#cross it and everything will have been for nothing.

[cherryxbooo]

Yeah, I’m the lucky one

Summary: Hiding it when you're sick from your boyfriend is one thing, but hiding it from your clingy boyfriend is a whole other challenge.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff

The paddock is alive with energy, buzzing with anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance, and the hum of the crowd outside.

Lando is in his element, calm yet radiating an excitement that’s palpable.

The focus in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and it’s clear that today matters more to him than most.

The weight of the race, the pressure of the expectations, and the fire in his heart are all simmering beneath the surface.

It's a mix of raw determination and adrenaline, and it brings out the best in him.

But me? Well, I feel the complete opposite.

I woke up feeling off, my head pounding and my body aching with a fever I couldn't shake.

I knew I should stay in bed, but I couldn’t. Not today.

Not with everything he’s worked for. I couldn’t let something as trivial as being sick get in the way of him having the best race of his career.

He’s been talking about this day for weeks, getting ready for it with an intensity that I’ve only seen in the world of motorsport.

But as I made my way through the paddock, trying my best to act normal, I felt the weight of my own discomfort pulling me down.

I’ve been silently counting the minutes until I can just crawl into a quiet corner and hide.

But the last thing I want is for him to see me like this. He’d immediately worry, go into panic mode, and lose focus.

Lando, with his big heart, would put everything aside just to take care of me, and I don’t want to do that to him.

Not today. Today is about him.

As I stand next to his family, making small talk with his friends, I feel dizzy.

The lights are a little too bright, and the sounds a little too loud.

I try to steady myself, offering a weak smile whenever someone glances my way, but the effort feels exhausting.

Lando’s mum catches my eye, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of concern in her expression.

But she doesn’t say anything, just gives me a warm, reassuring smile. I’m grateful, but I can tell she knows something’s off.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel a familiar hand on my back. A small shiver runs down my spine as I turn to face Lando, and I instantly feel a warmth spread through me, despite the fever still creeping in.

“Hey baby, you okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, like he’s always aware of everything around him, especially me.

I don’t want to worry him. I can’t.

So I give him a smile that’s more practiced than I’d like to admit,

“Yeah, just a little tired. Big day, huh?”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

He studies me for a second, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, his hand gently squeezing my back.

The touch is warm, comforting. “You sure? You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You focus on the race. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

Lando hesitates, his lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to gauge if I’m really okay.

But then he nods slowly, though his concern doesn’t quite vanish.

“Alright… but if you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

His voice is almost a whisper, like he’s trying not to give away just how much he cares.

“I will,” I promise, trying to keep my tone light and convincing.

But as he walks away to prepare for the race, a sense of loneliness settles over me.

The noise around me feels overwhelming, and the crowd only amplifies the ache in my head.

I find a quiet corner, away from the chaos, hoping to just breathe for a moment.

I didn't realize that I had been hiding away for a while already.

But before I know it, Lando’s voice cuts through the distance.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

I turn to see him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His presence alone seems to calm the storm inside me.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I protest weakly, though my voice cracks just slightly.

“Just… taking a break.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Taking a break from what? From me?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin.

I close my eyes for a second, leaning into the touch, even though I feel like I might collapse at any moment.

“From the chaos of the paddock,” I admitted softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softens, the teasing in his eyes fading. He steps in closer, his body brushing against mine as he gently cups my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Hey…” His voice is tender now, a deep, comforting lull.

“Are you really feeling okay love?"

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat suddenly unbearable.

“Yes, don't worry Lan. I'm fine.”

I whisper, my voice slightly breaking as I fight the urge to lean on him completely.

I stare up at him, feeling a mix of love and pain.

I don’t want to be the one who holds him back, but I can’t deny how much I crave the support and warmth he gives me without even thinking.

Lando lowers his hands, but not without giving me one last comforting touch, his fingers brushing my wrist.

“You need to rest,” he says firmly, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind his words now.

“I’m not going to let you make it through today without me taking care of you at least once.”

I laugh softly, despite the dizziness still swirling in my head.

“I’m fine, Lando. You go be amazing out there.”

He looks at me, his eyes soft but filled with determination. “I will be. But only because you’re here.”

Before I can say anything else, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll make sure to get at least P3 for you.”

And with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of engineers and teammates.

But the moment he’s out of sight, I feel my energy drain completely.

Regardless of how I felt I still made my way to the rest so I could support Lando and be there for him.

Everywhere I look, there’s movement, excitement, and a sense of urgency.

Lando’s already suited up and surrounded by his team, getting ready to focus on the race that could mean everything for his career.

I’m supposed to be the one cheering him on, being his support, his calm, but instead, all I can do is try to survive the overwhelming wave of heat coursing through me.

Every few seconds, my head spins, my chest feels like it's on fire, and the nausea rolls in like a tide.

It’s getting harder to keep it together, but I’m trying. I can’t let anything distract him.

I can't make this his problem today, not when he’s been working so hard for this moment.

I take a seat next to Max and Pietra, hoping the three of us can keep the mood light and give Lando a little peace before he heads into the race.

I force myself to laugh at Max's joke about the weather, but it comes out more like a wheeze.

My throat feels like it’s coated in something dry and scratchy, and each breath feels like I’m not getting enough air.

Max doesn’t notice, but Pietra does.

She’s always been that way, observant, kind, and so very perceptive.

I’ve always admired how in tune she is with people.

She shifts in her seat beside me, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face.

“You okay, Y/n?” she asks gently, her voice laced with concern.

“You look a little pale.”

I immediately try to put on a smile, but it feels like the most exhausting thing I’ve done all day.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, hoping I can convince her.

“Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Pietra doesn’t buy it, not even for a second.

She leans in closer, her gaze steady as she inspects my face, my trembling hands.

“You sure?” she presses, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t look fine. Maybe you should lay down for a bit?”

The room suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me.

The dizziness that had been simmering beneath the surface is starting to take hold, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes focused on her.

I swallow hard, trying to push the wave of nausea down, but it’s impossible to ignore now.

I nod weakly, doing my best to stay composed.

“I’m okay, Pietra. Just... a little dizzy. I think I’ll sit down for a moment.”

Max, still glued to his phone, glances up briefly, probably sensing the shift in the air.

His eyes scan me quickly before he leans closer to Pietra, muttering something under his breath, probably about how pale I look.

I’m about to wave it off, to reassure them both that it’s nothing, when Pietra’s soft hand touches my shoulder.

It’s warm and grounding, her touch gentle but insistent.

“No, you’re not okay, Y/n,” she says firmly.

“You’re not fooling me. You need to go back to the hotel and rest. Max and I will handle everything here. Don’t worry about Lando. He’ll understand. He doesn’t need to know right now, and you’re not helping him by pretending you’re fine.”

My heart clenches at her words. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to make him worry.

He’s about to race, about to compete for something so important to him.

The last thing I want is to make this about me. But Pietra’s expression leaves no room for argument.

Her hand squeezes my shoulder, and I feel a wave of guilt hit me hard.

“I... I can’t just leave,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“I don’t want him to—”

“Y/n,” Pietra interrupts, her voice soft but full of authority.

“Lando will be fine. He’ll be more upset if you stay here, pretending to be okay when you’re not. Let us take care of everything. He doesn’t need the distraction. He needs you to get better, not to keep pretending.”

I shake my head, still fighting it. “But he’s going to think I don’t care.”

“He knows you care. You don’t have to prove it by running yourself into the ground,” she says, her tone firm yet reassuring.

“You need to listen to your body. Max and I can make sure everything’s fine here.”

I hesitate for a moment, my vision swimming in and out of focus, and then I feel it, the dizziness getting worse.

My stomach turns violently, and I barely suppress a gasp. Before I can protest, Pietra’s up and at my side, helping me stand.

“Max,” she calls out to him, her voice tinged with urgency.

Max looks up from his phone, his attention now fully on us. He doesn’t need to ask questions.

Without a word, he stands, motions to security, and gestures for them to clear a path.

“We’re getting you back to the hotel,” Max says, his voice gentle but decisive.

“No arguments.”

I open my mouth to protest, to tell them I’m fine, but the dizziness overtakes me again.

I feel my legs wobble, my knees threatening to give way beneath me. The nausea is so strong now that I can’t hold it back any longer.

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and my heart races as I fight to keep everything together.

“Okay,” I whisper, too weak to resist any longer. “Okay, let’s go.”

Max’s arm wraps around my shoulder, steadying me as Pietra follows closely behind.

I glance over my shoulder at the paddock, seeing the hustle and bustle of the team preparing for the race.

And even though I want nothing more than to stay and support Lando, I know Pietra’s right, he doesn’t need to see me like this.

As we make our way out of the paddock, past the busy crew and excited fans, the world seems to blur again.

All I can think about is Lando, how much he’s worked for this, and how much I wish I could be there cheering him on.

But right now, all I can do is focus on getting back to the hotel and trying to heal.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Pietra murmurs, sensing my anxiety.

“Lando will understand. We’ll make sure he stays focused.”

“Thank you,” I whisper back, squeezing her hand.

Max looks over at me, offering a reassuring smile.

“No problem, Y/n. We’ve got you.”

And as they guide me toward the exit, the sound of the engines roaring to life in the distance feels far away, almost like a distant memory.

All I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that, by the time Lando crosses the finish line, I’ll be okay.

Meanwhile,

The race was intense, there was no other way to describe it.

Lando’s heart was pounding, his breath coming in quick bursts as he fought to stay focused on the track ahead.

Each corner, each straightaway felt like it mattered more than the last.

The roar of the engine under him, the vibration in his hands as he gripped the wheel,it was like the world was screaming at him to push harder, to get everything he had into every lap.

And he did.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, the world outside of his car becoming a blur of colors and sounds.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else tugging at his mind, something he couldn’t quite shake.

Just before the race started, he had caught sight of Y/n sitting among their friends, looking beautiful as always, but something was... off.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at him, her tired eyes betraying a sense of exhaustion that didn’t quite match the energy of the day.

Or how quiet she seemed, like a flicker of something hidden behind her usual smile. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something wasn’t right.

But there was no time for that.

He pushed those thoughts away, focusing back on the race, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the track with everything he had.

He couldn’t afford to think about anything but the next corner, the next lap, the next move.

And when he crossed the finish line, the elation of victory should’ve been enough to make everything feel perfect.

After all, he had gotten P2.

The cheers, the confetti, the roar of the crowd, it was everything he’d been working for, everything he’d dreamed of.

But in the midst of it all, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Y/n.

His gaze searched the area, instinctively looking for her.

He was surrounded by teammates, sponsors, friends, but all he wanted in that moment was to see her smile, to know she was okay.

He scanned the area again, but she wasn’t there.

Not where he had left her. His stomach tightened, his mind racing. Something wasn’t right.

Lando quickly moved through the crowd, dodging everyone on his way, his eyes darting between faces, searching for any sign of her.

He was so focused on finding her, he almost didn’t see Max and Pietra standing off to the side.

When he finally noticed them, his heart skipped a beat. You weren't there.

Lando’s pace quickened as he approached them, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t hide.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, his words coming out sharper than he intended.

Pietra exchanged a glance with Max before she sighed, the look on her face telling Lando everything he needed to know.

"She wasn’t feeling well," she said softly, her eyes clouded with concern.

"We had to send her back to the hotel."

Lando’s chest tightened, a heavy weight settling over him.

His pulse quickened, the sudden rush of guilt and worry clouding his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice rising slightly, not in anger, but in genuine confusion.

Max stepped forward, his expression calm but serious.

"Mate she didn’t want to distract you. She said it was important not to take your focus away from the race."

Lando’s mind was spinning now, the elation of his victory evaporating as quickly as it had come.

Guilt was flooding him, he couldn’t believe Y/n had been struggling, that she’d hidden it from him.

She’d always been there for him, supportive, understanding, even when he was caught up in his own world.

And now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let her down.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the weight of the situation was suffocating.

He didn’t know what to say.

All he could think about was how she had been sitting there, probably feeling miserable, and he hadn’t even noticed.

The race, his career, all of it felt so insignificant compared to the thought of Y/n being alone and sick.

“Why didn’t she just tell me? I would’ve understood. I could’ve—”

Pietra stepped forward, her hand gently resting on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“Lando, she didn’t want you to worry. She knew how much today meant to you. She didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Max nodded in agreement.

“She’s always there for you. But she’s not the type to let herself be a distraction, not when you’re in the zone like that. You know how she is, she cares about you more than anything, but she didn’t want to pull you away from your focus.”

Lando let out a long breath, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest.

“I should’ve noticed,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I should’ve been paying more attention."

"You’re not a mind reader, Lando," Pietra said, her voice calm but firm.

Lando realized that she was right.

He quickly greeted the rest of his family and did some other duties before changing and heading back to the hotel.

Lando arrived at the hotel room, his body still buzzing from the race, but his mind consumed by a different kind of worry.

As soon as he entered, the first thing he did was quietly close the door behind him.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the dim light from the lamps were the only sounds in the room.

His eyes immediately fell on your figure, still asleep, your peaceful face glowing softly under the sheets.

The sight of you, so vulnerable yet so beautiful, made his heart ache with both affection and guilt.

He quietly pulled a chair from the small desk and sat down beside the bed, never taking his eyes off you.

He wanted to be close to his girl, but he didn’t want to wake you.

He knew you needed rest, but the worry of the day, the worry about you, hadn’t let up.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

His fingers lingered there for a second before he let out a soft breath, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee.

He could almost hear the questions running through his mind, wondering why you hadn’t told him what you had been feeling.

He could feel the weight of your absence, the quiet ache in his chest from not knowing exactly what had been going on with you.

The minutes seemed to stretch on, each tick of the clock amplifying his thoughts.

He hated this uncertainty, this feeling that something had been left unsaid.

Then, after what felt like forever, a soft groan escaped from your lips, and Lando’s attention snapped to her immediately.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light in the room.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, confusion settling on her face as she took in her surroundings.

Lando watched her with a mix of relief and concern, his heart lightening at the sight of you waking up but still heavy with the questions that lingered in his mind.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Lando said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

My vision cleared, and I smiled sleepily at him.

Lando’s heart squeezed.

"You’re awake. I’ve been here waiting for you to wake up for, like, ages now." He chuckled softly, though his eyes were still filled with concern.

"But seriously… why didn’t you tell me?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me.

My hand reached for his, finding his fingers weakly, and I squeezed them, my fingers trembling a bit.

"I didn’t want to be a burden," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t want to ruin your day or take away from the race. It was important to you. I just… I didn’t want to distract you."

Lando smiled at me softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

"You’re never a burden, Y/n." He looked at me with such sincerity, it made my heart ache in the best way.

"You are always my priority, okay? Not the race, not the fans, not the win. You. Always."

I felt my heart flutter at his words, my eyes softening as I looked back at him.

The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill, and I could feel them welling up.

Being sick just makes people extra emotional, give it a break yeah?

"I’m sorry," I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.

Lando shook his head, his heart aching.

He leaned closer, cupping my cheek gently, his thumb brushing over my skin.

"You don’t have to apologize," he whispered.

"You never have to hide anything from me, especially not when it comes to you."

I felt the weight of his words, the tenderness in his touch, and I wanted so badly to just melt into him.

I was so grateful for him, for the way he always made me feel safe, loved, and heard.

Lando sat beside me on the bed, leaning back just enough to grab the water and medicine he’d set out earlier.

"You need to drink this," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

"Get some rest, and I’ll be right here with you. Just take it easy."

I hesitated for a moment, but then reached for the glass of water he held out to me.

My fingers were still shaking slightly, but I took it from him gratefully.

There was a small, tired smile on my lips as I drank, and Lando’s eyes never left me.

He was watching me closely, making sure I was okay. It felt nice to be looked after this way.

After I finished the water, Lando sat back down next to me again, his hand finding mine once more.

"You don’t ever have to hide something like that from me, okay?" he said, his voice soft but serious.

"If something’s wrong, you have to tell me. Promise me you’ll tell me next time."

I looked up at him, my eyes full of emotion, and I nodded slowly.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I felt a few of them slide down my cheeks.

Before I could say anything, Lando quickly wiped them away with his thumb, his touch light, tender.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again, my voice barely audible.

He slightly laughed, "You're such a crybaby when you're sick babe."

Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice full of love and affection.

"I love you, baby. I love you, and that’s all that matters." His voice was quiet but strong, filled with reassurance.

I pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest, letting out a small, exaggerated sigh.

"Mmm, this is the best pillow ever," I mumbled, half-laughing, half-groaning in exhaustion.

Lando wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tighter.

His chin rested on top of my head, and he chuckled softly.

"You come first," he said with a mock-serious tone, trying to sound all deep and dramatic.

"Always."

I snuggled in a little closer, feeling his warmth.

"Oh, I know now," I said, glancing up at him with a grin.

"You’re basically my personal butler, aren’t you? Always there when I need you."

He let out a dramatic gasp. "But of course! My whole existence is to serve you, my queen."

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh.

"Thank you for being here," I said, the words half-sweet, half-teasing.

Lando smirked, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Please don't cry again... and well yeah, where else would I be? I’m not going anywhere."

Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added,

"Besides, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. You know that, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, feeling him grin against the top of my head.

"Oh, I know," I said, playfully tapping his chest.

"You're my big soft marshmallow. I practically own you."

Lando chuckled, his arms tightening around me. "You absolutely do. And you’re not even sorry about it."

I smirked, rolling my eyes. "Well, I am your number one priority, aren’t I?"

His eyes sparkled with affection, and he pulled me a little closer.

"You’re my number one everything, Y/n. No competition."

I snorted, unable to help the grin that spread across my face.

"Good. Glad we’re clear on that."

As we sat there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside felt miles away.

All that mattered was us, his heartbeat, my tired sighs, and the way we fit together like we’d always been meant to.

For a moment, everything else faded, and all I could think was: Yeah, I’m the lucky one.

The end

[sylvia-und-sybille]

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it’ll have when it’s done? Around 0.75K+ now, and whatever happens, that happens.

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP? A week.

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone? AU location (starts as) and aged-up characters.

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV? OTP only. 3rd person everything & 1st character's "POV."

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP? OTP work together behind a closed door.

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar? It can happen in 0.001% of cases (if, then fanfictions only.)

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it’s done? Posted, printed, published, etc? Posted only.

��� [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Romance as it's about a lot of love (as in every fanfiction about them.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Humour. Unfortunately, no funny moments.

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing? Unfortunately, I use the same phrases from other fanfictions | original stories. When there's nothing better, I keep it as is.

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP? EVERY SINGLE of my fanfictions & original stories has happy end (unless past when I wanted to write about harm done to or defeat of a bad or unpleasant character.) Zero harm in thus case.

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it? Rather hug.

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be? Rainbow, as they deserve.

🍩 [Donut] What’s the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What’s the best thing? No food or drinks are mentioned.

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP? No, and I almost don't know people in real life. Yes, I'm so called "live under a rock."

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence. The most unlikely new couple as the result of a dating show.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for? Two women with 22 years age gap (younger one is 23) 🥰 Go to Hell, haters.

Random WIP Ask Game

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it'll have when it's done?

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP?

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone?

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV?

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar?

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it's done? Posted, printed, published, etc?

🐀 [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing?

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP?

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it?

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be?

🍩 [Donut] What's the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What's the best thing?

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP?

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

[mggslover]

Reflections

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst? x fluff? Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers bc i'm still on s11 lol, so sorry for inaccuracies), one time mention of suicide and rape (no details), fade to black smut so suggestive content Word count: 3,8k A/n: my own entry for #lovers1kevent ! bit different from what i usually write. didn't exactly turn out like how i had envisioned it, but i'm still very curious to hear your thoughts!

