#SPARE ME THAT BRAIN SPACE

[akito-shinonome-daily]

Has Chibi Akito visited the Princess from Slay the Princess yet? If not, could he?

➥ chibi akito is going to see the princess in slay the princess!

➥ i’m pretending that’s akito’s hand lmao

[fullmetalscullyy]

,

[child-of-the-cosmos]

Guys. I am sitting. It is late. I am craving muffins.

[fingertipsmp3]

Lowkey annoyed with my boss ngl

[intromortal]

⭑ INCH BY INCH ⸻ park sunghoon ◜teaser◞

OUT NOW: read here

you have a boyfriend gifted with a pornstar cock, but he refuses to use it on you, too scared he'll end up hurting you. so your best shot is to devise a plan to get him to crumble, and even if things don't unfold quite as expected, what matters is the result anyway... right?

starring ⋆ f!reader x park sunghoon

this work contains ⋆ smut, minors so not interact. multiple smut scenes, sunghoon being diabolically hung, my extremely poor attempts at humor, besties jaykewon, established relationship, nasty nasty shit... brat tamer sunghoon sorta kinda, some degradation but nothing crazy (i think. maybe i'm just a freak), alcohol consumption, implied driving under the influence, jealousy, slutshaming (not from hoon), a tiny bit if violence, blood, injury, and patching up said injury :3 ⸻ rules m.list

length ⋆ teaser ⸻ 1.2k words. full fic ⸻ around 15k words. hopefully less but it's me so :p

taglist ⋆ (closed!) either comment here or send me an ask! please make sure to have a visible age somewhere or i won't be able to add you.

"I just don't get why he won't stick it in me."

"You have such a way with words."

You throw a fry at your best friend, only to get more irritated when he catches it midair with his mouth. Jungwon chews it loudly with his mouth open—because he knows it annoys you to death—then washes it down with his coconut milkshake that he won't let you get a sip of because 'using the same straw as me counts as cheating now that you're dating Sunghoon'.

"Okay but why? You're a man. What's the thought process behind this? Tell me."

"Girl, it's your boyfriend. You tell me."

"What if he doesn't fine me att—" A fry hits you right on your forehead, and it's like the impact activates your brain cells, because of course Sunghoon finds you attractive, that is not the problem.

"Now, let's be honest with ourselves please. None of that shit."

Your back hits the bed with a soft thud, arms spread out as you stare at the very familiar ceiling of your room. A sight you've been taking in quite often recently, while trying to come up with a plan to get Sunghoon to dick you down good.

Jungwon shoves a fist of fries in his mouth, barely chewing before speaking again. "I don't get why it's such a big deal."

You roll onto your side, facing the blonde little gremlin occupying the space next to you. "It's a big deal because— why is your ass on my pillow. Jungwon get—"

He silences you by feeding you a handful of fries from the container on his lap. "You were saying?"

You gulp them down quickly before replying, because you're civilized enough to do so, unlike someone else. "We've done it all, and I know he's scared of hurting me, but I can also tell he's holding back. I'm ready– I've been ready. It's just… whenever I think it's gonna happen he pulls back so suddenly, like he's restraining himself."

"Mhh… you've talked to him about this, right?" Jungwon looks at you in a way that feels entirely too judgmental, like skipping the communication part is something you do often enough for it to be a pattern. Something he needs to check off of a list before he gives you more advice.

He's not completely wrong. As in, at one point in your life you had made an habit out of assuming people's thoughts and intentions, but that is in the past. And those people are not your Park Sunghoon.

[...]

"Of course I have."

"And?"

"Won, he just tells me I need more prep. I've had plenty of that, trust me. Like, he's spent the last month using this toy on—"

"Okay, okay I get it. I trust you, spare me the details."

"—Point is, I'm more than ready. I know it's gonna be uncomfortable and a bit painful at first, he's like… so huge it's—"

"I get it."

"—but that's a given with how big he is. I think it's just… him being nervous, really."

"Have you… tried to, uhm. Take charge? Maybe you calling the shots would make it easier for him to let loose." Jungwon looks down on his lap as he plays with the rings adorning his fingers.

You wouldn't say he has ever been particularly shy per se, not when it comes to discussing your sexual life, even in heavy detail. He was the boy your mother made you take a bath with after a whole day of rolling around in dirt as a kid, because his wasn't around a lot of the time. The same boy who has seen you toothless and with horrible haircuts, who has seen all your embarrassing phases.

Talking to Jungwon was much more akin to talking to yourself rather than venting to a diary, because he stored secrets in his heart that you would never be comfortable writing down on paper. Except he also calls you a dumbass when he needs to.

It's been a little different ever since you started dating Sunghoon freshly out of college, but you imagine it can't be helped since Jungwon has known both of you all his life.

You take a deep breath, shoulders slumping with the motion. Yeah, like that would ever work. "He doesn't give up dominance ever, really. I have tried a few times but…" you trail off, thoughts suddenly plagued with images of Sunghoon putting you back in your place instantly whenever you tried to take charge.

You have already given it some thought, a lot of thought, actually. What wouldn't you do to have Sunghoon under you and at your mercy, so responsive to every touch, perhaps even tied down. Yeah, you're gonna have to bring it up more seriously to him, maybe then he would let you—

"Are you seriously fantasizing about dominating your boyfriend right in front of my cheddar fries?"

But you're gonna continue that thought another time.

"Let's see then…" Jungwon continues, evidently determined to find a solution to your problem. "Maybe act out? Would that work? Mhhh… I don't know, you're already very annoying day to day and he puts up with that…so."

Jungwon genuinely looks like he is putting so much thought into it, somehow it makes it more offensive.

"Yeah. And who grew up next to him? You. Exactly. You trained his patience, if anything," you retort, but Jungwon doesn't even give you the satisfaction of acknowledging it, because you both know that you do love to be a nuisance to your boyfriend whenever you get the chance.

"Wait." Jungwon perks up after a seconds of deep thought, making the plushies on your bed fall on the floor, but the situation is so dire that you don't scold him. Instead, you cast a hopeful glance in his direction. Please let his brain cells work for once in his life.

"Isn't Hoon like, terribly jealous every time someone brings up that time you and Jay dated in high school?"

The cogs in your brain turn, and if someone was to walk into the room at that moment they would be able to smell the fumes coming out of your and Jungwon's head.

Jungwon continues, though he doesn't need to, because you have caught what he is hinting to already. "You need him to snap? What better reason to if not some good ol' jealousy. Am I right?"

But of course he is, that little gremlin genius.

"And, it just happens that a few high school acquaintances are organizing a get together soon. You know people will bring up you and Jay, just drag Hoon along. It's fate."

"Have I ever told you that you're my bestest friend ever and that I owe you my life, Won?"

[chronicowboy]

Eddie isn't sure what he's expecting when Buck meets him at the airport. Red-rimmed eyes, splotchy face, hunched shoulders probably. Not this. Distant eyes, blank face, straight-backed. He'd been braced to catch Buck as soon as he landed, had spent his whole flight locking every bit of his own grief away to be thought about at a later date, let the guilt pool in his chest instead.

I should've been there, I could've -

He'd been ready to catch Buck, but it's Eddie who falls into Buck's waiting arms. Eddie who tears up. Eddie who clutches at the back of Buck's shirt like a scared child. And it's Buck sweeping his hands up and down Eddie's back, holding him together, murmuring:

"It's okay. I've got you. It's not your fault."

Eddie doesn't cry in LAX. His grief is a private thing. Always has been. He locks it into his bedroom and lets it out behind closed doors. But Buck is the safest space he's ever had, so he lets himself break a little. Lets himself shake apart under Buck's hands until he can ground himself with a deep breath at the junction of Buck's neck and shoulder. Until he can stand on his own.

Buck looks at him, eyes searching, deepest of furrows between his brows, so devastatingly gentle. And Eddie kind of wants to fucking scream at him for being okay. He'd needed to take care of Buck. He'd needed to have something to do. But now Buck is looking at him like he can fix him, and Eddie wants him to. So badly. But Buck knows Eddie's grief is for South Bedford Street, not LAX, so all he does is lead Eddie out to the parking lot.

It's a silent drive. Buck tells him the details of the funeral. Clinical. Sparing. And Eddie watches Buck's knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. Listens to the creak of leather under an unyielding grip. And he sees it then. The countdown over Buck's head, ticking away steadily. He's grateful in a way.

They pull up to the house silently. The engine falls quiet. And they stare at the door. The door Bobby had appeared on the other side of just a few months ago for a goodbye dinner. At the house. The house Bobby made coffee in when Eddie couldn't stomach being alone. At the home. The home Bobby helped him build in every way.

Buck gets out of the car. Eddie follows. Buck unlocks the door. Eddie locks it behind them. Buck disappears into the kitchen. Eddie pauses.

Can't quite separate Bobby from kitchens in his mind. And it's not like Bobby ever cooked anything in Eddie's kitchen, but there's some stupid grief-crazed part of his brain that thinks he'll find Bobby at the stove for a last supper. A parting gift to Eddie. Because Bobby was always too good. Too generous. Too understanding. When it came to Eddie.

When he finally makes it in there, Buck is stood staring into the fridge. Vacant. Eddie joins him, presses their shoulders together as hard as he can without knocking Buck away, and looks at Buck's fingers curled loosely around two beer bottles. Eddie knows it's not the early hour staying his hand.

It feels wrong. To find comfort in alcohol at Bobby's expense.

Carefully, Eddie unpicks Buck's fingers from the bottles and watches as Buck's arm falls limp to his side with such weight it bounces off his hip. Swings once, twice, stops suddenly. Eddie grabs the water filter. Closes the fridge.

"Sit down," he whispers. Sure, steady.

Buck sits down.

Eddie grabs two glasses. Fills them with water. Leaves the filter on the side. Who cares? Who fucking cares? Takes the glasses over to the table in shaking hands. Spills only a little. Sits opposite Buck. Stares into his cup.

"I didn't say it back," Buck rasps eventually.

Eddie picks his head up with great effort. Ony manages it because he wants to see what hurt he's caused. Their missing medic. Absent in their hour of need.

"What?"

"B-he-he told me he loved me." Buck's eyes go wide. Horrified. Haunted. Hollow. "He t-told me he l-loved me, and I could-couldn't say it back be-because that would mean..." Buck chokes a sob into his hand. "I thought we'd fix it. I-I-I thought we'd find a way. We-we always do. I couldn't say it-it. I didn't want t-to let him go. And now, he's..." Buck's face crumples first. Then, the rest of his body follows, folding in on itself in the chair until he looks almost as small as Christopher had the first time he'd ever sat at this table. "He's d-gone, and he doesn't know I love him."

"He knows, Buck." Eddie's hand curls into a fist on the tabletop. Doesn't know what to do. For all he'd been ready to hold Buck together, he's not sure how. "He knows you love him, Buck. You told him every single day."

"But I never said the words!" he snaps. Pure rage. Pure guilt. He looks up at Eddie. Blue eyes wet and red and wild. The rage and the guilt seeps away, leaves only pure grief. "I never said the words."

He sobs then. Doesn't choke it down. Lets it out. Eddie reacts like it's instinct even though he's never done this before. Just somehow knows in his bones what to do when it comes to Buck.

He stands, rounds the table, slides a hand into Buck's hair, one on his shoulder, pulls Buck's face into his stomach and holds him there, holds him together. Buck's fingers tangle themselves in Eddie's belt loops. A lifeline. And Eddie holds him tight as he can.

"All the times you cooked for him. All the times he cooked for you. The two of you cooking together. You had your own language, Buck. He knows you love him."

And all Eddie hears is: you're gonna stand there with a hundred-something bodies on you and tell me I'm not fit for duty. Did Bobby know Eddie loved him too?

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Eddie drops his cheek to the top of Buck's head. Stops holding Buck together and starts holding on. Buck's hands grasp at his hips, twist into the back of his shirt just like Eddie's had at the airport.

And all Eddie hears is: I just want to make sure you don't think you have to lose everything before you can allow yourself to feel anything.

[sevsbunny]

secrets

gp!alpha!sevika x omega!reader

4k words!

warnings — sevika has a dick. talks of knotting. fingering (r). thigh riding. slight choking. semi public sex. joint mention.

the brain rot is overwhelming in this one. trust there will be a part two, however please send me things for these two! i want this to be an au <3

skin tone in both pictures is not related/relevant! it is purely for the outfit <3 (minus gloves)

EIGHTEEN PLUS MINORS AND MEN DNI

her scent was intoxicating, smelling of musk, cinnamon, sweat, a hint of mint. and something else. something possessive.

there was no denying the pull you had to her the second you felt her presence enter the threshold of the small meeting room. you were new to the team, having been there for a mere year — and considered an asset for being the only omega — but to each their own.

you needed money. you needed to make a living.

you hadn’t been claimed by an alpha. not that you didn’t want to, just…you hadn’t met the right one.

some were powerful, which usually came with the upper hand of being able to conceal the abuse some held. others were, well. boring. they didn’t spark that interest in you, didn’t make your body thrum with excitement when they were around. you didn’t feel ‘the spark’ your other younger omega friends had talked about when they met their alpha’s in college.

you thought it was something that didn’t exist.

silco paid you well, enough for you to have your own little studio apartment on the top floor. it was small, but you had a rooftop access essentially, so you turned it into a little cozy space.

the hours were tiring, however. you posed as being decoy to missions — a little lost omega in a big city with no one to help her — it was the best weapon to busting these goons that kept stealing from silco.

it was fulfilling for a while, until it wasn’t. you know, the usual motions.

however, it kept you close to sevika. more than it should.

it was dizzying — having to work so closely to her because she was the leader. the one to call the shots. the one that watches everything that goes down, to make sure things are going according to plan.

there were times on the way back from a mission that was more emotionally taxing than the last, that she would let you lean into her, find comfort in her being in alpha.

she knew she shouldn’t let it get farther than that, you were unclaimed and it was dangerous waters for her to be so close to an unclaimed omega when she had been resisting her rut for years.

you noticed her keeping her distance most days, how she would stand on the other side of the room, noticeably the one with the window cracked open. you’d study her figure, the way her broad muscles block out most of the limited light streaming in through the cracked pieces of stained glass. that ruby red cloak sat neatly and layered on her left shoulder, hiding her mech arm. something that you thought of more often than you should’ve.

her brows were usually furrowed at anything, and it seemed that she had permanent scowl on her face. you figured this type of work would do that to you, but that was just how she was. her short, dark brown locks were always in a half ponytail, stray pieces of hair always framing her face that always fell out of the loose ponytail. your fingers itched to push them behind her ear whenever your focus was locked in too long on her.

her eyes never left the usual spot in front of her, darting towards the door when someone knocked, or looked over at silco when he was speaking. but she never gave you a second glance. it kind of killed you on the inside, that just because she was an alpha and you an omega, meant she wasn’t able to spare you at least one single peek. you were always polite and respectful when she was in the room, why wouldn’t she look at you?

it wasn’t like sevika didn’t see you. fuck, all she could smell was you. the scent signature to you, a pretty little unclaimed omega that taunted her every single day when you showed up for work. it was like the devil couldn’t reach her, so instead she gave her you.

it took her resisting herself every single day after meetings to shove you up against the wall and shove her thigh in between your heat, hearing your soft whimpers in her ear as she made you feel the pleasure only an alpha could bring you.

it was after a particularly stressful mission the team had, that you felt like you had almost had enough. and it seemed like sevika was right there with you.

you were both planning to show up at an event, a gala where most of the wealthiest people silco was after would be. it was a pretty elaborate event, one they had been planning on for a while, so you knew better than to think with your pussy tonight.

you had worn a pretty little number, a silk dress that fell down to your ankles, a slit on the left left that ran up to your mid thigh — almost exposing what underwear you should’ve had on. you knew you had work to do, but you also knew you wanted to get fucked up, and you thought you had a pretty good handle on doing just that. (you very much didn’t.)

your hair had been done up, adding on your favorite pearl earrings with matching necklace and black stilettos with a red bottom. you had your signature scent on your wrists and behind your ears, a pink sugar scent with your added omega scent -- vanilla with an undertone of lavender. you knew you looked good, fuck you felt good.

the second you saw sevika, however, you knew it was over for you.

her hair was slicked back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, two pieces of small braids framed her face holding a few pieces of gold hair jewelry. a thin gold chain sat under her neck, white dress shirt with a few top buttons undone with a black vest matching her slacks. her sleeves were rolled up a quarter of a way on her thick arms. you could see a small design of henna on her right hand, the intricate patterns running up to her wrist. you could see the soft light of her mech arm under the fabric of her shirt, and you swore you could smell her from where you stood at the bar. you didn’t know if she had seen you yet, thankfully. you looked away from her, not daring to bring your eyes to her face incase you made some accidental eye contact. you flagged down the bartender and asked for a drink, letting out an exhale of breath as you reminded yourself to stick to the mission.

you knew the second you raised this drink to your lips, it was trouble. there were smells of other alphas around you, and you knew with the way you looked and the fact you had on nothing underneath, you were just asking for an alpha to come up to talk to you.

you didn’t want it though, and sevika wouldn’t allow that anyways.

she spotted you, of course she did. she smelled you before she saw you. it was invading her senses, making her brain full of thoughts of just you. it was getting harder and harder to resist her rut every single day when it came around you.

she let out an exhale as she watched you drink yout concoction at the bar, your legs crossed at the knee to reveal more of your thigh at the slit on your left leg. if she squinted hard enough, she could swear she knew you weren’t wearing anything. but you wouldn’t do that, this is work, you’d keep it professional, right?

her back was pushed up against the wall near one of the doors that let out to a balcony, one that looked over a garden with a little pond. the lights out there were off, no one was permitted to go down to the garden, just on the balcony. you both also knew it was an advantage point these people could have.

you werent sure how much time has passed, but you could feel the alcohol start to take over in your body. you felt giggly, happy and carefree and you honestly could care less what anyone else thought. you had an elbow on the bar, legs still crossed with your back semi to sevika. she couldnt see who you were talking to, but whoever it was was making you laugh like no one should.

she saw a manicured hand rest on your arm in a playful banter, making her chest inhale and exhale heavily. she knew there were other alphas here -- and she knew that you didnt belong to her but couldnt you behave for just once? it pissed her off, how carelessly you were throwing away the mission…

right, the mission.

her huffs again, taking one last long drag to the joint in her hand before flicking her gold lighter closed and placing it into her breast pocket. she kicks off the wall and comes over to you at the bar.

you smell her before you see her.

“ladies,” she says casually, the joint that was once inbetween her fingers, now fell loosely at her lips and smug smile on her lips as she looked down to you and then over towards the other alpha.

“sevika! wonderful to see you!” you sat up a bit straighter as sevika moved closer, half her chest overtaking the front of your seat as you sat back. your thighs pressed against hers as she leaned across the bar casually. she takes a hit from the joint before handing it to you — not offering.

you take it, while she strikes up a conversation with the middle aged alpha that was just hitting on you. you could feel your anger bubbling inside. why would she interrupt you like that? its not like she owned you. you didn’t belong to anyone.

but seeing the way she leans over you, passing the joint between the three of you had you squeezing your thighs a little bit. she perked up a little bit, her nose smelling a slight change in you. you eyed you for a second while the woman she was talking to got held up by a phone call.

“i was fine, you didnt have to come over here.” she grunts as she ashes the joint before taking another hit, still leaning against the counter top. you couldnt focus on much of anything other than the way she was looking at you, how her musk was invading your senses by being this close. you could swear she could hear your heartbeat in your chest harder when her eyes gloss over your figure once before back to your gaze.

“ive seen how many drinks youve ordered. youre getting drunk.” she says matter of factly before bringing the joint up to your lips to hit. you felt a shiver run through your body at the action before taking a hit and exhaling it, the smoke wrapping around her face. her gaze darkens before she takes another hit and ashing it out, and grabbing your discarded drink. she tosses it back and finishes it, before gripping your hand and pulling you off the chair at the bar.

“come with me.” her tone is heavy, angry. you can tell that you over did it, but you can’t think of anything other than her strong grasp she has on your hand, her fingers big and soft. you feel your pussy throb at the thought of them stuffing you full.

she grips your wrist, trying to ignore the way your blood pulses under her touch, how good you smell combined with the faint scent of your slick. turned on already and nothing has even happened has her huffing out of her nose in jealousy.

“you think you can just walk around the office in those short skirts, these tight blouses and get away with it?” she grunts against your ear as she corners you in a dark hallway, the sounds of the gala going on, on the other sides of the wall. it was all around you, but you could only focus on the heat that radiated off of sevika. her thick thigh was snug against your heat, and you could feel her cock throb through her slacks as she presses against you. you couldn’t really think straight at this point, having four flutes of champagne along with the shared joint the two of you just had, your head was empty.

you were officially thinking with your pussy.

fuck.

“what is it, little omega? can’t think straight already? look how easy you are, how small you are…” her mech hand comes up to your chest, the sharp end of her pointer finger trailing a thin line up your skin, right in the divet of your cleavage. you let out a soft whine at the sensation, your cunt throbbing with the lightest touch of hers. she smiles softly, before hooking her metal finger under the band of pearls that were resting peacefully on your throat.

“i know of something that will look better than these around this perfect neck of yours…” her voice is low, moving a shudder through your body as you register how dark and heady her tone is. you inhale as she tugs on the string of pearls and tugs, the string snapping and sending the pearls flying around the two of you, rolling against the ceramic flooring.

her right hand comes up from your hip, her hips rocking ever so slowly into your body. her fingers trailed up the slit of your dress over your skin, catching the edge of the slit and pulling up to reveal the plush parts of your nude hips.

“nothing underneath? while your dripping? you were asking to get someones knot, weren’t you?” you blush darkly at her words, your heat throbbing at the thought of not just anyone giving you their knot.

“not anyone…yours, sev…” her grip on your dress tightens and you swore you could hear it tear. your eyes flicker up from her lips up to her eyes, the darkened gaze she gives you as you whine underneath her. her flesh hand comes to cup your neck, fingers wrapping tightly around you making you gasp out with want. she chuckles darkly at the sound, shaking her head.

“you’re so easy, you know what?” she shakes her head again as she positions her thigh firmly against your heat, moving the fabric of your dress out of the way to reveal to her your cunt snug against the fabric of her slacks. she feels her mouth water as she leans back enough to look at you, then back down to your hips. she squeezes your neck just a smidge before pushing her thigh harder against your cunt. “ride my thigh, baby. get that pussy for me, hm?”

you let out a soft whine as your hips move instinctively to the command, and she cant help but curse our a soft ‘fuck’ as you move. youre so wet, your cunt moves easily over her silk slacks, creating a damp spot on her thigh instantly. her hand around her throat tightens a bit, and you let out a bated moan at the action, grinding your hips harder down on her in response.

“such a fucking dirty omega. who woulda thought, huh?” she grunts as you smile softly in response. she growls deeply, taking her hard from around your neck to move her thigh and cup your heat. she lets out a low moan as her fingers run through your wet folds. she cages you against the wall, her face hiding into your neck as she nips your jaw.

“sev…” you whine out, moving your hips against the feather light touch of her fingers on you, not moving inside of you, but not not touching you. she groans against you as she deeply inhales your omega scent, her brain fighting with everything in her to not let her rut over take this moment.

“fuck, princess. what do you want, hm? use your words.” you let out a soft huff as your head falls back, biting your lip and moving your hips needily for friction. she smiles against her neck, nosing the spot where an alpha could claim you. you let out a soft whimper at the action, more slick gushing onto her fingers. “oh little omega…” she grunts against you, slipping her two fingers easily into your dripping hole, moaning into your ear. her cock was throbbing in her slacks, a damp spot on the fabric making her groan as she grinds her hips into you as she fucks you with her fingers.

her fingers stretch you, the sting quickly turning into pleasure an you can help but moan at the thought of it being her cock stretching you out like this.

your hands come to wrap around her neck, letting her frame hold you off the ground and against the wall with her mech hand anchoring the two of you steady. the sound of your slick against her fingers made you shutter, the sounds of her breathy moans against your neck had you squeezing her digits. “more…” you moan softly into her ear, your finger nails digging into the fabric of her shirt in need. you needed her closer, you needed to feel her deep inside of you.

you needed her knot.

“what is that, omega?” she heard you the first time, but she just couldnt bare to stop fucking you in her fingers like this, feeling your body slack against hers and moving with each stroke on her digits in your weeping pussy. she loved the feeling of you submitting to her, even if its only on her fingers for now.

“more, please, sev…” you let out a wanton moan as she pushes her fingers deep into your cunt, curling them slowly as her thumb presses firmling against your clit. your hips jolt in response, the oversensitivity clouding your brain and making your body react without thinking. she loved having you this pliable in her hands.

“more what, baby?” she wanted you to beg for her knot. she wanted to hear the desperate moans fall from your lips, she wanted to see you fall apart for her. it’s what you and her deserved. she kept her thumb firmly on your clit, moving it in slow circles while your body twitches in her hold. “so responsive,” she mumbles more to herself, before she pulls her head from your neck to look down at your debauched body. your body thrums at the touch, at the praise she gives you and how hungrily she looks up and down your body.

your hands come to grip her shoulders as your brows furrow with want, the look in your eye softening as you stare up at her. she rocks against you, her fingers moving slowly inside of you as her thumb brushes your clit. “your knot…need it…” your cheeks darken at the admission, her smile showing on her lips, showing the gap in her teeth that you love so much..

“that’s what you need, huh?” her fingers speed up as so does her thumb on your clit, a moan falling from your lips as her fingers curl inside of you. “cum on my fingers first, show me how bad this pussy needs my knot.” she grunts as she picks up the pace, your slick running down her wrist and falling onto her slacks. her cock is painful at this point, her knot throbbing as she hears each whine and moan fall from your lips in the empty hallway. she was so lucky everything was louder than the sound of your moans or how wet your pussy was with her finger stuffed inside of you.

your moans turn into sharp whines as you feel your stomach clenches, her hips pushing into you and her fingers curling deep. your nails dig into her dress suit as you shut your eyes and lick your lips. “that’s it baby. cum on my fingers. give it to me.” you let out a sharp moan as your cunt clenches around her fingers, slick gushing from your cunt as you cum. she groans into your ear as she pushes her body weight against you, nibbing the sensitive skin at your exposed collarbone.

you whine softly, feeling her fingers come to a slow movement, thumb slowing down before stopping and pressing firmly against it just to feel your clit throb under the pad of her thumb. she softly removes her fingers from your dripping cunt, before taking both her hands and cupping them under your ass.

“youre so fucking pretty when you cum, omega.” she murmurs against you, and you cant help but let out a satisfied sigh, wrapping your legs around her waist and letting her heavy body fall against you. your body is light to the touch, and you can feel her cock throb against your core. it makes your cunt cry.

“sev…” you mumble against her neck, your arms wrapped around her neck as she groans when you push your hips against her. she nips your skin a bit harder as she pushes her hips harder into you. her scent was overpowering — musk was invading your senses and you could smell something sour, nothing to make you turn your nose but it made you wonder if she was starving off a rut.

the thought alone made your mouth water.

she groans against you as she inhales you, her nose pushing into your neck as her tongue darts out and licks a small stripe on your skin. she moans against your skin, tasting your musk, your perfume and sweat. her cock throbs at the thought of you cumming on her face, her tongue.

she whimpers into your skin, actually fucking whimpers, which makes your cunt throb in response. “fuck, omega…i…we can’t, not in here anyway,” she mumbles into you, and you feel your heart rate spike at her saying ‘anyway’. has she thought about taking you home and making you hers as much as you have thought about it?

you tug her closer, your left hand coming down to trail to her slacks zipper then her fingers grazing over sevika’s bulge. she moans into your skin, hips bucking into your touch. she needs this, needs you — but shes better than that. she knows how to treat a lady and she does not want the first time you take her knot to be at some random gala work event.

fuck, the event.

“don’t,” she warns softly, nosing your neck as she kisses your skin. your fingers halt against her bulge, but her hips still rock softly into your touch. she needs you, but she needs to see you laid out for her.

she pulls her head away from your neck, feeling a loss at not having your scent directly into her nostrils and instead having to be mixed with other scents. she takes her flesh hand from under your ass to come to cup your face. you lean into her touch, nuzzling your cheek into the palm of her hand.

