away from his life.

"No..." Derek trails off

"Way." Penelope finishing her friend's words. The team gasps when they see the Y/n L/n walking out of the room hair a mess as well as his clothes. "Hey baby." Y/n says to Aaron walking up to him giving him a light kiss on the cheek. Y/n looks at the staring team giving them a smile and a small greeting.

Even though the team is standing and staring at the couple like deer in head lights they all share the same mutual thought. "Look at him..." They all are referring to Aaron who is smiling ear to ear talking and laughing with Y/n. Y/n introduces himself to his boyfriend's family hoping to make a good impression. Soon enough everyone is talking and laughing among each other welcoming Y/n into the family.

Hours pass again and again people leaving and saying their goodbyes to only Jack, Aaron and Y/n are only in the house.

"I think they like you." Aaron says to his boyfriend wrapping his arms around Y/n. "You think so?" Y/n asks putting his hands on Aaron's waist bringing him closer. Aaron nods yes before kissing Y/n deeply. Y/n immediately kisses back with the same passion massaging Aaron's hips as they swap kisses back and forth.

Y/n pulls away with a smirk on his face. "Did you like the gift I sent for you at work?" Y/n asks suggesting the flowers and different kinds of snacks he sent to Aaron's office. "I loved it. But some people thought I had a secret admirer" Aaron answers remembering all the questions from this morning. "I'm not much of a secret, but I sure is hell an admirer." Y/n says with a laugh.

"I bought Jack loads of things today like toys, bikes and more soccer things. I even got him a dog, but shes at my place at the moment. Shes already trained and all that and she's probably playing with the sitter." Y/n tells him taking Aaron's hand guiding him to Jack's room that is now littered with expensive clothes and toys. "You spoil him too much." Aaron responds back with a light push.

"Don't get jealous I bought you things too. I even got us adult toys. But we can play with those later." Y/n says shooting Aaron a wink earning a light hit on the shoulder.

"Aar. I was wondering if you wanna come with me to one of my photoshoots? It won't take long I promise. Just a couple shots of me wearing their brand and slapping it on a magazine then were done." Y/n asks turning around to his boyfriend leaning on the door frame.

Aaron thinks for a minute before turning around facing Y/n leaning his own body against Y/n's. "I know you're more busy than that, so tell me everything." "Okay boss. I got this GQ interview then the photoshoot. Next is a little cameo in this movie. Last but not least is a late- night interview." Y/n says with a sigh before continuing. "And I wanted to ask you if you would like to accompany me with your son as well."

Before Aaron could answer Y/n shuts him up with a kiss. "Thanks Aaron. I knew you were gonna say yes."

NEXT DAY

All the photoshoots went fast in Y/n's opinion.

Now currently he's in the dressing room with the two people he loves most talking about all sorts of things. Y/n has Aaron on one of his thighs while Jack is on the other talking and laughing like the small family they are.

"Mr L/n! You're up in five!" One of Y/n's agents tells him before leaving the room.

Y/n lets out a sigh before looking at Jack. "Jack. Daddy has to go on TV now, you can stay back here and watch okay?" "Okay daddy!" Jack gives Y/n a kiss on the cheek before hopping off his leg going to the pile of toys on the floor.

Y/n turns his head facing Aaron with a smile on his face. "Aaron. Daddy has to go, but if you are a good little boy daddy will award you." Y/n says playfully with a wink.

"Stop it Jack is right there." Aaron says getting off of Y/n's legs before bending down to kiss him deeply. Y/n puts his hands on Aaron's waist kissing him back. The two makeout until someone knocks on the door. "Y/n! Cmon its showtime." Y/n pulls away from the heated makeout with a smile on his face before giving the boys a quick bye before leaving the room.

The interview was going great so far. The audience loved Y/n. They cheered 24/7 for him even when he said something simple they cheered for him. Y/n was everything that anyone could ask from a guest. Kind, funny and handsome.

Currently the interviewer was asking Y/n about what he was going to do next to "Wow the world." The interviewer asks. Before Y/n could answer it was a loud child squeal screaming "Daddy!" Before anyone could react Jack runs out of backstage and to where Y/n is sitting jumping on his lap.

The whole crowd says "Awww" in union as they watch Jack hold onto Y/n tightly turning his face away from the camera.

"To answer your question. I guess it is to show the world one of the two men I love most in this world."

THE END!

[clownakai]

Today’s a pleasant Saturday, and after having a good laugh at the "The reviews are in" post, I thought I’d dive into an intersting theory about the possible connection between Gin and Mary :)

Shared Phrases (?) Both Gin and Mary are the only characters to say, “It’s like encountering a demon in the darkness.” Similarly, Tsutomu and Shuichi are the only ones who’ve said, “The fault is 50/50.” I mean.. it's pretty obivious from just here already.

Appearance In terms of appearance, Mary, Sera, Akai, and Gin share two notable features: green eyes and distinct lines under their lower eyelids. Mary also has platinum hair, much like Gin’s.

Mary’s shrinking instead of being killed Mary’s shrinking, rather than being executed by BO, is particularly strange. After all, BO is notorious for ruthless efficiency—why use APTX 4869 instead of simply shooting her? The idea of sparing an enemy with a “golden medicine” that took years of research feels uncharacteristically merciful for BO. Their usual motto of “leave no trace” makes this decision seem odd and deliberate.