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.” The sound of a clock striking midnight made you jump in your seat, the plastic stool screeching loudly against the cold, concrete floor. The interrogation room was filled with nothing but the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the pounding of your heartbeat. Everything in this room felt eerie: a harsh light shone down on you, irritating your eyes, and there was no escaping your reflection in the two-way mirror in front of you. You observed yourself through the glass, and to put it simply, you looked awful. The dress you were wearing was crumpled as it hung loosely on your frame, the dark circles under your eyes were noticeable from a distance, and your eyes themselves expressed no spark. They looked dimmed, with no emotion behind the colored irises. Though, that had been so for a while now.

The creak of the door jolted you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, feeling disappointment when the same agent as before walked in. He wasn’t hard on the eyes: dark skin, rolled-up sleeves that showed his muscular forearms, a neatly trimmed goatee covering his sharp jaw, and eyes that looked just as cutting as they darted over you. Maybe, in another life, you would’ve considered dating him. In a life where he didn’t suspect you of killing three men.

He stayed quiet as he made his way over to you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. He placed a folder in front of him, shoving it toward you. “Still not going to talk?”

You cleared your throat. Nevertheless, the words came out hoarse. “I have nothing to say.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance before crossing his arms. “Do I need to remind you of your rights? You can contact a lawyer, or we can get you one.”

“I also have the right to remain silent.”

A small huff escaped his lips, and you noticed the way he clenched his fingers, as though trying to hold himself back from making a comment he’d regret.

His eyes landed back on you, glaring. “A girl like you won’t survive in prison.”

“Well, then it’s good that I’m not going to prison,” you snapped back with a small smile. You weren’t going to let him intimidate you. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet here you were.

“I’d lose the attitude if I were you because it’s not looking good.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he cut you off. “Open the folder.”

You inhaled deeply before obeying. You hated the way you couldn’t help the nerves from creeping in. Your hand trembled as you opened the folder. The picture that greeted you was one of three lifeless bodies slumped over each other in an empty alley. A bitter tang formed in the back of your throat, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to look back at the agent.

“Looks familiar?”

Your eyes flicked over the image again. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The people. Do you recognize them?”

You nodded.

“I want a clear answer,” he said, his voice raised.

“Yes,” you replied, matching his tone. “We went to college together.”

There was no way you could forget them. Unfortunately. The idea that they were wiped off the face of earth gave you a strange sense of comfort. Maybe now you could find the peace you’d been looking for. The peace she was looking for.

The agent seemed relieved to have gotten an answer out of you. “And you met up with them again today. Is that right?” he queried, nodding toward the folder.

You got the hint and pulled the first picture off the pile, revealing another underneath it. It was a selfie taken by two women. You spotted yourself in the right corner by the bar, in conversation with the three men he was referring to. His gaze stayed focused on you, trying to see if you’d reveal any emotion.

“It was our college reunion. As you can see I wasn’t the only one there,” you explained.

“Multiple witnesses have told us you were the last person seen talking to them.”

You shrugged. “Is that something significant?”

“Not necessarily so,” he answered, sitting up straighter. “What is, is that you left through the emergency exit. And what makes it even more suspicious is that you left right after the victims got their drinks served.”

You gave him a blank look.

“The victims were poisoned.”

Ah.

You offered him a tight smile. “I think that’s something you need to bother the bartender about.”

“We checked him out already. The only person we can connect to this case is you.”

A silence followed. It truly didn’t seem like you’d be leaving anytime soon. You rubbed your hands down on the material of your dress, gathering courage.

“It’s an unfortunate coincidence. Like I told you, I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want anything to do with them,” you clarified, the disdain evident on your tongue.

The agent turned his head around, looking at the two-way mirror. The thought of other agents standing behind that wall, all analyzing you full of judgement, made your skin crawl. 

“Seems like you’re not too fond of the men.”

You scoffed, “No one is.”

“What about Natalie Fisher?” he wondered aloud. “She seemed close to you. We found multiple pictures dating back to high school.”

Like a gust of wind, the memories came back to you. How you found Natalie standing in front of your college dorm room, smiling brightly as she introduced herself as your roommate. You instantly hit it off: sharing the same humor, the same passions. Only a year younger than you, but a carbon copy. From that day on you were inseparable. 

It all came back to that one night — that one time you bailed on her, deciding studying for an upcoming exam was more important than joining her at a frat party. It was only when she called you awake in the middle of the night, her voice shaking as her words tripped over her tongue, telling you she didn’t know where she was and how she woke up in an empty alley, possibly drugged and with her clothes torn — that you knew you made the biggest mistake in your life.

You shook the thoughts away. Pursing your lips as you shrugged. “She was. I don’t know why you’re bringing her up.”

“Her report says she died two years ago from suicide. Or did you kill her as well?”

It felt like he’d knocked the breath out of you. You made a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “You’re sick,” you spat in disbelief.

“I’m sick?” He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re the one who murdered those people.”

“I didn’t murder anyone!”

The sound of your yelling reverberated off the concrete walls, the echo scaring you. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back tears as you bit your tongue. There goes your attempt at staying calm. He was playing games with your mind. You knew this was all a trick — a way to get you to admit to the crimes he was naming. And it drove you crazy that it was having an effect.

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” you muttered.

-`♡´-

Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as he looked through the glass. You’d been sitting there for three hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-six seconds, counting. He didn’t know what it was about you that made it impossible to look away. Hotch had told him to go home. Hotch was certain that they got the right unsub, and he assured him that you’d confess at some point. But he couldn’t get himself to move. To turn his head even. All he felt was a nagging guilt as he watched you being questioned by Morgan. It was a different experience to see an interrogation when he’s been in one himself. He now understood what it was like. How pressuring their questions can be, how the weight of a sentence is crushed on your shoulders, and how they keep pushing you to the point where you even start doubting your own truth. 

All he could think of when he saw you was innocence. A soft, radiant white light surrounded you. You were bright even against the harshness of the room. There was no rational way to explain how he felt, only that he sensed the deepest desire to keep you safe from everything that could hurt you.

“She’s working on my nerves,” Morgan exclaimed, tension visible in his shoulders as he stomped out of the interrogation room. 

“We can’t stop,” Hotch stated. “We haven’t gotten an answer out of her yet.”

Morgan let out a deep huff. “It’s clear that she did it.”

Spencer's focus was back on you. Since he’s been to prison he’s been more aligned with his feelings. His heart overpowering his mind at times. 

“She’s not our unsub,” Spencer spoke up, surprising even himself with the firmness of his voice.

Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for the genius revelation he always had. But the room stayed silent.

Hotch eyed him, “What makes you say that?”

“I just know.” Spencer replied, not caring to elaborate further. He nudged Derek aside and headed for the door. “I’ll take it from here.”

He pulled the heavy metal door open, at once met with your doe eyes as you faced him. For the first time tonight, you didn’t flinch when someone entered. 

Spencer had to swallow. His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, feeling overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked up close. You seemed tired, cold, yet somehow angelic.

His eyes never left yours as he made his way over to you. You held his gaze, observing him with the same intensity as he was. He carried a calm, magnetic presence, which made you feel an unexplainable urge to get closer to him.

“Are you cold?” he eventually asked, his voice gentle and considerate.

You blinked at his question, clearly not expecting it. You remembered how you were only wearing a light dress, noticing the goosebumps that had formed on your bare legs. Inevitably, you nodded.

He surprised you again by taking off his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The fabric felt heavy, enveloping you like a warm blanket.

“Thank you,” you silently mumbled, noticing a small dimple appear in his cheek.

He sat down in front of you, resting his arms on the table between you, as though compelled to get as close as possible. The moment felt intimate, your eyes locked on his tender brown ones, making the world fade around you. “I believe you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, a frown formed on your face as you realized he wasn’t about to say more. “What?”

“I believe you,” he repeated in the same composed manner. He leaned forward even further, and it was then that you noticed you had subconsciously mirrored his movement, drawn to him like a magnetic pull. 

“They suspect you, but I don’t.”

He didn’t need to rephrase his words for you to understand who he meant by them. You could almost feel the other agents’ glaring stares pressing down on you through the glass.

“Try to forget about them,” he reminded you, as if reading your thoughts. You didn’t look up to face him, instead your focus was on the proximity of your hands on the table, his finger just inches away from touching yours. Spencer noticed the look in your eyes, and moved his little finger just enough to brush against yours.

An electric shock coursed through you. Simultaneously, both of you shuddered, stunned as you saw the other wearing the same stupefied expression. Sure, it could’ve been a static shock, but something told you it was more than that. And by the look of the curly haired agent, he felt the same.

“Why don’t you?” you asked, returning to the subject. “Suspect me, I mean.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “Because I know what it’s like to be in a situation like you are.” He saw the confusion written on your face, continuing his explanation. “There’s something about being in a room like this — being treated like you’re guilty before you even speak — that makes you start questioning your own truth.” 

Questions flooded your mind, but you chose not to press further. You had someone who believed you, you weren’t going to ruin that opportunity by being too curious.

“So, what now?” your voice sounded more sure, hopeful even.

“Usually, we ask people if they’re willing to take a polygraph exam,” he explained. “It can also be referred to as a lie detector test, even though that term is often used incorrectly. A professional will ask a series of questions, and as you answer, the device will measure multiple psychological indicators which are associated with lying, like your blood pressure and pulse. I know it can sound scary, but in cases like these — when there’s no clear evidence — it might be the only thing keeping you from going to prison.”

His words hit you hard, though the gleam in his eyes remained soft. You inhaled deeply before nodding. “I’ll do it.”

-`♡´-

“She’s telling the truth.”

You hadn’t known pure relief until now. Your eyes closed, trying to stop the flood of emotions from flowing in when the pressure cuffs and sensors were being removed from your arms and hands. You didn’t know whether to cry or to cheer, but when you opened your eyes and saw Spencer — who had introduced himself as Dr. Reid, smiling at you, you were sure everything would turn out okay.

“Impossible,” the agent who questioned you earlier huffed under his breath.

The chief who had introduced himself as Aaron Hotchner walked up to you. “For now you’re free to go. However, this case isn’t closed yet. You’ll remain our primary suspect until we find more proof.”

The sharpness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. You kept quiet as he and the other agents left the room, leaving you alone with Dr. Reid.

He closed the distance between you two, standing near enough that he could see all the details on your face. He fought the urge to tuck the loose strings of hair behind your ear, to hold you and tell you that you were okay.

“You did really well,” he said with a soft smile. “Your heartbeat stayed on an average of 70 beats per minute, only going up to 86 once, which is still in the normal range.”

“Did you peek at the monitor?” you jokingly teased.

“I- uh, no. I just counted.” Spencer shyly admitted, earning a playful grin from you. You took his hand in yours, his palm slightly sweaty, as if he was nervous about the outcome too. Then you placed his hand on your chest, right where your heart was. “What about now? Higher than average?”

He swallowed, a blush creeping up his neck. “95 beats per minute.”

The tension between you was palpable, though his touch felt comforting. Your hand was placed over his, and you could both feel the way your heartbeat steadily decreased as you brushed your fingers soothingly over his.

“Can I drive you home?” Spencer offered.

You bit your lip in an effort to hide your grin, but then the corners of your mouth slightly dropped. “I don’t really have a place to stay.”

His brows lifted in surprise, but an empathetic twinkle appeared in his bambi eyes. “You could stay at my place.”

Spencer wasn’t sure why the words came out, but he meant them. He could practically hear the voices of his team telling him to not get involved with someone on a case, let alone a potential suspect. But it wasn’t like he was the first person to do so. And he wouldn’t waste the opportunity of getting closer to you. Maybe if he could get to know you better, if he could make you comfortable enough to open up to him, he could prove to everyone that you were innocent. Because deep down, he knew you were.

-`♡´-

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing, man?” Morgan called out, rushing after Spencer, who had just entered the bullpen to grab his satchel bag before heading out with you.

“Hotch told me I could go home,” he hastily replied, stuffing his papers into his bag.

“Yeah, two hours ago. Before you decided to flirt with a suspect,” he exclaimed in frustration.

“I didn’t flirt with her,” Spencer recounted under his breath.

Morgan let out a dry laugh. “Everyone saw what went on in that room, Reid,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I would’ve least expected this from someone like you.”

“Someone like me doesn’t exist anymore, Derek,” Spencer snapped, a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m not who I was before prison, and neither will I ever be that person again. However, I can help her from turning into someone like me. So, if you don’t mind, I am leaving now.” 

He left Morgan at a loss of words as he walked off. You were waiting on him; your posture stiffened as you wrapped his jacket closer around you. Gently, Spencer threaded his fingers through yours and guided you to the elevator.

Once inside, Spencer pressed the button to the ground floor, then leaned his head back to the wall, letting out a fatigued sigh.

“I am sorry for causing you trouble,” you apologized, nervously picking at the fabric of his jacket that hung loosely over your arms.

His gaze softened, and he shook his head before he reached out to hold your hand once more. It was ironic how he longed for your grounding touch. “You’re not causing me any trouble. I’m sorry for the way they’re treating you. It’s our job to be cautious, to not easily trust someone.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you trust me,” you stated, though it came out more as a question, waiting for confirmation.

His other hand lifted up to touch your cheek, and his heart warmed at how you instinctively leaned into his touch. “I do.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Can you prove it to me?”

He responded with a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup your face in his large palms. You rose to your tiptoes, leaning in until his sweet lips found yours.

-`♡´-

Spencer had expected to spend the ride home talking to you. Instead, you spent the entire ride trying to resist the urge to climb on top of each other. Once he tasted your lips, he couldn’t get enough, and neither could you.

Your giggle sounded through the dimly lit halls of his apartment complex as he dragged you up the stairs. 

“Hurry,” you impatiently chuckled as he struggled to find his keys in his bag. He joined your giddy laughter as you entered the apartment. The second he shut the door close, he gently pressed you against the wall, his lips finding yours again. You let out a satisfied hum, your fingers sliding into the soft curls of his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Wait—one second,” he murmured.

“No,” you pouted, capturing his lips. 

He kissed you back—then again, and again—before finally pulling away. “I just need to put my gun away.”

“Fine,” you mumbled, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Just make it quick.”

He gave you a big grin and walked to the cupboard, where his safe was hidden behind his jackets and a row of spare shoes. It felt strange to have someone in his apartment. Strange to be smiling so brightly, to feel so much, after the emptiness prison has brought him. But strange didn’t mean bad. It felt new. And new could be good. You could be good.

His fingers pressed down on the familiar buttons: 62383. With a soft click, the lock opened; he took his gun from its holster on his pants and safely put it away.

When he turned back, he saw you leaning against the wall, a sweet expression on your face as you awaited him. He strode toward you, immediately pulling you in and kissing you fiercely.

Spencer was aware of his actions. Aware that he shouldn’t be doing what he was about to do with you. But as his hand made contact with the warm skin of your inner thighs, and as your sweet sounds filled the air, he chose to simply not care.

-`♡´-

The next morning you woke up with messy curls tingling against your face. You chuckled as Spencer lay asleep with his head resting on your chest. Your fingers ached with the urge to graze them through his hair, to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. Instead, you held your breath as you climbed from underneath him.

The golden sun shone brightly through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings. You tiptoed through the room, gathering the items of clothes one by one, until you were fully dressed. 

Wearing yesterday’s dress sent a shiver through your body, being reminded of the long hours spent in that bleak interrogation room. 

You mumbled a sorry, before opening his closet and fishing a T-shirt out of it, a blue one with a faded Caltech logo, barely visible. You ignored the thoughts forming in your head, the itch to want to know more about the man who was still sleeping soundlessly in the bed that you shared. 

Once you found yourself a suitable pair of pants, Spencer started groaning from the other side of the room. You turned around, catching his hand patting down the empty space beside him, as if in search of the heat of your body. It felt irresistible to not check up on him. You slowly made your way to his side of the bed, crouching down and lightly stroking his face. His eyes blinked open, and the way he smiled made your heart churn. 

“I need to go,” you softly whispered to him.

His smile faltered. “Where to?” He sat up straighter on the bed, but you gently pushed him back down.

“Will I see you again?” Spencer asked when you didn’t respond.

Your lips curled in a smile, “I’m sure you will.”

And sure you were, because as soon as you left the bedroom, you were headed to the cupboard, pushing aside the jackets that hung on the hooks, until your eyes landed on the shining steel safe. 

62383.

The lock sprung open, and in a swift motion you took the gun and hid it in the bottom of your purse. I will be seeing you again, Spencer. Just under different circumstances.

[fawnhart]

drew begs bambi to forgive him ! ˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

They had just wrapped filming her final season on Outer Banks. The whole time, Bambi acted as if she wasn’t hurting inside and nailed every single take flawlessly. Drew, on the other hand, was a mess and everyone knew it.

He kept messing up his lines, forgetting his call times, and dozing off between takes. In a way, Bambi felt bad for him. But he had no right to her sympathy, at least not at the moment

Now, both back in New York, Drew for a photoshoot and Bambi back in her elementl she couldn’t help but look at him with disgust and anger.

How dare he show up?!

It was one of those nights where everything was happening all at once and nothing at all. Drew stood at Bambi’s townhome door, soaked from the rain, his hands trembling, his chest tight. His mullet was a mess, not giving a damn if paparazzi caught him. He just wanted her to listen. She stood there, arms crossed as her eyes burned with anger, hurt, maybe a little curiosity, but mostly just tired.

she had every right to be

“Please, Bambi. Please, let me in. I can’t” He cut himself off, his voice breaking just a little, the words too heavy in his chest. He couldn’t keep pretending to be fine. Not anymore.

She didn’t move, arms crossed, standing her ground. She was beautiful like that, even if her face was streaked with tears, even if her lip trembled slightly.

“You can’t just come in here after everything, Drew.” Her voice was quieter than he expected, but sharper. It made his heart twist “You think you can just say sorry and it all goes away!?”

“I’ve been a mess without you, baby. I’ve screwed everything up,” he said, his words coming out in a rush “I was… I was just scared. Scared of you and your reputation, of what people would say about us. i-” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to hold it together “I thought if I distanced myself, it would protect you.”

Bambi’s expression softened, just a little, but not enough for him to get comfortable. She was still holding that distance “You pushed me away because of what other people might think?” Her voice wavered just slightly on the word might. “And that’s supposed to be for my own good?”

He dropped his head, his eyes stinging “I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was..no, I am an idiot.

She didn’t say anything, but her gaze never wavered. After a long silence, she sighed, her breath shaky “And then there’s your friend” she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

The words hit him like a punch in the stomach. He didn’t need to ask which friend she meant. That girl. The one who had spent more time telling Drew what a mess he was for being with her than actually being his “friend”. Drew had started to feel that insidious doubt creeping in, her words twisting around in his head like vines.

“She told you I wasn’t good enough, didn’t she?” Bambi asked, and there was a bitter edge to her voice.

“i-I didn’t believe her, baby,” Drew said quickly, his hands shaking again. He took a step forward, desperate “I never believed her. I-look, I shouldn’t have listened to her at all. I was so caught up in my own shit, and-”

“And what!? You let her tell you who I am!? Who we are!? But you were perfectly fine having sex with me?, right” she said feeling utterly and totally used

He swallowed hard, a heavy knot in his throat “I should’ve told her to back the fuck off. I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve never let her put those thoughts in my mind. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The air in the apartment felt thick, too heavy to breathe. He finally dropped to his knees, his face flushed with the weight of it all “I love you, Bambi. Please... don’t shut me out. I need you. I can’t fix this without you.”