“i don’t want the first time you take my knot here. i want it somewhere comfortable, okay?” herr grey eyes dazzle in the low light, and you can see how sincere her gaze is under the lust invading her scenes. you melt into her touch, taking your hand from her bulge to wrap around her neck again, she pushes her hips one last time against your core, and you let out a soft whine at the contact.

“lets finish this event, then let me take you home. feed you, fuck you, care for you.” you let out a soft whimper at her admission before nodding and nuzzling deeper into her palm.

“what about my pearls?” you ask with a soft smile looking up at her. she chuckles and shakes her head before dipping her head down, brushing her lips softly against yours.

“i’ll buy you all the pearl necklaces and more, mi amor.” she says softly before pressing her lips firmly against yours.

[n0phalt]

just waffling about my day im being personal ignore me

dear diary (kinda public online space that 21 people have made the unfortunate choice of following but its not a direct person so interacting and being vulnerable does not activate my Instant Dissociation Response) today is a day . i am going to have a challenging conversation i fell asleep thinking about but im slowly figuring my life out :) minor inconveniences keep happening in adjusting to. honestly yeah it is a move. Adjusting To The Move . like i havent had sheets at all, just an old blanket and a mattress. and have run the dryer 6 times on my own blankets and it finally dried but my brothers friend was over so she got them instead so i have to restart the cycle. and none of the foods im used to are here. and i dont have as much privacy even tho it was minimal before (actually. lie. im less alone but i have more private spaces which means a lot more) and i miss my susan and scooby. and the first few days fucked up my carefully cultivated sleep schedule bc alarms went off from 3:30-5:30 and nobody else wakes up to them. but my grandpa may be coming home from the hospital this weekend! and i Feel like i cant draw anymore and i lost that part of myself but i think if i keep trying ill find it. and today if i can schedule it around visiting my grandpa and doing copious amounts of laundry . i will be able to call with a few of my friends and play games ive been excited for all week :-) i am happy this morning i think

[helioooss]

your song, part two

synopsis: after years apart, y/n, now a successful chef running her own restaurant in makati, finds her life briefly interrupted when sophia laforteza, her childhood best friend turned global pop star, returns home.

w/c: 10k+

warnings: swearing, slowburn, angst

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the office couch had never really been meant for sleeping, but the fold-out had done its job. two pillows borrowed from the bar’s storage room, a spare throw blanket pulled from a dusty crate. you turned off the lights around sometime around 11pm but neither of you stopped talking.

the hum of the bar fridge filled the space between stories — sophia’s recounts of rehearsals, early katseye tensions, the first time she cried after a concert when someone in the crowd held up a sign with her name on it.

the two of you had stayed up past midnight. you weren’t sure anymore. the air grew heavy with sleep, but neither of you wanted to go.

you listened, half on your side, chin propped against your arm. you didn’t interrupt much. it was easy to just watch her: eyes lit up in the half-darkness, hair falling over her cheek as she talked and talked, until her words slowed, slurred.

then, just like that, she had fallen asleep next to you, passed out halfway through a sentence about lara who kept eating takis for breakfast. on her side, facing you, her breath soft and uneven like she hadn’t let herself rest in a long time.

you hadn’t really slept. drifted in and out, conscious of her shoulder close to yours, of the faint scent of citrus shampoo and something distinctly hers; familiar in a way that tugged at your stomach. you woke properly around five.

the sun wasn’t up yet, but the street was breathing again, slow and mechanical; the sounds of early vendors pushing carts and mopeds slicing through quiet roads.

you sat up slowly, rubbed your face and padded out into the bar. the tiles were cold against your feet. it grounded you. you brewed the coffee first. hers, not yours. you remembered the way she used to complain when it wasn’t sweet enough, that dramatic gagging sound she would make before calling you a psychopath.

two and a half teaspoons brown sugar, one teaspoon coffee. you made it without thinking - muscle memory.

in the kitchen, you got to work. rice hit the pan with oil, garlic dancing in the heat. you cracked eggs and fried longganisa until the edges crisped and curled. added the chorizo de cebu she always claimed tasted different in manila. you plated it the way she liked: egg yolk whole and shiny, meat slightly charred, a slice of tomato and cucumber on the side like it meant something.

you barely heard her footsteps until she was leaning against the doorframe, hair messy, shirt hanging loose around her collarbones.

“that smells so good,” she croaked out, voice low and rough from sleep.

you turned. “coffee’s on the bar.”

“you’re a dream,” she added, padding over barefoot.

you caught her out of the corner of your eye — how she curled her hands around the mug, how her eyes fluttered shut after the first sip.

and then, like it wasn’t anything at all, she said: “i love you.”

your body locked up inside; heart caught mid-beat, hands suddenly unsure where to rest.

she said it like people say ‘thank you’ or ‘god, this is good coffee’ — easy, half-asleep, automatic. not weighted.

but your brain didn’t care about tone. or context. your brain heard i love you in her voice and it lit up like a fucking traffic accident. she didn’t mean it, she couldn’t have.

still, your stomach twisted with the ghost of what it would’ve felt like if she had. you didn’t say anything. just plated the food and set it down, sliding it across the counter toward her.

she smiled, eyes half-closed, murmured “you spoil me” and dug in. you sat across from her, picked at your own plate, letting the quiet settle again.

no one came in early on sundays. the place was still.

“when are you leaving?” you asked, the words quiet but clear.

she chewed, then shrugged. “i don’t know yet,” she replied, stuffing her face with rice. “i think i want to stay longer…i know i can.”

you looked at her. she didn’t meet your gaze, just sipped her coffee and stared at the far wall like she was still working it out.

“what about you?” she asked.

“don’t work sundays, usually. might visit my family in quezon. bring my lola some empanadas.”

she grinned. “she’ll pretend not to like them.”

“always.”

she toyed with her fork. “i’m filming a brand thing later,” she began to say, then looked up, suddenly hesitant. “but…would you wanna come? or, i don’t know, wait for me so we can go together to quezon?”

you blinked. “come to your shoot?”

“if that’s okay, i can pick you up?”

you nodded. “yeah, of course…pick me up from here.”

her shoulders relaxed. you didn’t know she had been holding tension there.

after breakfast, she helped stack dishes into the tub. she noticed the fresh burn on your forearm; angry and red, skin bubbled from a splash of oil the night before. you tried to cover it but she caught your wrist, gently.

“where’s your first aid kit?”

“it’s gross —”

“it’s not,” she argued. “always looked after your clumsy ass, trust me, i’ve seen worse injuries from you.”

“fine,” you sighed in defeat, pointing towards the white cabinet by the sink. “right over there.”

you watched her disinfect it, cut the gauze, taped it down like she had done it before. her brows drawn, tongue poking out slightly as she focused.

she was always like that — meticulous with care, even when you didn’t deserve it.

you looked down at her hands on yours and felt something press low and quiet in your chest. she was just wrapping the tape when her phone rang.

you pulled your hand back gently. she looked at the screen and sighed. “it’s mum.”

you nodded, stepping back. “take it.”

leaning back, you remained seated on the barstool as she slipped off hers and walked a few steps away, phone pressed to her ear. her voice changed immediately: softer, brighter, familiar in a way that tugged something loose inside your chest. you remembered her talking like that to tita carla on your lola’s rooftop when you were kids, pacing in bare feet, laughing about her day, whole face lighting up like she didn’t know how to dim it.

hearing that tone now…after all this time, felt like being dropped into a version of yourself that hadn’t been folded down yet.

you lowered your gaze to the bandage on your arm. it was neat. clean. it still stung, but much less now and her touch still lingered in your skin.

then, without warning, sophia was holding out the phone as you looked up; her eyes warm, mouth curved in a small smile.

“mum wants to say hi.”

you blinked. “me?”

“yes. smile.”

you took the phone. “hello, tita?”

“anak! y/n!” the joy in her voice was immediate, like nothing had changed. “thank you, ha? for looking after our baby girl last night. she never listens to me. i’ve been telling her to just drop by so you don’t run away.”

ah.

you laughed softly. “it’s nothing, tita. she’s easy to feed.”

“she told me she slept at your restaurant! you poor things, that couch must be awful. but at least you had good food. y/n, i still remember your sinigang — hay nako, my mouth is watering just thinking about it.”

you laughed, could already picture her, barefoot in the kitchen, a towel thrown over one shoulder, probably waving her hand as she spoke.

“you have to come visit,” she continued. “i want to see your mum. bring her! and your lola, if she’s not feeling too suplada. we’ll cook.”

you said yes to everything, laughed when she insisted you come over this week and promised to text her.

when you handed the phone back, sophia groaned and rolled her eyes. “she said the driver’s already outside.”

you tried to smile, but it faltered. there was something unspoken on her face, stretched thin beneath her usual calm. she didn’t want to leave. that much was obvious.

the same way you didn’t want to be the one she had to leave from. you both stood in silence for a few seconds, neither making the first move.

then she reached for her jacket and followed you through the kitchen. the staff room was still dim, quiet in that particular sunday morning way like the place knew the chaos had already passed.

the hallway to the back door felt longer than usual as you held it open for her.

the sun was out now, high enough to warm the concrete. the maroon suv was parked just beyond the alley’s end, hazard lights blinking softly. the driver stepped out and nodded once, expression unreadable.

sophia adjusted the strap on her bag but didn’t move.

you stood beside her, not sure what else to do. it felt like if you said anything, it would undo whatever peace had formed between you over breakfast. perhaps even over the night itself.

she turned to you just as the driver opened the back door. “can i ask you something you might not answer?”

you tilted your head. “what is it?”

her eyes searched yours for a second longer than they needed to. “did you ever think about us? where would we be if i hadn’t left?”

the question landed low and deep, like a stone dropping into still water.

you looked down, then back at her. something in you cracked open, gently. you looked at her properly, throat tightening. she was looking at you intensely. “…in what way, piya?”

she shook her head, not unkindly. “you know what i mean.”

your heart beat in your ears, hands suddenly feeling like they didn’t belong to you. and still, you held her gaze.

“yeah,” you admitted. “i did.”

she nodded once like she had always hoped you would say that. you didn’t say anything else. neither did she.

then she got in the car.

you stood there until it turned the corner and disappeared from view.

something old had shifted. you could feel it.

whether that was good or dangerous, you didn’t know yet but it had a name.

and it was hers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

twenty years ago

your lola had a way of dragging you into places you didn’t belong. she said it was character-building; that brushing shoulders with the rich might remind you to stand taller, even if your slippers were patched with thread and your shirt was two sizes too big.

you were five, tired and annoyed that sunday was being stolen from you again.

“just behave,” she warned as you stood outside the gates of a house too big to be real. “and don’t touch anything.”

you kept your hands locked behind your back.

forbes park was a place you only heard about in passing: on the jeepney, in the sari-sari store, from the mouths of women who folded laundry while daydreaming out loud. mansions with proper gates and real grass, where drivers waited in parked cars and mothers had help just to hold umbrellas. your lola knew sophia’s lolo from a church thing, you didn’t know the details.

all you knew was that your school shoes still had dried mud on them and that you didn’t want to be here.

the front door opened before your lola even rang the bell. someone must’ve been watching; the housekeeper smiled and told you both to come in. your slippers squeaked against the polished floor as you followed your lola like a shadow, trying not to look at the paintings on the wall, or the glass table you were sure would shatter if you breathed too hard.

“there she is,” someone said. a voice that didn’t rush, but didn’t slow down either.

you turned.

a girl with two high ponytails and a missing front tooth was skipping down the stairs like she owned gravity. she was wearing a sundress with tiny sunflowers and had one sock up and one sock missing entirely. bright-eyed, messy, loud.

you liked her immediately…hated that you did.

“this is y/n,” your lola introduced you, nudging you forward. “say hello to piya, anak.”

“hi,” you mumbled, eyes darting to the floor.

“i’m sophia,” the girl said, walking straight up to you without hesitation. she didn’t offer a hand. she grabbed yours instead, sticky and warm from holding a half-eaten popsicle. “do you like jollibee?”

you nodded, unsure.

“my dad bought spaghetti and chickenjoy,” her grin widened. “come, we’ll eat in my room.”

you looked back at your lola for assurance, she waved you on, already being ushered to the dining area by sophia’s mother.

her room was the size of your whole house. there were shelves filled with dolls still in their boxes and a tv that actually had cable. she dragged you to the floor, offering you her jollibee spaghetti first, then pushing a plate of fries toward you like it was a peace treaty.

you ate slowly; she talked non-stop.

about how her driver always gets lost, how she’s going to be famous one day, how she wants to live in new york because they have squirrels.

you had no idea what squirrels were but you nodded anyway.

and somewhere in between her talking about her dog, peanut, and showing you how she can do a cartwheel (badly), she said:

“let’s be friends forever.”

like it was the most normal thing to promise a stranger.

you stared at her, sauce still clinging to your lips, unsure if you were supposed to say it back.

but you said it anyway.

“okay.”

because deep down, even then, some part of you already knew: if anyone could make you believe in forever, it was none other than sophia laforteza.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the studio was chaos in that specific, almost theatrical way, like someone had tried to contain a cyclone inside four white walls and called it fashion. flashes cracked in quick bursts, overlapping instructions flew across the room: hold that, chin up, yes, that’s it, softer; and assistants weaved through the mess. makeup brushes tapped against palettes, someone was yelling about missing palettes and the speakers blasted a remix of a song you half-recognised but couldn’t place.

everything smelled like hairspray and coffee and nerves.

sophia walked in with easy posture, nodding at familiar faces, flashing the kind of half-smile that made people move aside.

she held your wrist briefly, pulling you a step closer towards her. “i won’t be long,” she murmured. “just…stay close to me, yeah?”

you nodded, gave her a faint smile. “i’ll be here.”

there was nowhere to go, really, so you didn’t move far. there were clusters of people, all of whom looked like they were already doing something important. you stood near a light stand, arms crossed lightly over your chest, eyes scanning the room.

it was overwhelming, but in that detached way - like watching a party from behind a window. you kept to the edges, tried to blend in, maybe even failed a little.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you didn’t check it. instead, you watched sophia disappear behind the makeup screen, already mid-conversation with a stylist. she tossed a quick glance back at you, smiling for just a second and you smiled back; felt something stupid and warm settle under your skin.

“bini girls!” someone yelled. “maloi, aiah let’s go.”

you didn’t expect the shoot to involve them but when one of the stylists called out names, you heard it clearly.

your brain definitely short-circuited for a moment as you tried to keep your cool. lowkey fan didn’t even cover it: you watched their dance practice videos like they were stress therapy, recommended lagi to aira during the slow month last year.

and now they were here: in the same room, wearing crocs and no makeup and carrying iced americanos like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“come here, y/n,” sophia pulled you out of your starstruck trance, voice carrying across the noise.

you nodded once, stepping around the cables carefully and stood beside her.

the makeup artist — small-framed, sharp-browed, probably could kill with a single brush stroke, grinned as you settled in. “so, you’re the mystery guest?”

you laughed once, shaking your head. “just moral support.”

her eyes flicked up at you in the mirror and she smiled a little too quickly.

“she keeps looking for you,” he added, dabbing blush across her cheek. “i thought you were her girlfriend or something.”

“we’re not,” you answered, voice steady despite feeling awkward. “just old friends.”

“ahhh, old friends,” the artist echoed, mock-suspicious. “sure.”

sophia was grinning now, eyes shut while her eyeliner got cleaned up. “he’s always like this, ignore him.”

“don’t ‘stop’ me. you haven’t taken your eyes off her since she walked in.”

you looked down at your hands, heart thudding, pretending to focus on a bracelet you weren’t wearing.

“she’s shy,” she added, tone teasing.

you kicked her lightly under the table.

you stayed like that for a while, talking about nothing and teased each other back and forth. you kept nudging her foot with yours under the makeup chair, the moment felt light, like something you could get used to.

eventually, the stylist gestured you to move so they could get her dressed. you stood, backed off with a quiet “good luck,” and wandered toward the far end of the studio, near the coffee table cluttered with water bottles, oat milk and half-eaten croissants.

you turned to your side and there they were.

“you’re the chef, right?” maloi asked, eyes wide and a little warm. “the one from concave?”

you blinked. “hmm, yeah, that’s me.”

she grinned. “your sisig got a write-up in spot.ph, didn’t it? i’ve had it bookmarked for months. oh, i’m maloi and this is aiah.”

you felt your mouth twist into something shy. “i’m y/n, and that was more chef kristoff’s doing. but thanks.”

“maloi wants to be fed all the time,” aiah mumbled, smiling from beside her. “she saw your name on the guest sheet and hasn’t shut up about you possibly bringing a meal for the crew.”

“i did not,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

you held your hands up. “i’m flattered. really. next time, i will though.”

they were easy to talk to: normal. maloi was quick-witted, had a dry sense of humour that matched yours better than it should’ve. she teased you about bigger proportions. you told her a boy group’s sound engineer had once tried to book a table under a fake name and still got recognised by chef aira.

aiah leaned in slightly, curious. “how do you and sophia know each other?”

“we grew up together,” you replied, crossing your arms. “we’ve known each other since we were five; her lolo knows my lola.”

there was a tug in your chest as the words left your mouth — how easily the past rolled off your tongue, how strange it felt to say grew up instead of have always been…as if the closeness belonged in past tense now.

“that’s kind of sweet,” maloi said. “and now she’s this huge star and you’re —”

“a tired chef with second-degree burns and a restaurant with an aggressive rice cooker,” you offered.

“still sounds cooler than us,” aiah laughed.

you smiled and deflected, asking about their shoot instead and maloi lit up describing it; how the concept was loose, that their manager still hadn’t picked final outfits.

aiah nodded along, interjecting now and then with dry humour. it helped that maloi had that kind of energy — disarming, quick to laugh, easy to match. you found yourself leaning into the conversation, even joking a little, answering their questions without filtering too much.

from across the room, you could feel her gaze.

sophia saw the way you stood; more open now. your hands loose in your pockets and laughing effortlessly. she caught the way maloi leaned toward you slightly when she spoke, saw the little smile you gave aiah after a joke.

her stomach turned…not violently, but just enough to feel it.

when your eyes met hers, her hair was pinned back and her expression unreadable. she looked…irritated. or maybe not that. she wasn’t talking to anyone; just watching you.

when she finally joined the other two for the shoot, the difference was immediate. she flipped back into performer mode so fast it made you feel like you were watching someone else entirely. her posture shifted. her face reset.

the camera loved her. and still, your eyes didn’t leave her.

she looked unreal, as if she lit from the inside, almost. every time she turned her head, your chest seized up a little. the sound of the shutter seemed to match your pulse.

at the end of it, the four of you gathered near the props table, sharing snacks and wiping off the stickiness of set lighting.

“so,” maloi began. “what do you feed her to make her skin glow like that?”

you chuckled. “sinigang. three-day-old reheated kind; the secret is neglect.”

aiah laughed with you. “we’ll take two.”

sophia didn’t smile, not really. she nudged a biscuit around on a napkin. when maloi turned to offer her a joke, sophia grinned, but her tone shifted.

you noticed the change immediately. the way she looked at you without really looking.

“you okay?” you asked her under your breath.

“fine,” she mumbled, eyes flicking back toward the food.

she was still friendly to the others; complimenting aiah’s earrings, laughing at something maloi said about posing like a tita at a reunion, but when she spoke to you again, it was clipped.

the conversation kept rolling, but you felt the dip in temperature. the little shift. you caught the way sophia kept talking to the other girls, laughing more now, but not looking your way.

you didn’t say anything. not until the goodbyes were done and you had promised everyone a free table at concave.

the drive back was slow, caught in the usual saturday night crawl along edsa, headlights flickering through rain-streaked windows.

the city was winding down, but the car wasn’t quiet in a peaceful way. it was the kind of quiet that pressed into your chest, made you conscious of every breath you took, of the space between your leg and hers.

sophia had barely said a word since you left the studio, just scrolled through her phone in silence; screen lighting her face in bursts.

you glanced at her briefly. she refused to look your way. hadn’t, since earlier. “you good?”

“what did you think of maloi?” she deflected your question, voice too casual to be casual.

you blinked, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “she’s great,” you answered, keeping your voice even. “really easy to talk to — just like aiah.”

there was a beat of silence and then she gave a little huff, almost a scoff. “yeah, both seem like your type.”

you frowned, turning your head to face her properly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing.”

“you’re literally saying it means something,” you frowned, trying not to let your tone rise. “you brought maloi up.”

“i just noticed you two were getting along,” she replied, still not meeting your eye. “it’s not a crime.”

you exhaled through your nose, felt the burn of frustration settle in your throat. “you jealous or something?”

that made her laugh, dry and small. “of course not, why would i be?”

“don’t know, piya. you’re acting weird and short.”

she finally turned to you then. her expression was unreadable, but her jaw was tense. “you were different with her.”

you stared at her. “i was polite.”

“you were smiling and laughing and she was inching closer to you every single time.”

“am i not allowed to laugh around other people now?” you asked, tiredness creeping into your voice. “she made a joke. i laughed. you know what that’s like, right?”

she didn’t respond. she just looked away again, out the window, fingers twitching against her thigh.

you leaned your head back against the seat, stared up at the roof of the car like it could anchor you. you weren’t sure why this felt so loaded; why it mattered so much to her.

and yet — her words kept needling at you. the sharpness of her tone tucked under the soft. it made your chest ache in ways you had tried to outgrow.

“are you seriously upset about her?” you added, trying not to sound defensive, but already failing.

“no,” she said, too fast.

you turned your body slightly toward her, fingers curling into your thigh. “you are. you’re acting so cold.”

she scoffed under her breath. “i’m not.”

“okay,” you murmured, eyes narrowing as you turned back to the window. “right.”

the tension thickened. there was a time when you knew exactly how to reach her, how to read her mood with one glance, a shift in her jaw, a clipped breath. but now…after all these years; she felt like a puzzle you only half-remembered how to solve.

“it’s just…” she started, then trailed off.

you waited, nothing came. “just what, soph?”

she inhaled slowly, still refusing to look at you. “you don’t even realise when someone’s flirting with you. it’s kind of frustrating.”

you bit back a laugh, not because it was funny, but because it caught you off guard. “my god, it wasn’t flirting. we were literally at a coffee station talking about my restaurant.”

“sure,” she muttered.

“maloi has a boyfriend.”

“doesn’t make it any better.”

you sighed, long and low, before leaning back into the seat and closing your eyes for a beat. “this is ridiculous.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

you turned to look at her again, and this time, her eyes met yours. sharp and tired. there was something else behind them too: something raw, maybe even a little embarrassed.

you remembered that look: she used to wear it when you were kids, whenever she said something she didn’t mean and didn’t know how to take it back.

she would get defensive, go quiet, pick at her fingernails. you saw all of that now, right in front of you, like nothing had changed.

you turned your head slowly to look at her. her eyes were down now, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, fingers playing with the frayed hem of her sleeve.

the silence this time was worse.

so you reached out without thinking. your hand found hers, warm and unsure in your palm. then you slid it over gently, placed it on top of hers the way you used to when you were kids. a quiet offering. a wordless ‘tahan na’ in the middle of everything that wouldn’t come out right.

she froze, breath hitching.

you didn’t look at her but you kept your eyes on your joined hands, the way her fingers curled slightly under yours, like they remembered.

“i’m sorry,” she spoke after a while, voice lower now. “i didn’t mean to get weird. i just…”

“i know.”

the streets rolled by outside, a slow blur of taillights and neon. and in the dimness of the car, something shifted back into place.

perhaps, you could both live with this thing between you, whatever it was. even if neither of you had the words for it yet.

you kept your hand there the rest of the ride. and she didn’t let go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

tonight, concave belonged to people who knew how to take their time. you had forgotten how warm a restaurant could feel when it wasn’t just a job, when the air wasn’t heavy with orders and wait times and burnt pots.

the long table had been set earlier in the afternoon under low-hanging lights strung along the ceiling beams, soft shadows stretched across white linen and mismatched cutlery. there were extra chairs lined up just in case someone brought someone else last minute.

sophia and diana had planned it all; something about old friends and new chapters. you didn’t argue, just happy to cook.

in the bar, yohan looked more alive than he had all week. he stood behind the counter like it was his stage, lazily tossing lemons in the air while aira’s portable speaker blared old r&b. a playlist from the group chat titled “for the soul.”

one of the katseye girls, lara, maybe, was already perched on a stool with a glass of something bright and citrusy, her laugh carrying over to the kitchen.

yohan still couldn’t look at her.

in the kitchen, it was hell but the good kind. you were sweating through your shirt, wrists sore from all the chopping and ladling. the air was thick with the smell of sinigang, tamarind sharp in your nose and somewhere behind you, liempo sizzled against hot grill bars. herbs and spices clung to the counters and lumpia oil popped loudly in the corner fryer.

someone’s empty beer bottle clinked on the prep table, probably kristoff’s. he and leo were hovering near the turon like they hadn’t eaten in weeks and aira kept swatting their hands away with a spatula.

you stirred the sinigang, tasted it quickly off the back of the ladle and added a little more fish sauce. everything else could burn as long as the broth hit the right spot.

then, through the steam and haze, she appeared.

sophia…black dress, hair down, neckline low. she looked like she didn’t belong in this kind of heat; like the sweat, the fish sauce, the clatter of a dozen moving parts couldn’t touch her. she walked in quietly, barefoot now, heels probably left under the table. you didn’t notice her at first, not until she stood beside you and reached for the paper towel roll, tearing a piece off in one slow motion.

“you’re drenched,” she murmured and gently dabbed your forehead. “you’re gonna get sick if you don’t wipe it off - let me wipe your back.”

“what?”

your hand stopped mid-stir, her touch was soft. too soft. her fingers near your hairline, warm and clean and steady. you didn’t look at her. you couldn’t, not when your chest had just betrayed you by clenching up so fast.

she rolled her eyes. “lift the back of your shirt up.”

“i can do it,” you insisted, reaching for more paper towels but her hand stopped you. “piya…”

“what? you’re suddenly too grown for me to do it?” she clicked her tongue as she shook her head, lifting your shirt up to dab paper towels on your back. “now, wasn’t so hard hey?”

“ayieeeee!” kristoff’s voice cracked through the kitchen like a slap. followed by laughter, loud and terrible and echoing. you heard the clang of something dropped.

you finally turned your head, saw her smiling. lips pressed together like she was trying not to make it worse.

“ignore them,” she said, handing you the scrunched-up towel.

you blinked. “this is a kitchen. you can’t be in here with your untied hair.”

“then hurry up and feed us so i can be soft somewhere else, chef.”

you snorted, eyes darting toward the sinigang pot again, your pulse still uneven. “just sit back and wait for the best meal of your life.”

“always is,” she chuckled and walked out.

the second the door swung closed behind her, aira’s panic returned at full volume.

“oh my god,” she whisper-yelled, pacing near the fryer. “i cannot do this. that was sophia laforteza. she was here, again, in this kitchen. and now we have to plate food for her. and for katseye. literal katseye members!”

leo, ever useless, dramatically picked up a serving tray and bowed like a butler. “madam manon, may i present your steaming hot garlic rice and humble peasant lumpia.”

kristoff followed suit. “miss yoonchae, your turon awaits on a bed of banana leaf — harvested from davao’s finest plantation.”

she looked like she might faint; pale-faced and terrified. “can you both shut the fuck up? i’m having a crisis.”

“just act normal,” you muttered, laughing as you wiped your hands on your apron. “they’re regular people.”

“regular people with millions of followers and abs sculpted by the divine.”

“aira, breathe,” leo said, flinging a turon piece into his mouth. “you’re sweating more than the sinigang and y/n.”

before she could throw something at him, diana’s voice called from the hallway. “babe, where’s the leche flan?”

kristoff looked up, startled; he wore the face of someone who knew he fucked up. “uhhh, i thought i heard you say you were taking it.”

“excuse me?” she leaned halfway into the kitchen, fully done up in a green satin dress and gold hoops that caught the light. “do you think i’m stupid? i clearly remember our conversation, stop gaslighting me!”

he put his hands up in defeat. “you told me you had it covered. i asked! remember? i said, ‘babe, do i need to grab the leche flan from the fridge’ and you said ‘no, it’s sorted.’ sorted! those were your words.”