The boss’s decision to let Mary live seems to be a carefully calculated trap. It’s confirmed that Sherry’s mother and Mary are biological sisters (as the author has stated that Akai and Sherry are cousins). This means Mary and Sherry share familial genes as aunt and niece, making their bodies react similarly to the drug. I believe Gin may have known early on that Sherry was alive and was aware of Kudo's survival as well. Therefore, Gin and the boss know that Mary will survive this drug as well. Gin likely hinted this to the boss and orchestrated events to leave Mary alive. Why? They will use Mary as a bait to retrieve the antidote.

If BO were to capture Sherry, she’d likely refuse to cooperate. If they killed her, they’d lose their only chance at the antidote. Raising Sherry, funding her studies abroad, and investing years in her research suggests how vital she is to the boss’s plans. Killing Kudo would also be out of the question—Sherry’s guilt over Kudo’s predicament is what drives her to work on the antidote. If Kudo were killed, Sherry might even commit suicide, leaving BO without their much needed antiodote.

Mary’s shrinking seems to be a part of the boss’s larger scheme to manipulate Sherry. By targeting Mary, someone closely tied to Sherry and the silver bullet Akai, the boss ensures that all roads lead back to Sherry. This clever and cost-effective strategy leverages Mary’s condition to force Sherry’s hand, ensuring she stays within BO’s reach. In the process, it draws in powerful agencies like the FBI, CIA, and MI6, all of whom may unwittingly aid the boss’s agenda. In the end, the trap wasn’t just for Mary—it was a strategic move to draw out Sherry and secure BO’s ultimate goal: the antidote. This theory further supports the idea that Mary and Gin might be related, potentially as mother and son. Otherwise she wouldn't have been alive until now.

Hello anon! Just so you know this was a delightful surprise to find in my inbox today :3 I think I reread the whole thing like four times before even thinking of doing anything else djsjfsk I love theories so much💥💥💥

(Everything else is under the cut because I ended up yapping too much. I'm so sorry)

I really like this theory, especially since it indirectly covers for the fact that Masumi (partly due to Mary's orders as she's getting more and more impatient) hasn't exactly been subtle in her attempts to get the temporary antidote and has generally been very liberal with the information she has about Conan and Haibara's identities, talking about it in public and even getting overheard (granted, Subaru isn't the issue here, and it's not a guarantee that she's being tailed 24/7 as that would be a bit of a hassle to keep up, but still). One would think that they'd have been found out by now, given that the BO is now fully certain of Masumi's existence and relations (Vermouth on the Mystery Train my beloved & beloathed... Girl why r u so evil) and, as minimal as it is, she does represent a threat, but nothing has happened to either of them yet.

I do think that the point about the BO's decision to use the poison is a little shaky, seeing as it's been explicitly stated to leave no trace on the body— which actually fits pretty well with their motto, and we do glimpse a pretty long list of people it's been used on a few times throughout the manga (we only see a few names, but it's speculated to be much longer than what is shown), so it would seem that the BO has been using it semi-regularly when they wanted more down-low executions.

There was also no guarantee that Mary would react the same way to the APTX even with a possible genetic advantage observed in Shiho (and without knowing exactly what they were looking for, I'm fairly sure trying to compare the two's DNA in order to confirm their theory would be really difficult if not outright impossible in such a short timespan, and that's if you don't consider the absence of the person who knows the most about the APTX in the first place and could have sped things up if she was there). <- sidenote: I feel like I may have misread this point of the theory, so my interpretation and objection could be completely off bc it's not what you were talking about djsnfns

That said, I find the point about ensuring a direct line to Sherry through familial relations very interesting, in the sense that it made me stop and ask myself how she would react upon finding out that she has more living family still, but over half of them are people who she may see as having caused her grief/major discomfort at best. Would her wish to connect to her family be stronger than her self-preservation (along with the fact that she doesn't really know these people and therefore has no emotional attachment to them, not even as abstract idealized family)? I'm genuinely not sure, but the BO banking on this, possibly because having essentially groomed her they know her weaknesses best, is very juicy.

Honestly, thanks to that post (and a few delightful conversations about it), I do think that making Mary and Gin related in some way would be like. Really really funny. It'd also probably piss off a lot of people, but it'd be so funny.

And, given Gosho's magic retconning powers, I have come to the conclusion that Gin being Elena and Mary's brother that nobody ever talks about for some reason would be peak comedy. It even gives the whole "Elena and her husband received an offer they couldn't say no to because it'd let them continue their research" thing a new layer of context if you consider that Gin may have been the one who brought them to the Boss's attention.

This is also brought to you by my superficial genetics liker ass who says "Tsutomu's hair is brown and Mary's is blond. Brown is a dominant gene while blond is recessive, so unless Tsutomu's genotype was heterozygous (which we unfortunately can't know without the rest of his family tree. Also Gosho only seems to care about genetics from time to time) Gin should also have brown hair".

Also it's infinitely funnier if this is all a very complicated example of what Cain's Instinct looks like. Imagine playing the long game for literal decades because you want your siblings dead but it should also wipe out the rest of the family. Insane