Her eyes flickered with pain as she stared down at him, her arms still crossed, but now her lips were pressed tightly together as she fought back more tears. She couldn’t let him see her break just yet. Not like this. Not when she was still trying to figure out whether or not she could believe him.

“You really hurt me, Drew. You have no idea how much.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she turned away, wiping at her eyes. She moved slowly, the silence between them stretching like a thin wire.

Drew stayed kneeling, helpless. “Please, Bambi. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what I need to do.”

She turned back to him, eyes red-rimmed but steady. “You have to prove it. You have to show me you’re not just talking. Words don’t mean anything anymore.” She paused, her gaze hardening. “And you need to cut her off. She’s clearly got it out for me, and for us, and you can’t keep her around if you want to make this right.”

He nodded immediately “I swear I will. I’ll cut her off. I’ll do anything. Just... please don’t leave me.” His voice was raw, the last of his pride crumbling.

Bambi stared at him for a long moment, and then she sighed “Fine,” she said quietly “But I’m not forgiving you tonight. I need to think about it.”

Drew’s heart sank, but he nodded, trying to be understanding, even if every fiber of him wanted to scream.

“Get up, you’re embarrassing me” He stood up slowly, and she led him into her townhome, but not without a sharp glance over her shoulder as she said, “And you’re sleeping outside tonight, With my cat.”

Drew blinked, startled. “What?”

“I’m serious. Outside. With Ms. Mocha. You can sleep on the balcony.” Her tone was final, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she walked past him into the closet, grabbing a blanket and tossing it in his direction.

Drew was about to protest, but the look on her face stopped him. The soft, determined way she held herself now was a reminder of why he loved her in the first place, because she never made anything easy for him. She knew her worth, even if he had forgotten for a while.

He grabbed the blanket, muttering, “I’m an idiot.”

Her lips quirked up at that, just a little. “Yeah. You are. But you’re still my idiot.” She softened then, her voice growing quieter. “you have to prove you deserve to be with me. Because I can’t go back to being second place.”

Drew nodded, his chest tight. “I swear I will. I swear.” He hesitated then added “can I atleast sleep on the couch?” he said with a weak smile

Bambi rolled her eyes, but it was playful now, the tension easing just enough for her to offer him a tiny truce. “Fine. I haven’t burned your clothes yet, consider yourself lucky.” She said heading to her room to grab some of his pajamas he had left there several times

He laughed softly, grateful for the small weird victory. He knew it was far from over, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

“missed you Mocha” he whispered as he curled up on her soft pink couch, Ms. Mocha curled up next to him with an irritated meow, Drew stared at the night sky view from her townhome, wondering how he could have been so fucking stupid. But maybe, he had a chance to make it right.

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[woso-dreamzzz]

Melting Pot IV

McFoord x Child!Reader

Ruesha Littlejohn x Child!Reader

woso-dreamzzz Kids x Child!Reader (Kiddo)

Summary: Sports day with a bunch of hyper competitive people

"Ouch!"

Caitlin sighs, massaging her temples as she comes down the stairs.

It had already been a loaded morning, crammed full of everything and nothing at the same time.

"Stop it!"

She'd only been upstairs for a moment, separating Gremlin's kitten from your own.

They were two vastly different cats.

Gremlin's Spicy was angry, a walking ball of fuzz that leapt first and asked questions later. He was liable to throwing up hairballs while making eye contact and bringing in dead rats from the railroad tracks.

Your Baby was the opposite, a demure little lady who groomed herself all the time and took naps on your blanket. She craved affection and wound herself around ankles whenever anyone even so much as looked at her.

Two vastly different cats like their vastly different owners.

"Hey!" Katie snaps as Caitlin turns the corner," Gremlin, knock it off! Leave your sister alone!"

A very clear bite mark is on your wrist as you sob, curled up on Katie's lap as she struggles to get your sister's shoes on her feet.

"I've got her," Caitlin says, nudging her girlfriend away," Go and put Kiddo in the car."

Usually, a Saturday morning meant a chill day.

Sleeping until noon and having some brunch. Most of the time pancakes, sometimes waffles if Katie could be bothered to get out the waffle maker.

But today was Sports Day at the school so you were all up bright and early to make it there in time.

Caitlin already knew how this was going to go though.

Gremlin would get hyper competitive and most likely push someone over in her haste to win and you would linger at the back of your pack of peers with no hint of athletic ability in you.

Your little sister was much younger than you so she was separated with the other nursery age girls while you were included in your class.

"That wasn't very nice," Caitlin says as she slips the leash straps over Gremlin's shoulders," You know your sister is sensitive. Why did you bite her?"

Gremlin shrugs. "Dunno."

"Well, I think you should apologise."

"Dragons not say sorry!"

"And dragons don't exist," Caitlin replies, hoisting Gremlin up onto her hip," Maybe you should think about that."

You've stopped crying by the time you're all in the car, a few fingers in your mouth and the other hand out for Katie to hold during the drive, Gremlin's ring of teeth marks displayed so obviously.

"Sorry," Your sister mumbles to you, kicking the seat in front of her.

"For?" Katie prompts.

"Bitin' you."

You mumble your thanks through your fingers just as Caitlin pulls up in front of the school.

She can see a few of the parents she knows well heading into the gates.

Life working at the fire station tended to bond people.

Leah is corralling Bean inside while Jordan (who used to work at the fire station but left after one too many near death scares) crosses the street with their Bug. Lia, their constantly exasperated admin person, is crossing the street with her Guppy as well, joining up with the two of them with a smile.

"Alright," Katie says, turning to look back at her two daughters," Remember what I said about today?"

"It doesn't matter if we don't win because you'll still love us the same," You recite through a mouthful of your fingers and Katie smiles.

"That's exactly right."

You hold Mammy's hand as you all cross the road.

Mammy holds Caitlin's hand. You hold Mammy's. Your little sister holds yours.

She raises your wrist up to her mouth and you tense but all she does is give you a little kiss on the bite mark.

"Sorry," She says again.

"It's okay."

Gremlin smiles at you and you smile back,

"Hey," Katie says, swinging your joined arms," Ma's over there."

It wasn't your week with Rue but she's still come to your sports day and the only hint of athletic ability you possess is put into running over to her.

"Ma!" You cry and she hoists you into her arms instantly.

"Look at you! Looking good, kiddo!" Rue says, bouncing you up and down as you lean into her, breathing in her familiar smell. "You ready for today?"

Your stomach suddenly starts swirling a little.

You know Katie's views on your sports day performance. You don't know Rue's.

"I won't be very good," You say softly, barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to be good," Rue says decisively," Listen, I've got permission from your Mammy that after this is over, we can go to that fancy bakery you like and get some cakes before I take you back to her. Would that be nice?"

"And we can get cupcakes?"

"As many cupcakes as you like!"

Like you thought, you don't do overwhelmingly well at sports day.

You lag behind in the races and in the big jumping. You do fairly well at throwing the beanbags into the hula hoops but that's about it.

Sports day finishes with the sporty girls winning like everyone thought and a big barbecue to celebrate.

Your little sister eats a lot, Caitlin gets you cotton candy and your mothers even end up being civil.

"Caitlin," You say as your eyes rove around the school field," Why are the mummies and big sisters stretching?"

"Huh?"

Caitlin has a piece of beef hanging out of her mouth.

You point.

Over on the far end by the fence, Alexia and Jenni are stretching their legs. Leah is a few feet away doing the same. Alessia is jumping up and down a few times, warming up her muscles.

Even Katie is doing the same, chatting away to one of Bear's mummies.

"Well that's for the parent race."

"Parent race?"

"Uh-huh." Caitlin takes a wet napkin to Gremlin's face. "So the mummies can all race each other to see who's the best."

"But why?"

"Because adults can be competitive too. They get bragging rights."

That sounds...

Well it doesn't exactly sound weird.

Mammy and Caitlin work at the fire station together and you know all the firefighters there are super competitive with each other.

You didn't know that other adults were competitive too.

"Be careful, Magda," You hear one of Princesse's mummies say," You're not as fit as you used to be."

"Please," Princesse's other mummy scoffs," I'm not letting anyone beat me."

"If you pull a muscle, you get no sympathy from me."

You turn back to Caitlin in alarm. "Is Mammy going to hurt herself?"

"No...Probably not...Hopefully not."

That doesn't fill you with much confidence as Katie takes her place on the starting line.

It's carnage the moment the start is called as adults shove each other and get their legs tangled and fall to the ground in heaps.

Katie goes crashing into the ground in a heap with Leah, Steph and Lucy. Alexia and Jenni collide with each other and Irene. Mapi somehow trips over herself.

Against all odds, it seems, Duckie's mummy Jessie comes first.

Squish's mummy Frida is second and Conejita's mummy Caro ends up in third.

"Get off!" Katie says, shoving the pile of people off of her as you, Caitlin and Gremlin approach.

You crouch next to her.

"It's okay, Mammy," You say," You didn't have to win. I still love you the same."

[revelboo]

This is all your fault. 🤣 They have been so much fun to put together!

I am loving all your stories, especially Everything is Alright. The boys are such asshats! I'm looking forward to Reader putting them in their place.

The Blokees are adorable, especially the minis. I kind of want to just accrue them and let them ride on my dash. And reader is definitely not happy with any of them right now, but is beginning to realize they have leverage

Everything Is Alright Pt 124

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Starscream expects you to yell some more. To get angrier. Instead you just offer them a flat, empty smile and make a show of looking over the edge of the berth. And a whisper of fear twists through his spark. Wings drawing tight to his frame, Starscream isn’t sure what that expression of yours is, but he doesn’t like it. Hadn’t meant to just say all that in front of you, but it’s out there now. Had meant to hurt Megatron, not you. And Soundwave is slowly approaching you, frame tense. What is he picking up from you?

• “It occurs to me that you two need me a lot more than I need you. And I’m just one little, helpless human, right? You can bully me into whatever you want and there’s nothing I can do.” Heart racing, you keep an eye on Soundwave. Because he’s clued in to your mindset and he’s edging closer in slow movements like you’re a stray he’s trying not to spook into running. Star’s wings flare out slightly with your words, but Megatron is just frowning at you. “But lots of things can happen to me. I could fall off of here. It’s a long way down, isn’t it?” Ignoring Star and Soundwave, you focus on Megatron. Watch those optics narrow. “I don’t think I’d cope very well if something happened to my world and my people, you know? But nothing’s going to happen, because you’re going to leave my world alone. As a wedding gift.”

• Wedding? A human thing? “You think you can make demands of me?” Megatron ask, fighting to keep from smiling as you stare him down. Why is your anger so appealing? Makes him want to provoke you just to see how far you’ll go, because he doesn’t believe for a moment that you’ll actually try anything. There’s your equally helpless sparkling you saddled him with to worry about. It’s an empty threat and maybe it bothers him that you’re scared enough to make it. Because you are right about one thing. Anything could happen to you and his life depends on you staying safe. And despite himself, he’d prefer you to be happy, so tired of fighting all the time and don’t want to fight you.

• “Not a demand. A present for your bonded mate,” you say, glancing at Soundwave as he stops short of you and holds out a hand. Asking you to come away from the edge, because he’s afraid you might accidentally fall. That Megatron might push you into something rash. “For our sparkling,” you add, look up at him, not Megatron. And it’s a relief when you place that little hand in his and let him pull you to him. Wishes you wouldn’t try to push Megatron, but understands why you’re doing it. “Because this is their home, too.” Understands the game you’re playing and doesn’t like it. And he’s the outsider here now, not bonded to you anymore because of Starscream. The first bond had been all need and desire. He hasn’t considered the consequences of his actions if you’d accepted him, but he still wants it. Still wants you. Even if it’s just this, trapped on the outside acting as mediator to keep you safe.

• Crossing the berth to you and Soundwave, his wings drop, flicking guiltily when you look at him. Knows you’re mad at him, too, but can’t stop reaching for you. And his spark aches when you take a slow breath and catch his hand, tugging him to you. “It’s a reasonable request,” he says, knowing it’s not his call to make, but he’d give you this if it would make you happy. Hadn’t really cared about this mudball beyond that you’re on it. Wants to ask what a wedding is, if it’s some kind of bonding ceremony, but he just looks at Megatron in challenge instead. Watches the warlord vent in exasperation at the three of you, optics fixed on you.

• Heart still racing as you lace your fingers with Starscream’s servos and glare defiantly up at Megatron. Still angry at all three of them, but Star and Soundwave are at least taking your side. Or they just don’t want you angry with them and are trying to get back in your good graces. It’s hard to tell with them sometimes. “You really are more trouble than you’re worth,” Megatron growls, shoving off the berth and striding to the door. “Mining and refining energon will continue as planned.” And your breath catches, fingers gripping Star’s servos as Megatron hesitates, back to all of you. “But I suppose this world could be declared a protected nature reserve. Since our species are compatible and I’d hate to wipe out any potential resources.” That’s sort of a victory, right? Why doesn’t it make you feel better, though? Because you might have saved your world but accidentally turned the Decepticons loose on your people to save their own declining race. Well, shit.

Previous

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: The Kiss Hunt

Roman Reigns x Reader

****

It was an unspoken rule by now—before every match, Roman needed his kiss.

No one knew exactly when it started, but somewhere along the way, it became part of his routine. Just like taping his wrists or putting on his vest, he wouldn’t step through that curtain without it. If you were nearby, it was easy—he’d find you, pull you in by the waist, steal a kiss, and head off to dominate in the ring.

But sometimes, you weren’t so easy to find.

Which meant he had to go on the hunt.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Where is she?” Roman grumbled, already growing impatient as he stormed through the backstage halls.

Jimmy and Jey, sitting on a crate nearby, exchanged looks before Jey smirked. “Damn, Uce. You that desperate for your good luck kiss?”

Roman shot him a look. “You got a problem with it?”

Jimmy raised his hands in defense. “Nope, just funny watching the big uce go on a scavenger hunt for his woman.”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, moving past them.

Jey laughed. “Whipped.”

Roman ignored them.

He checked catering.

Nothing.

The women’s locker room?

Naomi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, amused as hell. “She left a few minutes ago. You really out here chasing her down, huh?”

“Where’d she go?” he asked, exasperated.

“Somewhere near the production area, I think.”

Roman groaned. He was already supposed to be at Gorilla in five minutes, but he was not stepping out there without that damn kiss.

Meanwhile, you were completely oblivious to the search party forming for you. You had stopped by the production area to chat with Bayley and Rhea when suddenly—

“There you are.”

You barely had time to turn before Roman was right in front of you, hands gripping your waist as he pulled you in.

You blinked. “Uh… hey?”

“I got a match,” he muttered, like that explained everything.

And for him, it did.

A knowing smile spread across your lips. “And what do you need before your match?”

He arched a brow. “You know.”

Bayley, standing off to the side, smirked. “God, you two are disgustingly cute.”

Rhea snorted. “Nah, this is next-level. My man’s been hunting you down like a bloodhound.”

Roman ignored them completely, his focus solely on you. “C’mon, baby. Don’t make me beg.”

Your heart flipped at the way his voice dropped, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Beg? Now that I’d like to see.”

He huffed. “I swear to God—”

Before he could say another word, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He instantly melted into it, his grip tightening on your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

The moment should have been sweet, romantic even—if it weren’t for the round of cheers that suddenly erupted around you.

“WOOOO! GET IT, TRIBAL CHIEF!”

You pulled back to see The Usos, Solo, Seth, and even Dean standing there, all of them grinning like they just walked in on a damn rom-com.

Seth cackled. “Man, he really couldn’t go out there without it, huh?”

Dean smirked. “You got this man acting like an addict.”

Jey nudged Jimmy. “I told you, Uce. Whipped.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up, all of you.”

Roman, however, was completely unbothered. He smirked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

He chuckled, then leaned in to whisper, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

Your face heated instantly.

The guys lost it.

“OH, HELL NO—”

“TOO MUCH INFO, MAN—”

“DAMN, UCE—”

Bayley covered her ears. “I did not need to hear that!”

Rhea just nodded in approval. “Respect.”

Meanwhile, Roman smirked in victory, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before finally backing away. “Alright, I’m good now.”

Jey threw his hands up. “Oh, now you good?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Man, if y’all ever break up, we’re done for.”

You crossed your arms. “Not happening.”

Roman smirked. “Damn right.”

And with that, he walked off toward Gorilla, leaving everyone behind to recover from the overwhelming amount of PDA.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Dean shook his head with a grin. “Man, y’all are something else.”

You just shrugged, smiling to yourself. Because honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

[puck-luck]

patchwork hearts | nico hischier

warnings: unprotected p in v, chatgpt-level swiss german (since google translate doesn’t have swiss german. only regular german. f u google translate), angst i guess (argument), make-up sex, pretty vanilla all in all, oral f!receiving, fingering.

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader

request: Reader and Nico get into a fight before we leaves for away from away games in the west coast and they make up when he comes back (or while he is away). Request by @hockeygirl1328. thanks queen! sorry it took so long!!

wc: 3,345

The memory of the argument flashes through your mind when Nico’s face appears on your screen. It’s the cuddliest photo you’ve ever taken of him, scruff in full form and hair messy, but that still doesn’t improve your mood. Just before he left for this road trip, you’d gotten into a massive fight about his constant travel. You love Nico, so much, but he’s always gone. It’s your first season together and the adjustment from Summer Nico to Season Nico has been really difficult.

Maybe you were being selfish, but you didn’t want to miss Nico for another week. He comes home for a few days, then leaves for a few more. The cycle repeats over and over again and there’s not enough time for you and Nico to establish a routine. There’s not enough time for you to even see Nico some days, which is just disheartening. Your boyfriend is basically a half-version of himself and, most of the time, it feels like his only priority in life is hockey. You don’t even rank.

Nico’s words had hurt, even though you know in your heart that he was right. It was just excessive, the way he’d dug his claws into you with only a few words. 

As the phone rings out, you hear the echo of what he said. “You knew what this life was when we got together. I don’t have time for a constant guilt trip every time I leave!”

“I didn’t sign up to be an afterthought,” you’d fought back.

“Not everything is about you, you know,” Nico snapped. “The world doesn’t revolve around you– my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

His eyes had grown immediately wide and his jaw had dropped, like he couldn’t believe he just said that. You couldn’t believe he’d said that. The argument ended immediately– only because there was nothing you could muster up in reply. 

You hadn’t broken up with Nico for the mere statement, although you’ll admit that it crossed your mind. Instead, you’d sat in place as Nico’s many apologies fell on deaf ears. You felt almost catatonic as he’d kenlt down in front of you and tried to gauge your reaction, touching your knee with a gentle nudge. He’d wiped away the tears that leaked from your eyes, even though you’d tried to turn away from his touch. 

You’d slept over that night because you hadn’t felt you were able to move. The shock kept you in place. Nico had tucked you into his bed and relegated himself to the couch. When you woke up and you’d finally felt able to move, ready to face the boy, he was gone. There was a note on the door and a message left on your phone, both of which said roughly the same thing: that Nico was sorry he had to go, but he couldn’t stay. You knew why, of course. It was time for his California roadie. As much as you felt like an afterthought at times, you aren’t unreasonable. You know that he has to travel for his job. 

You’re still hurt, to be fair. No matter how many times Nico apologized after dropping that bomb, it continues to cut at you and pop up in your mind whenever he calls. You’ve answered twice over the duration of the roadie, but the conversations had felt stilted and forced. After the last call, just over a day ago, Nico had asked if he could come over to your apartment and see you when he got back. 