“don’t you try to gaslight me, kristoff, you fucking had one job,” she groaned in frustration. “next thing i know, it’s going to be our kids you’ll be forgetting to pick up.”

their back-and-forth spiralled quickly into a domestic episode while the rest of you watched in muted horror and amusement. you shook your head, heart full. it shouldn’t have felt this easy, but it did.

this kitchen, the mess, the arguing, the way diana rolled her eyes at kristoff like she has been doing it since she was fourteen; it reminded you of afternoons when you were still in high school, squeezing into godfrey’s car with takeaway wrappers at your feet and anthony’s guitar neck digging into your ribs.

it was all of you, all together again…for the first time in years. and this time, no one was leaving. not yet.

when the food finally made its way out, it spread across the long table like a painting you didn’t know you were capable of. it was almost overwhelming.

banana leaves ran the length of the wooden table, their glossy green catching the candlelight. the sinigang sat in clay pots at both ends, the steam curling in lazy spirals. grilled liempo, slightly charred and glistening, was laid across the centre beside the golden lumpia, fresh from the fryer.

small ceramic bowls of spicy patis and vinegar, each one glowing with floating chillies, were scattered in between. garlic rice was heaped into giant mounds and turon drizzled with coconut caramel waited for their moment.

it wasn’t exactly a traditional boodle fight; there were plates and forks involved, people here were too pretty and too moisturised for the usual rules — but it had the same spirit.

loud, messy, communal.

and the drinks didn’t stop. yohan was on his 20th shaker (had to be), pouring cocktails into anything that could hold liquid. beers clinked aira was screaming about how her eyeliner hadn’t even smudged despite all the oil she had inhaled and kyle turned the speaker louder.

you had barely sat down when a hand tugged you into a space between manon and lara.

“chef,” lara grinned, already halfway through her plate, “this sinigang is life-changing. like…actually life-changing. i think i saw god.”

you laughed awkwardly, trying not to trip over your chair. “it’s just sinigang.”

“just?” she gasped, turning to sophia with mock betrayal. “you never told me she was this good. baby, you’re lucky.”

sophia only raised her cocktail and gave her a look that didn’t say much, but it didn’t need to.

manon tilted her head at you, eyes sharp but not unkind. “did you train abroad?”

“uh — no,” you said, swallowing the sudden nervous tightness in your throat. “i studied here. ust.”

“classic,” she nodded in approval. “it’s always the ones who stay home who get it right.”

megan nudged daniela, chewing on a lumpia. “we’ve been following concave for a while. sophia talks about it so much, i had to see what the hype was. it’s unreal.”

your heart did a stupid skip. you tried to downplay it with a small nod. “i didn’t know she…talked about it that much.”

“yes! she showed me photos of the recent tasting menu like it was her baby.”

you glanced at sophia across the table. she was eating quietly, smiling to herself.

“so,” daniela piped up, chopsticks in hand, “are you always this quiet? or just because our sophia’s here?”

you choked on your beer, coughed once. “no, i — i mean yes. i mean…i’m just bad with new people.”

lara snorted into her rice. “you’re doing fine.”

yoonchae had been sitting across, quiet but observant, smiled softly and said, “can i help clear plates later?”

you shook your head. “no, no, just enjoy.”

“okay,” she replied, still smiling. “but really…are you single?”

your laugh came out caught somewhere between real and choked. “uhh, yeah.”

megan sipped her cocktail. “so is sophia.”

sophia rolled her eyes, but said nothing. manon threw her head back. “can you get a girlfriend already?” she said to her. “someone who cooks like this, preferably.”

lara leaned in again. “you two have real chemistry; just saying.”

“y/n’s only ever emotionally available for sophia,” leo laughed when you glared at him. “it’ll work.”

you wanted to slide under the table and disappear. your hands and chest were hot. even your knees felt like they’d been caught in a lie.

it was surreal, the way they all just made room for you. these women, so famous they didn’t need surnames, so beautiful it hurt to look at them sometimes. but they weren’t difficult. not at all intimidating once the food hit the table. they teased and asked questions and passed plates around like they had known you longer than an hour.

it was easy in a way that surprised you.

“so kyle,” diana was saying. “you’re going back on the ships?”

“as soon as that damn contract gets finalised,” he sighed, picking at the liempo. “they’ve been dragging it out, but i miss the ocean and getting paid to disappear.”

aira clinked her fork against his plate. “you miss not paying rent to your brother.”

“same thing.”

somewhere down the table, kristoff was explaining how he proposed by hiding the ring in diana’s karaoke mic. aira had everyone wheezing with her rant about her ‘stupid’ boyfriend who refused to learn how to use gcash.

then, just when the buzz had started to mellow into comfort, anthony leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling at his lips. “let me tell you girls something —” he pointed his fork between you and sophia. “— we all used to think these two would end up together.”

sophia’s face went red, ducking behind her glass like it could save her from god.

you glared at him, face burning. “here we go.“

“what? we did!” he declared. “ask diana.”

the way sophia looked now, pretending not to hear. you knew what he meant. and it wasn’t the first time someone had said it, but it was the first time it made you ache.

“best friends,” you corrected, eyes fixed on your drink but something shifted. it hit you with more force than you expected, a note played too loud in an otherwise gentle song.

did you think about it? of course you did. sometimes in the quiet and in your dreams.

and maybe even in all the things you never dared say.

kyle added. “nah, y/n was a wreck after you left, soph. she crashed out hard. wasn’t herself for a while.”

you groaned, already reaching for the turon. “i’m fine now.”

“she really wasn’t,” diana agreed. “barely spoke.”

sophia turned to you, pouty. she rubbed your back in slow circles. “i’m here now.”

you nodded, avoiding her eyes. “it was a long time ago.”

but it didn’t feel that way, not tonight.

by the time the meal was over, the night had softened into something else, more subdued. the drinks had been flowing for hours and most plates were empty or licked clean.

katseye had to fly back to los angeles in the morning, but sophia wasn’t going. she said it casually over dessert, told the girls she extended her stay by a week…just like that.

megan hugged you first. “thanks for dinner, chef,” she whispered. “she really likes being here.”

lara kissed your cheek. “take care of her, yeah?”

daniela gave you a once-over. “you’re kind of cool once you loosen up.”

manon just nodded and said, “we’ll come back. sooner than later.”

“please make sure you feed her,” yoonchae hugged you quietly, arms warm and light. “she forgets sometimes.”

you stood beside sophia as they climbed into their car, waving through the window, their hair slightly tousled from the manila humidity. they were loud even as the door shut. then the engine started and they were gone.

it wasn’t dramatic. no confessions, no big moment. just that strange, terrifying feeling of something unspoken.

something that never really left.

and then, of course, anthony had to ruin it. “more red horse for you lovebirds, eh?”

you groaned. “please shut up.”

but you were smiling. god help you, you were smiling.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

anthony was on his second bottle of red horse, red in the face and singing like he was on a stage somewhere deep in quezon. slightly swaying as the soft strum of bawat piyesa by munimuni crackled out from yohan’s old bluetooth speaker.

“to y/n and sophia,” he announced grandly, almost falling off his chair as he lifted his redhorse to raise a toast.

“stupid drunk,” you mumbled next to sophia.

she looked at you, grinning. “and you’re a sleepy one.”

god, you could get used to this.

the melody was tender, almost too tender for the thick beer haze they were all swimming in, but no one said a word. beside him, leo joined in, eyes half-closed as if it helped him find the right note.

you were humming gently to the rhythm, seated back in your chair, bottle cold in your hand. your head felt warm; tipsy. sophia kept stealing glances at you, that stupid fond expression on her face every time you accidentally caught her looking.

there was too much noise, too much singing, too much beer — but none of it felt overwhelming. just pretty fucking good.

and sophia…god, she was laughing like she hadn’t done it in years, hand to her chest, head tilted back slightly. she leaned toward you, brushing shoulders and that warmth lingered even after she shifted back.

kristoff had left with diana earlier, his arm slung over her shoulder as she threatened to make him sleep on the couch in hushed frustration. out the front, kyle and yohan were sharing a cigarette, their murmurs leaking through the gaps in the doors.

and aira, bless her, was still circling the table with her phone, snapping blurry photos of you and sophia together.

“for the kitchen wall,” she insisted before taking another shot from the worst angle possible.

you didn’t notice when sophia got up, only when she stood beside you, hand brushing the top of your shoulder. “come with me?” she asked.

you blinked. “what, now?”

“yeah,” her tone was softer than her laugh, careful. “just for a bit.”

no one said anything when you pushed your chair back. aira gave you a little wink, but you ignored it. sophia was already walking ahead, down the short path that led out to the side, the gravel crunching beneath her flats. you followed, the night shifting around you like the tide pulling back.

makati had stilled outside the roads were empty. someone’s tv was playing faintly in a nearby building, and the warm glow of the corner streetlight bled across the side steps of the restaurant.

it had cooled too. your cheeks were warm from the drink but the air was crisp, a reminder that it was well past midnight and the city had gone to bed.

there was a tree just beside the gate; old, overgrown and knotted in the middle like it had something to say. she looked back at you, then sat down on the low concrete edge. her hair was a little windswept, long dark strands catching in the breezeand the light hit her in a way that made her eyes seem darker, more open.

straight out of a magazine.

you hovered awkwardly until she patted the space beside her.

“just wanted to be alone with you for a bit,” she said quietly. you sat, not too close, your knees angled away from hers. the concrete was still warm from the day. she looked at you for a second, then murmured, “closer.”

you shifted, barely a few inches, but it was enough.

there wasn’t a rush to speak. silence settled easily. you listened to it, the crickets somewhere in the dark, the occasional honk from a jeep turning a corner blocks away. you looked sideways — she had her chin tilted up, staring at the leaves above her like she was waiting for the words to arrive there first.

then sophia turned to you, voice quieter. “do you remember the letter i mentioned?”

you nodded slowly.

“i wrote everything,” she continued. “poured it all out. what you meant to me. what i wished i’d said sooner. but there was a condition…i wrote that if you didn’t feel the same, then just pretend it never happened. don’t bring it up, don’t respond. i didn’t want to lose you completely and make it awkward.”

you turned to her. “what do you mean?”

she looked back at you then, properly. the lights from concave filtered across her face, a faint gold around her lashes.

she let out a breath that felt like it had been held for years. “i wrote that i was in love with you.”

your stomach dropped. for a moment, everything else vanished. the music, the beer, the laughter inside. you were a kid again, watching her through a window at the airport, your heart in your throat.

you swallowed, mouth dry. “sophia…”

“i didn’t consider you getting robbed or forgetting your bag or losing it,” she laughed weakly. “god, of all days. of course it would happen on the day i tried to say something real.”

“i didn’t know,” you began, almost to yourself, and your voice came out smaller than you meant.

“it was my fault,” she whisper, almost laughing, but there was no humour in it. “of course you didn’t. i didn’t even tell you i wrote anything before i left.”

you didn’t know what to say. all the moments rushed back — when you held her hand under the stars, how she brought gifts to your lola’s house, hugged you for too long and never said why.

“did you?” she asked. “feel the same?”

you turned to her, really looked. her eyes were glassy but open. ready.

“yeah,” you admitted, like weight off your shoulders. “i always have. maybe not in a loud way. but it was there. loving you felt like…breathing — didn’t have to think about it. it was enough for me just to see you happy.”

she blinked hard. then looked away, like it hurt to hear. “and now?”

you breathed in slow. “i don’t know, i’m still figuring it out.”

she nodded like she understood. she wasn’t expecting anything from you, not yet.

you looked at her, properly this time. “what are we doing?”

she let the question hang there, just for a second. “i don’t know either, i just know i like being near you. i like knowing who you are now. and i’m really glad i came back…even if it’s just for a little while.”

you weren’t sure who reached first, but your fingers found each other again, her thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

then, she leaned against your shoulder; the same way she used to when her mum picked her up late from dance class and she was too tired to speak.

you closed your eyes for a second, let the silence wrap around both of you. the streetlight buzzed overhead, someone inside laughed too loudly.

and still, the world outside held still for just a bit longer.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the laforteza family parties had always been loud. they weren’t wild in the traditional sense, but they carried a kind of well-fed chaos — every table heavy with food, every tita’s voice louder than necessary, every cousin appearing out of nowhere like they never left.

it had been held at their private residence in forbes park, a manicured lawn and a stone path lined with garden lights that looked like they were imported from europe.

you and sophia had arrived together in her manager’s van, sophia fixing her hair in the mirror while you adjusted the sleeve of the button-down she swore looked good on you. you hadn’t argued. you rarely did…not when she looked at you like that.

when she leaned over to get a taste of the mango float on your plate, her perfume brushed past you. vanilla and jasmine. something soft and expensive.

“you okay?” she asked, voice easy.

you nodded, giving her a small smile. “just nervous.”

she reached over and squeezed your hand, if only she knew how you could barely breathe whenever she did that. “you’ll be fine; they know and love you.”

and for a while, it felt like that might be true.

but somewhere between entering the gate and the fourth glass of wine being passed around, sophia got swept away. old friends, mostly from high school. the girls she cheered with; the boys whose names made her laugh in a way that said history.

you sat there, close enough to be part of the scene but distant enough to be forgotten by it. the chatter blurred into a high-pitched hum, broken by bursts of laughter you weren’t part of.

your plate stayed empty longer than it should’ve. you picked at the lumpia and finished your drink too quickly.

when you glanced over to the gazebo area, sophia was already standing alone with leon. they looked like a still from a glossy magazine, it was almost unfair how photogenic they were.

the sound of distant karaoke buzzed softly from a backroom. you were left in a sea of relatives and strangers, your name forgotten halfway through most introductions. you sat with godfrey and tita carla after a while, just to give your hands something to do — stirring the condensation on your glass of lemon, lime & bitters with a paper straw.

“how’s your mum doing, hija?” carla asked kindly, adjusting the pearls on her wrist. “she still makes your baon?”

you smiled politely. “every day. even if i say no. she’ll guilt trip me with her arthritis.”

godfrey laughed. “same old, huh.”

“same old,” you echoed, nodding.

the conversation drifted easily enough. he asked about concave. you gave him numbers — soft ones. told him about the new bookings for next week, how you were thinking of repainting the kitchen wall. he nodded, but you caught the way his eyes flicked towards your face, like he was measuring your answers against something else.

something quieter.

because you weren’t really there, not entirely. your eyes kept returning to the centre of the garden. sophia was with leon again, crouched by the sangria station, talking to a group of their old classmates.

leon handed her a glass and she laughed at something he said; head thrown back, hand brushing his arm as if by accident. the titas nearby were already whispering loud enough for you to hear.

“ay, they really look good together.”

“those two should — leon is a great guy.”

your ears started ringing, heard the soft clatter of a spoon fall into a bowl behind you.

they looked like a story that had kept going, even when you weren’t there to see it. there was ease in how they stood close and comfort in how the people around them saw them. and you?

you were just the friend she brought.

you forced a smile at godfrey’s next question — something about restaurant rent and local suppliers but your voice didn’t come. it stuck in your throat like something you had forgotten to chew. so you excused yourself instead; something about getting a refill.

the kitchen was quieter and the air smelled like grilled eggplant and sugar syrup. you poured yourself water, trying to cool down whatever you were feeling inside.

that’s when you heard it — muffled but clear. a girl’s voice, drifting from the hallway by the pantry. “…they tried dating after high school, right? i remember that. leon was so in love, i thought they would end up together.”

another voice chimed in, giggling. “same, they made such a good couple. it was such a bummer when it didn’t work — wait, didn’t sophia bring someone else to the party?”

“oh, that’s just her childhood friend; the chef from concave.”

you stood there with the glass half-full in your hand, staring at the tiles. something small curled and collapsed inside your chest and you felt it break without sound.

you didn’t know why that hurt more.

maybe you were always going to be the friend from childhood. the one who cooked, who people said kind things about, not the one people chose.

you were never going to belong in that world, either. it wasn’t about being intimidated; it was more about knowing you were the type of person who left parties early because small talk wore you out, who bought secondhand clothes, who used to split rent with four housemates and who grew up thinking happiness was only real when it was earned.

you walked out the side gate, didn’t say goodbye. but you barely made it to the end of the driveway when godfrey caught up.

“y/n,” he called out, breath caught between steps. “hey, what’s going on?”

you turned, tried to smile. “i’m just tired, tito. that’s all.”

he frowned, looked like he wanted to say more. but he didn’t stop you…just gave a small nod, one of those slow, uncertain ones men like him reserved for things they didn’t quite understand.

that night, your phone buzzed five, six, seven times. all her.

sophia: where are you?

sophia: are you okay?

sophia: please just tell me you’re safe.

you stared at the screen in your room, face lit blue by the light. you were in your worn out clothes now — your old high school shirt and some loose shorts. you kept the lights off and listened to the fridge hum.

told yourself to breathe through it but your chest wouldn’t settle.

because it wasn’t just about leon.

it was how easily she could forget you.

how easy it was for her to float through this world where everything was soft, familiar, and waiting…and how foreign it all still felt to you. you, who had to work for everything. still counted coins when the month stretched too long, didn’t wear sundresses or get handed glasses of sangria by boys that everyone liked.

your world was different; always had been. it worked when you were kids — barefoot and dreaming.

but now? she belonged to a different one. and maybe loving her was always going to feel like this. like almost and not enough.

you didn’t cry that night even though you thought you would. maybe the weight of it would crack somewhere soft inside your chest, but it didn’t. it just sat there, dull and unmoving, like a stone wedged into the lining of your ribs.

there was a dull ache in your lower back and a dry taste on your tongue when you woke up the next morning. it was barely seven. your phone was still off. you didn’t turn it back on; didn’t want to.

you didn’t want to see her name on your lock screen or read a paragraph that might explain things too late or worse: make you want to forgive her for something you couldn’t even name.

concave didn’t have you that day; you called aira and told her to run the kitchen. she joked that she was ready to burn the sinigang but her voice softened when she asked if you were okay. you said you were fine and she didn’t believe you, but she let it go.

you watered your plants, played the same bon iver record three times in a row, took a bath with the lights off. everything felt somehow muted like heartbreak repackaged into daily routine.

by mid-afternoon, the phone rang. the landline, surprisingly. it was your mum.

“anak,” she greeted, gently. “sophia came here. are you two okay?”

your stomach pulled in on itself. “what?”

“this morning. she looked like she hadn’t slept. said she just wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t answering any of her calls.”

you didn’t say anything.

“i didn’t ask questions. but she was holding something. a box of gifts, i think. and flowers. oh, and she gave me a really expensive chanel perfume and your lola a new set of china plates…that girl.”

you rubbed your eyes, felt that strange tightness creeping into your throat. “that’s good, ma, but what did you tell her?”

“that i don’t know where you are, even if i did. that if she really wants to talk, she should wait until you’re ready to listen.”

there was a long pause. you swallowed it down. “thanks, ma.”

“you okay?”

“not really.”

“you want me to cook?”

“maybe not.”

the day passed quietly. you cleaned your fridge out, cried for five minutes while slicing onions and threw out a tupperware that had gone grey. you almost turned your phone on at sunset; your thumb hovering over the button like it weighed more than your entire arm.

but you didn’t.

because the truth was, you didn’t know what would hurt more; knowing she meant everything or realising she didn’t know how to hold you when it counted.

and wasn’t that the thing about her?

sophia could light up a room, charm a crowd, make you feel like the only person on earth when she looked at you. but sometimes, when the lights dimmed and the music stopped, she forgot where she left you standing.

and you were tired of being forgotten.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the hours blurred together in the kitchen, one dish after another, the rhythm of prep and plating the only thing you could stand to follow. you had stopped replying days ago.

not just to the messages. to everything. to the world, really.

sophia had come by twice already this week. three, if you counted the morning yohan swore he saw her waiting outside in sunglasses and a jacket like a celebrity hiding from a scandal.

each time, you made them tell her you weren’t there.

“she asked if we could just tell you she stopped by,” leo muttered yesterday, drying spoons while stealing glances at you.

you didn’t reply, kept your head down, slicing eggplants into even strips until your fingers went numb from the chill of the cool room.

and today — today was the day she was leaving. you were aware for three days now since you started counting it down. plus, she had texted: intramuros. today. 11am. please just come. i don’t know what i did but i really miss you.

you didn’t answer.

instead, you buried yourself in prep. you had taken two 14-hour shifts back to back. didn’t let yourself sit for more than ten minutes at a time. it was easier, in here. surrounded by the steam of broth and the snap of fresh chillies hitting oil. it was was easy to convince yourself that numbness could pass for peace.

but everyone knew something was off.

you were talking less; the jokes you usually cracked over boiling sinigang broth had dried up. the sarcasm, the sharp but harmless way you used to scold the boys, gone. there was just you, hunched over the chopping board, sleeves rolled up, knife dancing across red onions like you were trying to make them cry first.

across the kitchen, kristoff watched you. you didn’t see it, but leo noticed him about to speak and shook his head. no.

aira, standing next to him, wiped her hands and mouthed go.

so he went.

“how long are you gonna do this?” he asked, leaning against the prep table with arms crossed, eyes calm but fixed. “she called diana. for the fourth time. asking if you’re okay, asking what she did. or if you hate her.”

you didn’t stop chopping. “i don’t hate her.”

“then what the fuck is this?”

you shrugged, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. not from the stove.

kristoff’s voice softened. “she’s leaving today, y/n.”

you placed the knife down and looked at him. “it’s better this way.”

“for who?”

you didn’t have an answer for that. or perhaps you did, but you were too tired to give it voice.

“you haven’t even responded to her last message, have you?” he continued. “the one she sent about today?”

your silence was enough of an answer.

he sighed, pushed off the table. “you don’t have to explain anything to me. but maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so afraid to see her. is it her? or is it you?”

then he left you there, the smell of chopped onions clinging to your hands, eyes stinging even though you hadn’t cried.

he quickly turned around, scoffing. “she came by again. yesterday, asking if you’d be in. you know what i said?”

you looked up at him.

“that you’re the most stubborn person i’ve ever met. and that if you didn’t get your shit together soon, you would end up losing something that could’ve been really fucking good.”

the kitchen fell quiet. even aira stopped pretending to sort cutlery. no one moved.

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. you kept hearing sophia’s voice in that last message.

your mind was spinning toward a future you couldn’t see clearly. five years from now. would you still be here, running the same station, pretending you hadn’t let something important slip through your fingers again? would sophia be in los angeles, too far gone to reach, too famous to touch?

you stared at the cutting board like it held answers. it didn’t. the thought of seeing her…having to explain that quiet ache sitting behind your ribs; it made you feel hollow.

not long after, you were snapped out of your trance by aira, who tapped your arm lightly.

“we need to tweak the ube recipe,” she began, a clipboard in hand. “thinking we should thicken the syrup? add edible flowers to the dish? for aesthetics?”

“sure,” you looked up, eyes glazed, and caught the clock above the fridge.

10:16 am.

a sudden jolt of panic pushed up your throat like bile. sophia. she would be waiting right now. maybe standing in the middle of intramuros, checking her phone every few seconds, hoping.

stupidly hoping.

your chest tightened.

without saying a word, you wiped your hands on your apron, untied it and tossed it onto the nearest hook.

kristoff looked up from the sink as you passed him on the way out. “where are you going?”

“to see her,” you replied, already halfway to the back door.

“finally,” he muttered under his breath.

aira just beamed, softly said: “go get your girl!”

the sky was greying by the time you made it out to the street. rain was threatening to fall but not quite yet. your steps were quick, head low, the jeepney ride from makati to manila a blur of dust and diesel and every reason you have ever had for leaving things unsaid.

you held onto the rail tightly as the jeep lurched over potholes. every time your phone buzzed in your pocket, your stomach clenched.

you didn’t check.

because your heart was in your mouth. you hated yourself for this; for running out in the middle of lunch, for possibly being too late, for the fact that a part of you still wanted her to be there.

but more than anything, you hated that you couldn’t keep her out. not really…even now, even still, you were chasing the same hope that always broke you.

you just wanted to see her.

if only for a moment.

if only to say goodbye.

if only to stop wondering what could’ve been.

what if this is it: what if this is the last time?

your heart thudded hard in your chest. you tried to slow it down. reminded yourself of the facts: she was leaving, she always going to leave. it was her thing now. planes, performances, exits. you could never follow.

but still, she asked to see you. begged. please.

you owed her that.

you owed yourself that.

the rain started halfway through buendia, light enough to blur the glass but heavy enough to make the roads smell like dust and wet pavement. you wiped your palms against your jeans and counted the stops. your stomach felt tight, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

intramuros felt further than ever.

you had to…see her one last time, properly. not like the last time; where her voice was buried under laughter that wasn’t meant for you. you deserved a goodbye that didn’t feel like punishment. and maybe, probably, she deserved one too.

the streets of intramuros were slick with rain, cobblestones reflecting dim morning light that slipped through the low clouds. a few umbrellas dotted the plaza, mostly locals moving slowly, already resigned to the weather. the drizzle had started soft but steady, soaking through your hoodie as you stepped off the jeepney, heart thudding against your ribs like it didn’t want to be there.

you spotted her instantly.

sophia, sat on one of the stone benches just by the fountain, her head bent low like she wasn’t sure how long she could keep waiting. you paused, let yourself watch her for a second, like you haven’t in days. she looked tired, drenched in something heavier than just the weather, and still so unfairly beautiful that it ached.

you didn’t say anything as you approached. your shoes hit puddles with dull slaps. the sky was all steel above. sophia looked up and blinked, startled, then immediately stood.

you walked closer but didn’t reach for her. she stepped forward and hugged you tightly, arms wrapping around your shoulders like a reflex. damp warmth, all clove perfume and the shape of someone who had once been almost yours.

her voice was right at your ear. “can you talk to me, please?”

when she pulled back, her brows furrowed. she tried to catch your eyes, but you wouldn’t give them to her.

“why won’t you look at me?” she ask, stepping away. “why won’t you look at me, y/n?”

you stayed quiet. then her hands came up, cupping your face — not softly, just desperate. “do i mean nothing to you now?”

that hit you in the chest. not because it was true, but because it wasn’t. the truth was she meant too much, too deeply.

you finally looked her in the eye. and she flinched like she saw something in your expression that hurt her more than silence.

“say something,” she continued, voice cracking. thunder rolled somewhere in the distance and she flinched again, eyes darting to the clouds before coming back to you. “please.”

your gaze dropped to the cobblestone beneath your feet, blurred now with the beginnings of rainfall. “i’m sorry,” you said quietly. “for disappearing. it was just…easier.”

“easier?”

her eyes were so brown it almost hurt to look at; so filled with all the things you didn’t know how to hold.

you cleared your throat as she waited for you to continue. “there’s always going to be someone better for you,” you murmured. “someone who can give you the world.”

her brows pulled together, eyes narrowing. “why do you always do this?” her voice cracked. “why do you always make that choice for me?”

“because it’s true.”

“you’re a fucking coward.”

you flinched.

“you think pushing me away makes you noble?” she asked, frustration crawling out of her voice. “you think it makes you selfless? you’re just scared. scared of letting someone love you.”

you looked away again, watching the rain start to pepper the stone around you.

“we should leave. it’s about to come down harder,” you said, already trying to step back. “we should say our goodbyes.”

she laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and shaking. “you’re unbelievable,” her eyes were glassy now. “you think this was just some sweet reunion for me? a little nostalgia? god — y/n, i have been in love with you for years. and i thought maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.”

your stomach dropped.

she continued, each word landing heavy.

“i can’t meet anyone else without thinking about you. i can’t even look at someone for longer than a minute without worrying if you’ll think i’ve moved on,” she took a shaky breath, tears pooling now. “because part of me is always waiting…just waiting for you to see me. really see me. and not push me away.”

she stepped closer.

“i love you,” she confessed, her voice softer. “and you don’t even have the decency to look me in the eye and say anything.”

the words repeated inside your head: i love you. but what good does love ever do?

she shoved you, lightly, like the words weren’t enough to carry the weight. “say something.”

your hands found her face before your mind caught up, warm skin under wet fingertips. her cheeks flushed with cold and hurt and heartbreak. her tears were silent now, mixing with the rain as it began to fall heavier.

you held her gently.

you told her not to look back.

“find someone who can give you the things i can’t,” you answered, voice softer now. “go chase your dreams. you’re more than this. more than me; there’s someone who’s not afraid of how much they love you.”

but sophia only looked at you, soaked now, cheeks slick, jaw clenched like she was trying not to break in half. she shook her head, wet hair flying. “fuck, y/n.”