You think that he was calling a moment ago because he made it back to the Prudential Center and would be driving to your place soon. Your palms are a bit sweaty knowing that Nico is on the way. You don’t want to fight with him again and you have a feeling that he doesn’t want to fight either, but you know it’s not resolved.

You take the time before Nico arrives to calm yourself. You get a glass of water, you grab a handful of your favorite snack, and you sit on the couch to watch a bit of TV.

He calls again a few minutes later. This time, you answer.

“Hi, Nico,” you greet, voice quiet.

“Hi, I’m downstairs,” Nico says. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here before I come up.”

“Okay, Nee. I’ll see you soon.” You pull the phone away fom your ear and end the call, standing up to unlock your front door. You return to the couch and when he knocks, you call out to tell him that it’s open.

Nico comes through the door and toes off his shoes. “How was your day?” Nico asks, coming over to the couch to join you. 

“Not bad. I went to work and the gym and then I came home,” you reply. You attempt a smile at Nico when he sits on the couch and circles his fingers around your ankle, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “How was California?”

“I missed you,” Nico says. “It was hard to focus on the games when I was thinking about you. I’m sorry I left after the fight. I wish I hadn’t needed to go. I wanted to stay and make things better.”

The breath leaves your chest in a deep sigh. “It was unfortunate timing.”

“I know,” Nico agrees, nodding. “It gave me a little time to think about what to say to you, which is nice. I know I can’t really make up for what happened last week, but–” Nico takes your hand and grasps it. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t a priority for me. You are. You’re a huge part of my life and I wouldn’t be anywhere without you, supporting me and cheering me on and being there for me every day. I’m sorry I wasn’t more considerate of your feelings.”

You almost want to cry again after hearing him spout this heartfelt apology. Nico sits in front of you and waits, blinking patiently and chewing on his lower lip while you take in his words. The lines under his eyes are deep and you can tell that he lost sleep over something this past week, likely this incident if his words have any truth to them. You nod and reach forward, cradling Nico’s face in your hands. “I’m sorry for not giving you the benefit of the doubt,” you tell Nico. “I know you can’t help that hockey is such a big part of your life. I know you don’t mean to put me on the backburner. I just felt a little neglected and I’m sorry that I accused you of making me an afterthought.”

“You shouldn’t have to apologize because of how you feel,” Nico says. He slides his arm down to your waist. “I was caught up in everything else in my life and didn’t give you the attention you deserve. I never want to make you feel that way again.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I know you won’t.” You lean in and press a chaste kiss to Nico’s lips. After kissing him, you shuffle forward and tuck yourself against his chest. 

Nico pulls you onto his lap and cradles you there, kissing the top and side of your head. He touches as much of your body as he can, rubbing your back and your arms, your waist and your thighs. You breathe together, leaning against each other, and taking in the presence of the other person.

“Please let me show you how much I love you,” Nico requests after a few minutes, caressing your sides and looking at you with his big, brown eyes. “And how sorry I am for acting like I don’t care. I care, babe, I care so much.” He drops a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek. “Please.”

You don’t reply, but you turn your head and find his lips. You touch the scuff on Nico’s face, which he seems to have shaved over his roadie, but it’s starting to grow back. His hair is at risk of being deemed “too long” in his own opinion, so you touch the strands reverently, knowing that they’ll be gone sooner than later. 

“Let me take care of you,” Nico murmurs, dipping down to brush a kiss over your jawline. 

“Okay,” you whisper back, touching the side of Nico’s neck and the curve of his bicep. 

He fits his strong palms under your thighs, lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to distract Nico on his walk to the bedroom. You might still be a little sad about what Nico said a week ago, but the apology worked well enough that you’re trying to let it go. 

Nico lays you on the bed, kissing down your body and undressing you as he goes. His touch is loving, almost overwhelmingly so. He removes his shirt and settles between your legs, kissing from your calf to the inside of your knee, up your thigh and all the way to your hip bone. 

The only sound that fills the room is the shared sigh of relief when Nico connects with your core. As his tongue flattens and licks a stripe up your slit, Nico’s eyes flutter shut and his hands fix on your hips to pull you closer. 

Ninety percent of the time, Nico gets ravenous when he’s eating you out. Today is different. 

His tongue trails through your folds. The tip of the muscle traces every inch of your cunt before he even considers pressing closer. Nico takes his time– he savors the taste of your slick. “Mm, liebste,” Nico groans. “You taste so good.” 

He works his tongue against your cunt, licking around the rim of your entrance before flicking further inside. One of his hands comes to your front, thumb contacting your clit and rubbing soothing circles over it. His other hand travels underneath your body and you let out a startled gasp when his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, dragging you even closer.

He’s systematic and precise, kitten licking at your insides. He focuses on one part of your body, then another– in this case, he goes from your hole to wrapping his all-consuming lips around your clit and suckling. 

His index finger finds your entrance and soothes the smooth ring, drawing circles over the outline of your most intimate area before you lift your hips into his touch. You’re silently asking for more and Nico understands that, gently pushing his finger inside. Just like with his mouthwork, he’s slow and attentive. 

The pad of Nico’s fingertip feels out your inner walls, welcoming the hug of your cunt around his digit eagerly and repaying you by trying to find that spot inside of you, the one that always makes you see stars. 

His hair has started to fall messily over his forehead, brushing his eyebrows. You find the strands with your hands, clutching at them and moving his head where you need it to be– for all intents and purposes, you keep him mostly aligned with your clit, but the movement of his head provides a friction that pure suction could not offer.

As you do this, his middle finger pokes at your entrance. The first knuckle disappears inside you with little resistance, then Nico starts to work on opening you up. His fingers scissor inside of you, spearing against the gummy ridges of your muscle, preparing you for his cock. 

You clench down a bit at the thought of his member, pleas for the length on the tip of your tongue. You know Nico is thinking about fucking you too, just based on the way he rolls his hips against the mattress and hums. 

He releases your clit from between his lips, which draws a whine of protest from you. Nico chuckles quietly and turns his head, planting a kiss on your inner thigh. Then, he dips his head and twists his wrist so that his palm faces upward. Nico licks between his two fingers, his eyelids open just enough that you can see how he looks up at you and takes you in. 

Nico draws away from your pussy only to ask, “Chunsch du, schatz?” 

He’s teasing you, plucking at an inside joke from when you felt you were brave enough to try to learn Swiss German. Thinking it would be sweet, you’d tried your hand at talking Nico’s native tongue in bed, but your words had just seemed too formal. Still, it’s something you can laugh over. Nico loves to parrot your effort at “Are you coming?” back at you, always smiling fondly when he does.

He’s worked his tongue back between his fingers, looking up at you with raised eyebrows. He waits for you to answer his question, sure to bump his nose against your clit when you open your mouth, so that you produce a moan instead of a sentence. Nico giggles at his little joke, cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling. He brings his mouth to your clit and kisses over the bud, steadily pumping his fingers to really bring you to orgasm.

You whimper when he works a third thick finger into your entrance, stuffing you full. You know it’s necessary since his cock is also thick, but there’s a dull ache at the first stretch that has you writhing on the bed. 

“I know, I know,” Nico soothes, lathing kiss after kiss to your sensitive center. “But I have to get you all open for me, baby. So you feel good later, hm?” He bends his knuckles and comes into contact with your sweet spot, the rush of pleasure making your back arch involuntarily. Nico notices this and grins, eyes determined and set on continuing this feeling for you.

Your noises grow more slurred with each touch of his fingertips to your walls, especially when he flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit. He’s still teasing you, dangling the climax just out of reach with the way he’ll overwhelm your clit with his tongue and then slow down, licking flat stripes along the parts of your slit that he can reach. 

“Nico,” you lament with a frown when he pulls away again, just as you were about to come.

“Sorry,” Nico apologizes with a crinkle-eyed smile. He captures your clit and keeps his mouth there, beckoning his fingers and creating a vacuum around the bundle of nerves at the apex of your vagina. This time, he doesn’t let up– he goes and goes and goes until your hands have found their way back to his hair and pull so hard that there’s a stinging sensation along Nico’s scalp.

He allows his eyes to drift shut again, free hand dancing up your body until he finds your tits, finally giving them the attention that he feels they deserve. With a few harsh gropes, a pinch or two to your nipple, and even a tug at your chest, you’re unraveling over Nico’s digits and making your situation very well known to your neighbors.

“Bravo, süsse,” Nico praises over the heaving of your chest. He stays in contact with your center, but slows his movements to something that keeps you teetering on the precipice of pleasure rather than in the throws of it. “Do you think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you rasp out, reaching for Nico and catching him by his biceps. You coax him forward, palms sliding up to his jawline. You lick over the seam of Nico’s lips and taste yourself already, the flavor of your cum only growing stronger when Nico parts his lips and slides his tongue against yours. “Fuck me, Nico.”

“Mm, hase, I’m not going to fuck you,” Nico corrects. “I’m going to take care of you. And you’re going to take care of me.”

While you were ready to protest the first part of his statement, your mouth quickly snaps shut when he finishes speaking. You lay back against the pillows, propping your head up, and you bring Nico with you. His body blankets yours, shifting atop you as he tries to remove his bottoms with one hand. His other roams on your torso, stroking the curves of your sides and stomach.

“So schön,” Nico murmurs.

“So beautiful,” you repeat, thumbing over his cheekbone. 

Nico reaches between your bodies and lines himself up with your entrance. Just like before, he moves slowly. He moves with purpose. You can feel every inch of Nico’s length as it sinks into you. 

When you roll your head back to let out a soft moan, Nico seizes the opportunity to paint a series of open-mouthed kisses on your neck. “I love you so much,” he mumbles against your skin. He rolls his hips, filling you further. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, hands scrambling for purchase on the expanse of his back when Nico’s tip brushes against the cartilaginous wall of your cervix. He knocks against that wall again on his next thrust forward, only drawing out about halfway before snapping forward suddenly. 

Regardless of how he fills you, his movements are still tinged with reverence and tenderness. Nico holds you like something that will break under the pressure of his fingertips, but he’s still desperate to keep you close. He’ll let his hips fall flush with yours and remain there sometimes, then other times he’ll roll and snap his hips like your lives depend on it. 

You know that there was once an argument between you, but all that matters is the fact that Nico is here and he’s doing exactly what he promised he’d do: take care of you.

His hand finds your arm, then trails up to your wrist. He presses your wrist into the cushion above your head, but doesn’t stop there. He brings his fingers up to your palm, tracing over the lines that represent your love and your life. He slots his fingers between yours and intertwines your fingers, holding your hand tight as he continues to thrust into you. He repeats the same process on the other side, until both of your hands are wrapped in his. He pins you to the bed, but you feel only safe and secure, not trapped in the slightest. 

“You’re so tight around me, baby,” Nico says, ending his statement with a kiss. His voice is low and rough, breathless and nearly spent due to the tango you’re performing now. “Gonna fill you up, fill you ‘til all of my love is dripping out of you.”

You were already overwhelmed, but when he said that– and then nibbled your bottom lip after– you feel a dam break inside of you. You come suddenly and without warning, jaw dropping. A high keen falls from your mouth, only to be met with a coo from Nico and a deep grunt as he continues to fuck into your even tighter entrance. 

The squeeze of your cunt around Nico’s cock is enough to make him come too, the white spurts of cum filling your hole just like he’d promised. You can feel Nico trembling a bit from the aftershocks, your chest meeting his as you arch up into his touch and he deflates from exhaustion. He covers you just like a warm comforter and kisses you lazily, both of you wanting to stay connected after such an intense reunion.

You feel satiated, calm and happy that Nico came to you when he returned instead of going home and basking in the misery of the argument from a week prior. You certainly feel better now, after having gone through the throes of that low point in your relationship.

“Mm,” Nico hums, like he remembered something suddenly. His head tilts and he kisses along the crook of your neck. “During the break in February, I thought you’d like to come home with me. We can have a little couples vacation at home, just you and me. How does that sound?”

“Amazing, Nico,” you tell him, smoothing his hair beneath your fingertips. “That sounds amazing.”

note: read a stoner!nico fic recently that Cece reblogged and I tweaked. thinking of y'all! i think you'll see nico a lot sooner on this blog than you expect... perhaps a little "nico x ____ x reader".....

[melosliving]

hi! I was wondering if you could write a story about aaron and reader are arguing because reader is jealous about him having to kiss a girl in a movie he was doing and he had to prove to them that he loves them and only them. please and thank you

Let me cook !! I hope you’ll like ! (I felt free to add smut to it because why notttt)

aaron pierre x actress!reader

Warnings : +18 (MDNI), nasty smutty, established relationship, jealousy, cranky reader

It’s been a long day for both of you. The set was chaotic, the director demanding, and the long hours had made you cranky. But what truly sent your heart spiraling was the news you’d just heard.

Your man had to kiss another woman for a scene in his movie. You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, but as you stood in the doorway of his trailer, the words hit you like a ton of bricks. Your stomach twisted, your chest tightened. You knew it was part of his job, but that didn’t stop the jealousy that clawed at you, irrational but raw.

Now, sitting in his car, you can barely look at him. The tension between you two is palpable, and the silence is thick, uncomfortable.

Aaron looks over at you, his jaw clenched, but his eyes soft. “Baby, talk to me. I don’t like when you’re like this.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, staring out the window. “Like what?”

He takes a breath, turning fully towards you now. “You’re upset. I can tell. I don’t know why, but I can feel it.” You huff, shaking your head, but you can’t hide the hurt in your voice. “I just… I don’t get why you had to kiss her. I know it’s your job, but—”

His hands fly up in frustration, but not in anger. It’s more like he’s frustrated at himself for making you feel this way. “No, listen to me, okay? That kiss meant nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I know it was just acting,” you say, voice small. “But still… You kissed her. I don’t know if my weak ass can handle that."

He reaches over and gently places his hand on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “Baby, I’ve been kissing you for years. There’s only one person who has my heart, and that’s you. No matter what’s in the script, no matter what I have to do on set, you’re the one I’m coming home to.”

You glance at him, searching his face, looking for any sign of insincerity. But all you see is love. His eyes are soft, pleading, and filled with everything you need to hear.

“And I’m sorry I made you feel this way,” he continues, his voice low. “You mean everything to me. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want anyone else.”

Tears start to sting your eyes as his words hit you. Slowly, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m sorry, too papa,” you whisper, gently playing with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to be jealous like this. I just… I love you so much. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you like I do.”

Aaron leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you never will. Because no matter what, it’s you and me. Always.”

Now, as the rest of the trip was quiet, the only audible sound being the radio, you thought things had calmed down between you. How wrong you were. You didn’t even the time to step out of your shoes that aaron took you to y’all’s bedroom.

"Aaron- what are you doing ?" You asked, following him as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

The tension between y’all thickened, and even if the only source of light in the room was the sunset’s, you could still see aaron slightly tightening his jaw as he looked down at you.

It was like he was actually realizing just how deeply all of this was affecting you. He pulled you closer to his, brushing his lips against your ear. " I’m sorry you felt that way. I need to show you you’re the only one who can have me.”

He never actually felt like this, never been the object of one’s jealousy. But this was nice —apart from the part where it makes you upset– it made him feel even more connected to you.

That’s how he now had you wrapped in his body, almost in his skin. His dick was buried in you so deep, but his fingers were so delicate on your skin, his kisses so gentle. "Papa is so sorry for making you jealous baby, will you forgive him ?" He asks as he fucked himself into your sweet pussy. You felt so good around him, your hips grinding to try to meet his.

"haa– fuck !"

"C’mon tell me bub. You forgive me ?" He asks again, lips against your shoulder. You whine softly, trying to push back against him.

"Yeah baby, you’re forgiven- mh !" You whine. Aaron chuckles a bit before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, he is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. your head dropping to the pillow below you as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear him groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." He praises you, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"Oh my— why are you fucking me like this ?..feels so good.."

"I wish you could see this baby." He praises again through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. "I’m yours baby, take your dick."

You needed this so bad and you actually loved the fact that you were the only one who could give him this type of relief.

Yours yours yours yours yours. he was yours.

Your forehead presses against the bed, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time aaron hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, almost making you feel lightheaded.

"Please make your pussy cum papa, im so close." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and aaron holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when his hand actually snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Papa this dick feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. "Nah, this is your dick baby, say it."

"My dick—It’s mine, mine, mine." You repeat mindlessly, pleasure taking over you. "shit, I love you too baby." He answers.

Aaron loved when he could reduce you to incoherent words and disconnected statements because of him. slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falls open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and he can only offer a few more sloppy thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum.

chest heaving from the exertion, aaron feels more relaxed than he has all day. There's a small smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the sheets.

"Are you okay bub ?" You hear, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face. "I’m sorry i got cranky over this, I love you."

"That’s okay mama. I understand you, but I want you to know I’m yours, only yours."

@ melosliving 2025

[lavenderprose]

At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

[itendtothinkalot]

report heist!

summary: frustrated with your boss, you vent in a report, typing out everything you really wanted to say: how stupid, annoying, and foul he is. only problem? you forget to delete it before handing it in. now, you're stuck asking the office golden boy, soobin, for help. and of course... he's also the guy who loves to tease you. perfect timing, huh?

genre: fluff!!! a little suggestive!

characters: soobin x f!reader

words: 8k

warnings: suggestive!! kissing! soobin is a huge tease!!!!!!!!! very big tease!!!

Soobin had always been annoyingly perfect. The golden boy of the office—trusted by management, respected by colleagues, and somehow never making mistakes. If there was ever a crisis, people turned to him. If there was ever a project in chaos, he magically pulled it together.

You, on the other hand, were… not like that.

It wasn’t that you were bad at your job. You were just real about it. You got things done, but you also weren’t above rolling your eyes at pointless meetings or sighing dramatically when given extra work at 6 PM. And while everyone else treated Soobin like some workplace messiah, you saw him for what he really was—a smug, infuriating know-it-all.

Not that you two hated each other.

But you didn’t exactly get along either.

Your dynamic mostly consisted of him making some dry, borderline condescending comment, and you firing back with an exaggerated eye-roll or a sarcastic comeback. He’d smirk, you’d groan, and that was just how things worked. A never-ending cycle of teasing and bickering, neither of you willing to let the other win.

Soobin was predictable. Reliable. Annoyingly competent.

It was late, and the office was quieter than usual. You were at your desk, trying to focus on the report that had somehow become your life’s work for the past hour, when you heard his aggravating voice.

“Are you done, pretty?”

You froze for a moment, glancing up to see Soobin leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his trademark smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The nickname was nothing new.

Pretty. He’d been calling you that ever since you two had crossed paths at the office, and at first, you weren’t sure how to feel about it. It wasn’t exactly a compliment—it didn’t carry the sweetness of an endearment or the weight of a genuine compliment. It was like a tease, a little jab, almost like he was testing you. But at the same time, it wasn’t insulting. It was just... Soobin.

You hated how he knew exactly how to catch your attention with it, how it always made your heart flutter for a fraction of a second, before you could remind yourself that it was just his thing. It wasn’t real. But, in a weird way, you’d gotten used to it

You glanced up to see Soobin leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Are you ever not done with your work?” you shot back, tapping your pen on the desk. 

He chuckled, unfazed. “It’s called doing it right the first time, but I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

You rolled your eyes so dramatically it almost hurt. Oh right, I forgot you’re perfect,” You emphasized the sarcasm with a dramatic bow of your head. “Please, Soobin, tell me more about how you manage to single-handedly solve every crisis known to mankind.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. “If only you’d be a little more grateful, maybe I wouldn’t have to save you every time you get in over your head.”

“Save me?” You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Please. I’m fine on my own.”

He chuckled again, but this time, the glint in his eyes shifted, the playful edge softening. “Right. But if you need help with that report, you know where to find me.”

“No thanks. I’ll take my chances,” you said, tapping away at your keyboard with a smile of your own.

“I’ll make a note of that,” Soobin said, straightening up. “You sure you’re not just stalling because you know you’re about to hand in something that’s... less than perfect?”

You shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “Says the guy who’s never even had a typo in his life. Oh, look at me, I’m Mr. Perfect. Do you never get tired of being that person?”

He smiled, the corners of his mouth curving slightly in that way that always seemed to get under your skin. “It’s not my fault I’m good at what I do.”

“Oh, I know,” you muttered, trying to focus on the screen and not the smugness practically oozing from him. “You’re perfect, and I’m not.”

“You…so get me.” He grinned.

With that, he turned to leave, but not before giving you one last teasing glance over his shoulder.

You watched him go, shaking your head. “Asshole,” you muttered, but there was no real malice in the words.

This was just the way things were between you and Soobin. A game of teasing, one-upmanship, and never admitting you might actually enjoy the banter. 

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad.

Which is why, when your entire career was suddenly hanging by a thread, he was the first person you turned to. Not like you had a choice.

It was simple, really.

You had been furiously typing out your report, but somewhere along the way, frustration got the better of you. What started as a formal document quickly turned into a vent session filled with complaints about your workload, a few choice words about your boss, and some deeply unprofessional thoughts you wished had never been typed out.

Honestly, you blamed your boss. Five new assignments dumped on you when you were barely staying afloat with the ones you already had? Ridiculous. Typing out your grievances directly into the report might not have been the smartest move, but in the heat of the moment, it felt oddly therapeutic.

Of course, that moment of catharsis didn’t last long.

"Meeting. Five minutes," someone called out, snapping you from your thoughts.

You barely had time to process before you were being pulled away.

“What’s this meeting even about? As if we don’t already have a million things to do,” you groaned, slumping into your chair beside Taehyun, your work bestie and unofficial partner in suffering.

He let out an equally exhausted sigh. “Probably something about Yeonjun kicking the copier. Did you hear? It’s broken.”

You scoffed. “That fiend.”

The meeting dragged on longer than expected. And Taehyun was right. After about 10 minutes of actual work, your boss had rambled on endlessly about how, as staff, we should be more responsible for the equipment. By the time you were finally free, you were drained, restless, and already counting down the minutes until the workday ended.

"Any last reports for the boss?" Taehyun asked, stretching as he stood. "I'm heading up there now, so you can pass them to me."

You perked up. “Oh shit! Yeah, hold on—I’ll just quickly print this.”

Without a second thought, you grabbed the freshly printed report and handed it to him.

Taehyun gave you a skeptical look. “You sure you don’t wanna double-check?”

“I already did before the meeting. Have a little faith in me,” you grinned, nudging his arm.

He shrugged. “Alright~ but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And you wished—desperately wished—you had listened to him.

An hour later, as you finally settled back at your desk and absentmindedly scrolled through your digital files, your heart stopped.

There it was.

A horror story in the form of a report.

Every single frustrated thought, every unfiltered complaint, every passive-aggressive remark you swore you had deleted—all of it had made it into the document you had just handed in.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your stomach plummeting.

You had just submitted a disaster.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave, your mind spinning with worst-case scenarios. If your boss read this, you were done. Fired. Blacklisted. Never to be employed again.

And worst of all, it was already in his office.

Your eyes darted around the now-empty office space. It was nearly 7 PM. Most employees had already left.

Except for one person.

Soobin.

Standing near his desk, the company’s golden boy was tidying up, getting ready to leave. He looked up when he caught you staring, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are you still here?” Soobin asked, shoving a folder into his bag as he glanced at you curiously.

You stood frozen a few feet away, your heart pounding.

There was only one way out of this.

You swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and willed yourself to move toward the one person who might—just might—be able to help you.

Even if he was the last person you ever wanted to owe a favor to.

Soobin, the golden boy of the office. The boss’s most trusted manager. The one person who never did anything wrong, who always followed protocol, and who somehow managed to stay in everyone’s good graces. You weren’t sure if you respected him or just found him insufferable.

Actually, scratch that. You definitely found him insufferable. Most of the time.

You weren’t going to ask him for help. Not if it was the last thing you did. You hated asking for help—especially from a marketing kiss-up like him.

God, you really wished Taehyun was still here.

But you had no choice.

You inhaled sharply. “Could you—nevermind.”

Soobin narrowed his eyes. “Could you—just tell me already?” he repeated mockingly, his voice an exaggerated version of your own.

Your nose scrunched in irritation. “I… I need your help.”

That got his attention. He shut his bag, crossing his arms as he leaned slightly against his desk, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “You? Asking me for help? That’s new.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Don’t make this worse.”

“Oh, I absolutely will, pretty,” he grinned. “Go on, what’s so bad that I,the person you claim to ‘barely tolerate’, am your only hope?”

You gritted your teeth. He was enjoying this way too much.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot before lowering your voice. “I submitted the wrong report.”

Soobin blinked. “Okay… and?”

“And it wasn’t just the wrong report,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “It had… things in it.”

His brows furrowed. “Things?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. “Things that… should never reach the boss’s eyes.”

For a moment, Soobin just stared at you, processing your words. Then, realization dawned on his face. His lips parted slightly before curving into an infuriatingly amused smirk.

“Oh my god,” he murmured, his tone practically dripping with amusement. “You trashed the boss in your report, didn’t you?”

You let out a strangled noise of frustration. “Soobin.”

He barked out a laugh. “No way. No way. This is gold. Absolute gold!”

You wanted to die. Right then and there.

“Are you going to help me or not?” you snapped, crossing your arms.

Still grinning, he rocked back on his heels, considering. “Hmm. What’s in it for me?”

You gawked at him. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” He folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head. “You want me to commit office theft for you? I’d say that’s a huge risk. So…” He leaned in slightly. “What do I get in return?”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” he mused, unfazed. “But I’m also your only option, pretty.”

Your eye twitched. You wracked your brain for something—anything—to hold over him. And then, like a gift from the heavens, it hit you.

A slow smirk spread across your face. “Actually… I do have something.”

Soobin’s confident expression faltered for just a second. “…What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You feigned nonchalance, inspecting your nails. “Just a little something I may have overheard in the break room last week.”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh? Like what?”

You shrugged, drawing out the suspense. “Well, I certainly found out that the break room’s c–”

Before you could finish, Soobin lunged forward, clamping a hand over your mouth. His gaze was sharp, his voice low. “Who else did you tell?”

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “No one. I promise.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” You grinned, tilting your head. “I mean… I could always accidentally mention it in the team group chat…”

His eyes darkened slightly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You raised a brow.

A beat of silence passed.

Then, with a sigh, Soobin dragged a hand down his face. “Fine,” he muttered, clearly defeated. “I’ll help you.”

Victory.

“Great,” you chirped, already grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the elevators. “Let’s go.”

“You’re the worst,” he grumbled.

“And yet, here you are,” you teased.

Soobin groaned as you dragged him along, but you could see the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

The two of you had a long night ahead.

The elevator ride to the top floor was agonizingly slow. You kept fidgeting, glancing at the glowing numbers as they ticked upward, while Soobin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with mild amusement.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” he remarked.

“I might.”

“Well, aim it away from me.”

You shot him a glare, but before you could retort, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. The two of you cautiously stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. The floor was eerily quiet. Maybe everything was scarier because you were about to commit a crime. Ish.

Soobin moved ahead, peeking around the corner toward your boss’s office. You followed closely behind, your heart pounding.

“Okay,” Soobin whispered. “If the coast is clear, we—”

He suddenly froze, and you nearly bumped into him.

“What? What is it?” you whispered back, but he just nodded toward the office.

You slowly peeked over his shoulder, and your stomach dropped.

The office light was still on.

And through the glass panel, you could see your boss sitting at his desk, deep in conversation with a colleague.

“Shit,” you exhaled.

Soobin turned to you, lips twitching. “Well, this is fantastic news.”

“We wait,” you whispered, pressing yourself against the wall. “He’s bound to leave eventually.”

Soobin sighed, rubbing his temples. “You owe me for this.”

“I know,” you muttered.

And so, the two of you stood in the shadows, eavesdropping and waiting for the moment your boss would finally leave.

The hushed voices from inside the office were clearer than you expected. You had meant to eavesdrop just enough to know when your boss would leave, but instead, you and Soobin were now unintentionally listening in on something way more confidential than either of you had bargained for.

“…Are you sure the data’s accurate?” your boss's voice was low and serious.

“I double-checked the calculations. The margin of error is within acceptable range, but we can’t be hasty about the decisions we’re making next week at the meeting,” your colleague responded.

A silence stretched between them before your boss sighed. “If this gets out, it’s both our heads.”

Your eyes widened. What the hell are they talking about? You turned to Soobin, only to see he looked equally alarmed.

“We should not be listening to this,” you mouthed, but before he could respond–

The door to the janitor’s closet beside you suddenly swung open.

You barely had a second to react before Soobin grabbed you and pushed you aside, his body pressing flush against yours as he shielded you from view. The janitor stepped out, wheeling a mop bucket past the two of you, completely oblivious.

Your breath hitched. Soobin’s chest was solid against you, the warmth of his body seeping through your clothes. His head was angled slightly downward, close, a little too close. He was still focused on the office door, unaware of just how fast your heart was now racing.

But you weren’t looking at the office anymore.

You were looking at him.

Your pulse pounded as you took in the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he exhaled. He was so close that you could see the flecks of brown in his dark eyes.

And then—almost as if he sensed it—Soobin finally looked down.

Your breath hitched.

The space between you was nearly nonexistent, your lips just inches apart. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and steady, and suddenly, the air felt unbearably thick.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

Your mind screamed at you to look away, to break the tension, to remind yourself that this was Soobin, the insufferable tease who took far too much joy in teasing you.

But at that moment, he wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t smirking.

He was just looking at you.

You cleared your throat, quickly turning away, “It’s hot, isn’t it?” you said, fanning yourself with your hand. “Is the AC off or something?”

“Well, we are the only ones left in the building,” Soobin said, his voice still close enough that you could feel the words brush against your skin.

You were doing everything you could to ignore how his proximity was affecting you. But it was hard. Way too hard. And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Soobin’s fingers brushed over your jaw. His touch was so light, so teasing, and then—without warning—he pinched your chin, gently forcing you to look up at him.

“Are you scared?” he whispered, his voice low, almost too soft.

“N-no,” you stammered, trying to turn your head away, but his grip tightened, not allowing you to look anywhere but at him.

“Don’t look away,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“S-Soobin,” you managed to get out, breath catching in your throat.

Then, in a move that made your heart stop, Soobin leaned in even closer, so close that your lips were nearly touching. Time seemed to slow, and you felt your breath hitch in your chest. What was happening? Was he going to kiss you?

Your eyes fluttered closed, ready for something you weren’t sure you were prepared for. But just as suddenly as it had started, Soobin pushed you away.

“God, that janitor... was not leaving...” His attention shifted abruptly to the janitor, who had finally wandered into another room.

You blinked rapidly, trying to steady your breath, your heart still racing. 

“Right…the janitor.” You mumbled under your breath.

Soobin turned to you, his gaze mischievous, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Wait. Did you think I was going to kiss you?"

You shook your head defensively, voice rising as you tried to put distance between your racing heart and his teasing words. "No!"

But instead of backing off, Soobin took a step closer, closing the space even more. His arms caged you in, pressing you gently against the cool wall, and your breath caught in your throat. He leaned in, his face now dangerously close, his eyes glinting with something that was half amusement, half something darker.

"You’re gonna have to lower your volume there, pretty," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. “Unless, of course, you don’t mind them finding out we’re here.”

Your heart racing as he hovered just a breath away, his words lingering like smoke in the quiet room. You were sure you were going to lose your mind if he kept up with this—teasing, so close, his words sinking under your skin. He always knew how to get to you, and right now, it was unbearable.

His lips quirked up again, a playful glint in his eye. “What? You really thought I was gonna kiss you, didn’t you?” he teased, his voice low, mocking. “It’s okay, pretty, I get it. I can be hard to resist.”

Your chest tightened in irritation. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as your patience finally snapped.

“Move,” you spat, spinning on your heel and storming off. “You’re being annoying.”

He was right on your heels, his footsteps quick and light as he followed you through the hallway, but you didn’t care. Your mind was racing, anger bubbling up and threatening to spill over. You were done with this ridiculous back-and-forth, this constant teasing.

"Hey, hey, hold up," Soobin called out, his voice a little more serious now, but the usual smirk didn’t leave his face. "Where are you going? Come on, you’re not really upset, are you? I was just kidding."

You didn’t answer him, focusing on your stride as you headed for the elevator. You didn’t need to be around him any longer than necessary tonight. You could just wait downstairs. You could do it alone.

Then, as if on cue, the sound of a door opening caught your attention, and you froze. You caught sight of your boss walking out of his office, followed by your colleague.

And then, without missing a beat, Soobin shoved you back slightly, just enough to send you stumbling into him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he whispered, “Stay calm.”

Your breath caught as his voice dropped, turning smooth and calm. “I promise, I’ll get you anything you want, baby,” he said, the words coming out in a fake, but believable, tone. You couldn’t help but look up at him, your heart racing from both the sudden closeness and his complete shift in demeanor.

You tried to push him away but found yourself unable to do so, too flustered and caught off guard. Soobin had that effect on you more often than you liked to admit.

He continued, his voice dripping with faux sweetness as your boss and colleague walked past, oblivious to the scene unfolding. “Are you okay, pretty? You look like you’re about to faint,” he said a little louder, the corners of his mouth twitching as he kept up the act.

Your face heated, embarrassment stirring within you. Soobin’s hands were still on your waist, and you could feel his warmth pressing into you as if it were real.

You tried to muster a response, but nothing came out. Instead, you let out a frustrated sigh, your eyes darting away. This was the last thing you wanted to deal with tonight. But Soobin wasn’t making it easy.

“Relax,” he murmured again, his lips barely brushing your ear. “We’ve got this. You’ve got this.”

And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of relief in his words, even if it was all just a part of the act.

“I just..” You began. “I can’t believe you did that.” You said, acting aloof and distant from your “boyfriend”.

Your boss’s voice echoed through the hallway as he cleared his throat, causing you to freeze in your tracks. You looked up just in time to see Soobin's fake shock as he stepped back, putting himself between you and the oncoming threat that was Mr. Choi.

“Oh, Mr. Choi!” Soobin said, his eyes wide as though he'd been caught in some act of high treason. You, however, were already in full panic mode, ducking behind Soobin's towering figure, hoping the giant wall of him would conceal you.

You were never going to live this down.

Mr. Choi peered over Soobin’s shoulder with a raised brow. “I didn’t think the two of you would still be here,” he said, a casual tone in his voice. 

“I’m sorry, we thought everyone went home.” Soobin grinned, offering a “genuine” apology.

You were practically squished behind Soobin now, your heart racing as you pressed your face into the back of his jacket, praying the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

But your boss was persistent, leaning forward slightly as he caught sight of you behind Soobin’s broad frame. His eyes sparkled with amusement, and a knowing grin spread across his face. “Well, duty calls,” Mr. Choi joked, his eyes shifting between the two of you before he pointed at the both of you, “I didn’t realize the two of you were together.”

You felt the blood drain from your face, and before you could even open your mouth to protest, Soobin smoothly cut you off.

“It’s a recent thing,” Soobin said, his voice smooth like butter, and you could hear the grin in his tone as he glanced back at you with a wink. “Unfortunately, I might have made my beautiful girlfriend a little upset.” He shot you an exaggerated apologetic look, like the world's biggest puppy dog. “I’m sorry for bringing her here. It was the first place I thought of…”

You opened your mouth to object, about to shout, No! This is not happening!, but Soobin held up a hand, cutting you off again.

“I mean,” Soobin continued, pointing to the garden just outside Mr. Choi's office, “Look at this beautiful, romantic garden. Where else would a guy bring his upset girlfriend after a long day at work?”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him, your eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered through gritted teeth, trying to shrink even more into Soobin’s shadow.

Mr. Choi chuckled, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. “Well, if you two really want to be alone,” he said with a mischievous grin, “the eleventh and fourteenth floors are usually... well, uh, pretty free,” he added, his tone playful as he glanced between the two of you. “Guess I’ll just leave you to it. I’ll—uh—see you both on Monday.”

With that, he winked and walked away, leaving you and Soobin standing there, both still in shock from the unexpected turn of events.

“See you Monday, Mr. Choi,” Soobin said, practically glowing now that he had made you the center of attention.

As Mr. Choi walked away, you peeked out from behind Soobin’s back, trying to recover from the embarrassment. “I’m going to kill you,” you muttered under your breath.

Soobin flashed you that smug, knowing grin of his. “Well, if you’re going to be mad at me, pretty, I might as well make it worth your while.”

You rolled your eyes and walked into the office, making sure Mr. Choi had left. The two of you immediately started rummaging through his things, hoping to find the damn report that had put you in this situation.

After all, it was the report’s fault, not yours.

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere,” Soobin muttered under his breath, his hands moving through the papers with increasing frustration. “I didn’t think this would be how we’d be spending our Friday night.”

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest when the sound of the door clicking open reached your ears. Panic set in as you froze, and you and Soobin shared a quick glance. Without thinking, you both dove under the desk, hiding just in time as Mr. Choi walked into the room, still chatting on the phone.

"Yeah, I’ll just be another minute, I just forgot my damn car keys," he said casually, pacing across the room as he continued his conversation. You could hear the faint click of his shoes against the floor, and every move felt exaggerated in the suffocating quiet.

You and Soobin were practically inches apart now, hiding under the desk in such tight quarters that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You tried to keep your breathing quiet, but it felt impossible with your heart pounding in your chest.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Soobin whispered, his voice too loud for your liking in the silent room.

“Shut up,” you hissed, covering his mouth with your hand. “Just… don’t make a sound.”

Mr. Choi continued his phone conversation, oblivious to the fact that two people were currently hiding under his desk, just a few feet away. He was talking about his weekend plans, completely unaware of the chaos brewing underneath him.

"Yeah, I think I’ll check out that new restaurant we talked about," Mr. Choi said, pausing to listen to whoever was on the phone. "I’ll just wrap things up here and be out in a bit."

You held your breath as Soobin shifted slightly, and you had to resist the urge to make a sound when his knee brushed against yours. The confined space was doing strange things to your awareness of his presence, and your heartbeat wasn’t exactly making the situation any better.

“We need to get out of here,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Soobin, but you couldn't stop the awkward tension from mounting.

“I’m not the one who got us stuck under a desk,” Soobin replied, his voice dripping with amusement.

You both remained frozen under the desk, holding your breath as Mr. Choi’s footsteps drew nearer. The air felt thick with tension. Just as you thought you might explode from the anxiety, Mr. Choi's voice rang out, “Ahhh, there they are.”

He was dangerously close now, and Soobin pushed you further into the corner, his arm brushing against your side. You felt his breath against your face, the proximity sending a wave of flustered panic through you.

You didn’t dare move, barely breathing as Soobin’s hands gently rested above yours, trying to steady your racing heart. Time seemed to freeze as Mr. Choi lingered, completely unaware of the two of you hiding under his desk. When he finally left, you let out a sigh of relief, feeling like you had just run a marathon without moving an inch.

“I was going to shit my pants,” you muttered, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Well, you’re going to love me extra for this but,” Soobin teased, his voice still low with the lingering tension. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I found it.” His voice held a sense of triumph as he reached behind you, pulling the report from the folder.