“i’ve always been okay just loving you quietly. you don’t have to give me anything, piya.”

“i want to,” she cried. “i love you. i choose you. why can’t you just — why can’t you choose me too?”

“i’m scared,” you whispered.

“i am too,” she shot back. “but i’m here.”

you shook your head. “you’ll leave again. your life’s out there, soph. not here.”

“then i’ll come back,” her voice was rising now. “again and again and again if that’s what it takes, but you keep pushing me away like i don’t matter!”

you stared at her, voice hollow. “you matter too much.”

“then tell me, why can’t you choose me?”

you swallowed. “because one day you won’t choose me back and i don’t know if i can survive that.”

you didn’t know what else to say - your mind was a spiral of everything you ever wanted and all the reasons you told yourself you didn’t deserve it. your thoughts kept folding in on themselves: memories of childhood, of her hand in yours, of the letter you never got to read, of the years you spent loving her quietly and alone.

she stepped back, rain dripping from her lashes.

“you think i forgot you when leon was around?” she snapped. “do you really think i ever looked at anyone the way i look at you?”

you didn’t answer.

“i was never with him. we tried once, years ago. it didn’t work because he wasn’t you.”

“but it’s so easy for you,” you mumbled, chest tight. “to laugh with him. to disappear into that world. i don’t belong there, i never did. you and i both know that.”

she stared at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. then something shifted in her face — something cracked.

she clenched her jaw, her eyes flashed. and she stepped forward.

you turned away. and that was when she grabbed you. fists balled in your shirt, mouth trembling, voice raw: “why won’t you let me love you?”

then she slammed her lips against yours.

it was angry and messy and soaked through with years of almosts. her lips collided into yours like a storm as everything she hadn’t said was stored in her mouth and now you were finally allowed to taste it.

your hands found her waist, pulling her in, your body betraying every fear you had ever held. her hands cupped your face again like she needed to hold you steady.

if she didn’t, she would fall apart.

you felt everything all at once: how long she had waited, how much she had wanted, how deeply she was willing to ache just to be loved by you.

and you hadn’t kissed anyone like that before. not in your entire life.

when you finally pulled apart, breathless, soaked, the air thick with everything unsaid…you didn’t know what to say.

the rain slowed into a drizzle, the kind that lingered like fog on your skin, soft and silver under the overcast light. you hadn’t let go of her yet, neither had she. your fingers were still curled around the hem of her hoodie, her forehead pressed against yours. every part of her was damp and trembling, but warm in the places where your bodies met.

you could still feel the echo of her kiss; bruised and tender and honest.

she exhaled against your lips like it hurt to breathe without touching you. “i have a flight tonight,” she began, voice low and careful, as if saying it too loud might shatter the moment between you.

your stomach turned at the thought. not because she was leaving — because she might not come back.

but then she cupped your jaw again, steady this time, her thumb brushing the edge of your cheekbone. “but before i go, i need to know something.”

you stared at her, giving you the look she always used to give: certain and full of questions. it had never left, just grown quieter over the years.

“do i still have something to come home to?” she asked, not blinking. “to you?”

your mouth parted, but nothing came out. it took a breath, then another. your thoughts scrambled around all the reasons you had built up to keep her out: the distance, the history, the fear, the ache that never quite stopped.

but she was here. and suddenly, all of it felt so small compared to this.

you nodded, slowly at first, then with certainty. “yeah,” you said, voice breaking just enough to be real. “yeah, you do.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end (for now)

[scarletmika]

Kiss Cam : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: The San Diego Padres are saluting the U.S. Navy during their upcoming game, and the Dagger Squad has been invited to attend. Hangman's only goal for the game? Get you and Bob to finally act on your feelings and confess to each other.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (I am not responsible for the media you choose to consume), fluff, friends to lovers, pining, language, female reader, language, maybe some incorrect descriptions of the Navy, suggestive and steamy but no smut, some suggestive and steamy PDA that's borderline not appropriate for public spaces, Padres don't do a kiss cam but lets pretend, I'm a Pirates fan (please pity me) so maybe some incorrect descriptions of Padres games and Petco Park and San Diego

Word Count: 12,368 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“There’s something about a Padres jersey that has our own last names on the back that’s kind of really cool,”

You’d shot Natasha an eye roll from across the room, catching the specially made Padres jersey with your last name stitched into the back when she’d tossed it your way. In turn, you’d grabbed the one lying on your bed, ‘Trace’ stitched into the back, and tossed it over to where she sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor. You tugged your tank top down over the pink, lacy floral bra you wore before plopping down on your bed with your jersey in hand.

“Is it bad that I kind of hate them?” Nat raised her eyebrow as you held out your jersey in front of you, examining the dark brown fabric and gold stripes, before laying it down on the bed next to you. “Not the jersey itself, but that it has our names. Kind of wanted to wear my Bogaerts jersey to the game.”

Nat hummed, dragging herself off the floor and throwing herself down on the bed beside you. You cast a glance down at her, just to see a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Dying to wear Bogaerts’s name on your back-”

“Please, Phoenix, we all know she’s dying to wear the last name ‘Floyd’ on her jersey,”

Hangman’s unexpected voice was not a welcome one, as he came strolling into your bedroom to lean against the doorframe with that signature smirk of his. His presence only garnered a groan out of you as Nat sat up, laughing at the comment.

“Right, almost forgot about her undying love for our teammate-”

“I don’t remember saying you could come in,” you interjected, sending Jake a pointed look, ignoring Natasha’s comment the best you could with red creeping up your neck. His grin only widened as he lifted his hand, dangling his truck keys in the air with a little shake.

“Perks of having the spare key to the ladies’ apartment. Your fault, you entrusted me with it. Best friend perks, and whatnot,” he waved his hand dismissively, before giving you a pointed look in return to your own. “I’m also your five-minute warning that the Bradshaw Bronco just picked up the pizza and beer for lunch and should be here soon, since neither of you likes checking the groupchat. Sometimes I wonder if you two have muted it.”

“I’m terrified that they somehow shoved Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote in the back of that thing,” Natasha chimed in with a fake shiver, shooting Hangman a sly middle finger for his groupchat comment. Her actions made you laugh, nudging her shoulder with your own.

“True, those three are the most brutal during dogfight football. Lord knows what happens when they're in close proximity to each other-”

“Ladies, we have more pressing things to discuss!” Hangman interrupted, clapping his hands as he stepped toward the bed, standing directly before the edge with his hands resting on his hips. That alone had you and Nat sharing a look of amusement, but Jake Seresin was all business. “I’m determined to take ‘Operation Peob’ to the next level tonight…and by next level, I mean get you, our little flower, laid.”

You weren’t entirely sure if your brain was short-circuiting or if you’d actually heard your best friend right. Truly, though, knowing Jake as long as you had, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been speaking total nonsense. Judging by the pained groan that Nat let out at your side, you knew you’d heard him right.

“Operation Peob-?”

“It’s his stupid 1000-step plan to get you and Bob to fess up that’s not working,” Nat explained with a shake of her head. “He’s been at it for months. I’ve helped, obviously, because I’m sick of seeing you two pining after one another, but the mashup of ‘Peony’ and ‘Bob’ is just terrible.”

“That time we invited you guys out for drinks, but we both canceled last second, so it was just you and Bob? My plan,” Hangman grabbed your desk chair, wheeling it over in front of the bed to sit backwards on it, that shit-eating grin on his face that you just wanted to smack off. “Or when I started that childish game of seven minutes in heaven to lock you guys in a closet? Or when I blamed that screwed up pre-flight checklist on you and Bob so you’d be held later together-”

“I’m sorry, you did what-?”

“Point is,” Jake quickly interjected, cutting you off midsentence. “I’ve tried every single trick in the book, everything I could think of, and you two are dense. Hell, it’s like trying to talk to two brick walls, you refuse to act on shit! So, I’ve got a foolproof plan in line tonight, even Nat thought it was a good idea.”

“True, might be his best one yet,”

You looked between them as they both looked at you expectantly. Natasha Trace, your best friend and roommate, one of your closest confidants. Jake Seresin, your childhood best friend, whom you, for some reason, followed straight into the Navy because you couldn’t bear to be without him. Two people you adored more than life…who sounded certifiably insane right now.

“Guys, I’m not in love with Bob-”

“You are,” they both cut in simultaneously.

There was no reason to argue. These two people knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes, so of course they’d picked up on it.

Robert “Bob” Floyd, the bane of your existence. Not really, because you knew if he wasn’t in your life, you’d probably spend your entire life somehow searching for him. Your other best friend, who had somehow claimed that title in the few short weeks leading up to that Uranium mission. The man who, when you started sobbing as you held him in the hospital hours after the bird-strike during training, you realized you were falling head over heels in love with. 

But that was months ago, before your special detachment became a permanent squadron in San Diego. You weren’t falling anymore, you were in love, and if you had to watch him do another round of push-ups during Maverick’s drills while his arms strained and sweat in the California heat, you were going to, quite literally, gnaw the bars off the enclosure you’d closed yourself into in your mind.

“It’s not my fault he’s so hot in such a fucking nonchalant way,” Nat and Jake laughed the second you dramatically threw yourself backward on your bed. “Seriously! Sure, he stutters when he’s nervous, and he’s got those stupidly cute glasses, but Jesus Christ, if he’s not the most adorable man. But, then you, Hangman, manage to piss him off and he gets this-this fucking air of slight confidence around him, he gets so quick and witty with his comments and I’m, like, two seconds from climbing his tall, slender ass like a fucking tree.”

Word-vomit, but you didn’t care. There was no use lying anymore. Jake and Natasha were silent for only a moment before Nat’s laughter finally managed to escape her.

“Wow, you have it worse for Floyd than I thought you did!”

“I seriously don’t even think he realizes how hot he is,” you shouted, completely exasperated as you threw your arms out toward the ceiling. “He thinks girls don’t pay him any attention, meanwhile I feel like a total ass the way I’m eyeing him like a piece of meat everytime his shirt rides up on the beach. Then–the worst part–he’s out here holding doors for me, brought me a bouquet of flowers for my birthday, texts me good night and good morning every day–a thing that COUPLES DO–even makes sure he walks on the outside of the sidewalk when we’re all in downtown. He’s, quite literally, driving me insane because he’s the definition of the perfect man. As if he crawled straight out of my childhood diary.”

No one else could get a word in before the doorbell rang, and you froze. Natasha laughed again, grabbing onto your arms and tugging you back into a seated position on the bed before climbing off of it herself. Jake had already put your desk chair back across the room and was halfway to the door before he shot you a wink over his shoulder.

“No, you’re driving yourself insane by not just jumping the man’s bones, given that he’s clearly just as obsessed with you as you are with him. But have no fear. Trust in Phoenix and me, and Operation Peob will go just perfectly tonight-”

Nat gave him a shove to the back, pushing him out of your bedroom.

“Give her a damn minute, I think she’s still processing the fact that she just finally owned up to her crush. Just go get the door…and think of a new name for this dumb operation of ours on the way there, too,”

They were gone in seconds, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Rooster announcing himself the second they opened the front door. You? You were stuck in place, thinking back over all of those moments Jake (and subsequently Natasha) had thrust you into over the last few months.

That dinner hadn’t been awkward in the slightest with just you and Bob. Honestly, you’d stayed there for upwards of four hours just talking and laughing about anything and everything like you usually did. He’d let you drink, picked up the bill without letting you even reach for your purse, and drove you home. That childish seven minutes in heaven game wasn’t even awkward. They’d shoved you both into a hallway closet in Rooster’s apartment, you’d wrapped Bob in a hug, and just laughed about your friends' antics in the dark of the closet. No one was even surprised to see you wrapped around one another when the door finally opened: the second Bob had gotten comfortable around you, the pair of you were attached at the hip like that all the time.

You loved him, but you could never tell where he was at when it came to your blurry relationship, so you always danced on the edge of wanting to say something and biting your tongue. But if Hangman was this insistent, could he see something you couldn’t? Did he know something you didn’t?

“Any chance I could get some help with these pizzas?”

And suddenly, there he stood. Tall, lean, sandy blonde hair still perfectly swept to the side on top of his head, balancing three boxes of pizza in his hands, along with the box of garlic bread and mozzarella sticks (a special request from you). Your eyes betrayed you, straying from his face and down his body. 

Shorts, an item you didn’t get to see quite often on him, but man, did he look good in them. A white t-shirt that clung to him just enough to drive you insane, his dog tags lying directly in the center of his chest. Overtop of that was his own personally designed Padres jersey, gifted to the entire team for Navy appreciation night at the ballpark, but unbuttoned in the front so that it lay at his sides…and, god, were you having thoughts about running your hand down his chest and over those abs you knew he was hiding-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you glanced back up to meet Bob’s eyes and caught sight of the blush clearly embedded into his skin, and shot out of bed.

“Jesus, Bob, were they not going to help you at all?” you asked incredulously, taking two of the boxes from him as you tried to rid yourself of the inappropriate thoughts you were having of your best friend. He only laughed, shaking his head at your question.

“I mean, they at least took the beers,”

“Of course they did,” that comment got another laugh out of him. Easily, you joined in on the laughter, kicking his shin lightly. “Let’s go, dork, you know where the kitchen is.”

Like it usually was once a week, you and Natasha’s Southcrest apartment were overrun by the loud sounds of the men you called family, your squad, all gathered in the living room. This time, it wasn’t for game night or movie night, but instead in preparation for the San Diego Padres game later that afternoon, one the organization had personally invited your squadron to be recognized at for their Navy appreciation night at the ballpark. An opportunity to stand on the field during the pre-game festivities, the chance to watch Maverick throw the first pitch, lower-level seating on the third baseline, and your own custom Padres jerseys to wear to the game. A sweet deal, all around, that your squad was more than happy to accept.

“So, a baseball game,” Bob managed to speak, standing at your side in your tiny galley kitchen that two people could barely fit in. You were taking boxes from his hands, laying them out on the small bit of counter space you did have. “I-Is this a bad time to say…I’ve never been to a baseball game?”

“Never?” you questioned him, raising an eyebrow at him as you took the final pizza box from his arms. You couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know Montana doesn’t really have a team, unless you just root for the Rockies, but you never went during basic? Not a White Sox game, or a Cubs game?”

“Nope,” Bob accentuated his word with a little pop of his mouth, leaning back against the sink behind you while you squeezed past him, grabbing the plastic plates you and Nat had picked up for today the last time you went grocery shopping. “I’m relying on you to show me the ropes.”

“Depends what I have to work with here, baby-on-board,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him with a gleam in your eye as he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “You know anything about the game at all, or did you really grow up under a rock?”

With everything laid out, you flipped around, leaning back against the counter behind you with Bob directly across from you. A mistake, in that tiny galley kitchen, the lack of space making the position feel more intimate than it needed to be. Bob’s legs seemed to instinctively spread slightly without a word, allowing you to stretch out your own between them.

“If you’re in the field, don’t let the other team score. If you’re hitting…score,” Bob smiled as you laughed at his explanation. “Pretty basic stuff, but I get the gist of it, Peony.”

“Yeah, it’s a very basic understanding of the fundementals, but I can work with it,” you assured him with a grin of your own, catching your eyes flicking down for just a moment to those dog tags resting against that white shirt that had no reason to look as hot as it did on him. “Should take you home with me sometime to a Rangers game, that’s where I really shine. And it's how I ended up with my callsign-”

“Your favorite flower,” Bob chimed in immediately before you could finish your sentence, your eyes catching on the way his Adam’s apple throbbed for just a moment after he said it, his eyes averting from yours and instead to the fridge, as it was the most interesting thing in the kitchen. “How Hangman started dragging you along to games, and you fell in love with the game. But then, every time you went together, they won, like you were the secret good luck charm of the team. And when he learned that peonies just happened to represent good luck…it all fell into place.”

You desperately tried to fight off your blush when he looked back at you. You and Jake had told that story about your callsign months ago, way back during the start of training for the Uranium mission. You didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that he remembered every detail of it, instead choosing to clear your throat with a very over-exaggerated nod.

“Yeah, see…you know the story. Promise you, though, Rangers games are a thousand times better. You’ll have to come home with me sometime, when we get time off,”

“Would…your family like me?”

Yeah, in your rant to Natasha and Jake, you’d forgotten to mention moments like this. He held the door, he bought you flowers, walked closest to the road on sidewalks, texted good morning and good night, and then sometimes he just…said things. Things that just came out of left field. Comments that felt like they were straddling the line of friendship and something more, too afraid to commit to one side or another fully, as if afraid to make the leap.

His eyes held something in them you couldn’t place; you could only describe it as uncertainty. Your eyes betrayed you once again, glancing at his lips where he was just barely biting into his bottom lip, before glancing back to those blue eyes you adored so much, hidden behind those glasses that were just so him that the thought of them kept you awake at night.

“Yeah. Too much, probably,” you settled on, though there was an unmistakable air of nervousness in your tone. The air in the entire kitchen had shifted with just a single sentence, the heaviness tangible, and you felt like you were going to suffocate looking into those piercing, soft blue eyes. “They’d probably never let you leave. You’d be stuck with us.”

“I-Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” your response came quickly, still laced with nerves, just as his was. But the whole time, neither of you looked away. “I’d choose you to be stuck with.”

He’d straightened slightly at that comment from you, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms in front of his chest, the jersey lying around his shoulders tightening around him at the movement. Your eyes watched, tracked every little movement as a pang of heat flashed through you at just the sight of the muscles strewn through his biceps and forearms stretching with the movement. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. You followed suit, then stopped yourself. An invisible line was still drawn in the sand between you both, no one quite sure enough to take the leap and talk about it all. To talk about the tension, or the heated stares, or even the softer looks exchanged when you both thought the other wasn’t looking.

“Hey, my two favorite brick walls! You two somehow making love in a 75 square foot kitchen against the fridge, or can we eat some pizza with these beers?”

If there was anything that could break a moment, it was Jake Seresin. His over-confident tone shouted out from the living room, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Natasha hitting him and the rest of the squad laughing.

With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you looked back at Bob. He wordlessly passed you the paper plates you’d set down on the counter, avoiding your eyes, even as his fingers brushed yours for a moment longer than they needed to.

The moment might’ve been ruined, but the ‘what ifs’ still hung heavy in the air like they had been for months.

“Shut it, Seresin, before I call your mother! Come get food, you hooligans, I know what you’re all like hangry and I’m not in the mood for it today,”

With pizza and beer distributed around the group, everyone found themselves seated around the limited seating that you and Natasha had in your living room. Rooster and Coyote were already taking up two-thirds of the couch, Payback and Fanboy were fighting over the beanbag, Nat had taken her favorite spot on the floor in front of the coffee table, while Bob took his usual place on the loveseat. With a beer in hand and pizza loaded up on your plate, you made your way over to the last spot on the couch. Hangman, being his typical annoying self, practically vaulted over the backside of the couch, almost knocking Bradley’s beer out of his hand as he let out an indignant ‘hey!’ at the action.

The wink Jake gave you, and the laughter that Natasha tried to cover up, were enough to tell you that this was definitely planned.

Without even sparing a glance at Bob, you took a seat on the other end of the loveseat, as far away as you could given that little moment in the kitchen not long before. You ignored the wiggling eyebrows that Jake was sending your way as Rooster scrolled through the various streaming services on your living room TV, trying to find something to watch to fill the time.

“We’ve got time for one movie; my turn, since Javy picked last week on movie night,” there was a collective groan through the room at Bradley's choice, ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ simply because it was his usual choice during movie nights. “First pitch is at 4:10, but Mav told me they need us ready to go by 3:45 for the opening ceremony stuff. He said to meet him and Penny by the home plate gate, and someone from the home office would meet us out there.”

“I’ll take the ladies and Bob in the truck,” Jake threw in, with a sly wink sent your way. “The rest of you boys can ride with Rooster. Figured we could park in that garage off Tenth Ave since we wanted to hit up Tom’s Watch Bar after the game. Hope you ladies are cool with us crashing here tonight, because I’m not in the mood to drive home later.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure our landlord will love a noisy, drunk group of fighter pilots staying here,” you’d shot back at your best friend, garnering another round of laughter from the group. “Nat and I aren’t sharing our beds, and we’ve only got the one air mattress, so fight amongst yourselves for sleeping arrangements. Now start the damn movie before we run out of time.”

With how often Bradley chose Shawshank during his pick on movie nights, there was barely any watching of the movie actually occurring. Payback and Fanboy had taken to giving dramatic renditions of the dialogue in terrible accents, leading to laughter throughout the room for every second of the movie.

Barely half an hour in, with pizza and sides finished off, your phone buzzed. A notification that you were added to a new group chat called ‘Operation Peob’ was the last thing you were expecting to get.

At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Especially with Jake. He’d been this way since high school, always butting into anything that had to do with your love life and trying to give you a push, so his meddling here wasn’t surprising. Natasha’s willingness to help and agree with Hangman, of all things, had you thinking that maybe this pining had gone on for far too long.

You and Bob were close; you sat close plenty and had been in enough semi-intimate settings with one another. What could it really hurt?

Tearing your eyes away long enough to glance at Bob for just a moment, you swore you could see his eyes dart away from your legs crossed underneath you and back to his phone in his hand, but chalked it up to seeing something you wanted to see. What you could see was that blush coating his skin. So, with a small boost of confidence, and the knowledge that Nat and Jake were definitely watching with renewed interest out of the corners of their eyes, you swung your legs out from under you and draped them across Bob’s lap without a word, bringing your eyes back to the movie screen to ignore your own skin’s flush.

You weren’t the only people in the room, but god, in those few short moments afterward, did it feel like you were. The movie felt quieter, the laughter of your friends was drowned out, and the only thing you could force yourself to think about was the fact that your bare legs were resting over Bob’s own bare legs. How warm his skin was, how it felt against your own, and you let your mind wander to how you’d give anything to feel any other part of-

Then, Bob’s hands were on your legs.

Holy shit, Bob’s hands were on your legs. And you were frozen in place.

Gentle and yet firm all the same, it was clear just in his touch how big his hands truly were as they seemed to engulf your skin. One found its place just around your knee, skin warm to the touch and igniting a fire under his touch, and what you wouldn’t give for that hand to rest just barely higher above your knee and on your thigh. His other hand rested itself right around your calf, and there only seemed to be a moment of hesitation before his fingers began to knead little circles into your muscle that had you biting the inside of your lip to keep back a noise you’d never utter in the presence of your squad.

You’d spared a quick glance at Bob out of the corner of your eyes, but his gaze never moved from the TV screen. So, you’d averted your own gaze to the movie too, but not before catching yet another obnoxious wink from Hangman and an impressed look thrown your way from Natasha.

Even as the movie had ended, and everyone was putting their shoes back on and unplugging their phones from their chargers in order to head out the door to the game, neither you nor Bob brought it up. Not once as you’d gotten off the couch, or as he’d let you use his shoulder for leverage to slip your beat-up tennis shoes on, or even as he climbed into the backseat of Jake’s truck, taking your hand in his own to help you inside.

Even in that short, barely ten-minute ride to the stadium, that heat hadn’t left your skin, and those thoughts refused to purge themselves from your head. You could only hope the same thoughts and feelings were running through Bob as he kept his gaze focused on the San Diego streets out the window.

“How did we manage to beat Rooster here?” Hangman complained the second that his truck was parked on the third floor of the garage, popping his front seat forward so that Bob could exit, helping you out as well just as he helped you in. “We left at the same fucking time, it’s not that hard to get here.”

Your hand slipped from Bob’s with a grateful, albeit nervous, smile that he reciprocated the second your feet landed on the ground of the garage.

“We took National Ave, they probably took Ocean View and hit some traffic,” Natasha shot back, rounding the truck before setting her sights on you. “You have the sunblock, right? I don’t feel like being burnt to a crisp today.”

You tossed the bottle from the back of the truck over to Nat before it was passed around to all of you, though Hangman swore he ‘didn’t need any’ and that he’d just get even more tan in the sun. He lost that argument when you, once again, threatened to call his mother.

With Rooster arriving just moments later with Coyote, Fanboy and Payback packed into the Bronco, parking beside Jake’s truck, the Dagger Squad was on the move toward the stadium.

It was barely a walk to the stadium, your chosen parking garage not even a street away, as your group made it’s way down the sidewalk in the direction of the home plate entrance. You and Bob brought up the rear, and you were barely a few steps down the sidewalk before his hand found the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine, and easily switching places with you so that he walked along the edge closest to the road.

“Why do you always do that when we’re walking somewhere?” you ventured to ask him, bumping your shoulder lightly with his as you crossed one of the main roads heading toward the stadium. Bob shot you a soft smile as his hand found your back once more, guiding you slightly out of the way as a group of rowdy teenagers went barrelling past you all.

“Roads can be dangerous, just…don’t want you getting hurt is all,” was all the answer he offered, his hand finally leaving the small of your back after lingering for a moment longer than it needed to.

God, he really was a gentleman. That smile seemed to be etched perfectly into your face until your eyes glanced at your teammates in front of you, and the jerseys all bearing their last names hanging from their shoulders.

“Fuck,” Bob glanced over at you as you groaned, rubbing at your face. “I left my fucking jersey back at the apartment. Mav is going to kill me.”

Barely a second later, Bob’s jersey was bunched up in his hands as he presented it out toward you as you walked. Your eyes shot open as you looked at him, shaking your head, but his grin only widened.

“Take mine-”

“Bob, Mav specifically told us to wear our jerseys tonight, he’s going to be pissed at you if you don’t have yours on,”

“He’ll go easy on me, it’s fine,” he tried to assure you, lips quirking up slightly more into a smirk. “He’s still pissed about that argument you and Hangman had mid-flight the other day, he won’t go easy on you.”

Part of you wanted to argue, but there was something in the look in Bob’s eyes and the flutter it sent through your chest that had you taking the jersey from him without another word.

The first thought that ran through your mind was that it was bigger, much bigger than your own jersey that was still bunched up on your bed. You were trying desperately not to think about the fact that those biceps you found yourself distracted by almost every night you guys were at the Hard Deck, in civilian clothes or in your khaki uniforms, had been hugged by this fabric just moments prior.

The second thought was the smell; unmistakably his cologne. Bob never tended to wear a ton of it, but you’d been in close proximity enough to him to pick up on it over the last few months. Cypress, a woody smell that felt like the definition of lying in nature, surrounded by pine trees, and a hint of bayberry, another woody scent that brought a hint of sweetness to the smell.

The final thought that crossed your mind the second it was slipped over your shoulders completely was the fact that you were, quite literally, wearing his name on your back. When you’d turned to look at him again, breathless just from the idea, you swore you could see his pupils almost darken just a touch as he licked at his lips, his eyes flickering away from the back of the jersey and to your face again.

“Thanks,” you’d managed to speak as it felt like heat was coursing straight through your veins. Bob nodded, and you couldn’t help but notice the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Of course,” the lower tone to his voice had parts of your body that you were not willing to think about in public practically aching with the need to touch him. “It looks good on you.”

Bob could’ve meant the jersey looked good on you, or he could’ve meant the name ‘Floyd’ looked good on you, but boy, were you hoping he meant the latter. Unfortunately, you’d already made it to the home plate entrance without even realizing it, and Maverick didn’t look particularly happy with how long he’d been kept waiting while Penny chatted with the woman from the front office there to lead you through the ballpark.

“I said we needed to be on the field by 3:45, that didn’t mean show up at the gate at 3:40,” Maverick shot at the group, before his eyes found Bob hiding in the back next to you. “Bob…push-ups after the next round of training, I said everyone needed to wear their jerseys today. We’ll discuss how many later.”

The eyes of every single one of your friends seemed to shoot back to both of you. Judging by the smirks on everyone’s faces, they all knew for a fact that you hadn’t been wearing your jersey when you’d all left and Bob had been.

“It’s nice to see you’re all here!” the woman from the front office greeted them all, and you were mentally thanking her for saving you from an embarrassing confrontation with your team. “We’re on a time crunch now, so please quickly follow me so I can get you guys to the field before the opening ceremony begins…”

As you all followed her through the gates of the ballpark and down toward one of the sections that would allow you access to the field, Hangman fell back into step beside you and Bob for just a moment. He leaned in, lips barely grazing your ear so he could speak only to you.

“Step two was to somehow get you in his jersey, but you both beat me to it. At this rate, you’ll be fucking by the fourth inning-”

You attempted to land a punch to Jake’s shoulder, cheeks blaring red, but he’d dodged it with a laugh, falling back into step ahead of you with Natasha and Coyote. It took everything in you to avoid killing him, or looking at Bob, as you made your way through the crowd of Padres fans toward the field.

“So,” Bob chimed in after a moment, his hand catching onto your forearm lightly and tugging you to his side before an already drunk older man could spill his beer on you. “You ever been on a professional field before?”

“Once, back in high school,” you answered him, cheeks still burning as Bob’s hand didn’t leave your arm, keeping you at his side as you squeezed through the crowd of the sold-out, late afternoon game. “Globe Life Field, it’s where the Rangers play. We took a field trip, got to see behind the scenes, and take photos out on the field.”

“I assume there wasn’t a huge crowd of almost 40,000 when you were on the field, though,”

“Not in the slightest,” you laughed, glancing back over to Bob as he laughed with you, though you could hear the nerves in his voice. You raised your hand, placing it over his on your arm with a little squeeze of comfort. “Don’t worry, it’ll be just fine. We just have to stand, listen to ‘God Bless America,’ watch Mav hopefully not mess up the first pitch after the National Anthem, and then we can go enjoy the game.”

Your reassurance seemed to do the trick as you walked through the gate at the end of section 114 and onto the field. The woman who had walked you down was positioning you all in a line around home plate, telling you each where to stand, while entertaining whatever it was that Hangman seemed to be animatedly telling her. You watched as she seemed to think something over for a moment, her eyes flickering toward you, before it looked like she agreed with whatever Jake had said, getting a fist bump out of him.

When you met his eyes with raised eyebrows, he’d only sent you a wink and took his place in line beside you.

Though your squad had just barely made it to the field on time, things had gone off without a hitch. The stadium announcer had introduced your squad to the crowd for Navy Appreciation Night with thunderous applause from the sold-out stadium. The local man singing both ‘God Bless America’ and the National Anthem was perfect and got his own standing ovation. Maverick’s ceremonial first pitch…could’ve been better, given how far in the left-hander’s batters box it ended up. You were all thankful that Penny was standing off to the side to get it on video for blackmail at some point.

“Section 116, row D,” Maverick informed the entire group once everyone was off the field, crowded back near the concessions as the first pitch of the game was thrown, and the Padres versus Mets game was officially underway. “Penny and I will go find seats, one of you bring us back a nice tray of nachos!”

Nat was quickly swept up by Hangman, Rooster, and Coyote, dragged off in the direction of one of the local pizza shops that were set up within the park, while Payback and Fanboy darted in the direction of a local beer company not far from that pizza joint.

“Well, baby-on-board,” you teased, spinning around to stand in front of him with a grin. “Ready to have some real ballpark food?”

Bob laughed, hand once again finding the small of your back even though there was a much small amount of people littering the walkway now that the game was underway, and he set you down a grin that had you ready to kiss him on the spot.

“I’m ready for the full experience, flower,”

That’s how, barely a minute later, you had Bob over at one of the self-serve food stations as you loaded your arms with food. A giant tray of nachos with cheese for Mav and Penny, two footlong hot dogs for yourself and Bob, and two comically large waters balanced on top. Bob was laughing again, trying to hold you steady so you didn’t drop any of the food on the way over to the checkout area.

“The footlong hot dogs are a necessity at any ballpark you visit- don’t laugh at me!” more laughter bubbled out of you as Bob shook his head with a grin, taking items out of your arms and scanning them through the self-checkout. “I’m giving you the true baseball experience, including the over-priced food. Nachos are a staple, too, Mav has good taste. And we can’t forget the water, this San Diego sun is brutal.”

Bob picked up the small packet of peanuts still left in your hands, shaking it with a raised eyebrow in your direction.

“And peanuts?”

“Another ballpark classic…I also know how much you love them, you’re always eating them at the Hard Deck,”

He looked at you for another moment, his smile almost visibly softening, before he shook his head and turned back to the checkout in front of you both.

“God, you’re adorable,”

You weren’t sure Bob had meant to say that as loudly as he did, given the flush crawling up his neck directly after, but he had. And that simple statement had you frozen in place, just watching him as he paid for the food without a complaint. Even as you both moved to the condiment station, slathering ketchup and mustard over both of your hot dogs before gathering the supplies and heading toward your seats, that little comment had you almost on autopilot.

“Finally, you two missed the entire first inning!”

It was Bradley’s voice that finally shook you awake. It was true, the Mets had gone down easily in three batters, just as the Padres did, and the second inning was already well under way. With a fake laugh, you shot Bradley the middle finger that had everyone laughing, before passing the nachos off to Maverick and moving toward the final seats in your row for your team.

They’d shoved you and Bob off on the end of the row toward the middle, placing you right between Coyote and whatever random group had unfortunately been stuck beside you all.

“Okay, I feel like I have to see what’s so damn good about these things now,” Bob announced one you both were seated, leaning over to ‘clink’ his hot dog off the side of your own with a shared laugh with you. You held off on your own, simply watching him and the way his face contorted slightly after a single bite. “It’s…it’s not terrible, but I think I’ve had better just from Bradley on the grill. Not worth the price.”

“No, but you’re paying for the experience,” you reminded him with another giggle. Ketchup and mustard were plastered to the side of Bob’s face from that one bite alone as you grabbed one of the napkins from his lap, reaching up to wipe it away. “Game has barely started, and you’re making a mess of yourself, Floyd.”

It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you froze, realizing how intimate a position that simple action put you both in. Just barely a few inches away from one another, close enough that you could see the faint smudges on the lenses of his glasses and study the exact shade of blue his eyes were. Close enough to, once again, watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, to get a glimpse of that flush in his cheeks that never seemed to leave. Your throat went dry instantly, but you couldn’t look away. Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, and for once, you didn’t miss the way Bob’s eyes darted down to the action, lingering on your lips for a moment longer than needed, before finding your eyes again. It was hard to miss the way his pupils dilated the second they met your eyes again, or even the slight catch in your breath at that action.

“Hey! Didn’t Mav say something about acting professional today? Ballpark is no place to be eye-fucking each other, you two,”

If Hangman interrupted another moment with Bob today, you were personally going to bury him in the ground. His mother would forgive you; she loved you. Even so, you tore yourself away from Bob and the ruined moment, focusing on the game as you sent a blind middle finger down the row toward him as Mav lectured him about swearing with children around while the others laughed at the antics.

The game managed to go off without another comment from Hangman for a few innings. It was an evenly matched game, for the most part, both the Padres and Mets having some errors that led to runs that shouldn’t have been scored. At one point, on a blown-out call at second base, you jumped from your seat, screaming at the umpires just like many in the stadium were. When they’d finally set it off for review and corrected the call you returned yourself to your seat, shooting Bob a sheepish smile as he watched you in amusement.

“Sorry…grew up going to games with my dad, and with Jake. I get a little intense sometimes when they don’t call things right,”

Bob smiled and seemed to hesitate for just a moment before he stretched his arm over the back of your chair, his fingertips just barely brushing over your shoulder as he focused back on the game.

“It’s okay…it’s cute, seeing you all passionate,”

Bob Floyd was, once again, driving you insane. This time, you had no idea if he realized he was or not. 

By the seventh inning stretch and a crowd performance of ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’, your group had participated in three rounds of the wave, Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy had gotten up and given a fantastic rendition of Sweet Caroline along with the crowd that had gotten them projected onto the scoreboard. And Bob? His arm never moved from it’s place, and every so often he’d lean over toward you to mutter a question about the game right into your ear.

“Wait,” he’d leaned over for another question, and you could feel his breath ghost over the shell of your ear. It was hard to tell if you were hot because of the sun or because of Bob’s proximity at this point. The seventh inning had just ended with an out on the Padres runner at first, and they were slowly transitioning over into the eighth inning. “Why did the Mets throw to first to get that runner out when there was a guy on second?”

Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the scoreboard in left field. It’s time for the Petco Park eighth inning…KISS CAM!

“It wasn’t a forced out,” you explained to Bob, ignoring the cheers of the crowd over whatever announcement had just been made as you pointed toward the field to explain. “Since there was only a runner on second, he’s not forced to move because there’s no one behind him. If they want to get him out, they have to tag him with their glove and the ball.”

“So why not do that?” Bob questioned, glancing away from you and toward the scoreboard as the crowd continued to go wild, and you continued to explain.

“It’s not a guarantee that they’ll get him. With only two innings left, plus the score being tied, you want to throw down the runner on first and give yourself the best chance of an out. You want to end that inning as soon as possible, and while the runner is already in scoring position at second base, his chances of scoring increase greatly if he reaches third base, and you give him a chance to do so if you don’t get that runner at first out-”

“U-Uh…Peony?”

You glanced at Bob as he interrupted your explanation, tilting your head quizically at him. He glanced back at you, eyes wide and jaw slack as he pointed to the scoreboard, and you finally followed his gaze.

The Kiss Cam, broadcasted right on the scoreboard for the entire park to see. And the camera? Centered directly on you and Bob.

In a rush, the cheering of the entire stadium came straight back to you as you and Bob sat frozen in your seats, just staring at the screen as the camera stayed locked on you both. You spared a glance down the line at your friends, you squad, and they were all on their feet cheering for you both. Even Maverick and Penny were cheering.

“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!”

The entire stadium was cheering and chanting, and it didn’t look like the camera centered just a few rows down from you both was leaving anytime soon. At least, not without what it came for.

Slowly, you turned back to Bob, eyes still wide and words caught in your throat. He was still leaning in toward you, arm still on the back of your chair. But there was a smile on his lips; nervous, but with a faint hint of something else in the quirked edges. Something that felt a lot, in your head, like hope.

You? You were terrified, but knew that you had to make a split-second decision, one that could potentially change everything…for the better or worse.

But one more second looking at those gorgeous blue eyes, or at the way his tongue peeked out to just run over his bottom lip, had you mumbling ‘fuck it.’

Your hand wound around the back of his neck before you could stop yourself, tugging the handsome WSO closer and brushing your lips against his like you had dreamed of for months. 

Even though the cheers around the stadium, practically from your friends, got louder in that moment, it was all drowned out in your own ears the second you had Bob Floyd’s lips on yours.

Gentle, polite, even a little unsure at first, was what that kiss felt like. Just the smallest touch, but the biggest leap over that blurry friendship-or-more line you’d been dancing along for so long. But the feeling, the softness of his lips, the leftover taste of vanilla chapstick, and the fluttering in your chest had your hand gripping his neck just the slightest bit harder, tugging him closer as your other hand grabbed onto the armrest between you both as if to keep you grounded. That seemed to be all Bob needed to respond in kind.

His hand left the chair behind you, curling around your shoulder to hold you as close as he could, given the awkward positioning the ballpark seats allowed. You swallowed the groan that left Bob’s lips almost involuntarily with your own mouth as his hand gripped your shoulder as tightly as it could for just a moment. While at once it was gentle and unsure, those insecurities were long gone. Bob’s lips moved against you clumsily, desperately, just trying to memorize the feel of your lips against his.

As quick as it had happened, it ended. The cheering stopped, the camera disappeared, and you and Bob pulled away from one another. A simple kiss, no more than five seconds, broadcasted for the entire stadium to see, but it had wrecked you. Inside and out, that mere moment had solidified that you were hopelessly in love with Bob Floyd, and there was no one else you’d rather be in love with. And, given the blown pupils, the heavy breathing, and the flush etched into Bob’s skin, you were praying it had solidified the same thing for him, too.

“And THAT, Dagger Squad, is how you finally get two brick walls of human beings to figure their shit out!”

You didn’t want to look away from Bob, not at all, even as the baseball game before you finally resumed play for the eighth inning. But you stole a glance behind you to Hangman as he leaned over everyone, ignoring his lecture about swearing from Maverick again, shooting you a wink as the rest of the squad looked toward you and Bob happily.

“The office worker, when you were talking to her earlier…did you plan the kiss cam?”

“I told you I had a foolproof plan for tonight, and it worked! Operation Peob can officially be labeled a success, in my eyes. At least, partially,”

“Operation Peob?”

Your attention was brought back to Bob as he asked that question, a dopey smile on his lips as his fingers kneaded into your shoulder comfortingly. You breathed out a laugh, hang sliding from his neck to rest over his chest, right on top of his dog tags like you’d thought about so many times before.

“Hangman’s terrible nickname for his plan to…get us together,” you dug your phone out, flashing him the groupchat from earlier as he let out a breathy laugh at the contents of the messages. “Nat was in on it, too.”

“Guess, she was playing double agent, then,” Bob dug his own phone out, opening another group message and flipping the phone toward you to read with a grin.

There was nothing you could do, nothing you needed to do, after seeing those messages besides laugh. Bob laughed with you, your forehead falling against his forearm as you both shook with laughter, the game behind you on the field long forgotten.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know for certain now, it’s that our friends suck at coming up with ship names,” you pointed toward his phone incredulously. “I don’t know what’s worse, Peob or Boney!”

“Boney is at least a word, I’d argue that Peob is worse. Given that Hangman came up with it, too, it makes sense,”

You laughed again, before finding yourself just completely lost in those blue eyes you’d fantasized about for so long. Bob was looking at you, too, as if lost in a daze where the only thing he could see was you. That dopey smile that refused to leave his lips was sending yet another flutter through your chest and heat to places that you didn’t need to be thinking about in public.

“So…how long?”

It was Bob’s turn to pause, thinking over your question. His arm moved from the back of your chair as your hand slid off his chest. His hand, though, only found a home right on the skin of your thigh, exactly where you’d wanted it to rest just hours ago. The feel of his skin on such a sensitive part of your body, the pressure of his grip into the muscle under his hand, had another bolt of heat shooting down your spine as your body leaned into his touch, practically begging to be touched by him.

“The first time we met, at the Hard Deck. Hangman was being a dick to me, as he so often can be, and you took his ego down with a single story from your middle school dance. I knew the second you did that…that I was utterly fucked. It only took Phoenix and Rooster a day to figure it out, too,”

If it were possible to love him more, you did in that moment. Your hand came to rest on top of his, squeezing it as the crowd cheered for the home run that had just been hit by Xander Bogaerts. Your entire attention was on Bob, though, just as his was on you.

“I realized it after the bird strike, even though I think I was already feeling something before that. To see you all scratched up, to not know if you were okay until we got to the hospital, and then the way I just broke down crying when I saw you…it was hard to ignore after that,”

Bob’s smile only widened, giving your leg an affectionate squeeze.

“We wasted a lot of time being too scared to do something about this, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you gave him a small nod, thumb tracing circles onto the back of his hand as he gave you another squeeze. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Well, at first, I was sure that you and Hangman were a thing,” he couldn’t contain his laughter as you let out a fake gag at the thought. “Trust me, after one day of training with you guys, I realized that was ridiculous. After that, we became friends, and…I got nervous. You made me nervous, like, beyond comprehension. Still do. I tried sometimes to make it obvious, with the flowers on your birthday or when I’d ask if you wanted to get dinner.”

“And to think, I was just complaining to Jake and Nat this morning that those little moments were driving me insane,” you laughed at yourself, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder as you let your eyes focus back on the ending of the game. “I was nervous, too, you know. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

There was silence between you both for a moment, just the cheers of the crowd around you, before Bob’s lips pressed to your hairline. In that moment, you were cursing yourself for not having said something sooner, for depriving yourself of being Bob Floyd’s for as long as you had.

“I’d wait again if it meant I got you in the end,”

Even in a crowded stadium, it was like you and Bob had found yourselves nestled into your own little world. As the game ended and the crowd dispersed to the streets, your group waiting until you were some of the last few to leave, you still stayed wrapped up in one another. Bob’s hand easily found yours as your fingers intertwined with one another on instinct, tying yourselves to each other as you moved with your friends out of the stadium. While the snide comments from the team thrown back your way had both of you blushing, neither of you dared to let go of one another.

The second you hit the streets outside of the stadium, fully able to observe the fast-setting sun, Hangman was leading the charge around the stadium in the direction of the bar he had mentioned hitting up after the game. He was met with no protests from the group, everyone wanting to celebrate the Padres' 8-6 win in the ninth, and also the ‘culmination of months of pining’ as they’d all glanced back toward you and Bob in the back of the group.

That’s where you both stayed in a comfortable silence with one another, simply watching your friends act like absolute psychos on the sidewalk in front of you. Bob placed himself closest to the road again without even asking, your hands never unlinking as they swung between you both.

“So, since we already kind of beared our souls to each other in those uncomfortable ballpark seats,” your smile only grew at the laugh Bob couldn’t help but let slip over your comment. “Where…does that leave us?”

He glanced over with that adorable smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, and brought your hand up to his lips to leave a gentle kiss right to your skin.

If he wasn’t careful, you were going to get arrested for jumping his bones in the middle of the downtown sidewalk. Bystanders be damned, your need for this man was outweighing just about every single rational thought you had.

“This leaves us at me needing to take you out on a date like a proper gentleman, first,” was his response, letting your hands fall back down between you both. Your eyes didn’t leave the side of his stupidly handsome face, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to those late night thoughts that invaded your mind about him, or the way that white t-shirt looked entirely too good on him right now, or how you wanted to just grab him by the dog tags and tug him closer-

“Does being a proper gentleman mean you won’t fuck me before the first date, too?”

As your cheeks reddened, eyes quickly turning back to your friends ahead of you, you decided that you were going to blame Jake for that little outburst. How was it his fault? No idea, but you’d been blaming things on him since you were a child, so why not continue that trend into adulthood.

There was a yank on your hand, your body spinning until it collided with Bob, who had stopped right in the middle of the almost empty sidewalk. It didn’t take a second for your eyes to meet his, and you swore you could feel your knees wobble just at the look in his eyes: pupils blown and a heat dancing through them. He looked as if he wanted to devour you here, in the middle of the sidewalk, and the feeling was mutual. His large hand slid around your waist to your lower back, dipping under his jersey and barely pulling your tank top up so that his hand could rest against your bare skin. You knew in that moment that you must look absolutely wrecked.

“Yeah, a proper gentleman would at least buy you dinner first,” his tone had dropped incredibly low, a sound that nearly stopped your heart, and his grip right on your hip tightened. “But my patience is wearing a bit thin, especially when you’ve got my name sprawled across your back.”

“Well,” with your hands lying against his chest, you allowed your fingers to curl around his dog tags just like you’d thought about so many times today, tugging him toward you with a smirk on your lips. “Guess it’s a good thing my patience is wearing thin, too.”

Bob’s smile quirked up as he leaned in, just as you leaned up to him- until two arms wrapped around your waist and practically tore you from Bob’s arms, landing you over a broad shoulder with a yelp.

“Baby-On-Board, Peony! I expected more from you two!” Seresin. Of course fucking Jake Seresin had to ruin everything again, holding you over his shoulder like a scolded child as he let out a ‘tsk.’ “Public displays of affection can make people very uncomfortable!”

“Jake, you’re going to be lucky if you ever step foot in an F-18 again when I’m done with you,” there was murderous intent in your tone as he turned on his heel, continuing the walk toward the bar with a laughing Penny, Mav, Coyote, and Payback surrounding you both. You hit him once on the back with your fist, not that it did anything to him, before speaking just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the one who was bitching at me to get laid!”

“Not in the middle of the damn sidewalk, though, little flower,”

“I wasn’t going to fuck him on Park Boulevard, but damn, at least let me kiss him! This is what you wanted!”

“Step one was the legs, step two was the jersey, step three was the kiss cam, and now welcome to step four: more tension. Have some faith in me, and our little baby-on-board is going to be begging to fuck you before you’ve even had a drink,”

You grumbled something along the lines of ‘castrating’ him before accepting that he wasn’t going to put you down anytime soon, at least not until you got to the bar. Resting your chin against your hand popped against Jake’s shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Bob. Rooster was at his side, arm slung around his shoulder as he muttered something that had a blush coating your WSO’s cheeks, Phoenix and Fanboy laughing beside him. When Nat met your eyes, a smirk crawled across her own face.

“Comfortable up there, Peony?”

“Just peachy, Nat. Trying to calculate how hard I have to swing my leg in this position to take away Jake’s ability to breed,”

With more laughter from the group, your eyes found Bob’s, and he was already looking at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen that had your heart racing like it always did around him. Annoying friends or not, as long as he kept looking at you like that, you’d put up with it all.

By the time Hangman had trekked all the way around the stadium and across Gallagher Square to the sports bar he wanted to visit, the sun had set. The inside was already packed from what you could gather through the windows as Jake finally set you back down on your feet.

“We’ll go get a tab started,” Coyote announced, most of the group following in after him. Jake nodded in his direction, holding the door open for your group as he glanced down at you with a smirk. Your glare hadn’t softened at all toward your best friend.

“You ever pull that shit again, and I will tell the story about how you fell off your horse when you were eight,”

“Damn, pulling out the deep cuts,” his tone was indifferent, the cocky bastard just choosing to shoot you a smirk and a wink as he stepped inside the bar door as well. “It’s packed in here, go see if there’s some outdoor seating.”

Yeah right, like you gave a shit what Jake wanted at that point.

An arm snaked it’s way around your waist, hand resting against your stomach as a pair of lips you were slowly growing accustomed to the feeling of pressed to the side of your head. You didn’t hesitate to lean back against Bob, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as he smirked down at you.

“Enjoy your ride?”

You huffed, elbowing him lightly with no malice what-so-ever.

“No, especially when there’s another man I’d rather ride,”

Even as your cheeks flushed at your own confident statement, you didn’t look away from Bob, giving you a full view of the way his eyes darkened at the comment. He glanced to the bar entrance, before behind you both, before his hand wrapped itself around yours and tugged.

“Come on,”

The bar did have an outdoor patio, but given the raging humidity still in the San Diego air as night time set in, everyone at the bar had opted to sit inside with the air conditioning. Bob wasn’t stopping at the patio, though, guiding you around the bar tables and out past the patio to the secluded section behind the bar, hidden from the main walkways with trees blocking the view in from Gallagher Square.

Nervous giggles left you in those moments once you were well and truly along, just barely illuminated by the string lights hanging on the patio just a few feet away. Those giggles ceased, your breath catching, as Bob stalked toward you as if he was the hunter and you were the prey, backing you up until your back was flush with the brick wall of the building covered in darkness.

Then, he was on you.

It’s hot, its messy–its the kiss of two people who have been starving to get their hands on one another for months. You practically unravel, putty in Bob Floyd’s hands, those same hands that are caressing up your bare thighs and to your waist then back down once again, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your fingers were threaded through hsi sandy blonde hair, tugging at the strands with every movement of his lips against yours and every swipe of his tongue just along the edge of your own, leaving his taste lingering in your mouth as you craved more. 

One of his hands trailed down the back of your left thigh, gripping into the flesh and tugging it up around his waist, holding it there as he ground his hips toward your core as a breathless moan tumbled from your lips.

“I-In the interest of, uh–oh god–of putting it all out there,” you barely managed to get your words out, fingers tightening their grip in Bob’s hair as his lips trailed across your jawline and down your neck, nipping just enough at the skin that there were sure to be little marks left in the morning. “You…you realize I’m hopelessly in love with you, right?”

“I hope so, because I-I’m in love with you, too,” breathy, wrecked Bob Floyd was testing every ounce of your patience left, his words ghosting over your neck as he nipped at your skin once more, accentuating it with another roll of his hips. “If we’re being completely honest, then…can I say something?”

“As long as you don’t stop touching me,”

His laughter vibrated against your skin, his lips trailing back up your neck until they hovered right in front of your own, giving you the perfect view of his lust blown gaze. If you even had breath left to catch, it did, as the hand on your waist moved to the front of your jean shorts, fingers just barely dipping past the waistline and ghosting over the skin of your lower stomach.

“These shorts,” he snapped them back against your skin, the other hand still holding your thigh tight around his waist squeezing tightly for just a moment. “Have been killing me for hours. The legs on my lap? Nice play by Hangman, I’ll admit. You’ve been driving me insane for hours.”

“You think seeing those biceps and forearms in this t-shirt hasn’t been driving me insane?” your gaze flickered to said shirt and dog tags before returning to his eyes. “But…just hours?”

“No, for months,” he was quick to counter, leaning in an stealing another bruising kiss from you, barley pulling back so that his lips still brushed yours as he spoke. “When it’s hot out on the tarmac and you unzip your flight suit, and I can see the sweat dripping down your chest. Today, wearing my name on your back like it’s your own. But the one that never leaves me…when we all went up to the the Mission Beach Boardwalk. You wore that little maroon sundress, the one that barely comes to your knees. And I don’t know why, maybe you wanted to kill me o-or maybe it was one of Hangman and Phoenix’s stupid plans, but you didn’t wear bike shorts that day. You bent over to look at something in one of the shops, and I saw them clear as day: pink, lacy, covered in flowers, and barely covering an inch of your skin. I haven’t stopped thinking about them since.”

Desire coursed through every inch of you at his words, at the memory of that day. To know that Bob really did think of you in the same depraved way that you did him only had your want–your need–for him increasing tenfold.

The ghost of a smirk crossed your lips as one of your hands left his hair. He watched it as your fingers trailed over his shoulders, down his bicep as your nails dug into the skin just slightly, down his forearm as your nails traced his veins, before settling over the hand still gripping to your shorts. Hooking a finger around his, you dipped it fully below the waistline of your jeans as you heard his breath catch, looping it around the edge of your panties and tugging them upwards until they were just barely visible: pink, lacy, and covered in flowers.

“It’s a matching set,” you whispered in a sultry tone, his eyes finally finding their way back to yours with a newfound heat in them, and you swore you could see a thin layer of fog overtake the lenses of his glasses. Leaning in just barely, you caught his lower lip between your teeth, biting just barely enough for a groan to elicit from somewhere deep in his chest, another shot of heat going straight to your core, espeically as his hips once against ground forward as if they had a mind of their own, and there was no mistaking the size of the rigid bulge pressing against you now. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Floyd.”

“It will be when you’re finally under me,”

“You’ve got me pressed up against a wall,” you managed to joke breathlessly, hand finding it’s way back up to his hair. His fingers stayed dipped past the waistline of your shorts, slowly finding their way around to the back, his whole hand almost dipping lower now as the heat of his hand spread out across your entire ass, squeezing just hard enough for you to stutter out another gasp against his lips. You felt his lips curl into a smirk at the sound. “I-Isn’t that good enough?”

“Baby, I’m not fucking you against a wall with our Captain probably thirty feet away. No, when I finally get to fuck you, I’m taking my time until you’re ruined,”

Yeah, fuck anyone on this team that joked that Bob Floyd must have been vanilla in bed, or that he’d be awkward and stutter his way through any sexual encounter. He had you willing to put your entire career on the line for a misdemeanor just to finally feel him like you did in your dreams.

“Damn…I leave you two alone for ten minutes and baby-on-board looks like he’s two seconds from whipping it out,”

Jake Seresin was a dead man. Worse than a dead man, not that you even knew what could be worse, but the second you could get your hands on him you were going to strangle him. Or beat him. Or hold a pillow over his face until he finally stopped breathing and you never had to hear hid stupid voice again.

Your head fell to Bob’s shoulder, hands still wound in his hair and refusing to leave. He let out a soft, but you could tell embarrassed, chuckle against the side of your head, the hand on your ass slipping back to your waist, his other hand finally letting your leg drop back to the ground.

“Something you need, Bagman?”

“Was just seeing if my hunch was right and you two wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off one another,” you tilted your head against Bob’s shoulder in order to fully look at your best friend, your death glare doing nothing to deter his smirk and wink. “As usual, I was right, given that you were well on your way to a misdemeanor. I think you two should be thanking me, this is all thanks to my brilliant foolproof plan for the day-”

“Seresin, I know you like hearing yourself talk, but if you interrupt me one more time I’m going to ride Bob right in front of you just to make sure you’re scarred for life,”

It was Bob’s turn to laugh, squeezing your waist gently with another kiss to the side of your head. Jake’s smirk only widened as he took his hand out of his pants pocket, tossing something in your direction. You let one of your hands leave Bob’s hair to catch what he’d thrown, both you and Bob looking down at your hand: Jake’s truck keys.