You grinned widely, throwing your arms around him in a spontaneous embrace. “Oh my god. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The two of you stayed there for a moment, still under the desk, the space between you shrinking with each passing second. It was so quiet, so close. Neither of you moved to leave. It felt...comfortable, despite everything. Until the initial warmth of the hug lingered for just a bit too long.

Soobin cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

“Oh, right,” you stammered, quickly trying to pull away, but the movement was a bit too sudden.

“Uh, sorry, I–uh– my watch is caught in your hair,” Soobin said, voice tinged with embarrassment.

You froze, his fingers brushing your hair as he gently untangled his watch. The proximity felt electrifying, too close for comfort, but somehow, you didn’t mind. Your eyes met, just inches away, both of you frozen in the charged air, breathing the same air.

Then, almost instinctively, Soobin’s hand brushed against your cheek as he worked to free his watch. The slight touch sent a shiver down your spine, making your heart race again. You could feel the pull between you, a heartbeat away from something more, something that felt almost inevitable.

But just as his hand finally slipped free from your hair, you both pulled back quickly, the tension thick in the air. Neither of you spoke at first, but the silence carried a weight of what just almost happened.

You both finally crawled out from under the desk, your heart still pounding in your chest. Soobin cleared his throat again, trying to ease the tension. His voice was much lighter now, almost teasing.

“So,” he began, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Let me see what this report you’re so afraid our boss will see says.”

Your eyes widened in panic, and you bolted toward Soobin, practically diving for the report. But of course, Soobin, being annoyingly tall and fast, immediately pulled it out of the folder, holding it just out of your reach.

You tried to grab it again, but he was way too quick for you, effortlessly keeping the report away from your grasp. “Soobin, give it back!” you protested, your voice tinged with desperation.

But he just laughed, scanning through the pages with an amused gleam in his eyes. “Let’s see what we have here…” He began reading aloud, his voice slowly growing more playful.

“‘Mr. Choi is a pain in the ass… He looks like he belongs in the cast of Glee with how theatrical his ass is…He smells like piss and is a fucking–hold on…” Soobin grinned. 

“And what do we have here?’” He snickered, clearly enjoying this a little too much.

You groaned in embarrassment, still trying to grab the folder from him, but Soobin seemed to be enjoying every second of your discomfort. “Soobin, big, stupid idiot? He’s annoying and distracting..Mr and Mrs Choi.” His eyebrows raised in amusement.

Your face flushed crimson, and you quickly covered your face with your hands, cringing at the very real words you’d written. But Soobin wasn’t stopping. His voice softened as he continued to read aloud, now clearly savoring the moment.

“‘The more I think about him… the more I li–’” He paused, his voice growing quieter, a soft smile forming on his lips. Realizing how much he was teasing you, Soobin stopped reading aloud, his gaze flicking to you with a knowing look. But he didn’t finish the sentence out loud. Instead, he silently read the rest in his head, his smile turning a little more sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat. You felt your breath catch in your throat, realizing that you’d just given him a very honest glimpse into your thoughts. You didn't know how to respond at first. He was staring at you with that calm, almost knowing look, his eyes gentle but full of something that made your insides turn to mush.

“Give me that, you… idiot,” you muttered, trying to break the tension. On your tiptoes, you reached up, swiping the folder from his hands. “You shouldn’t go around reading things that don’t belong to you.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Well, my name is in the report,” he teased, still clearly amused by your flustered reaction.

You glared up at him, but your cheeks were burning, betraying your attempt at being serious. “It wasn’t meant for you to see,” you shot back, though the words felt a little weaker than intended. You could feel the heat of his gaze still lingering on you as you clutched the report to your chest, not sure whether to laugh or groan.

You stood there, holding the report tightly to your chest, trying your best to ignore the heat spreading across your face. You could feel the weight of Soobin’s teasing eyes on you, his smirk never faltering. Every time you tried to focus on something else, he’d nudge you, inching closer with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You know,” Soobin said, his voice low and teasing, “you’re really cute when you’re embarrassed. I’m almost starting to think you like me or something.” He nudged you again, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt through your body.

“Shut up,” you muttered, too embarrassed to look at him directly. But the teasing in his voice made it impossible to ignore him. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you desperately tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

But Soobin wasn’t done. He took another step closer, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush against your ear. “I didn’t say I didn’t feel the same way,” he murmured, the words a little softer now but no less teasing.

You blinked, your heart thumping louder in your chest as the situation suddenly shifted. The warmth of Soobin’s body was all around you, the space between you now a mere breath. Before you could process what was happening, he gently but firmly pushed you against the wall, his arms caging you in, trapping you in a way that left you feeling both flustered and exhilarated.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse. “Look, it’s getting late, we should—” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before he interrupted, his voice smooth, teasing, and oh-so-close.

“We should?” He tilted his head just slightly, his lips curling up into that knowing smirk. There was a challenge in his eyes, but it wasn’t the usual playful one. This one felt different.

Your breath hitched, a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks as you suddenly realized how close he was. You had never been this close to him before (well other than 20 minutes ago when he had pushed you aside to hide), and the way he was looking at you made your insides feel like they were melting. His cologne was intoxicating, and it left you momentarily lost for words. 

“W-we should head home,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to avoid meeting his eyes.

But Soobin wasn’t backing down. His gaze softened just slightly as he leaned in a little closer, the distance between you two closing with each passing second. “But I finally got to find out how you feel,” he murmured, his breath warm against your face. “Shouldn’t we celebrate a little?”

Your heart skipped a beat. His words hung in the air like a fragile promise, and for a moment, you felt like you were floating. You had to look away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I—I didn’t mean for you to read that,” you stuttered, words tumbling out in a jumble of confusion and embarrassment.

But Soobin wasn’t letting you escape that easily. His voice dropped lower, just a touch playful but with an undeniable hint of something more. “You sure do enjoy looking away from me, huh, pretty?”

The nickname—the one you hadn’t really known how to feel about before—suddenly felt different now. It wasn’t just a teasing remark anymore. It was like a subtle confession, like he was reminding you of the very thing you were trying to ignore. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest, and all you could do was stand there, breathless, your pulse racing as his presence enveloped you.

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond. Soobin’s teasing tone, combined with the way he held you in place, made it almost impossible to think straight. But before you could even begin to process it, you felt his fingers gently brush against your cheek, guiding your face back toward his.

“Don’t avoid me now,” he whispered, his voice soft but filled with an unspoken desire. His eyes were fixed on yours, intense, searching, waiting for something—a response, a confirmation.

And for once, you didn’t look away.

Soobin's voice broke through the tension between you two, a teasing, yet somehow vulnerable edge to it. “So, pretty, it says here, specifically, that you have feelings for me. Are you going to attest to that?” His eyes glinted with something dangerous.

You froze, unsure of how to respond. The words you’d written, the confession that had slipped out without you even realizing it, were impossible to ignore. 

Your breath hitched as your heart raced, and all you could do was stammer out the question that was on your mind.

“How?” The single word escaped your lips, softer than you intended.

A slow smile spread across Soobin’s face, and the space between you two seemed to shrink even further. His eyes locked onto yours, unwavering. “I can think of a few ways.” His tone was low, smooth, and he took a subtle step closer, his breath just a whisper away from your skin. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

Your pulse quickened as you felt the weight of his words. Ways? Was he really going there? But before you could react, you found yourself reminded that you were completely trapped, both by the closeness of your bodies and the raw intensity in his gaze.

His hand brushed against your arm, a touch so light it sent shivers down your spine. His fingers lingered there for just a moment, the sensation burning through the fabric of your shirt, drawing you closer into the orbit of his presence. Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in slightly, his lips brushing just past your ear as he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want to force you into anything, but… if you’re going to admit it,” he murmured, “I’m definitely open to… exploring what comes next.”

The words made your head spin, and despite every ounce of your pride telling you to keep your composure, you felt yourself falter. Soobin’s teasing tone, combined with his unrelenting closeness, left you breathless, caught somewhere between feeling flustered and finally giving in to what you’d been holding back for so long.

You swallowed hard, the words lodged in your throat, unable to escape. “Or we could just go home,” Soobin suggested, his hands slowly leaving the walls as he turned, his voice a little softer, almost reluctant but mainly teasing.

But something shifted inside you—a sudden burst of courage, or maybe it was just the overwhelming feeling of him so close, that you couldn’t ignore any longer. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his arms, pulling him back toward you. It might have been the most reckless move you'd ever made—or maybe the best—but in that moment, you didn’t care.

You pulled him in, your lips crashing against his with a sudden urgency. His breath hitched for a second before he kissed you back, just as urgently, as though he'd been waiting for this as much as you had. The kiss was soft, tender at first, and then it deepened, both of you losing yourselves in the moment. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him, the heat between you rising with every second.

You were acutely aware of how his lips felt, the gentle pressure and the way they moved against yours, teasing, but also claiming you in the same breath. Your pulse raced, and you couldn’t help but melt into him. His presence was overwhelming, every inch of him invading your senses. You felt his warmth, the strong beat of his heart against yours, and the way he held you close as if he couldn’t get enough.

You ran your hands along the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Your breaths became shallow, struggling to catch air, but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Reluctantly, you pulled your hands back, but before you could react, he gently pinned them above your head. His fingers pried open your clenched fists, slowly intertwining your fingers with his, holding you in place.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he pressed you against the wall. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, straddling his waist. His strength was overwhelming, the heat between you both palpable as your bodies aligned, your breath shallow and quick. You could feel every inch of him, his chest rising and falling with his breaths, his hands steady against your skin.

He gently shifted, guiding you with ease, and before you knew it, he had you placed on top of the desk. His hands slid down to rest against your waist as he intertwined your fingers together, holding you in place.

You didn’t want it to end, but just as the kiss grew more intense, you heard the door click open.

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of the situation sank in. The kiss had been abruptly interrupted, and your eyes shot open in panic. Soobin didn't react right away, almost as if he wasn’t as startled as you were.

But then, your gaze flickered to the door, and that’s when you saw him—Mr. Choi, walking in with a slow, amused stride. His eyes widened for a split second, taking in the scene before him.

There you were, straddling Soobin’s waist, your hands still gripping the desk for balance as you both had been caught in a moment that could only be described as far more intimate than either of you had anticipated. Your face flushed with embarrassment as you instinctively pushed yourself off Soobin, your legs unsteady as you dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

Mr. Choi leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk widening as he observed the scene with amusement plastered across his face, “Well, well,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow, clearly entertained by the mess you’d found yourselves in. “Looks like I’ve walked in on something... interesting.”

Soobin's face flushed with irritation. He straightened up, helping you up from the floor. His glare was sharp as he shot a look at Mr. Choi. 

"For fuck's sake, Beomgyu," he groaned, his voice thick with frustration. "Aren’t you supposed to be on your way home?"

Beomgyu, unfazed, leaned back into the doorframe with a nonchalant grin. "Well, I didn't think there would be two people making out in my office," he teased, clearly enjoying the discomfort in the air.

"Didn't you say you were going home after you got your keys?" Soobin groaned again, clearly annoyed at the interruption.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, "Were you eavesdropping?" He raised an eyebrow. "Are you forgetting I'm still your boss, you idiot?"

You stood there, utterly confused by the back-and-forth between them. Soobin and Mr. Choi were friends? The whole situation felt surreal.

“Are you two–”

"Oh right. I—" Soobin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're close friends, but I just don’t exactly announce it to the world. I don’t really need the drama."

Beomgyu chuckled, "God, Soobin. I gave you options, the fourteenth and eleventh floor for a reason."

"We had no time," Soobin grumbled, clearly embarrassed.

"Clearly," Beomgyu quipped, gesturing to Soobin's pants, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Your cheeks burned as you quickly glanced down, realizing the situation. You hastily handed Soobin the folder, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. Soobin caught your gaze for a split second, his face flushed with both annoyance and embarrassment, before he used the folder to discreetly cover his “situation”.

Without missing a beat, he whisked you away from the office. "You owe me," he muttered, leaning into Beomgyu’s ear before pulling you toward the door.

"Dude, you’re lucky I’m not firing you," Beomgyu yelled after them, his voice fading as Soobin hurriedly guided you down the hall.

Soobin groaned, still frustrated but trying to keep his composure. "Next time, we’re going somewhere private," he muttered under his breath as he led you to a quieter part of the building.

“Hey, if Mr. Choi was your friend—” you started.

“Beomgyu,” he corrected with a grin, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Right, Beomgyu…” you trailed off, still processing everything. “Then doesn’t that mean he probably wouldn’t have cared if you were the one who broke the copier?”

Here you were, thinking the leverage you had against him would’ve been enough to get him into trouble. Instead, he was effortlessly getting away with it all because of his close friendship with Beomgyu.

“Yeah,” Soobin nodded nonchalantly, his expression casual as if this was no big deal.

“Then why’d you help me?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Soobin let out a soft laugh, eyes twinkling as he leaned back in his seat. “I thought it was obvious.”

You frowned, still not understanding. “What’s obvious?”

“The fact that I like you,” he said, his voice steady, and his gaze unwavering, holding an almost affectionate warmth. His eyes locked with yours as if it should’ve been obvious all along. “How’re you not getting it?”

“Right.” You nodded, your cheeks heating up, flustered by the realization that had just settled in.

“So naive,” he teased lightly, his tone playful yet sincere. “C’mon, you can’t really believe I’d help you with all that and not have feelings for you.”

“You’d be surprised at how dense I can be,” you mumbled, still trying to piece everything together in your head, unsure if you were fully grasping the situation yet.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he laughed, leaning in just slightly, his gaze now intense, studying your face with a little more curiosity.

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin tugging at your lips as you gave his arm a gentle punch.

Feigning an exaggerated wince, he groaned dramatically, clutching his arm with over-the-top flair. “Ouch, ouch, ouch. I’m seriously hurt.”

“Stop being dramatic,” you said, fighting to hold back a smile, knowing full well he was faking it.

“It really does hurt,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave, turning the theatrics up as he leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, really?” You decided to hit his arm again, this time harder, feeling the sting of your own strike as you noticed how close you were now, the tension building between the two of you.

“Ow!” Soobin yelped, his expression shifting to one of mock pain, but the seriousness in his voice was enough to make you pause. 

You panicked, jumping to your feet and immediately hovering over him, your heart racing. “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” You looked down at him, your hands unsure of where to go as you knelt by his side, your voice full of concern.

“It just… it hurts…” Soobin sighed dramatically, his voice dripping with mock sorrow, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes that you hadn't noticed before. His hand rested on his chest as though he were genuinely wounded, but you could tell by the way his lips curved up that he was enjoying every second of it.

“I’m so, so sorry—” you stammered, flustered by the moment and how close you were to him now. 

“Kiss it better?” Soobin looked up at you, his lips curling into a playful pout, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. His eyes held yours, the playful challenge in them unmistakable, daring you to play along.

That’s when it clicked, and you realized he was faking the whole thing. You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress your laughter, ready to nudge him again for his over-the-top act, but before you could, he suddenly grabbed your hand, his fingers locking around your wrist with surprising strength.

He pulled you gently but firmly closer, the space between you shrinking in an instant. His eyes never left yours, and there was an intensity in his gaze now that had shifted from playful to something else—something much more meaningful. You could feel the warmth of his hand against yours.

“Kiss it better?” He repeated, his voice much softer now, and his fingers tightening gently around yours. Without warning, he pulled you down so that you were sitting on his lap.

You froze for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. “Shouldn’t I be kissing the part that hurts?” you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Soobin smiled knowingly, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you in closer. “Right now,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, “I’m hurting that we didn’t get to finish what we started just now.”

Your heart raced, and you felt the heat rising to your face. “Y-you’re insane if you think I’m going to do anything with you on the rooftop of our workplace,” you stammered, trying to break the intensity of the moment.

You could feel Soobin’s breath against your ear, warm and tantalizing, as his words whispered to you, his voice low and full of playful teasing.

“Then let’s go home right now.”

[tideoverwater]

im baaaaaack! also please feel free to send requests, i'd love some more inspo. let me know what you guys think!!!! <3

The tension in the air was suffocating. The pristine dining room, filled with candlelight and polished silverware, had long since emptied, leaving Y/N alone at the grand oak table, staring at her untouched glass of wine. Her parents had left first, exchanging tight-lipped glances and murmuring their disapproval under their breath. Her brother and his girlfriend followed soon after, their expressions a mixture of pity and amusement. By the time the last guest excused themselves with a polite but knowing smile, Y/N felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach.

Rafe never showed.

The dinner had been important—so important. Her family wasn’t the kind to welcome just anyone into their exclusive circles, and after weeks of convincing, they had finally agreed to let Rafe join them for a formal dinner at her family estate. It had been a chance for him to prove himself, to show them that he was more than just the reckless, wild Cameron boy with a reputation for trouble.

But he hadn’t come. No call. No text. Nothing.

By the time she got home, she was fuming.

The moment she stepped through the front door of Tannyhill, she tossed her purse onto the table with more force than necessary, the loud thud breaking the unbearable silence. She barely had time to slip off her heels before she heard the front door swing open.

"Y/N—"

Rafe’s voice was breathless as he stumbled inside, his hair a disheveled mess, his dress shirt untucked and wrinkled as if he had rushed over. His blue eyes were wide with panic the second they landed on her.

"Where the hell were you?" Y/N’s voice was sharp, edged with anger and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

Rafe shut the door behind him, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Baby, I’m so sorry—"

"Sorry?" she repeated, letting out a bitter laugh. "Sorry?" Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm raging inside her. "You were supposed to be there, Rafe. You promised me."

"I know," he breathed, stepping toward her. "I know, I fucked up. I—"

"Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me?" she cut him off, her voice cracking as she met his gaze. "I sat there for two hours making excuses for you while my family—my entire family—judged me for even thinking you could handle something this important."

Rafe flinched at the pain in her voice, guilt clawing at his chest. He had let her down—again. He had never seen her like this before. Sure, they had fought before, but this was different. This was real. This was breaking her, and it meant so much for him to meet her family and he knew this. 

"I was on my way," he insisted desperately. "I swear, I was on my way, but Ward called, and I had to handle something for him. I thought I had time, and then everything got out of control, and before I knew it—"

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" Y/N snapped, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as her nails dug into her skin to hold back the burning tears she could feel forming. "You thought you had time? You thought I’d just sit there and wait for you while you handled business for your dad? This is bullshit Rafe, and you know it."

Rafe clenched his jaw, frustration evident on his face, but it wasn’t at her—it was at himself. "I didn’t mean for this to happen."

"But it did happen, Rafe!" Her voice wavered as her emotions surged forward, overwhelming her completely. "And now my parents think I’m just some stupid girl wasting my time on a guy who can’t even be bothered to show up for me when it fucking matters." Rafe’s heart clenched at the sight of tears pooling in her eyes. His breath hitched, and before she could step away from him, he was in front of her, his hands grasping her arms gently.

"Hey, no, don’t say that," he pleaded with a hint of anger in his tone. "You are not stupid. You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me."

Y/N shook her head, blinking rapidly as she pulled out of his grasp. "Then prove it to me, Rafe. Because right now, I don’t feel like I matter to you at all."

Rafe felt the panic in his chest turn into something worse—fear.

Without thinking, he dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching out to grip her waist as he pressed his forehead against her stomach.

"Baby, please," he begged, his voice raw. "Please don’t say that. I swear to god, you mean everything to me."

Y/N let out a breath softly, her hands instinctively going to his hair as she looked down at him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I don’t care about anything else," Rafe continued, his grip tightening as if he were afraid she’d disappear. "Not my dad’s business, not my reputation, not these stupid Kooks, nothing—I just care about you." He exhaled shakily, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I can’t lose you, Y/N."