“No scratches, that’s all I ask. And no sex in the truck,” Jake sent another wink in your direction, shuffling backward toward where he’d come from. “Rooster is designated driver, Phoenix and I will just squeeze in with them. I’m sure I can keep them busy here for three…maybe four hours, if that’s enough time for you jackrabbits to get rounds 1 through 5 out of your systems. Just wrap it, please, I don’t feel like calling your mom and informing her that you’re pregnant anytime soon.”

You and Bob could only stare at the place in which Jake had just been standing for a moment in shock, trying to process what had just occurred. Then, you laughed, spinning the keys around in your hand.

“He’s a dick, but I guess he’s a good wingman…at least on the ground. Remind me to thank him-”

Bob’s hand was on your chin, tugging your face back to him as his lips moved headily against yours, swallowing the moan you didn’t even try to suppress as that bulge nudged against your thighs once more. Lust, love, adoration, need, it was all prevalent in the heated kiss as Bob pulled away, hot breath ghosting over your lips.

“Thank him later. I’ve waited long enough to fuck you, flower,”

[darkmatilda]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her.  He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief. 

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

*

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location. 

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

 "Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

 “Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

 “Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

 It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

 "Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

*

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control. 

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it. 

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth. 

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else. 

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

*

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

*

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength. 

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you.  That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

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✧˚ ༘ Falling asleep next to him ft. Tsukishima Kei

⇢fluff, alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy), written this with post-timeskip Tsukki in mind, your honor they're idiots in love, they want each other bad. anyway, self indulgent short drabble

Tsukishima thinks his heart is going to explode from how close you are to him. The room is silent and you're haf-asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, smelling of his shower products and he almost doesn't mind the sweet, lingering trace of alcohol on your breath.

When you invited him and Yamaguchi to a party that night to celebrate the end of exam season he initially wanted to refuse, but the thought of you going only with his friend, getting hit on by random guys at the club didn't sit right with him. So he tagged along and watched you dance and chat up whoever was willing to spare you the time of day. To say he was irritated would be an understatement but Tsukishima knew better than to comment on your behavior; he knew how easily you sulked and pouted until you got your way. And you always ended up getting your way with him– he liked you that much, though he never found the words to tell you. He had to basically drag you home that night, helping you take off your makeup while you sat on the edge of the bathtub, complaining about your headache. It was Yamaguchi's idea to let you stay the night at their flat considering the state you were in. Tsukishima wanted to point out that you weren't in fact that drunk, just tipsy, but he held his tongue. He couldn't waste an opportunity to keep you by his side just for a little longer. So after you showered and joined him in bed, he was finally faced with the reality of it all.

You're here, pressed up against him, your nose nudging against his jaw as you shift around, trying to find a more comfortable position. He feels warm, too warm, his palms sweaty as he adjusts, rolling on his side to give you more space. His hand comes up to your waist to prevent you from completely rolling over him and the little breathy hum you let out at the touch is a low blow. Tsukishima has always been analytical, trying to make sense of the world through logic and his sharp mind almost never failed him. But what can he do when his brain is basically mush, heart thumping so fast he's afraid you'll hear it if you lay your head on his chest? He tells himself to go to sleep, just close his eyes, take a deep breath and calm down but he can't— not when you're so close and fit so well against him.

And then you speak, a breathy, barely audible whisper of his name and his resolve crumbles. "Yea?" he says back, pressing his forehead against yours, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

"d'you have some water? My throat feels dry."

He nods as you cough, slipping out of bed and heading to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water. By the time he returns you're already propped on your arm and he can see you blinking slowly in the soft moonlight.

"Here you go. Drink up." he mumbles, fingers brushing against yours when you take the glass and bring it to your lips, emptying it in a few greedy gulps. "Jesus... slow down, it's all yours." You give him a glare and set the glass down as he joins you under the blanket again.

"I was thirsty ok? Plus my head hurts so bad. Can't you give me some paracetamol?"

"Not when you've still got alcohol in your system, dummy. I'll give you one in the morning." he huffs, slipping his hands into your hair to massage your scalp before you get to complain more.

Kei's thumbs rub against your temples, soothing the dull ache and you finally relax, your protests melting on your tongue as you close your eyes again. "There, better?" he whispers and you nod, cuddling up against his chest. "Yea, thanks Tsukki. You're a saviour."

"A saviour, really?" he teases and you chuckle.

"You know what I mean."

And Tsukishima knows– at least he hopes he does. Hopes that behind that little sleepy smile and content expression of yours lays a feeling akin to his. But he pushes down those thoughts, leaving them for tomorrow because he's finally starting to fall asleep and as his breath settles and his eyes flutter shut, Tsukishima promises himself that one day he'll get you to sleep by his side every night.

[rosygaze]

busy woman

pairing: johnny storm x assistant!reader

summary: you’re way too busy at your new job to even remember to eat sometimes. but you could spare a minute or two to pretend not to like it when johnny flirts with you. inspired by busy woman by sabrina carpenter!

word count: 3.9k+

note: help wanted part 2 is here! thank you for all the love on part 1 🫶🏻 i’ve been working on this for like three months and she’s finally here 🥹 i’m definitely planning more stuff for these two but i may need to see the movie before more parts come out lmao who knows! enjoy !!!

< prev part

“Excuse me. Sorry.” You weaved and dodged the hoard of busy employees rushing in different directions. With the looming deadline on the horizon, the facility resembled an ant colony more than an office. Each person had a single goal and that was to get that rocket up in space.

While you couldn’t solve a complicated equation or weld metal, you quickly learned that you were pretty good at being an assistant. You had already built a system and connections with other departments that made it easier for you to do your job. Sue seemed to like you, at least you hoped she did cause it’s only been a month and you realized that you really liked working here.

Currently, you were on your way to deliver the stack of folders in your arms. Across the floor, you spotted the long chalkboard filled with various symbols and numbers that you would probably never understand. Dr. Reed Richards stood at one end, a piece of chalk hovered over the board. You approached him.

“Dr. Richards?” He flinched a little as if you pulled him out of a number-induced trance. “Sorry to disturb you.”

“Ah, you didn’t. You saved me, actually. I needed a break. This equation’s been racking my brain for weeks now.” Dr. Richards crossed out a string of numbers and letters.

“It does look pretty tricky.”

“Tricky’s one way to describe it.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw while he stared at the board in thought.

“I don’t wanna keep you for too long. Sue wanted you to have these documents.” You handed him the stack of files. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly at the mention of his wife.

“Thank you.” He flipped through them and picked out a single folder. “Has she mentioned anything about tonight?” He glanced at you expectantly.

“She’s very excited for your date.” You grinned. Over the past few weeks, you’ve been a firsthand witness of Sue and Reed’s relationship. The sweet nothings they would mumble to each other when they thought you were out of earshot, the extra slip of paper slipped in between stacks of folders, the way they seemed drawn to each other in a crowd.

Definitely didn’t make you feel more single than you already were.

Nope.

“Great.” Dr. Richards smiled shyly. You tried to ignore how red his face had gotten. “You tell her I’ll be done in a few hours and that I promise to be on time.”

“I will.”

“You’re the best.” Dr. Richards turned back to his board and immediately started scribbling. You took that as your sign to go back to your desk. Again, you weaved and dodged the crowd to get back to your desk and get started on yet another task. You were listing down to-dos in your head when you spotted a man by your desk. You sighed and braced yourself for impact.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Jonathan Storm called out as he saw you approaching. He was leaning on the front of your desk. One leg crossed over the other, arms bracing his weight behind him. Big, handsome grin on his face.

“Johnny.” Your voice clipped as you walked around him. You started typing on your computer, trying to ignore him in hopes that he would leave you alone before he could see how flustered he had made you with two words and a smile.

“Busy?” He turned and put his forearms on the edge of your desk, eyes burning a hole in the side of your head.

“Kinda.”

“Gunning for employee of the month?” Johnny picked up a pencil from your cup and started tapping it against the side of your monitor.

“Maybe.” You spared a glance at him. “Do you need anything from Sue?” You tried to divert the attention away from you.

“No, I don’t need anything from my dear sister today.” Johnny sighed and plopped down on the seat you kept in front of your desk for any visitors.

“Then what are you doing here?” You stopped your typing and you fully faced him.

“Wanted to see my favorite assistant.” He shrugged.

“I’m not your assistant.” You scoffed.

“No? Then I just wanted to see you.” A sly grin spread across his lips like the Cheshire cat. You blinked at him for a second, two. Allowing yourself to indulge in his attention until you remembered who he was, who you were, where you are.

You pulled your eyes away from his and looked down at your desk.

“Johnny… You can't say things like that to me.” You strained.

“Why not?” He asked you.

“Cause you work here.” You threw your hands up in exasperation. Could he really be this dense? “And I work here. For your sister, might I remind you.“

“What does that have to do with anything?"

“You can’t…you know.” You moved your hands in the air awkwardly.

“What?” He was goading you now, big brown eyes boring into yours.

“Flirt with me.” You said through your teeth.

“But I want to.”

“But you can’t.”

“You don’t want me to?”

“I-“

He had you cornered. Damn him.

“How about this? I’ll try my absolute best not to flirt with you.” You glared at him but he never wavered. He continued to blind you with that signature Storm smile. “And you can pretend not to like it. Deal?”

“Johnny.”

“Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.” Johnny put his arms out as if to say ‘See?’. “Just as pretty as you are.” He added with a wink.

“Johnny!” You exclaimed. You couldn’t stop the flush that spread over your body even if you wanted to. Before you could tell him off again, you heard Sue’s voice calling you from inside her office. “This isn’t over.” You pointed a finger at him and narrowed your eyes.

“Oh, I hope not.” Johnny simply smirked and slid down on the chair as if he were lounging on the beach.

The keyboard clicked and clacked away as you typed out a report. The office had gotten quiet, people started leaving a couple of hours ago. Even Sue had passed by your desk and told you not to stay that late. You promised you wouldn’t. You just had a couple more things to do and you could call it a day.

But you thought about how you would save so much time tomorrow if you got a few more things done today. So here you were, neck aching and hands cramping, checking off yet another one of your to-dos.

You rolled your neck around to relieve some of the ache. You really needed to be more conscious of your posture.

“If you keep staying here this late, I think they’re gonna start charging you rent.” A voice echoed through your empty office, making you jump. Your relief turned into annoyance when you saw who it was.

“Johnny, you scared me!” You put a hand to your pounding chest.

“You’re working in a dark office all alone and you get scared by little old me?” Johnny dropped down in the seat in front of you again. “But, don’t you worry. Johnny’s here now and he’s gonna keep all the scary monsters away.”

“My hero.” You said dryly but a smile tugged on your lips. “Nothing better to do tonight?”

“Just keeping you company.” He shrugged. “And making sure you don’t stay here overnight. Do you realize how late it is? You shook your head and checked your watch.

“It’s already 10pm?” You gasped. The nearest window to you was a couple of desks away so you didn’t realize just how late it had gotten. You swore you weren’t working that long.

“Didn’t see the sun setting?”

“Not really.” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Did you leave this desk at all today?” Johnny raised a brow at you.

“Yeah, Sue had me pick up some reports from her earlier.” To which you took to your desk, sat down, and typed out reports for.

“And?”

You rattled your brain. “And… I used the ladies’ room a couple of times.”

Johnny made a ‘tsk’ sound and plopped a brown paper bag on your desk. “Eat up, busy bee.”

“What is this?”

“Food.” He reached inside and tossed something your way. You awkwardly caught it and saw that it was a burger wrapped in parchment paper. “I'm pretty sure you haven't had anything to eat the whole day.”

“How’d you know that?” You said, voice barely over a whisper. Your stomach grumbled as if it remembered what hunger was. Meanwhile, Johnny was already digging into his own burger.

“Well, I’ve been watching you for a couple of weeks now. I know you get so focused on your work that you skip meals.” He picked up a fry from the bag and popped it into his mouth. “And when I saw your car in the parking lot, I figured you'd be in here for another hour or so, so I went and picked up some burgers for us. Lo and behold, here you are. Glued to your desk.”

You were quiet for a second. Since you started here, Johnny had been pestering you. He was nice, of course but he had a knack for catching you at your busiest and talking your ear off. He annoyed you most days, made you smile on others.

Today. Today, he made you smile. Johnny noticed that you were working late and brought you food. You could cry but you weren’t sure if it was because you were touched or hungry.

“You've been watching me? Stalker.” You unwrapped your burger and took a bite. He rolled his eyes at you.

“That's all you got? No ‘I love you, Johnny! You saved me from starving to death!’?”

“Thank you, Johnny. You saved me from starving to death.” You continued to eat your burger and looked Johnny dead in the eye.

“I think you got that first part wrong.” Johnny lifted his brows, expectantly. He wanted to hear the words ‘I love you, Johnny’ come out of your mouth. Fat chance.

“Mm,” You moaned exaggeratedly around your burger, making Johnny shift in his seat. “This is so good. It wiped my memory. Who are you again?”

Johnny chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Go eat your burger.”

A-choo!

You sneezed into a wad of tissue that you’d crumpled into your hand. You wiped your nose and stuffed it into your skirt pocket. There was a bug going around and you did everything in your power to keep it away from you. You took your vitamins, overloaded yourself with fruits and vegetables, stayed far away from anyone who tried to clear their throat.

And yet. It got you.

You sniffled miserably and went back to taking notes on the engine test Sue asked for. It was hard to focus when you had a pounding headache and a round of coughs threatening to spill out. Shake it off.

“You feeling okay, hon?” A gruff voice asked. You turned and saw the kind, worried eyes of Benjamin Grimm.

“I’m fine, Ben.” Your voice was hoarse.

“That runny nose and wad of tissues sticking out of your pocket says otherwise.” He pointed a finger down.

“That’s nothing.” You shoved your hand in your pocket and pushed everything down.

“If you say so.” He nudged your arm with his elbow. “Take it easy at least.”

You smiled gratefully. Ben looked rough and mean on the outside, piercing blue eyes and a mouth of a sailor to match. You were pretty intimidated by him when you were first introduced but you quickly learned that he was just a big sweetheart once you got to know him.

The two of you continued your work. Ben was helping you make sense of all the technical jargon. After a couple of minutes of note taking, your vision started to get hazy and you wobbled on your heels.

“Okay, let’s take a break.” Ben stated. He gripped your arm and gently pulled you down to a nearby chair. You wanted to protest but he cut you off. “No, no. Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”

You tried to call out to him but that round of coughs you were suppressing finally made itself known. When you were done, you sunk down in your chair. I hate this. You thought. God, you missed the days when your nose wasn’t clogged.

“Hey, so I stayed in last night. Crazy, I know. Who am I?” You groaned. Johnny was gonna rip you a new one. You sat up and put on the most “I’m not sick!” expression you could muster, even slapped your cheeks a few times to get some color back in them. Johnny strolled up, carefree as always. “Anyways, I watched that movie you were talking about last week and- whoa, wait.” He stopped in front of you. Johnny scanned your face with an intense gaze.

“Hi, Johnny.” You said, sweetly, but he just narrowed his eyes at you.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned.

“Nothing’s wrong. How was the movie?” You tried to distract him.

“No, no, no. You look pale.” Johnny put one hand on the back of your chair and bent down to be closer to you. Your face was heating up. You were going to chalk that up to the fever you were probably developing…and not because of his face so close to yours. “Did you forget to eat again?”

“I had lunch.”

“She’s sick!” You looked over Johnny’s shoulder and saw Ben coming back with a glass of water in hand.

“Ben!” You groaned.

“Sick?” Johnny immediately grabbed your face with both hands. “You’re burning up, sweetheart.” Johnny’s voice was soft. His thumb brushed your cheek with a featherlight touch. You leaned into his palm for a fraction of a second. Blame it on your flu-ridden brain.

“Johnny, it’s okay.” You matched his tone.

“What the hell are you doing here? Go home.” He gave you an incredulous look. He took one of his hands away from your face and reached back for the glass of water from Ben. “Drink.”

You took big gulps. You didn’t realize how dehydrated you’d become. “I’m not going home.”

“I’m taking you home.” Johnny put his hands on your forearms and pulled you up gently but firmly.

“You don’t know where I live, Johnny. And I’m not leaving.” You shook your head which was a big mistake. You felt light-headed again and wobbled. Johnny gripped you even tighter while glaring at you.

“Sue!” Ugh. You heard your boss’ heels clack behind you. You turned your head much slower this time. “Your assistant has the plague and refuses to go home.”

“The plague?” Sue raised a brow.

“He’s being dramatic.” You corrected him. Sue put the back of her hand to your forehead and tsk-ed.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve given you the day off.” She crossed her arms.

“We have so much to do.” Your argument was getting weaker every time.

“It can wait til tomorrow. Today, all I want you to do is to rest until you feel better.” She pointed at you.

“But-“

“No buts.”

Fight’s over.

“Fine.” You conceded with a pout.

“I’ll drive her home.” Johnny put an arm around your shoulder and guided you to a walking pace.

“Feel better, hon!” Ben called out to you. You waved back to him.

“Did you like the movie though?” You asked Johnny.

“Loved it.”

The copy machine was slower than usual today and you were getting impatient. You had a pile of 30-page reports that needed 4 copies by tomorrow morning and you were only at number 3. It didn’t help that you picked the wrong pair of heels today and they were pinching your toes. Never, ever wear pointy heels at work.

You fed another piece of paper through the machine and put your weight against it while you tried to alleviate some of the pain on your feet. You rolled your ankles a few times on each side while grabbing the warm piece of paper and placed it with the rest of the copies. That was the last of copy 3. You pulled out the original pages and started the process one last time.

Sighing, you put the first page in. You looked around the office. It was pretty empty at this time, but there were a few stragglers that you knew would start packing up soon. The machine whirred while you took a headcount of who was still here. John, William, Shelley, Johnny….

Wait.

Your eyes snapped back to your desk where a certain blonde was in his usual seat. A smile tugged on your lips and you may or may not have started speeding up your copying. Once the final page shot out onto the tray, you gathered all of your papers and walked back to your desk.

Johnny was mindlessly fiddling with the pens you kept in a mug on your desk. He had his back to you so you would be able to surprise him for once.

“I think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at yours.” You giggled when he flinched.

“Well, the view here is much better than mine.” He recovered quickly and shot you an easy smile. You shook your head, letting the flirty comment wash over you.

You pulled out the puncher and punched holes through the reports. You opened your box of paper fasteners and started to arrange your copies into their respective folders. Sparing a glance at Johnny, you saw that he was tapping a beat on your desk with a pensive expression on his face.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

“Why wouldn't it be?” Johnny tried to keep it light but you heard the edge in his voice.

“You're just…” You dragged, trying to find the right words. “Quieter than usual.”

“‘s been a long day.” He let out a long breath. Johnny’s brows furrowed and the corner of his lips turned downwards.

“I heard you went out into the field today.” You fastened the last report into its folder and gave Johnny your full attention.

“Keeping tabs on me?” A ghost of a smirk graced his lips.

“Part of the job.” You shrugged. “Did something happen?”

“I’m grounded.” Johnny said after a beat.

“What?”

“I’m not allowed to fly for a month.” He stopped his drumming and placed his palm flat on the wood.

“Why would they do that?” Johnny was one of the most competent pilots in the program. It made no sense to suspend him like this.

“You know that the new jets came in this week, right?” You nodded to answer his question. “Well, they asked me to test those bad boys. See how fast they’d go. And that’s what I did.”

“That doesn’t explain why they’d ground you though.” You tilted your head in confusion.

“Well, they only wanted me to go up to a certain speed but I knew they could go faster. I could go faster.”

“Did you?”

Johnny smiled, the first genuine one of the day. “I did. Going that fast. Nothing better than that. You just feel so…free.”

“That sounds amazing.” You couldn’t help but smile with him.

“It was. Until I landed.”

“What did they do?”

“Insubordination. That’s what they called it. The jet was fine, by the way. It was built to go that fast. The admiral just has a stick up his ass. I let him know that too.” Johnny said through gritted teeth, hand curling into a tight fist. You could see a flush of red on his cheeks and his breaths getting shallower.

“How long ‘till you can fly again?” You wanted to reach out and touch his hand but you held yourself back.

“A month.” He scoffed.

“Okay.” You sighed in relief. “You’ll still be able to join the launch.”

“Ha, they can try to replace me.” Johnny jabbed a finger on his chest. “They won’t find someone else.”

“Oh, I know. The team wouldn’t let that happen.” You paused. “Neither would I.”

Johnny’s eyes crinkled. “Going soft on me now, sweetheart?”

“Just cause you’re all mopey today.” You teased. “I am sorry, Johnny.”

“Ah, it‘s not your fault.” He waved a hand at you. You frowned.

“But you’re upset and you’re my friend so still. I’m sorry.” You rambled.

“I’m your friend?” He asked, sounding way too happy about it.

“I think so. Do you think we are?” Your voice got quiet, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“I do.” Johnny nodded.

A warm, fuzzy feeling came over you. You didn't know when it happened, but Johnny had become a staple in your life. It was so easy to talk to him. You found yourself drawn to him in a crowd, saving seats for each other every time there was an office-wide meeting. Then of course, you found yourself here on most days. Sitting at your desk, talking about everything and nothing. Some days, Johnny would just sit there and wait for you to finish working. He’d talk your ear off but you realized it was just to get you to stop working and go home.

Johnny was a friend. And a pretty good one at that.

“Do you wanna go get something to eat? I think we both need to get out of this place.” You logged off your computer and shut it down.

“Asking me out?”

“As a friend.” You gave him a pointed look.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He played along, nodding sarcastically. “Unfortunately, I’ve got plans tonight so I’m gonna need a raincheck on that.” A part of you was disappointed but you brushed it off.

“That’s okay. Next time?” You slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Next time. But, thank you.” Johnny locked eyes with you. “For listening.”

“Any time.” You smiled at him. “Ready to go?”

“You go ahead. I forgot something in my locker.”

“Okay, I’ll see you Monday?”

“Drive safe.”

You navigated out of the building and pushed the doors open. Fresh air filled your lungs, something you often take for granted after being in a stuffy office all day. The parking lot was fairly empty. You could see your own car a few rows down and spotted Johnny’s fire red convertible parked close to the door.

What you didn’t expect to see was the woman leaning against it.

You recognized her. She worked here too but in a different department. She didn’t pay you mind when you walked past, too caught up with finding something in her bag. You looked away before she could catch you staring but your brain was going a hundred miles an hour.

Did she know Johnny? Of course, she knows Johnny. Everyone knows him. What was she doing by his car? And most importantly…

Why was this bothering you so much?

Eventually, you made it to your car and started the engine. As you were pulling out of the driveway, you caught a glimpse of Johnny coming out of the building. In the rearview mirror, you watched him walk up to the woman, kiss her cheek, and open the passenger door for her.

You pulled your eyes away and focused on the road ahead. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your gut. You felt a little nauseous but you ignored it, just like you ignored the green-eyed monster that was slowly making itself known.

Whatever.

You were too busy to have a crush on anyone, anyways.

Much less on someone like Jonathan Storm.

next part > (to be continued)

[tyunningism]

Fuck me like you mean it !!

── .✦ pairing: h.k x reader

Browsing an adult dating app is the last thing you should be doing when you’re failing your college classes, but who’s to blame you when you’ve got your eye caught on an anonymous user with a hot bod, apart from the nerdy guy in your chem class who’s tutoring you? xx

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead... …or in simple words… ɴᴇʀᴅ!ᴋᴀɪ x ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 12.2k words

warnings!! and mentions!! switch!reader, blowjob, sex in public but enclosed space, vulgar language, reader’s a bit mean, stomach bulge, riding, cunnilingus, masturbation, sexting, slight nipple play, fleshlight use, big dick!kai agenda, lots of sex mention but overall quite mild i think !! Might’ve missed some things

tyunningism’s note: I seriously wasn’t planning on getting this done until like early July but every time I have time on my hands I end up coming back to finish off parts of this fic !?? Need to go on a whole course on how to write smut better bc I genuinely feel deenergised + decided to make reader filthy rich as well to add a bit more to her character !!??

“9 assignments Miss L/N.”

Fuck. Literally who decided to make the deadlines for chemistry so short?!! 4 months is barely anything- like- you have a life outside of college too you know?

“Thermodynamics study. Due 4 months ago. Submitted, nothing.

Kinetics research. Due 6 months ago. Submitted, nothing.”

The sound of pages flicking like your professor’s reading a whole criminal case log irritates you, it’s not like you didn’t complete anything?!

“Reactions thesis. Due 7 months ago. Submitted a video of yourself opening up a pair of Louboutins.”

“In my defense professor you didn’t tell me I submitted that video on accident until two days after it was due!”

“And I haven’t received a single updated document from you over the last seven months for that assignment.”

“Touché.” You dust off your pencil skirt too bored out of your mind to spare your babbling professor an ear, admiring the new manicure you got done when you were out in LA during finals last week.

“Ahem. Are you listening Miss L/N? I said at this rate you’re headed towards failing and needing to retake.”

Failing??

Ohmygosh failing!!!

“No you can’t do that Peter! My father’s going to kill me if you fail me this year!! And I need that credit card- so please? Can’t you just let me sneak in to second year?” Seems like batting your eyelashes is too old school now even for your ageing professor.

“It’s Jenkins, Professor Jenkins- remain professional will you? If I permit you to go ahead in to your second year what will I say to the board when they question why you’re lacking behind the rest of the class?”

God, this is unbelievable.

You roll your eyes and slide your manicured hands along his desk to flick to the gradebook with your nail, scanning your eyes along masses of F, F, F, F and oh- a D!!

Grinning like you’ve beat the stupid system you point at the D right next to your name,

“See? A D! That’s enough to get me a spot for next year right?”

“If you’re looking to apply for mopping the hallways of the Chemistry lecture halls then sure, but your grade has consistently failed to meet a pass in both semesters. I can’t figure why you qualified for this course when you show no skills nor interest in studying Chemistry.” He raises his eyebrows for your answer but all you can focus on is the huge zit between the wrinkles lining up on his forehead..gross.

Well, you don’t really know why you picked Chemistry because your brain can’t even handle the easiest topics apart from getting the mclaren you wanted for you birthday if you went ahead with it. Your father can’t blame you if you’re ass at the course can he?

You chew on the fat of your bottom lip, eyes squinting to observe your professor’s physiognomy: wrinkles carved in to his dehydrated skin, the coriander loosely hanging in between his teeth as he speaks and a balding head with hedgerows of graying hair sticking out measly. No way in hell are you sleeping with him for some stupid grade- at least save it for Professor Duncan who’ll fabricate a top grade in your Politics class if you send him some pictures (Haven’t tested the theory yet, but Momo’s sister said it worked and she graduated just fine).

By the looks of it you can’t fake your grades with a bit of daddy’s money like you did in Highschool to get you where you’re at right now, the Cartier watch that released this summer is glistening around his wrist and of course you can’t help but admire !! If the rumours are true he probably got it from his sugar mommy half his age, yeah..better to keep those emergency funds for the new collection miu miu’s dropping.

“This is serious Miss, staring at my face isn’t going to cut it.”

Fuck, now your old bum of a professor thinks you were checking him out. Even if he was the last man on earth you wouldn’t spare him a look..

“So, I’ve set you up with the top student for some tutoring sessions over the next couple of weeks, and an exam at the end of summer which will decide whether I can give you a pass in to next year. Take this as a warning, make use of Taehyun as best as you-“

Burning sensations sting in your palms which now laid slammed on to the mahogany of the wooden lectern. Taehyun? As in Kang Taehyun who you gave a wedgie to in 5th grade? What makes this old fart think that nerd won’t try to sabotage you instead of tutoring you?

“No! I’m not being tutored by that freak!” Steam is blowing from your nose as you utter the insulting words with defiance.

“I don’t see the issue with a well qualified student like Tae-“

“I’m sure the headmaster won’t see an issue when I show her the Venezuelan model you’ve been seeing on campus grounds either.”

It’s so rewarding to see him swallow his next words and close the gradebook in defeat.

Guess the rumours are true after all,

“Fine. I’ll ask Kai if he’s up for some extra credit.”

Except this time the name doesn’t ring a bell, hell- was there ever a Kai in your lecture hall? Sounds like he’s been celibate his whole life!

Shit, he’s been celibate his whole life.

The endless tapping of your pen starts to become monotonous in the silence of the library. If only your father didn’t threaten to freeze your card if you didn’t attempt to try and learn for once then you wouldn’t even think of showing up in a place like this. Megan was supposed to be bringing her hot brother to lunch today too..

The timid male doesn’t seem to speak much either, he keeps to himself and talks strictly in whispers as he goes over what he’ll be tutoring with you over the next week, dumb chemical reactions and what not..can’t you just graduate, get a degree and leave the actual work to people like Kai instead?

Kai’s some silent guy who sits at the very front of the lecture hall. Always clad in something loose like a hoodie even when it’s sweltering in Summer and religiously reserved to himself although he usually sits next to, gag, Taehyun.

Anyone else would say they see the back of his head more than they see his face and it applies to you too, always sat at the very back in your designated seats with your friends and scrolling Instagram, or better even, gossiping about the new hidden gem you guys found out about a couple weeks ago.

“Let’s arrange a meeting every..hm.. Tuesday?” His voice is hushed and gentle, barely above a whisper.

You lean across the small desk space offered to you with your hands intertwined and nestled below your chin.

“Say Kai, do you have Winkchat?”

Pretty amusing to watch him gulp and look down at his feet at the mention, a nerd like him probably has an insta feed filled with philosophical quotes or some shit, let alone an account on an 18+ dating app.

A hand leaves its spot from under your chin to brush the hair covering his eyes away; what’s the point of having those thickly framed glasses if he’s going to have his hair covering his eyes anyway?

But seems like your hospitality hasn’t grown on him at all because he flinches back so cartoonishly even if your finger is miles away from his face.

“S-Sorry!!! I was just startled, uhm..no I don’t have it.”

“Pfft, you don’t have to be tense with me Kai, promise I don’t bite.”

“Yeah..I know.”

If only you could see how he’s beating himself up over being so awkward right now. Of course he knows you, besides Taehyun’s never ending rants about the time you lied about having a crush on him in middle school upon piles and piles of other stories, Kai has known you for longer than you think.

The college’s princess, you and your friends are always walking around the campus with everyone spun and weaved around your finger like marionettes. There’s always a trail of the college’s varsity team trailing behind with their tongues panting at the sway of your hips and the stretch of your signature pink miniskirt your father shipped from Italy saddled on it. Heaps of shopping bags worth five times his tuition clung to their biceps; following you mindlessly like brain-dead zombies to load them in to the back of your sports car among countless others he can’t name.

You live a glamorous life in your tiny 6 inch heels and perfectly styled curls, dainty sunglasses buried pristinely on top of the crown of your head like embedded jewels that could feed a whole country if you ever bothered to auction them.

But he’s known of your prima donna life since he first started volunteering at a nearby animal shelter in high school, watching discreetly behind the shelves of donated food as you squat down to coo at a siamese the shelter’s been homing for years. Every Sunday he would wait for you patiently to enter through the double doors with your black Hermès handbag, all to drop it off in the volunteer room to change in to a poorly weaved ‘volunteer’ apron so you could help clean the cubicles and cages.

Kai doubts anyone else on campus has seen you more authentically than he has. After he stopped volunteering there he would take the longer route on his walk back to his apartment, walking past the shelter just to peep if your flashy sports car was still parked there as usual on Sunday. He doesn’t know when he pushed the whole ‘puppy love’ agenda by having a fat crush on you, he doubts you even notice him among the list of all the other guys head over heels for you.

”My friend Momo told me you’re a genius isn’t that like so crazy? Can’t believe people like you really exist and aren’t some super duper realistic robots made to only study maths and science. Oh my God- do you watch shows? Do you like..know who Rihanna is?”

His mouth drops absurdly in confusion; did he really seem that out of touch and abnormal to you?

“I do..maybe it doesn’t seem that way.”

What comes next is not what he was expecting because you’re clutching on to your stomach howling in laughter which only makes him frantic and wave his hands about to quiet you down before you both get kicked out of the library.

“Ahah- awhh, you’re so adorable Kai. I was only joking~ don’t get your panties in a twist over it.” Something please swallow him whole right now so you can’t see the beet red starting to grow on his face.

“Psst! Come on Y/N!! Sunghoon’s gonna take us carpooling downtown, don’t cancel on us now.”

An ecstatic Sullyoon rocks against the metal frame of the balcony above the library, beckoning you to join her and your other friends in to skipping classes again.

“Wait! I’m coming give me a second!” Packing the blank-paged note book and pens in to your bag you lock eyes with the strands of hair still blocking his,

“Sorry Kai! I know this isn’t ideal but I need to go like really really desperately so I’ll text you the details for the next session yeah?” A phone slides right in front of him on complete brightness which makes him wince, an empty contact page. The second he types in his phone number you hurry off in to the distance, the six inch heels strutting away still rings in his head minutes after you leave the library, still giddy he finally got to talk to you.

Out on the college parking lot is Sunghoon’s parked Cadillac convertible with a couple of girls including Sullyoon and Momo leaning against it while they conversed with him.

“Hey princess.” The taller male whistles at you with an all-too recognisable girl sweetly attached to his arm.

“Why call me over if you’ve got company? I don’t carpool if I’m not in the passenger seat.” Your hand digs in to your handbag for a pack of tissues which you offer to Rue, who’s still clinging on to Sunghoon’s arm.

“You’re starting to sweat on your nose beautiful, we don’t want that in your car do we Hoon?” A voice so alluring could make Sunghoon sign off to enlist his whole life serving in your name, triggering Sullyoon and Momo in to boisterous laughter when he shakes Rue off him slightly too aggressively to save her any face.

“Quick, hop in losers!” Sullyoon beckons.

“Ugh fuck!” The discarded girl watches as you buckle yourself in to the front seat of the leather-back rest as a slender hand tussles through your hair to frame your face in harmony with the sun.

“Oh, and tell your brother thanks for the manicure by the way~ Ask him if my cunt tasted good.” With that, Sunghoon presses down on the accelerator which carries you out of campus grounds and on to the high way with dangerous ease.

“Wooo!! You’re such a bitch Y/N don’t get me wet now.” Momo leans forward and swings her arms around you with a beer can loosely held in her hand, a smile forms on your face watching Sullyoon drag her back in to the back seat before they got fined for not having seatbelts on at this speed.

“What else can you expect of our college princess? That bitch really has some nerve trying to climb in to our circle through Hoon, and you horny fucker let her!” An aggravated Sullyoon kicks the back of Sunghoon’s seat playfully all the while recording the blocks of apartments and houses flash by in laughter.

“I think she’s quite cute is she not? Still pales in comparison next to you though.” Additional warmth from Sunghoon’s hand resting on your thigh triggers you to open your mouth again,

“Gross, you’re like a brother to me Hoon.”

“Oh really? Sunghoon told us he fucked you stupid at the birthday party he threw for you.”

And this is why you should’ve kept your loud mouth shut.

A questioning eye burns through Sunghoon’s conscience,

“Hoon!! Why would you tell them that?! And for clarification I fucked him stupid, not the other way round and it sucked.”

Sunghoon chuckles but with an underlying tone; like he’s pissed off by your bold accusation (the truth) because it hurt his fragile masculinity by a mile.

“Sounds like someone needs to get laid.”

“Yeah, I’m aware, thanks Hoon.”

“Didn’t I tell you to try out Winkchat?” Just hearing the words come out of Sullyoon’s mouth makes you groan in frustration.

“I have standards baby, I’m not going to fuck the first guy I see on my recommended because his limp dick flashed me when I opened up the goddamn app.”

“But the moment you hit gold like Sullyoon did with her man you’ll be addicted literally.”

Fine. You’ll give the stupid sexting app another chance.

Unlocking your phone you swipe among hundreds of other apps to tap on to the pink icon, thousands of message requests and notifications flooding your account with just a photo of your face and an a-line shirt is enough to drive any man crazy in this day and age.

As you expected to see on the explore page, another tiny weiner pic. No chance.

Some gym bro in Manhattan who spent all his effort in his arms and no where else and now looks top heavy, laughable.

And a man who dresses like we’re stuck in the 1800s.. what great luck do you have.

Just as you’re about to swipe off the app and delete the tab your thumb accidentally swipes to the next profile.

A subtle picture of a hand discreetly lifting up a band tee, teasing, revealing only a fraction of dimly shaded but defined abs under neath from a low angle, a long etched dragon tattoo running between the ridges of muscle and painted with a slight beauty mark.

There’s no face in any of the profile’s slides at all but it’s enough to captivate your eye, ranging only from pictures of his abs to a video of him playing guitar, a freshly made account by the looks it with nothing else in the bio except his age and the city you were also in. Jack pot, a straight friend request to user ‘kkh.txt’.

An arm reaches to snatch your phone away out of your hands. “You’ve been silent this whole time because you’re back on Winkchat tut-tut, knew you’d be hooked. And hey who is this!! He’s got a hot bod, shame you can’t see what he looks like.” Momo snatches the phone off Sullyoon to inspect the same montage of abs, tattoos and guitar playing videos.

“I can tell he’s hot just by looking at the posts, he’s not pushy with it or flashing his shit, he knows he’s sexy as hell geez.”

“Not that I care about what he looks like, that tattoo on his stomach fuckk come my way!” You snatch your phone back and take a couple of screenshots of his profile to save for..later. But Sunghoon has other plans,

“Let’s head to the tattoo shop actually I’ve been wanting to-“

“Don’t even think about it Hoon. I’d actually retch on the spot if you came out with one of those tacky poorly coloured rose tattoos.” Momo jokes, which sparks more anger in Sunghoon’s already fuming head.

“Ah! I forgot I was going to ask, how’s that nerd who’s tutoring you? Is he not super sweaty in that hoodie?”

How were you supposed to know Sullyoon?!!

“Hmm, he’s a bit awkward and all over the place. But he’s quite cute actually, in the sense that he’s entertaining to watch because he flinches at everything.” The events of trying to brush away his hair replays in your mind again, yeah he’s probably never felt a woman’s touch before.

“So would you fuck him?” Sunghoon mutters through gritted teeth like he’ll explode if you said something he didn’t like.

But honestly? Yeah you’d fuck a nerd. It’s the ego boost that really gets you going and the way they practically yearn for a bit of action on their virgin dicks, exactly your type really as much as you’d hate to admit.

“Why not, he’s got pretty lips and he’s tall.”

“Eww!! The bar is in hell girl.” Momo sticks two fingers in her mouth and retches a fake gag.

“Watch it be the next new trend to fuck nerds the moment word gets out that she does, that’s so fucking hilarious!”

All the talk about it being gross doesn’t put you off though, in fact it only intrigues you further, what if Kai could eat pussy like a champ? It’s not like it’s a crime to try is it?

“I can’t believe her.” Taehyun scowls through his bared canines. He jabs his cutlet with a plastic fork from the campus’ canteen and lifts it on to Kai’s plate.

“Hearing her name is enough to ruin my appetite.”

Kai, who gladly accepts the cutlet, pays no mind to the start of what’s going to be another of those ‘Taehyun’ rants about you that never end. Instead his eyes are glued to his faint reflection in the glass behind his best friend.

“I think she’s quite nice. Better than what you’d expect from how devilish you describe her.”

“Because she is the devil Kai! Have you not been listening to all those traumatic sufferings I’ve had to deal with since 5th grade because of her?” Taehyun pushes up the round thick glasses back up his nose, the outdated kind you’d expect to see in a retirement home and not someone in their early 20s.

“I think you’re being dramatic Tyun.”

“You think I’m being dramatic? That spawn from heck freaking ditched you thirty minutes early today! She treats people like they’re insects.”

Not that Kai would mind if you treated him like an insect, he’s already over the moon that you acknowledged he exists today.

“Do you think I should get a haircut?”

The suddenness of the question knocks the air out Taehyun’s lungs, causing him to cough and spit all over his (and Kai’s) food, a hand quickly grasping for water which only makes it worse.

“W-what?! Since when did you care so much about how you looked Kai..I thought you liked it long!”

He does like it long, but he also wants to prevents another woeful incident where he flinches away simply because you wanted to move the hair out of his face.

“I do it’s just more..convenient? I might ask Beomgyu if he can take me to his uncle’s barber shop later once he finishes Chess Society after lunch.”

The answer is straight from the heart and sincere so of course Taehyun can’t say no! Not to an angel like Kai who people pleases everyone at the chance.

That’s when he sees it, a small ping!- that lights up his phone to reveal a lock screen of some anime character you for sure wouldn’t be able to name.

‘y/n.553 sent you a chat request, chat back to her now ❤️🔥’

His eyes nearly jump out of his head. It can’t be, right? Just someone with the same name, just a mere coincidence.

“I’ll catch you later Taehyun I need to go submit in something.”

Regardless of the other man’s bewildered cries, he leaves in a hurry with his phone clutched tight in his clammy hands and right in to the men’s bathrooms. Not the greatest place he could hide his screen right now but it’s all that came to mind.

Defintely you. He can’t mistake that face for anyone else. Your profile isn’t even completed, only filling two out of three slides with a selfie and a beach photo that you also posted to your instagram, but the flame next to your name suggests you’re receiving loads of requests and a hot topic anywhere, even on dating apps.

Originally, he created an account to boost his confidence about the abs he worked on all through last summer after being stuck on gym propaganda while Beomgyu was crashing at his apartment; except Beomgyu’s motivation to become the bulky ‘jock’ and not a neek he aspired to be died within the first week of training.

It’s what pitched Kai to get a tattoo in the first place when he realised how big of a turn on it was for women who started to flood his profile with messages. Nothing more nothing less than a side practice to keep his confidence up a bit when he was basically invisible to the rest of his peers in real life.

Though this, this is different. Something more electrifying, experimental and dangerous if he had the guts to reply back; a shaky index lightly hovers over the ‘message’ button next to your icon, shit he’s doing it.

y/n.553: Youre hot. Where did u get the tattoo frm

Truth be told Kai doesn’t know how to make an impression on you, all he knows is that as long as you’re unaware it’s him, he can make as bold of a persona as he likes.

You: Downtown at Ink-lution. Heard of it before pretty?

y/n.553: No but it sounds niche thats so hot

y/n.553: thats the equivalent of buying me a necklace and choosing Chopard

All the names you’re throwing at him are cryptic in his mind, still thinking of what to respond without letting his awkwardness seep through as he leans an arm against the stall door.

you: yeah I wasnt gonna get it at first but im glad I did.

y/n.553: Asking for a friend do you have more ab pics x

Ab pics? Now? He infers you must’ve liked the profile he’d meticulously picked out if you were asking not so secretly for more pictures of his abdomen. Kai’s not going to say no to you though, he’s more enthusiastic than he ever has been to lift up the entirety of his hoodie just below his nipples and test a couple of angles and lighting. Must’ve kept you waiting with how long it took for him to decide on which to send out of the billions he took, but he settles on a simple photo, leaned back against the stall door and a full shot of his abs only on surface level, but if your eyes wandered you’d spot the purposely unzipped fly of his jeans to reveal a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

When he hit send he expected a quick thank you or something commenting on the photo, but after 5 minutes there was nothing on your end making him doubt in all the decisions he made in taking the photo or even the way he texted you since the start.

Yet through the screen he can’t see the sweat beading down your forehead nor the hand snug between your thighs. Your back arches like a sculpture from the comfort of your mattress as your fingers naïvely dance around your core, flicking and rubbing mindlessly at a sore clit you just can’t seem to get the pleasure out of to orgasm!!

There’s no way in telling whether the unzipped fly was intentional or not but the subtle naughtiness of it makes your mouth drool at the thought. Whoever this was you needed to fuck, now, like real bad.

Stained fingers are wiped along the bare of your chest as you swipe off the photo to send a voice message, needy and dripping with want.

“Can you..please say something crazy, fuck I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Kai jumps from how breathy you sound, instinctively turning down the volume just so he could hear your voice. He thinks he’s going to go insane from how desperate you sound through breathless panting; you’re touching yourself to his photos and that’s enough to make his knees buckle in and tighten his boxer briefs.

He checks to make sure no one else is within earshot of him before he says the most humiliating line in his decades of living; something completely stolen from a crappy porn site he found himself on a couple days ago. He nervously presses down on the record button and hushes his voice an octave lower than usual,

“Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Looks as if you couldn’t decipher that the voice belonged to him because you only respond with a photo of your dripping cunt, leaking your juices on to your bed sheets where two manicured fingers spread open your gaping hole.

y/n.553: want you to fill it up, pls?

Slight confession though- Kai’s never touched let alone sexted a woman before, he’s still vaguely new to the whole sending nudes thing; but the ache in his pants and the lewd material enveloping his brain only increases his blood pressure by gallons directly headed towards his dick.

He remembers watching a guy do a whole step to step tutorial on how to jerk off extra good, having to lubricate his hand with a glob of his own spit and giving himself a couple of beginner strokes. Whenever his hand lightly rubs along one of the sensitive veins that grows thicker towards the base of his cock he hisses, having to pause or else he’ll cum on the spot just from imagining you.

[kkh.txt sent you an attachment]

Your jaw fucking drops is an understatement.

Withdrawing from your attempts at a second orgasm and sitting up straight on your bed to analyse the dick pic the anonymous user had sent was a new experience for sure.

He’s huge. God he’s monstrous even. Coke can girth you’d only expect to see on those heavily edited porn thumbnails and curved with a bulbous tip which sits prettily above the bulging veins leading to it. A pearl-like bead of pre-cum emerging from his pink dusted tip!! <3

There’s pretty much hearts in your eyes as you rush towards your wardrobe of your secret stash of sex toys hidden in a glittery pink box below your handbag collection; a couple of handcuffs and vibrators are strewn against the carpet in the process but you eventually find what you were looking for.

A 7.2 inch silicone dildo you stupidly assumed you could handle when you bought it six months ago, but the stretch of it was so insane you couldn’t think properly as you tried to sink down on it, and now when you compare it to the picture the anonymous tattoo guy had sent you can immediately tell the flimsy piece of silicone was no match for him.

y/n.553: ❤️

y/n.553: how big r u? looks huge

Kai gulps because he genuinely doesn’t know, he’s never thought of himself as huge even if he knew he definitely wasn’t small down there either. If he was attempting to measure with his hand which isn’t too far off the size of his dick then he guesses it would be around 8 inches.

kkh.txt: Uhm, never rlly measured but im guessing 8 inches.

8 inches?!! You’d have to make a trip to the ER if you ever let that thing inside of you!

You crawl to the full length mirror and spread your knees apart to sit back down on your legs, the dildo placed in the gap between as you watched where it reached in the mirror to quickly snap a photo.

y/n.553: This is only 7 inches..imagine how full youd make me feel with 8..

Kai’s face burns as he observes the way your hand points at where you’d feel him in your stomach, there’s something so sexy in the way you talk that makes Kai feel light headed and drunk on your sex energy. All he can think of is how he’d absolutely break you if he ever got too harsh with you and if that’s the case he’s fine with paying any medical fees !!

Over the past week you’ve dedicated all your time you usually would spend on shopping or getting your hair styled has been directly spent on messaging the hot tattoo guy on WinkChat. Momo’s right- the moment you’re hooked it’s impossible to stop.

Except one thing that’s frustrating you out of your mind and the sole reason for the graying hairs ready to pop out of your scalp any moment now; you seriously know nothing about the guy and it doesn’t sound like he’ll ever share anything about him or his whereabouts before you could even get a taste of the big dick heaven that should be awaiting you.

Which is why you’re complaining to Momo over the phone right now with a bowl of acai in your hands,

“I’m telling you girl he’s got the biggest dick I’ve ever seen in my life. Oh my god I sounded like a virgin there didn’t I?!”

“Whatt? Even bigger than San in business?” Momo queries, you can hear the soft buzz of tv in the background of her audio; what a bitch! Is your dilemma not entertaining enough for her or something?

“Ehh, San’s big but he’s got no flair to it you know? Feels more like a stone pillar fucking me rather than a monster cock.”

A line of laughter erupts from the other end of the phone at your joke but Momo doubts a faceless guy blessed in the below will be any different to San.

“Ugh it completely skipped over my head that I have tutoring today! The moment my dad sets foot on the soil of this country again I’m going to complain.”

“Tell the nerd guy you’re seeing to tutor you at your house instead of the library, the college princess caught in that stink chamber? No thanks.”

Groaning, you end the call in annoyance, walking up to the pink double doors that led to the marble tile of your walk in closet. Not feeling the miniskirt today you nimbly waiver your hands over the racks of unnecessary clothing starting to build up as clutter.

A light pink baby tee? You wore something similar last week- can’t do that.

Pair of Ed Hardy jeans? It’s way too warm to be wearing those.

Milkmaid tops you’ve never worn in your life? Possibly could work but you’re sure there’s something better, something that would make Kai convulse and foam at the mouth if he saw you.

Got it.

Where were you? Kai’s been sat patiently at the study table he’s reserved for the tutoring session for at least 20 minutes and you still haven’t appeared strutting through the doors. Perhaps you were sick and just forgot to tell him? Or you overslept on accident all the way to 12:45 in the afternoon? It’s okay, he’ll just finish off his thermodynamics extended project in the mean time.

“So sorry Kai! I know I’m late I just had to go to the drugstore it’s super urgent- my favourite La Mer lipgloss ran out and I can’t live without it!”

But Kai can barely register a word you’re saying when you walk in through the doors dressed like this; a blue cropped button-up top which is tied just below your chest to reveal a smidge of your white-laced bra and a pair of light denim shorts branded with diamonds that spelled ‘hot’ across the globe of your ass. Your stomach is on full display which only makes Kai oggle harder retracing to the conversation a couple nights before.

He indirectly measures with his eye how far he would really go if he entered you and believe it or not he doesn’t think it’s humanely possible.

“Still have time to stare through those bangs of yours?” You chuckle loudly at him watching as the timid male be in denial so quickly about you catching him staring, not that you minded or anything if he really was.

“I-I didn’t mean to stare it’s just..don’t you get d-dresscoded for wearing that?”

Shoving his laptop and a couple of loose sheets in to his backpack for him you lean down over the table to try and meet his gaze despite the hair being a barrier,

“Honey, have you seen the art majors? I doubt the college board cares and plus I wanna sit at that table over there, not here.”

Kai can’t even retort back to you even if he’s worried that someone’s reserved the desk for later, distressingly following behind you as you guided him to the very back of the library even he didn’t know about!!

Turns out if you wandered far enough behind the foreign language books that not many people ever think to visit you’d find a small table with cushioned benches to study on.

“Woah..how do you know about this place?”

“My dad donated the chairs and tables for the library so this is the spot my friends and I used to use when we wanted to skip classes, isn’t it sweet?” A sleekly glazed wooden table becomes racked with Kai’s study materials and your once again empty note book and pen within seconds.

The pen in your hand taps lightly against your lip in a rhythmic motion, suddenly deep in thought about something as you made yourself comfortable on the benches.

“I don’t know the answer Kai.”

A confused male looks up from his laptop screen to gaze at you, tilting his head befuddledlby at your strange statement.

“Wha..what? I haven’t asked any questions yet..”

A new set of fresh acrylics tap gently at the pop quiz sheet Kai had constructed to see where you were at in your basically non-existent knowledge of chemistry.

“I don’t know anything on that sheet Kai, we’re going to have to go basics.” You jut your lip out in to a pout and play with the loose thread emerging from Kai’s sage cotton sweater at the wrists,

“Can we start off slow?~ I don’t think I can handle all of it.”

It’s like a massive lump has just blocked his ability to speak since your effect on him is so strong, he’s unsure of whether you know how teasing your words can sound in a different context or if you’re just really empty-headed and all-over-the place.

“Uhm..y-yeah. Should we start off with atomic structure then?” His stutters become more prominent the more he feels under pressure from your sly gaze; brewing something scandalous in your irises as you take the image of a nervous Kai as your key ingredient.

“Okay so..uhm there’s quite a lot of note taking in this part so if I go uh..too fast just let me know.”

The bubbling curiosity within you is distracting yourself from the familiarity of his voice you can’t quite put your finger on, all too focused on wanting to see the eyes of the bashful nerd you’ve got on your hands for the next hour.

“So the basics are that the atom consists of protons and neutrons in the nucleus and- nghh.”

One hand flies straight up to slap against his mouth, completely in utter shock at the explicit moan that sounded through his lips, another hand holding strictly against the flat of your heel which was pressed directly over his crotch to restrict it from moving any further.

His mouth is open wide in shock and quivering like he’ll bust if you moved your foot a single inch,

“I didn’t get the rest of that Kai, can you repeat it?”

Kai looks over with near tears in his eyes, there’s no way this is happening right- did you finally figure out kkh.txt was him? His whole world is flipping upside down as the growing erection in his sweats becomes more unbearable by the second; he can already see the headlines of college gossip coming after him- ‘pervert nerd gets hard in the library over a heel’. Fuck he’s doomed.

“U-uhm. So..” His voice can’t seem to pick back up on the information dump he was spouting seconds before, quivering lips and a shaky voice like he’s about to start crying.

“The electrons..are fuck, they’re in fixed energy s-shells we learnt that in middle s-school.” The grip on your heel is tight, but all that you need is to slip your foot out of the restraints, dragging down the flexing muscles in his thigh from how stiff he’s becoming, it’s cute really.

“Are we..are we really going to do this here?” His voice cracks as he shivers from your touch,

“Well, do you want me to continue Kai? No one will spot us back here~”

No words come out of him with the exception of a hum and a weak nod.

“Kai, I need words, will you let me make you feel good?”

There’s tears awaiting to spill from his eyes because he’s so embarrassed that this is how his first time is headed, but he would sell his soul for you to touch him just once, so hard in his sweats he might come undone from your gaze alone.

“Please..want it” In a voice so meek and timid all you can do is coo at him, turning around the table to stand up in front of him with a finger glamourised with rings that felt cold and bared against the clammy warmth of his cheek and it’s like he doesn’t even try to breathe when you’re in front of him.

In one swift motion you lift up the soft trenches of hair covering his eyes to reveal a set of soft brown irises; endearing and fucking gorgeous?!! Kai’s inherited the kind of eyes that make men go to war with how soft and pleading they are; beautifully adorned with glistening tears from how desperate he is for release adjourned with the rosy speckles dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The whole sight is everything you want in a man- weak, pining and tearful just for you !! ><

The absolute control you have over his lust only dampens your victoria’s secret panties you’re sure to gift Kai later for how good he’s being for you right now, leaning down to give him a quick peck he’s scrambling all the depths of his mind to figure out how to respond to.

“God you’re so adorable I fucking crave for cute nerds like you Kai, wanna see what you’ve got under the-“

“C-can I keep the sweater on?” Kai questions in a soft tone, but seriously? Fucking in a library with a sweater on? Whatever, he’s probably just over complicating things or doubting his frame but you could care less about any of it right now; especially when you’ve become engrossed with the natural-born pleading face this man just comes with!!

You give him a quick nod before removing the headband from your head and brushing back his bangs with it gently,

“Wanna see your face when I make you feel good okay pretty boy?” Shit. Kai could cum untouched right now with how you’re making his mind spin with the compliments, his thought process is lagging behind ten times its normal rate when you lean down to pull down his sweats with a hooked finger.

But in that tiny head of yours you couldn’t imagine Kai to be any bigger than around 4 inches assuming that he’s never been able to reach a girl with it. Likewise, you even prepared to ruin him with your throat alone; he looks as if he’d be so easy to excruciate pleasure out a tiny dick, he’d probably cum within seconds <3

But for Kai to be about 8- no, more than that with how it’s still growing in your hand, probably 8.2 inches and thick enough to tear your mouth if he really wanted to..

All colour drains from your face as you admire in both shock and fear..honestly you don’t even know if you can even handle a monster like this, the thought of it entering you sending shivers down your spine. You don’t even realise you’re drooling on to the floor from staring at the way your hand can barely wrap around the circumference of it. Who knew a nerd packing all of this would’ve slipped right under your nose?

Kai’s not keeping up well either, clenching down on his teeth and gripping the edge of the bench as best as he can to prevent himself from leaking anymore trails of precum from his painfully red tip. He just can’t help himself when he sees you on your knees all laid out prettily for him as your eyes sparkle every single time he twitches when your finger runs along his vein. His breathing fastens when he locks his eyes on the slight curve of your chest as you admire him so openly- boosting his ego to the moon.