Her resolve wavered as she felt his desperation seep into her bones. Rafe Cameron—the Rafe Cameron who never begged for anything—was on his knees in front of her, pleading for forgiveness like a man who had lost everything. Her heart ached. She wanted to stay angry, to keep yelling, to make him feel the full weight of what he had done. But the sight of him—his head bowed, his body trembling slightly—made it impossible.

She swallowed hard, her fingers threading through his hair as she let out a shaky breath. "Rafe..."

He looked up at her then, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Fuck—Please, baby," he whispered. "Tell me how to fix this. Tell me what I have to do."

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. She was still hurt. Still furious. But she also knew Rafe, knew how deeply he felt things even when he didn’t know how to express them properly.

"You can’t just say you care, Rafe," she said softly, opening her eyes. "You have to show me. I need to know that when I need you, you’ll be there. That I can count on you."

Rafe nodded quickly, his hands gripping her tighter. "You can. I swear to you, you can. I won’t let this happen again." Y/N searched his face, looking for any hint of dishonesty. But all she saw was sincerity, guilt, and a desperate need to make things right.

She sighed, finally lowering herself to the ground with him. Rafe immediately pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his face in her neck.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. "So fucking much."

Y/N closed her eyes, letting herself melt into his embrace. She wasn’t ready to forget, but she knew that she loved him too much to walk away.

"I love you too," she whispered. "But Rafe... don’t make me regret it."

Rafe pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands cupping her face with a gentleness that made her chest ache.

"I won’t," he promised, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "I swear, I won’t."

The fight had drained them both, leaving behind nothing but the quiet hum of exhaustion and lingering emotion. Rafe had helped Y/N up from the floor, his hands never leaving her as if he was afraid she might slip through his fingers if he let go.

"Come on, baby," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Let’s get you ready for bed."

Y/N nodded, her body still tense, but the warmth of his hands on her skin soothed her more than she was willing to admit. Rafe led her to their bedroom, his touch featherlight as he guided her inside.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows along the walls. Rafe turned to her, his fingers trailing down her arms before he reached for the zipper of her dress.

"Can I?" he asked gently, searching her eyes for permission.

Y/N swallowed, nodding slowly. She could feel his breath against her shoulder as he pulled the zipper down with deliberate care, his knuckles grazing her skin. When the fabric pooled at her feet, Rafe didn’t let his hands wander. Instead, he pressed a slow, reverent kiss to her bare shoulder.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don’t tell you enough."

Her heart clenched at the sincerity in his tone. She turned to face him, lifting shaky hands to undo the buttons of his shirt. He let her, watching her with those piercing blue eyes, letting her take control of the moment.

When his shirt finally slipped from his shoulders, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers before bringing them to his lips. "I love you," he murmured against her skin. "More than anything. More than I know how to say."

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from anger. She stepped closer, resting her forehead against his. "Then show me," she whispered.

Rafe exhaled shakily, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her against him. He pressed soft, lingering kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her lips—everywhere but where she wanted him most. He was worshipping her, letting his love seep through every touch, every breath.

"Let’s get in bed," he finally said, his voice low and tender.

He pulled back just enough to help her into one of his T-shirts, the fabric swallowing her frame in a way that made something warm settle deep in his chest. Then, he led her to the bed, pulling back the covers before guiding her underneath. The moment they settled in, Rafe pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as if shielding her from the world. His hand traced lazy patterns along her back, his lips pressed against the top of her head.

"You still mad at me?" he asked after a moment, his voice quiet in the stillness of the room.

Y/N sighed, tucking herself deeper into his warmth. "A little," she admitted.

Rafe let out a soft chuckle, kissing her forehead. "I deserve that."

"You do," she agreed, tilting her head up to look at him. "But I also love you. And I believe you when you say you won’t let this happen again."

His jaw tensed, and he nodded, brushing his fingers along her cheek. "I won’t. I swear to you, Y/N. I’ll always put you first."

She sighed, relaxing into him. "Good."

For a while, they just lay there, wrapped in each other, the steady rise and fall of their breathing in sync. Rafe continued to whisper soft reassurances, his lips brushing against her skin between each promise.

"You’re everything to me," he murmured. "My whole world."

Y/N tightened her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart lull her into peace. And as sleep finally pulled them under, she knew—despite everything—they would always find their way back to each other.

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 12 - War Crimes

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic. CW: +18 content MDNI, Sex, PiV sex. AN: Believe it or not this is still a poly fic, I promise.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Farah and Alex stick in the woodline, they’re looking out over the building. You’re not really sure you’re going to need them but at least you have backup if you do. This time Soap showed you how to use the radio. 

“So what did Price say?” You ask as you walk down the farm. 

“They made it across the border, on their way to Volgograd. They’ll be keeping in touch via Laswell.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“CIA contact.” 

“CIA? I thought you were British? What are you doing with the Americans?” 

“We go where we’re needed.” He says with a sigh. You shrug as you make it down to the perimeter wall. Soap swings his weapon over his back and pulls himself up to the top of the wall. 

“C’mon.” He whispers, leaning back down to offer you his hand. You smile and take it, letting him pull you up to the top of the wall. When you’re on the other side you’re behind one of the garages. 

“They store everything in the barn. There’s a loose panel round the back.” You say pointing through the gap between buildings at the massive industrial metal barn. Soap nods, you let him lead skirting round the perimeter of the farm. You use the shadows for cover only moving when you know it’s safe. It doesn’t take you long to reach the barn. 

This is too easy, the place has less staff then you’ve seen before. There are still 2 guards on the front doors of the barn. 

“Farah, how are we looking?” Soap asks into the radio. 

“You’re clear, no movement.” Her voice comes back. Soap looks at you smiling and you push forward hugging the wall as you make it round to the back of the building. Just as you remember there is a loose perplex panel hanging off. Its loud as you move it but you assume the barn is empty on the inside. You’ve been watching it for a few hours before making your move and no one has been going in or out. 

When you duck under the gap you come out into the massive barn. Anything that would have made you think this was a cattle barn has been removed. The place is now full of vehicles, ammo and weapons crates, different types of machinery and missiles. 

You wait for Soap to come through before follow him over to them. They look new, not like the old soviet ones you’re used to seeing. Some of them even have the American flag printed on them, although most of them have been scraped off or painted over. As you walk round the smaller ones you make it to some bigger ones. 

These ones look older, you’re not sure how old though. They’re different then the stuff you’ve ever seen. Soap looks back at you frowning as you follow him over. You walk over to a table with tools on it, there's papers strewn around. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Soap says as his hand runs over one of the missile heads. You look down at the papers, the only thing that sticks out is the yellow and black radiation sign. You swallow hard looking back at the huge missile in front of you. 

“Soap. These-” You’re too shocked to speak. You pick up a piece of paper off the table. “These belong to Makarov.” 

“Farah, the missions off. We’re leaving, there’s nothing we can do here.” Soap says, you can’t tell if he sounds more angry or sad.  

“Why, what's happened? Is the place empty?” She asks. He turns to look at you holding down the button on his radio. 

“No, it’s worse. Makarov has nukes.” 

“Say again?” Alex asks. 

“There’s nuclear warheads here. We can’t do anything without setting them off.” Soap says. You fold the paper up and put it in your pocket. 

“Your exit is still clear. Get out of there.” It's almost like she had no emotions about the whole thing. 

“Wait.” You say grabbing Soap’s arm. “There has to be a computer here, we can find out what Al Qatala were shipping over the border if it wasn’t missiles.” 

“It’s too risky.” He says.

“What if Makarov has nukes in Russia?” You say. 

“We’d know if he had nukes in Russia” He says, you let go of his arm and he moves to the exit.

“You didn’t know there were nukes here.” You say. 

“It’s not worth the risk, c’mon!” He snaps, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you to the exit. As you let him drag you, you see into a control room.

“Look.” You say digging your heels into the ground to stop him. “There’s a computer, let me check it.” He huffs looking round quickly.

“Quick.” he says, letting go of your arm. You smile and rush in, there’s no login option. You look for anything, something like a spreadsheet or order forms anything you think you could recognise. Finally after what feels like a few minutes you find what looks like an order request. They’ve tried to encrypt it but it must have failed for some reason. 

“A few days ago. There was a shipment of warheads and stabilisers.” You say you're trying to translate, you have no idea what stabilisers mean, it’s not really the best translation and you’re being rushed. 

“Nukes?” He asks, you look over at him standing guard on the door.

“It doesn’t say.” There’s requests for a bunch of different types of chemicals, names of things you don’t even recognise.

“He’s playing around with chemicals. I don’t know what any of this means.” You say, you see Soap hesitate, looking around before coming over to see. He scans the document for a second before pointing at something.

“Its elements, chlorine, phosphorus, hydrogen.” 

“He’s making chemical bombs.” You say as a matter of fact. 

“Soap you better be out there you’ve got incoming.” Farah says. Before you even have time to react you hear a door open. You both duck and you hear Arabic voices echo in the massive barn. You start taking your radio off handing it to Soap.

“I’ll distract them, then you can leave.” You whisper.

“Are you crazy, they’ll kill you.” He puts his hand out to stop you. 

“I’ve talked myself out of worse situations. I’ve been here before, if they catch you they’ll kill you.” He sighs, taking it in his hands. 

“Your weapon too.” He points. You shake your head. 

“Might need to shoot my way out if they don’t believe me.” Before Soap can stop you you stand up. “Stay here, I'll get them out.” 

“Good luck.” He calls as you make it to the door. You smile at him and walk round the corner where you can hear the voices.

“Finally. Do you know how long I have been looking for someone in this place?” You say walking towards them. Confidence is key, you can do this. 

“Stay where you are!” One of them calls, they hold their weapons on you.

“Don’t shoot unless you plan on shipping my body back to Makarov.” You say, they look between themselves for a minute.

“You work for Makarov?” One of them asks.

“He sent me to find out why the next shipment is delayed.” You say putting your hands down and stepping closer to them. 

“We’re working on it.” One of them says as they lower their weapons.

“We have half the staff we used to have. Most people have been sent to fight the ULF.” The other one says. 

“Do you think I care about your staffing issues? That shipment was needed yesterday.” You say pointing at a random missile. “Who do I need to talk to to get some answers here?” 

“We’ll take you.” They say turning. You nod following them out the barn. You don’t want to end up speaking to whoever is in charge, they will definitely be able to sniff you out. You hang back, the people escorting you are two wrapped up in their own conversation to notice you lagging behind. 

As soon as they turn a corner you take your chance sneaking through the space between the 2 garages and round the back of the main building. You sneak through a gap in the wall. You hope Soap got out, you head towards the meeting point anyway. 

It’s not long before you see Soap step out from behind the trees. 

“Thanks.” He says handing you back your radio. You smile at him, putting it back on your hip. A few seconds later Farah and Alex step through the foliage too. 

“Is it true they have nukes?” Farah asks, her composure is completely different now. 

“Chemical weapons too. They’ve been shipping them into Russia.” Soap says. 

“Are you sure?” Alex asks, frowning. “We haven't seen anything.”

“I saw a shipping order.” You reach into your pocket and hand Farah the piece of paper you picked up. She looks at it Alex leans over to look too. Before she has a chance to say anything alarms ring out from the farm. You look over at Soap pressing your lips together. 

“Let's get out of here.” Alex calls. You nod and follow them deeper into the woods.

…

You’re not sure why the phone call with Price and Laswell is the most stressful part. 

“You did what?” Price snaps.

“It was my idea.” You say, flicking your eyes up to Soap who’s been standing back from the table with his arms crossed, his body language has completely changed. Not the laid back Soap you’re used to saying.

“I don’t bloody care whose idea it was you’re supposed to be resting, recovering before you come out here.” Price lets out a sigh.

“I think we have other things to worry about.” Alex says. 

“Alex’s is right. If the US finds out Al Qatala are shipping nukes over the border to Makarov and Konni we’re in trouble.” Laswell says. 

“What’s the US’s response going to be to this?” Price asks.

“I don’t know but I would assume they do not want private militias or terrorist organisations having access to such weapons.” Laswell says. 

“We don’t need the Americans invading here too.” Farah says. 

“They don’t even know yet, but we need to tell them right. We can’t keep this to ourselves?” Alex says. 

“No, we don't tell anyone! Not the Americans, not the British. We will deal with this problem ourselves.” Farah says.

“The ULF is not in a position to disarm nuclear warheads.” Laswell says her voice is more stern. 

“Won’t make a difference if they’re all being shipped to Russia.” You say. 

“We can’t let anymore come through. Whatever Makarov is planning we need to put a stop to it before the next shipment. When is it?” Price asks.

“3 days, although with the security breach it could be moved up.” You say. There’s silence. 

“Laswell, any changes in Makarov’s movements?” Price asks after what feels like forever.

“No, as far as I can tell he’s still in Volgograd.” She replies.

“Okay, I’m sending Nikoli to pick you up. He’ll fly you out to Volgograd.” Price says, you look round at everyone. There’s a new person now, Nikoli.

“Copy.” Soap says. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak since he finished explaining everything to Price. 

“In the meantime stay put. I can’t be worrying about you getting yourselves killed.” Price says. “Send Laswell everything you know, we’ll speak soon.” There's a click on the line. 

“The data you got from the base on the border arrived yesterday. I can go through it, I'll have what you asked for by tomorrow.” Laswell says. 

“Thank you.” Farah says, before ending the call. You look over at Soap, he seems disappointed about something. 

“You should get some rest.” Farah says her eyes flicking to Soap. You move over to him resting your hand on his arm. 

“Let’s go. We should get something to eat at least.” You say looking up at him. His eyes land on you but they seem dark, distant. You don’t know if it's about the nukes or the response from Price but you’ve not seen him like this before. He nods and turns to leave.

He’s quiet while you get something to eat. Pushing food around his tray while you inhale whatever mush they’re serving. You talk, if not just to fill the dead air, you’re sure he’s heard some of the stuff before but he doesn’t even complain. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” He says suddenly before getting up and moving away before you have a chance to say anything. You look down at the uneaten food on his tray. 

…

You’re laid in the shared dorm room staring at the ceiling trying to think what he’s sad about. Or maybe he is just mad, maybe when he gets mad he goes silent. You feel like you don’t know him enough to judge him, or analyse him. A door opens and some people walk in, stripping their coats off and kicking off boots. 

You turn over in bed trying to ignore the noise and turning on of lights. You’re not going to be comfortable here, you’re not going to be able to sleep. Not with everything going on in your head, and now all you can think about is Johnny. 

You swing yourself out the cot pulling your boots back on and heading out the room with your coat tucked under your arm.

Johnny got his own room, maybe it’s because of his status, maybe it’s because Farah likes them. Whatever the reason, you would rather be with him then where you are right now. 

When you make it to his door you hesitate, he told you where he was staying before you left. You let out a sigh and knock. You wait a few seconds before it opens, he’s standing there topless with a raised eyebrow. 

“You okay?” You ask, swallowing the nerves. 

“Are you?” He asks. You nod, he steps to the side inviting you in. As soon as you’re through the threshold his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him. 

“You’ve been quiet. Are you upset about something?” You ask, throwing your jacket over the chair. He lets out a long sigh burying his head in your neck. He doesn’t say anything, his hands running up your side, his touch is soft against your skin. 

“Was it what Price said?” You ask, he spins you in his arms. You press up against him, his cheeks are flushed. He reaches down and kisses you. His hands run up your shirt to your breasts. You put your arms up in the air breaking from the kiss so he can pull your shirt over your head. 

His kisses get deeper, more needy, his tongue running over your neck, across your collar bones. You moan out for him, his hands slipping past your waist band gently pulling your trousers down. His mouth locks round one of your nipples. He hums, nibbling and flicking your nipple. You push one of your hands through his hair. 

“Christ love, fuckin’ sweet as sugar.” He breathes, dropping to his knees and looking up at you. Looking up at you with those deep blue eyes. His lips wet and shining as he pulls your trousers down. You spread your legs for him, as much as you can. He kisses your stomach, his hands grip your ass digging his fingers into the soft flesh. 

His mouth continues to move down, his tongue hot, pressing against your skin, he moans and you continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“Johnny, bed.” You say. He looks up at you, one of your hands drops to stroke his cheek. He slowly stands back up until he’s towering above you. Your hands drop down to the front of his pants fiddling with his belt buckle.

He slowly starts to move you over to the bed, as soon as you reach it you gently push him down. He bounces on the cot, his mouth tipping open. You take a step back kicking your boots off and stepping out your trousers. 

“Lay down.” You say. He follows swinging his legs into the bed and laying flat with his head on the pillows. “Think we’ll get interrupted this time?”

“Did you lock the door?” he asks, nodding towards it. You turn, going over and securing the latch. When you look back round he’s shimmed his bottoms off laying naked in the bed. You watch as his hand strokes up and down his cock exposing the red tip. You walk over to him, you swing your legs over him kneeling on his thighs. You replace his hands with yours, his head tips back as you slowly shuffle closer to his hips. 

You don’t know if you’re helping, but this is the most vocal he’s been since you got back. You kneel up and he opens his eyes watching as you hover above him stroking up and down his cock. You smile at him before you ease yourself down on him. 

He lets out a groan, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. They run up and down as you slowly begin to ride him. It doesn’t take you long to get into a steady rhythm, he watches you, his hands gripping you tighter and tighter with each thrust.

His gentle moans turning into grunts and pants. Before long you’re panting along with him, your heart starts beating faster in your chest. He feels good, the last person you had sex with was Ivan and that was nothing like this. It was just a transaction, this is different, he’s reacting to you, his touch is soft as is his gaze, his moans. 

It makes you work harder, leaning over to run your hands over his chest, he has scars, a particularly nasty looking on his shoulder. Probably a bullet, you run your fingers over one on his chest. 

“Make a habit out of getting shot?” You ask him between pants. 

“Not really, just end up in sticky situations.” He says. You reach down and kiss him, rocking your hips on him. He breaks from the kiss, tipping his head back. 

“Christ, perfect love.” He says, letting out a long breath. He’s bucking his hips in time with you. You’re getting close, the new angle pressing against the spongy spot inside you. You close your eyes arching your back trying not to dig your nails into him.

He grips you tighter, he’s getting closer, so are you. You sit back up straight bracing your hands on his chest. You moan with him, letting him control the speed with his hands gripping your thighs. 

“Jesus.” He arches his back as he cums. You feel him throb inside you, he stops moving as you ride him through the orgasm, it only feels like a few seconds later when you cum to the feeling of him filling you up pushes you over the edge. 

You fall against him, laying on his chest. He wraps his arms around you and turns you in the bed, when he slips out of you, you feel empty. He kisses your forehead then you turn over on your back. 

He does the same letting out a long breath. He reaches down and pulls the blanket over you both, you turn to lean up against his chest wrapping your arm round his stomach. 

“It wasn’t what Price said. He’s not really angry. He doesn't get angry anymore, at least not with us.” He says after a few seconds, his hand runs down your back.

“Leaving you at the farm. Not knowing if you would get out or not.” You look up at him. “You could have died.” 

“So could you.” You say, you don’t know if that will help or not but it’s all you can think to say, you're surprised he even cared. “Besides I would have got out.”

“You’re too cocky, it’ll get you killed.” He says.

“You’re a soldier, you literally put your life on the line every day.” You scoff back. 

“We’re trained.” 

“Me too, in another world maybe I would have been like you.” You say running your hand across his chest. 

“You served?” 

“Military service is mandatory in Urzikstan.” You shrug. 

“Not really your thing?” He asks.

“I’m not good at following orders. Used to being alone. I learned a long time ago that people you love can hurt you the most.” You sigh resting your head against his chest. He chuckles. 

“What?” You ask. 

“I know someone who said something similar to me once.” He says he tightens his arm around you.

“Yeah?” You ask, sleepy. 

“Yeah, I think you’d like him.” 

“Maybe one day I’ll meet.” You say relaxing against him. He kisses the top of your head.

“Yeah, maybe one day you will.” 

Banners by plum98

[twstfanblog]

hello! hope the new year has been going well so far!

i would like to make a request; can i ask for a Vil x reader, can be platonic or romantic your choice, where the reader is an artist that has drawn a portrait of everyone EXCEPT for Vil and he just tries to do everything to get the reader to draw him. like, posing more dramatically while doing mundane things or sets up dramatic lighting in a classroom

just to have the reader finally draw him after he gets caught in the rain or something XD

sorry if this is too much, feel free to change anything or ignore

Draw me, I demand it

Vil x Reader

Vil would insist he wasn't petty or Divine forbid, jealous. He was a celebrity, an icon, he knew his worth more than anyone. But to know one of the few people he'd ever dare call his friend seemed to be purposefully excluding him made him a bit...upset.

The prefect was a lovely person, fun to talk to and occasionally had an outsider perspective on the media he was engrossed in. While they didn't have the pleasure to talk often, he considered them fond of each other at least. He did anyhow. That was until he learned from Epel that the prefect was an artist, traditional in sense with the medium of simple pen and paper.

Such a fact had been made know because Epel had shown him a sketch the prefect had done. While it wasnt a masterpiece, Vil wouldn't deny it carried potential and clearly show cased a high amount of skill. It was during the conversation that Epel had stated the prefect had drawn all of them.

So the next day, when their paths had crossed, Vil had asked with a teasing edge to see one of the sketches they had done of him. Thats when he learned Epel was wrong. The prefect had done at least one sketch of everyone from their collective friend group, except him.

He'll admit, he was mad in the moment. But now, days later, he finds himself putting more effort into his makeup and hair in the morning. Wearing new tie and shirt combinations with various patterns and textures. Trying new shoe styles for the sake of the Seven. But nothing seemed to spore the prefect to pull out that damned spiral bond black book and annoyingly powdered yellow pen.

At some point, he had even enlisted Rook to plan and stage worthy environments to spark artistic creation. None of which worked, other than Rook appearing all too happy as he put together an entirely new scrapbook of his own.

It wasn't until the weekend. A torrential downpour had suddenly affected the campus, sending students flocking into buildings and dorms. Vil had been in the middle of another attempt to swoon the prefect into sketching him when the rain started. An hour of crafting a vine and flower arch ruined. By the time they had made it to Ramshackle, they were both nearly soaked through.

So now he sat in the lounge of the rundown dorm, a towel that smelled lightly of mothballs and holding an old mug of cheap hot chocolate being warmed by a fire. The prefect had just stepped in the lounge, mouth open with their own mug before they froze. Then they scurried away, returning with that forsaken notebook and started to scribble.

Vil raised an eyebrow, confused as to what they could possibly be sketching. Looking out the window at his side, Vil noticed in the sanctuary of an overgrown bush and the windows ledge were two butterflies. One noticeably bigger, wings packed with technicolor blues and purples, while the other was a simple silver-grey. He huffed, seeing the cosmic irony of the two insects cuddled together while he sat across the room from his own plain butterfly.

The rain didn't let up. It rained for hours at the same intensity it had started. With his drink gone and the prefect lulled to sleep, Vil finally stood to gently pull their sketchbook from their limp hands. Looking through the pages, he couldn't help but pout at seeing multiple sketches of the others and none of him. But on the newest page, he was met with a picture of him waterlogged, sitting by the fireplace and smiling into the mug of hot chocolate.

"..." Vil chuckled, looking to the sleeping freshman before slipping the book back into their hands, "Silly potato. At least you captured my beauty properly..."

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part nine

Back on my bullshit of cranking these chapters out, so here's another one!

Warnings: Hotch being...kind?, oh no they're warming up to each other (kind of), just kidding they have their moments of arguing, dramaaaa

Hotch was in his early twenties when he first heard about The Strangler’s case. It made national news, after all, once a connection was established between the cases showing up in Georgia and California. Two opposite ends of the United States, and The Strangler struck in both for over a year — maybe longer, though it was never confirmed.

Hotch was still in law school, then. He remembers reading about the case, one of the first few times he had heard of the BAU. He never studied the case closely; he didn’t have the time. And, honestly, when it comes to the cases the BAU has handled over the years, Carson Adkins is not the strangest.

His is interesting to study because of how long he evaded the authorities. The women he strangled to death were not his only crimes. Numerous traffic violations, domestic disputes, mental distress calls, and even one illegal possession of a firearm littered his record in the midst of the strangulations. Yet none of those led to his capture like they should’ve. 

Truthfully, none of the murders across Georgia and California were solidly connected before he turned himself in — only because he wanted to find you.

Hotch understands, to some degree. If anything ever happened to Jack, he’d do everything in his power to find him and make it right again. That’s exactly what Richard Monroe did for Lila, too. 

What he can’t understand is why you wouldn’t disclose this to him. Him, of all people, your Unit Chief. Why couldn’t you tell him? Why did it have to come to this?

Hotch knew, deep down, that whatever was hidden in your file would have to be discussed once he found out what it was. He just wasn’t expecting it to be something like this. Something he has no idea how to go about bringing up to you.

Because it does have to be discussed. Whether you like it or not— whether Hotch likes it or not because he knows it will only start a fight, it has to be discussed. At least so some common ground can be reached. A heart-to-heart doesn’t need to happen, but he needs to be aware of where your head is.

But it can’t happen now, while you’re on this case. The women and their families are suffering here, and that’s the top priority: catching whoever is doing this.

Once the unsub is caught and you’re all back in Quantico, Hotch will bring it up. Not because he wants to, but because he has to. He has no choice.

+++ 

After the wine with Rossi, you sleep probably the best you’ve ever slept on a case. You even wake up before your alarm, giving you time to shower and get dressed, and head downstairs to snag some breakfast before it’s time to meet the rest of the team.

You expect to be the first person downstairs, but you’re not. Hotch is there. And he looks like he’s been there for hours.

“Well,” you pull the chair out across from him, dropping into it with a huff. You cross your arms over your chest, all while Hotch is scowling at you. “You look like shit.”

He doesn’t even grace you with an answer. 

You shrug your jacket off over the back of the chair, leaving him to go grab something to eat. You return with a muffin, fruit, and two coffees.

Hotch’s eyes snap to yours when you set the coffee down next to his half-empty one.

“You’re gonna need another one if you’re gonna get through today looking like that,” you answer, taking a sip of your own. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Hotch averts his eyes. “No.”

You watch him as he slowly chews the remaining bites of his fruit. “What’s wrong with you?”

His eyes flick back to yours, another glare settling in. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” you hold up your hands in surrender, unwrapping your muffin. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he says. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” you shrug. “Why?”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

Now it’s your turn to glare. “Don’t hurt yourself,” you mock.

Slowly, the rest of the team filters downstairs to grab their own breakfast. You’re grateful for the extra company, especially Emily and JJ. You gladly leave the table with Hotch to join them at the next one over. 

You can feel Hotch watching you, and he only stops when Rossi sits down across from him, asking him the same things you’ve already asked him. His answers stay the same, though less defensive, of course.

You turn your back to him, helping Prentiss figure out where she should go for her next Sin to Win Weekend. Your vote is on Miami, but she’s leaning toward Vegas for this one.

It’s almost time to leave when Hotch’s phone rings, and all conversations halt. Bad news, most likely.

Hotch’s face gives nothing away, but you know it won’t. It’s not in his face. It’s in his shoulders, and they tense when he hears the news. You know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it.

“They’ve found another body,” he says as the call ends. “Let’s go.”

Chairs screech as everyone stands and heads for the exit. Morgan leads, no doubt going to drive like he always does. You’re just a few steps away from the table when you hear Hotch call out your name.

You turn, preparing for a small lecture about how you should behave today in the field, only to find he’s standing there with your jacket in his hands.

“You left this,” he says quietly, passing it to you as he catches up.

Huh. You must’ve forgotten to grab it when you switched tables. You fall into step beside him. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t reply as he walks ahead, getting in the driver’s seat of the other car. In your confusion about his behavior, you slide into the passenger seat of Morgan’s.

You don’t bother asking Morgan if he thinks something is up with Hotch too, but the last thing you want to hear right now is how you and Hotch are warming up to one another.

Because you’re not.

You’re not warming up to him. He looked like shit, so you pointed it out. He doesn’t normally look like Death beat the shit out of him for fun overnight. How could you not say something?

Who knows what’s up with him. It’s not your business anyway.

Morgan’s phone rings and he digs it out, pressing to his ear. “Yeah.”

You don’t know why he doesn’t put it on speaker, but you make eye contact with Reid in the rearview and shrug. 

“Alright, yeah,” Morgan says with a nod. “We’ll do that. Got it. Bye, Hotch.”

You figured it was him. “What’s up?”

“They’re going to the scene, he wants us to head to the precinct and call Garcia to see what she has,” Morgan explains, casting a quick glance at you. 

You don’t miss the glance. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Morgan shrugs, turning toward the precinct while Hotch’s car goes straight ahead. “You two looked cozy this morning.”

You scoff. “Right.”

“It’s true,” Reid pipes up from the backseat.

“Hey!” You turn to look at him in pure betrayal. “Seriously?”

“What?” Reid looks just as perplexed.

You huff as you turn back around. “He was already downstairs when I got there, and I got there early. He looks like shit. Like he didn’t sleep.”

“He looked fine to me,” Reid says, having no idea he’s just put another nail in your coffin. 

Morgan grins.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Morgan only raises one hand off the wheel. “I’m not.”

+++

If anyone asks, Hotch told you, Morgan, and Reid to go back to the precinct because it’s part of his usual divide-and-conquer method for cases. 

It has nothing to do with the fact that the officer sounded shaken up on the phone, meaning this one must be bad — and after researching more of Carson Adkins’ crimes last night, Hotch doesn’t want you anywhere near this one, not if it’s as bad as the officer made it seem on the phone.

You’re liable to shut down again and that’s not what he needs. He needs you focused.

The area is crawling with police cars as some officers try to corral a growing crowd of locals. To make matters worse, Hotch sees a news truck pull in behind them.

JJ spots it too with a deep sigh. “Got it. No comment.”

“Thank you,” Hotch replies with a nod.

Hotch, Prentiss, and Rossi flash their badges at the officers holding the perimeter before they’re let underneath the crime scene tape. The unsub left the body outside the elementary school. Next to the playground, for god’s sake.

They have to find him.

“Do we know who she is?” Rossi asks an officer.

“No,” he shakes his head. “But the coroner took her prints, so hopefully we’ll find her in a database somewhere.”

“Time of death?” Prentiss asks.

“Said somewhere between three and five a.m.”

Deputy Harris is standing off to the side, staring at the children’s swings and slides with a set jaw. Hotch makes his way over silently, noting the redness in the deputy’s eyes.

“We’re going to find who did this,” Hotch assures him quietly.

“We better,” Harris says, voice hoarse. “Who dumps a body at an elementary school? What if someone hadn’t found her before the kids got here? I—” He shakes his head. “School is canceled for the day, I called the board a minute ago. I don’t want any kids here.”

“Understandable,” Hotch nods, and probably for the better. They’ll need to investigate the area and it’s best if there are no children even inside the school to witness the commotion. “That was the right call, Deputy.”

“Thank you,” he says, turning to shake Hotch’s hand. “You’ll find him?”

Hotch accepts the handshake with an even firmer nod. “We will.”

He leaves him to return to where Prentiss is kneeling next to the body, studying the strangulation marks on her neck.

“It looks almost like hands and something else were used,” Prentiss says quietly. “Almost like…”

“Like he wasn’t strong enough to do it on his own this time,” Hotch finishes. “Like she fought back.”

Hotch finds the coroner talking with Rossi, waving them both over.

“Did you swab under her fingernails?” Hotch asks.

“Not yet, but I can at the lab,” the coroner replies. 

“What are you thinking?” Rossi asks.

“That she fought back,” Prentiss says, standing up and taking her gloves off. “There’s some bruising on her face as well, it looks to me like they got into it before he strangled her.”

“Alright, I’ll keep it in mind and I’ll call you when the results are ready,” the coroner says, turning to instruct his men to begin loading the body. “If her prints come up anywhere, they should be sent to you soon.”

“Thank you,” Hotch says to him, already digging his phone out of his pocket to call Morgan.

+++

When you get to the precinct and find out exactly where the unsub dropped this body, your heart plummets. 

You don’t know if it was your dad’s preference to drop bodies outside of schools. All you know is that he did it often. If it wasn’t train tracks or behind a gas station, it was outside a school.

You have no clue why. There never seemed to be any rhyme or reason to it, just like this one. The others have been on back roads, dirt roads, or in the woods. Never outside an elementary school, next to the playground, for fuck’s sake.

Pictures slowly filter in as the detectives upload them. You, Reid, and Morgan stare at the laptop screen, three pictures of the woman’s body, all zoomed in.

You take a walk to refill your coffee, ignoring the way your knees feel shaky as you move. 

You’re fine.

Just— First, a case where the daughter of a serial killer is kidnapped and her father willingly turns himself in to help find her, and now, a case where the unsub is strangling these women to death and dumps a body outside a school? You knew when you first got into this profession ten-odd years ago that you’d come across cases that bring up bad memories. It’s inevitable. You’ve long accepted the fact.

But two, back-to-back, with similarities that hit far too close to home… It’s putting a bad taste in your mouth, and you don’t know why.

It’s probably nothing.

It’s not like you can mention this to anyone. Maybe to Rossi, but you know what he’ll say. Either that you’re just feeling on edge with the similarities, or worse — he’ll tell you that you have to bring it up with Hotch.

And you are not doing that. Not over some irrational, sour taste in your mouth that you have no backing for. Reid said it himself, this isn’t a true copycat. It’s just another unsub who strangles women to death. Unfortunately, there are plenty of them out there.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

You return to the conference room with fresh coffee and a somewhat calmer head (fake it ‘til you make it, right?). Morgan gives you a questioning look, but you ignore him.

Garcia’s voice comes through the speaker of the laptop as she tells Reid she’s just waiting for the identity to come through from the fingerprints before she can start digging. 

Morgan’s phone starts ringing in his hand. This time he puts it on speaker. “What’ve you got, Hotch?”

“We think our unsub used something in addition to his hands this time,” Hotch says.

“The girl fought back,” Morgan replies absently, his eyes flicking over to the now-printed pictures from the scene. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask in general, sliding one of the photos over.

“Not sure yet,” Hotch says. “The coroner just loaded the body, so hopefully in a few hours we’ll have some answers.”

“He might’ve used a wire of some sort,” Reid starts to ramble. “It’s common for—”

But you don’t hear him, your fingertips tracing the bruises in the picture. “He used a belt,” you say without meaning to, pressing your fingers into the picture, as if you can feel her neck.

“A belt?” Hotch inquires. “What makes you so certain?”

“The bruises,” you say quietly. Morgan won’t stop looking at you.

“The bruises are too faint to tell,” Hotch says tiredly. “The coroner—”

“It was just an idea,” you snap, pushing the picture away and glaring at the phone, hoping Hotch can feel it through the device. “It’s not like I was there to see him do it.”

Everyone goes quiet. You ignore Morgan’s watchful gaze and turn toward the whiteboard, deciding to review the other information. 

Why did the unsub need help with this victim? Was he tired? Was he caught off guard? Was she stronger than the others he preyed on and he didn’t anticipate that?

You don’t hear the rest of Morgan and Hotch’s conversation as Morgan takes him off speaker after your little spat. Probably for the better.

You have got to come down from whatever edge you’re on before Hotch gets back here. You’re practically begging him to ask prying questions when you’re acting like this.

Thankfully, neither Morgan or Reid bother with asking if you’re okay.

Unfortunately, Rossi doesn’t get the same memo when he returns with everyone else.

“Anything standing out?” Rossi asks as he comes to stand next to you, facing the board. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, relaxed. 

Your arms are crossed over your chest. “No.”

He chuckles. “Wanna take a walk?”

“No,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at the board. “Why did he need to use a bel— something to help him this time? What was different?”

Rossi shrugs. “Maybe she fought him and he wasn’t expecting it. Maybe he’s getting sloppy.”

You hum.

Rossi lowers his voice as he leans toward you. “You’re sure it was a belt?”

You remember being twelve years old, watching the same bruises form on your mother’s throat after your father had stormed out and took the belt with him. He didn’t kill her, no. Just came close. Would have if you hadn’t walked in.

“Yes,” you say back, just as quiet. “Only a belt bruises like that.”

Rossi nods slowly. You know he wants to mention that the bruises are too faint to fully tell. You know he wants to mention other things. But he won’t.

Just behind you, standing with his back facing the both of you, Hotch listens. You both lowered your voices, but not low enough. 

You have insight into this case that could be valuable, and you aren’t sharing, not with everyone. Only with Rossi. Why him?

Hotch isn’t jealous; he’s curious.

And he can’t do a damn thing about it, at least not right now.

[signanothername]

If Nightmare somehow got his claws on Cross what would he first do?

Oof Anon, I think the correct question to ask is what he would not do hcchchch

Think of it this way, MTT have one single.. “advantage” for a lack of a better word, to being Nightmare’s subordinates

And that is Nightmare’s refrain from physically harming them.. much

Cause Nightmare cares about the practicality of everything and wants his plans to run as smoothly as possible, he doesn’t rely upon physical abuse as much as mental abuse when it comes to MTT, and even then, Nightmare tries to refrain from breaking them mentally either, he needs them to stay as functional as possible for long periods of time, if he does go beyond the usual limits he puts for himself and does something drastic, it’s either because he’s sure he doesn’t need them to work for a good amount of time, his plans can run with one or two people short for a good while, or he completely lost composure and did harm them beyond what he meant to do (now what Nightmare considers drastic vs normal is a whole other story, MTT are abused regardless)

Cross, on the other hand, is not Nightmare’s subordinate, never has been, nor does Nightmare care to recruit him in any capacity at any point in time, whether present or future, not only because Nightmare already sees the three under him as enough, positions already filled up, but he doesn’t see Cross as anywhere near competent either, so even if Nightmare actually did want to recruit someone, it certainly wouldn’t be Cross

Cross doesn’t have that.. “advantage” is what I mean to say, Nightmare wouldn’t hold back from torturing him physically, emotionally and mentally, there is literally no figurative shield between him and Nightmare’s wrath, the moment Nightmare has his claws on him it’s pretty much over for Cross unless someone somehow manages to find Nightmare’s castle to break him out (pretty much impossible), anything horrific you can think of? He’d probably do it, slowly break every single bone in his body, make him relive every single traumatic event in his life, hell, if he can, bring in his loved ones to slowly torture and kill them in front of him as he helplessly watches, literally make Cross beg and scream for mercy till his voice becomes hoarse, mentally manipulating him to distort his sense of time and reality

All of that, just because of a single broken deal

Tho if I have to be specific, I think the very first thing I can imagine Nightmare doing to Cross is mentally breaking him (Nightmare generally prefers mental torture over physical torture anyway), how would he do that?

Make Cross relive the moment he killed his loved ones and erased his AU over and over again till Cross is nothing but a weeping mess.. and maybe at some point, if possible, actually recreate that traumatic event and make Cross actually kill his AU a second time