“Kai..you’re- you’re fucking huge. I don’t know if I can take it.” You whine and point a dainty finger at your throat with a pout, brows in panic from imagining the stretch like you’re telling him he’s too big for you to handle, too big for you to fit all of him in and Kai has to hold back from releasing all over your face if he deeps your words again too much.

Nonetheless you’re still begging to get a taste of him now that you know his true potential. Giving sweet little kitten licks around his flushed tip, using two fingers to lightly squeeze around it for another glob of precum to leak out of his slit.

“Taste so good pretty, just be good for me okay?”

Your unoccupied hand reaches to fondle Kai’s balls as your pop his tip fully in to your mouth, lapping your tongue around in a swirling motion which makes him shut close his eyes and dig his fingernails in to the cushion of the bench even further.

Pulling off of him with a pop!- A glob of spit lands in your hand, the strings of saliva still connected to your lip as you lube his cock with your fluids, preparing yourself before hand so you have a better attempt of taking him all in !! <3

The heaviness of his cock twitches uncontrollably as you twist your wrist along his shaft, the receptors in his veins pulsing and sending waves of pleasure in to his blood stream every time you squeezed a bit too hard around one of them.

“P-please ah! Don’t tease..” Poor boy has tear stains around his eyes from how hard he’s constraining himself, his thighs are flexed so hard they’re seconds away from cramping and his lips are on the verge of drawing blood if he bites down any harder.

“Mmhm.” You hum around him as you start to take him in deeper, not even half way when you have to stop to let your throat adjust, suctioning around him so tightly he’d rather die than let you go. The moment you feel your throat retract you push further down past half way until it physically felt impossible for you to reach or deepthroat, using your hand to jerk whatever length you couldn’t reach.

The usual neatness of your hair comes apart in seconds the moment you start to pick up the pace, head bobbing up and down as you tie your hair with your other hand in to a makeshift ponytail. Occasionally, you’d gag whenever you felt his hips start to buck in to your throat with need, the extra unexpected length pushing you to tears.

The obscenity of the lewd noises of fluids and spit, whenever you lips detached from it to lick long stripes along the curve of his cock, mascara starting to collect at your undereye from tears caused by the stretch of him in your throat.

Kai believes he’s on a completely different universe by now. There’s no thoughts in his head apart from how pretty you looked and how close he was to cumming down your throat, the scene so erotic it’s more addicting than any other variation of porn or hentai he’s ever watched in the sanctity of his apartment- fuck it’s more than that, he wants to burn this image of you in to his mind forever so that he can use it for later.

“Shit Y/N nghh! I’m going to cum you need to augh!- wait..” The blissed male attempts to pry you off of him with screwed shut eyes fearful he was going to cum down your throat, but you do anything but that. Instead you nuzzle your chin all the way down to the furthest point you can reach and jerk him off; waiting for the warmth of his cum to shoot far down your throat for you to swallow.

“W-wait!! I really am going to cum, fuck mmh!~ I-is it really okay?” Whatever he’s pleading doesn’t matter because the next thing you know he’s splurging the thickest load you’ve ever had to swallow, dragging down your throat with high viscosity. Some of it drips down the corner of your lips as he smears his sensitive tip along your beaming smile.

“You did so well for me baby, you’ll have to let me do this more often- wanna see how far I can really go.” Opening up a pack of makeup wipes you clean up the mascara stains and pack your things up, leaving Kai speechless, hot and bothered and also another tutoring session gone to waste.

“I need to see results. Going to tutoring and coming back with no notes is never going to stick in your brain.” The bellow of your father’s voice echoes through the halls of your empty house- he’s come back from his annual business trip and what do you have to show you’ve been working? Absolutely nil, zero nothing.

Groaning, you call over a nanny to set up the plates, you’re not going to sit down for dinner with a father who’s going to moan at you all day for making you choose a course you can’t do!

“I am working !! We went over like electrons and proteins and stuff of that sort.”

“By working you mean pressuring someone in to telling you all the information while you post all sorts of stupid photos!”

“It’s instagram you old fart! The version of like facebook or something for your millennia! Anyways I need to go because Megan’s calling me to go shopping with her at the night plaza asap.” Earrings and hoops among other clattering items like studded belts and heels ring behind you as you start to walk off in the same clacky-heels you always wear.

“I’ve suspended all of your bank accounts.”

“Nice try father, stores still use cash nowadays.”

“The maids found your cash stack in the small compartment below your vanity.”

That’s your breaking point.

“Father!! You can’t just let them go snooping in my room like that!” Oh you’re fuming- what’s going to happen next? They find your secret sex toy collection and then your father’s going to have to take away your closet?

“Tell the boy who tutors you to come around next Friday for dinner, I want to see that you’re at least trying to learn.”

“Fine! But only if you hand me back everything after.” Boiling with rage you shove past the maids by the door and up the cold marble stairs, if you weren’t aiming for more hair growth this summer you would’ve definitely ripped out more than a couple strands by now.

Reaching your bedroom you finally slump on top of a pile of eiderdown pillows, whipping out your phone to message Kai about the arrangement.

Speaking of Kai, you think you’ve gone insane.

Ever since you left the library that day you couldn’t forget the imprint of his dick in your throat and the needy look in his eye. His moans were literal heaven to your ears, so sensitive and breathy you seriously couldn’t get enough of it!! However the downside now is that you can’t even get off your fingers anymore because now all that you desire is Kai, like he’s drugged you with some sort of addictive attraction towards him that only pushes you to want for more.

A quick dial to your ex fuck buddy Soobin should get him off your mind right? He’s got that same yearning face in him although less intense than Kai and you can bet your whole LV collection on him that he’ll show up to your door in less than 5 minutes if you really needed him to.

“Hello?”

“Hey Binnie, can you come over? I got in to an argument with father.” You mewl a little to make yourself seem as pitiable as you can.

“So, let me get this right. You’re asking to fuck?”

“Bingo! You got it Binnie so can you like please come over in five?”

The long and weighted sigh on the other end of the line does not sound like good news.

“Can’t, sorry princess I’m out of the country right now. Goodbye.”

Soobin ends the phone call without another word which only makes you dead pan at the white contact screen again.

“Ugh fuck you Choi Soobin! Couldn’t he be a little bit more considerate?” You turn to lay on your back and open up WinkChat, not even needing to scroll down to find his username at the top of the chats.

you: send me a vid of u masturbating now.

kkh.txt: now??? im at a friend’s apartment.

you: please??

Quickly snapping a photo of your exposed boob barely covered by the padding of your finger is all the anonymous user needs to take his sweet time in recording what you wanted.

“Hey..Taehyun I’m gonna use the shower okay?”

Taehyun scribbles away a couple of notes while watching a league of legends game play at the same time, only having the brain power to send Kai a quick thumbs up before he disappears behind the doors of his apartment bathroom.

Kai’s fucking hard. Every single photo of you tortures him internally when all he can think about is the feeling of your tongue wrapped so prettily around him. He zooms in to the photo eagerly to peek at the swell of your tit, instinctively looking around to see if anyone was around despite being isolated in a bathroom out of shame for being so dirty.

A nosebleed is going to come flowing down his nose any second now was he turns on the shower, letting the pitter-patter of water hopefully drown out the sounds of his moans as he sets up his camera directly facing his naked self sat on the toilet lid but cut off from revealing his face.

The camera starts recording and he’s already lost on what to do, spotting what he thinks is Taehyun’s body lotion that he uses like his life depends on it for his eczema; Kai prays it isn’t expensive as he loads a sample of it on to his palm before lazily stroking down his aching cock.

He wasn’t supposed to bring this with him today, but he was planning on asking you to go on video call later when Taehyun went for his night shift leaving him alone, a fleshlight being pulled straight out of his bag he was intending to use that he bought on a whim.

He starts off guiding the sex toy down his lubed dick, groaning in pleasure at how tight the mound of silicone flesh is around him; he imagines it’s your walls wrapped around him, thought he hopes it would be warmer in side of you than the chill of the bathroom.

“Shit.” Kai picks up the pace and squeezes the fleshlight harder around the tip, his hands moving in a vertical movement as he slides the silicone down the ridges of his cock, squelching Taehyun’s lotion in an explicitly sexual sound which formed a ring of white around the base.

Doesn’t even think to slow down to catch his breath, he completely is just aiming towards chasing the same high you gave him, wrist starting to become lazy as he whimpers whenever the stimulation around his leaking tip gets too much!! Fundamentally he’s fucking up in to the fleshlight now, hips jerking upward whenever the toy would squeeze too hard around his vein with a plethora of whimpers flooding out of his mouth with no restriction. The flitter of the shower starts to steam up around him which only fogs up Kai’s head even more, still thinking about how deliciously your pussy would nestle around him, how you’d leave a pool of slick below him from just how wet you are!! <3

Kai’s knuckles are starting to show the white of his bone from how hard he’s squeezing the moment he feels the same anticipation of release, unable to keep his moans quiet as he spurts ropes of white all over his lap, his chest heaves rapidly while he snaps out of his trance, making sure to leave a taunting message at the end of the video,

“I’d fuck you so good if you let me.” Sent! Straight to your shared chat together,

Sure enough you send him floods of praise, particularly around the flex of his abs around his tattoo when he came.

Just when Kai’s about to properly head in to his unusually ‘longer’ shower a notification rings on his phone.

Y/N^u^: Can you come to my house for tutoring on Friday? Shellsby Manor, XXX-XXX, arrive before 6 k?

Sounds like Professor Jenkins idea considering you two haven’t done any proper tutoring over the last two weeks, but Kai’s more than happy to accept.

”I’m telling you that new VS pushup bra is all the craze right now!! I heard it made Carly’s B cup look like double D’s like what the fuck!?” Sullyoon’s browsing on her phone on her go-to shopping website again. Momo on the other hand has Jake Sim’s head resting between her thighs as she plays with his nest of hair, yikes..

“Stop being a bore I can’t believe I’m actually seeing you study for once.”

“Shut up Jake I need it if I want my card back ugh!!” All the words and key terminology for the up coming assessment is just mumble and letters, at this rate you’re never going to pass without Kai’s help!!!

“Just sleep with him, that’s what all girls do.” Jake replies nonchalantly but the statement rubs you the wrong way- even if you did consider it...is he calling all girls whores?!!

Before you can even do it Momo slaps him away from her,

“Ugh Jake you’re so vile get away!” Sullyoon shrieks and giggles, playfully kicking at the baseball captain which ends up landing at his nuts.

“All of you shut up for a moment I need to focus!” You complain before putting all of your weight on to the arm behind you on the field of grass, you’ve only just finished consolidating chemical reactions but you doubt you’ll remember or properly understand it like this.

“What? Is she going to see that small-dick geek again?” Fuckass Jake didn’t get his balls kicked hard enough because he still has the energy to retort.

“I’m not joking he’s like twice the size of yours.” You snicker before pinching your fingers together to mock an irritated Jake already feeling your work ethic coming to a halt.

“Well maybe if you’d actually let me bang you then you’d know. Because by the looks of it you let every other guy in between those legs.” Jake spits.

Way to ruin your mood Sim Jaeyun.

You pack up your laptop and belongings and spin on your heel to strut all the way down towards the canteen where you know you’d find Taehyun, and therefore him too.

Right in the corner behind the pillar where they can’t be seen spot the same head of blonde hair and an agitating brunette who’s immediately sending warning signals to Kai the moment you head towards their way.

“Hi Tyunnie! Miss me?” You blow Taehyun a kiss before rustling his oddly styled hair gently- eco gel..and jesus christ a whole lot of it.

“Freak off, we don’t want you here.” Taehyun speaks as monotonously as ever, refusing to show any sort of amusement as he swats your hand away from cooing him any further.

That’s when you realise you haven’t greeted Kai yet, turning your head around to see..eyes?

The blonde is rocking a completely different hair cut now, bangs messily trimmed to give him style but also a cleaner look and with more volume than he ever has- it suits him really well you must admit, like the hotties you’d see in the skate parks, except his innocently charming eyes really are the cherry on top.

“Wow Kai new haircut?! Awhh stop you look so adorable!!! You finally got rid of those overgrown bangs.” He attempts to hold back a bashful grin in front of a discerned Taehyun, waving it off as something he’s wanted to try forever when really he knows it’s because of you.

“Well Tyunnie-boo let me borrow Kai for the rest of today okay? Thanks a million!!”

You drag Kai and his belongings with you and straight in to the parking lot where your porsche you haven’t used in ages was parked.

“No lectures later right? I know it’s a bit earlier than scheduled but I might as well take you home with me now right?”

The still timid male looks away from you when he speaks in case his mind wanders off to a bunch of other naughty thoughts again.

“That’s fine..just means we get more tutoring time in.”

Yeah, tutoring time.

Accelerating down the road and in to the hills of where the richest sector of people in your city resided in was a complete shock for Kai, watching people live in these castles they’d call ‘home’ as you speed down in to your own pearly-gated manor.

Kai regrets wearing something so baggy now at a place like this, but there’s not much in his closet if he’s still keen on covering that tattoo he stupidly got with his cousin Yeonjun on his 18th birthday.

“My father may look intimidating but trust me it’s just a habit he’s picked up on from trying to be professional everywhere he goes.” Even the keys to your house is made of some sort of alloy of gold, inside revealing a couple of servants who welcome the two of you towards your father’s office.

Knocking gently you pry, “Father, I’ve got my little tutor friend you wanted to see so bad.”

There’s no response that you can hear from the room nor any sign to come in. A working servant comes over to inform you that he’s at a business meeting that won’t end until late. Great, so he’s not even here.

“I-It’s okay, let’s just get started first!” Kai suggests, which you’re not going to object to because you were planning on it anyways, leading him to your bedroom upstairs down hallways of art and antiques.

This is it, the bedroom you’re always sending photos to him, well, kkh.txt in. The same mirror where it all started lays in the same spot as before as he follows your foot steps towards your couch and social table.

“Real talk Kai, I’m actually going to listen this time because it’s my last shot over the next few weeks to get this down in time if I wanna pass and get my credit card back okay?”

“Should I recap what you’ve done in your own time to see if it’s consolidated yet?” And fuck his voice sounds so hot when he’s concentrated..right, focus!!

By the time both of you are confident you’ve covered most of the heavy content you’re exhausted and so is Kai. Hours of back and forth questions for concepts you couldn’t understand finally stuck in your brain a bit better to the point you could answer most of the simple and intermediate questions. Looking at the time it’s already 7 meaning that you’ve been tutored for 5 hours straight with Kai non-stop, and you feel proud of the hard work too! And a bit smarter, still not his level though.

“I’m going to take a quick bathroom break, when I’m back we’ll move on to more complicated topics and we’ll wrap it up for today!” A tired Kai limps towards your bathroom but in a more comfortable mood than earlier- even his stuttering has calmed down!

And if you were being true to yourself, Kai is exactly your type, the standard really. He’s gentle with you even when you’re frustrated, always offering to make time for you and help, and plus he’s got that begging look and monster cock combination which messes with your head so good!!

Good enough to compel you to swipe on to WinkChat to message your favourite user kkh.txt, thinking of what to type.

‘Sorry, don’t wanna use this app anymore?’

‘Think it’s best we stop this?’

None of it flows off your tongue smoothly but you settle with a short and simple ‘sorry.’ message to him, preparing to delete the app when you hear a ping!- coming from Kai’s phone.

And of course you’re curious! Who else could be messaging the nerd except Taehyun?-

Your eyes bat hardly at the notification,

‘y/n.553 sent a message! Click to chat with her now! ❤️🔥’

Your heart sinks down to your stomach, Kai..the nerd you gave a blow job to in the middle of the library is kkh.txt ?!!!

“Hope I didn’t take too long-“

Seems like it’s a universal thing for everyone’s heart to drop now because Kai’s throat runs dry as he watches the bewildered expression on your face with his phone in your hand. It couldn’t be-

“Kai. You’re…kkh.txt?!!!” No point in lying now is there?

“Uhm wait.. I-I can explain I didn’t mean to hide it from-“

“The tattoo. Show me it.” You walk towards the stiffened Kai who can’t move an inch from where he’s at by the door right now without the interception of you pushing him on to mattress of your bed.

“Go on, that dragon tattoo you have, take off the hoodie and let me see.” He’s never heard your voice drip with so much authority; hell he can’t even understand if you’re angry at him or not for hiding it from you!! The hoodie is discarded of somewhere in the corner of your room, and there it is- the damn dragon tattoo you’ve been craving for ever since you saw it.

Now that you can see his full frame you can understand that everything about Kai is big; he’s towering in height, his shoulders are so broad it’s impossible to not notice now that you’ve seen it even with his hoodie on, the defined muscles that runs down his abdomen and the absolute beast he doesn’t know how to use, but you’re craving it real bad.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck me like you mean it.” Nimble hands hurry to unclasp your bra and remove your tank top, revealing your chest in front of a nervous Kai who now can’t find the strength in him to answer you without moaning.

“W-what?”

“That video you sent. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Memories rack through Kai’s head which makes him mentally face palm at the recollection of his bold statement when he in fact does not know how to fuck nor make you feel good apart from a couple of porn videos he’s seen. He swallows the lump in his throat before looking up to you again with pleading eyes,

“Can I try eat you out?”

Remember when you said a nerd like Kai could probably eat pussy like a champ two weeks ago? Bullseye because the man is fixated between your thighs, lapping at everything you have to offer.

Swear he had no experience at all with cunnilingus yet he’s having no problems in sucking and flicking at your swollen clit with the flat of his tongue, moaning in to your folds repeatedly, every now and then having to put in some sort of comment about how good you taste with tears in his eyes; such a pussy drunk loser it’s adorable.

At some points you’re afraid he’s going to die of suffocation from how hard he’s pressing down on your thighs to keep you in place as you sit directly on top of his face, the weight of you completely over his saliva covered mouth but even when you meekly ask if he can breathe just fine all he does is press his tongue in to your further; swirling his tongue around your entrance and even finding the confidence to enter it.

“Mmh!! Kai fuck!! You can-hah-touch me up here too.”

A wandering hand reaches to clasp on to Kai’s to direct him to your chest, begging him to stimulate your perked and neglected nipples.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Such a good boy, making me cum so good!”

Juices are spilling from your cunt all over a dazed Kai’s face, still shocked from the effect of tasting you on his tongue for the first time, and if he wasn’t eating you out like a starved man this time you shouldn’t even start to imagine how insanely he’d try to eat you out after he’s become addicted to your taste.

A symphony of your heavy breathing and the pulsing of your folds as you catch your breath from being given the best head you’ve ever received from a complete amateur is laughable, looking up to Kai with exhausted but fluttering eyes.

“I haven’t made you cum yet Kai, hah, come on, rest against the pillows over there.”

Stunned and beyond words all he can do is follow your every command like a lost puppy, his hard-on longing for your touch as it twitches hungrily in his briefs.

“N-no condom?”

“Sit back and relax for me okay pretty? No more questions, I’ll do all the work.” Even if you’ve been eaten out by Kai you doubt you can adjust to the stretch of his cock in one go, slightly hesitating and knowing you were going to fuck yourself dumb the moment you started struggling to even fit in just the tip!!

“You’re so big Kai, scared it might rip me.” Pain starts to overwhelm you as you sink down inch by inch on to his cock, whimpers falling out of your mouth in a mantra as you hold on to his shoulders for stability. Kai’s completely silent with his mouth wide open; brows knitted together as he watches the way his cock disappears between your glistening folds, you’re going to fucking destroy him and he knows it, god.

Finally taking in the last couple of inches you rest for a bit, sighing as the initial pain converts in to pleasure from how full you felt, his tip poking right in to your cervix.

“Look Kai, this is how full you make me feel.” His hand reaches to brush against the imprint of the curve of his dick in your stomach, inflicting you to moan when he presses his finger against it,

“Ngh, don’t do that baby, I might cum too quick if you do.” The pet name only makes him twitch inside of you which erupts another moan from the sudden jerk, finally finding the energy in you to lift yourself off of him only to slam yourself right back down.

The sensation of your walls clenching around his as you lifted your hips felt like bliss- better than anything he’s seen in those x-rated movies, watching as you bounced on top of him in swift motions, the base of his cock disappearing and reappearing with every cycle of thrusts as you rode him.

A string of slick connected between your cunt and his pelvis made him moan at how lewd it was, eyes rolling back as he aids your movement with his hands- biceps flexing from hard he’s gripping on to your waist.

“Am I agh!- Better than your fleshlight hm?”

Ten times, no. A thousand times better than whatever he has rotting in his drawers right now, the warmth of your pussy sucking him in is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen accompanied by the way your tongue starts to loll out automatically whenever his tip slams way too hard past your cervix, completely filled to the brim yet your greedy cunt still yearns for more.

Kai’s expressions are just as you’d imagine, strands of hair messily stuck to his forehead from sweat, his mouth cutely open and unable to form any other sound except mewls and whimpers and the same usual fat tears that roll down to his reddened cheeks whenever the pleasure feels too good! <3 His eyes struggle to keep open as he furrows his brows whenever he feels the heat of your walls clench around him, you really don’t know how badly he wants to just stay buried inside of you forever! ><

Your tits bounce in sync with your pace right above his eyes, watching as they’d swing back up before you slammed down on his aching cock. Kai bites his lip as he slides a hand down to your waist, so lost in the illusion of your pussy he can’t even verbalise how good he feels, instead only being able to claw at the swell of your ass as you continue to fuck yourself dumb on his cock.

Usually you’d never think of yourself as someone who loses dominance with any of your sex partners but the way Kai’s dick turns your brain in to mush needs to be studied because you’re drooling as you continue to ride him sloppier than before.

“Kaii! Shit I feel so full I’m gonna come!”

The continuous slamming of his cockhead against the bundle of nerves the curve of his cock keeps pressing against sends shockwaves through your core, unable to keep your posture up right as you limp on to Kai’s shoulder, biting on the penetrable skin to keep your moans in while you let him buck his hips in to you at a new angle where you can feel everything deeper, more stimulating and more raw.

“Ohh fuck, w-where do I cum? shit-“ Kai continues to ram in to the same sensitive bundle of nerves relentlessly to chase his own orgasm, frantically desperate to get that burning sensation of needing to release again.

“I- I’m on the pill Kai just cum inside please!! Wanna feel full!” Within seconds Kai’s unleashing his seed right in to your cunt, still thrusting to keep it from leaking out despite overstimulating himself in the process- you follow not too long after, unwinding and gushing over him, hot breath fanning on to his neck as you attempted to regain your energy after coming down your high.

“Did I make you feel good?” Kai asks with lustful eyes. His skin is completely flushed pink and sweating, struggling to focus his eyes on anything after the initial haze of such a strong orgasm.

Oh there’s no doubt about that.

Professor Jenkins should be pleased to see that you’re going to ace your summer qualifying exam, because you’ll be visiting this nerd all summer <3

A/N: I had to concise it down A LOT more because I genuinely think would’ve dragged on forever if I let it, but hopefully everything lives up to the hype surrounding it esp with the teaser!!

taglist: @whoisgami , @bingsoob , @1eatlasagna , @pengningie , @angelgraphica , @sanscupid , @cutehoons02 , @cheekycountesschoi , @soupersaldz , @bamtor1sss , @strawberryshoujosundae , @gyutaepie , @bambiihee

[luvst4rc0r3]

oh vi should def catch reader and jinx kissing like its late and reader snuck in id love to see that

I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!!

----

You weren’t supposed to be here. Like, at all.

Jinx had explicitly said her sister would be home late, plenty of time for the two of you to do whatever you wanted—mainly, making out in her dimly lit bedroom, her fingers tangled in your hair, her breath hot against your lips as she pulled you closer.

Breaking into Jinx’s place wasn’t exactly breaking in—you knew where she kept the spare key (under a very suspiciously placed rubber duck on the windowsill). Besides, you were basically invited… just, y’know, in the most Jinx way possible.

"If you can sneak in without me noticing, you win. If I catch you first, I win. Either way, we make out. Deal?"

A bet was a bet.

So here you were, sneaking into her room like some wannabe cat burglar, heart hammering as you crept past the clutter of gadgets, paint-splattered hoodies, and an absurd number of mismatched socks.

Jinx was sitting at her desk, headphones on, bobbing her head to whatever chaotic playlist she had on shuffle. Perfect.

You tiptoed closer, leaned in, lips brushing her ear—

"Boo."

She yelped, nearly knocking over a cup full of paint brushes before spinning in her chair, wild blue eyes locking onto yours. A second later, her wicked grin appeared.

“You little—”

Whatever she was about to say was cut off when you crashed your lips against hers. She made a muffled sound of surprise before melting into it, fingers curling into your shirt as she yanked you forward.

It started soft—warm, teasing, her lips moving against yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Then she nipped at your bottom lip, just enough to make you gasp, and suddenly it wasn’t soft anymore.

Jinx always kissed like she was trying to steal something—your breath, your self-control, maybe even your damn soul. And honestly?Jinx pulled you into her lap, hands gripping your waist, and you barely had time to adjust before she was kissing you like she had something to prove. Like she was devouring you.

You buried your fingers in her hair, tugging lightly, and she let out a breathy little noise that made your brain short-circuit. Her hands slid under your shirt, fingertips tracing patterns against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Mm, sneaky little thing,” she murmured between kisses, lips brushing against yours. “Gotta admit, wasn’t expecting you to win the bet, but—” she cut herself off with another kiss, deeper this time, making you sigh into her mouth—“I love a surprise.”

“You talk too much,” you whispered, breathless.

Jinx smirked. “Yeah? Make me shut up then.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

She let out a soft, pleased hum as you tilted your head, kissing her slow, deep, like you had all the time in the world. Her arms wrapped around you, tugging you closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you. The room, the world, everything faded away until all you could feel was her—her lips, her hands, her warmth—

The door creaked open.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You froze.

Jinx froze.

Slowly—painfully slowly—you both turned your heads.

"What the hell am I looking at?"

Jinx was still half-straddling you, lips parted, her blue eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. You turned your head slowly, dread pooling in your stomach as you locked eyes with Vi, who stood in the doorway with crossed arms and the expression of an older sibling who had seen too much and was not having it.

Jinx let out a sharp laugh, like she wasn’t the one about to get murdered. "Oh, hey, Vi! Didn’t see ya there!"

Vi’s gaze flicked between the two of you, her eyebrow twitching. "Yeah, clearly. So, which one of you is explaining this?"

You opened your mouth—maybe to apologize, maybe to beg for mercy—but Jinx, being Jinx, only grinned wider.

"Well, y’see, big sis, you rudely interrupted our very important bonding time—"

Vi groaned, rubbing her temples. "I don’t need to hear this, Jinx."

"You asked!"

"I regret asking!"

You, still lying there with Jinx half on top of you, were contemplating whether disappearing into the void was a viable option.

Vi sighed deeply, like she was going to have to burn this entire memory from her brain later. "I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t see anything. But if I come home and hear anything, I’m kicking both your asses out."

With that, she turned on her heel and shut the door behind her.

Silence.

Then Jinx flopped onto you dramatically, still laughing. "So, that went well, huh?"

You groaned. "Jinx."

The door slammed behind her. Silence.

Then Jinx snorted. “Sooo… round two?”

You groaned, hiding your burning face in her shoulder. “I hate you.”

“Liar.”

And she kissed you again.

MY WHOLE FAMILY IS SICK EXCEPT ME!!

I want sleep

[kathaynesart]

My brain: are you sleeping?

Me: yes. Now shut up!

My brain: why couldn't Leo just use his Portal to help Cassandra deliver Casey Jr.?

Me:......... THAT UPDATE WAS LAST YEAR!! (Good question tho)

(real story lmao)

Oh, I had considered this actually! However, there's a lot of things that could go very wrong. Specifically the damage his portals could have on Cassandra's innards.

There's a reason Leo always creates a portal in an open space that only connects to another open space. If you suddenly slice open existence and something is in the way of that door opening, what do you think is going to happen to that thing? It probably gets cut as well. Right?

Sadly our organs are not neatly laid out in our torso with room to spare... they're smooshed together and wrapped around each other and that's ESPECIALLY true for someone who is pregnant. So Leo would very likely sever or cut something in his attempt to make an opening big enough for the baby to come through. It's just not worth the risk if Cassandra is strong and healthy enough to have the child naturally. He probably would have only done that in the most dire of circumstances in which Casey was already a goner (and only at her request). Luckily it did not come to that! Hope that helps you sleep better!