#i put a lil picture of her n everything :(
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lewisvinga · 1 year ago
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get his ass ! | lando norris/the grid x fem! reader
summary: y/n was loved among the grid, quickly gaining the title of ‘the mother of the grid’ due to her motherly nature. but when a famous football player says he’d like to take her on a date in an interview, the boys are quick to defend her.
fc; maria isabel
warnings; kinda suggestive pics , curse words
notes; requested! this came later than expected lol, been super tired after a long road trip and was out all day w poor connection😩🥲 don’t mind my lil football reference 🤭🤭 also second pic of the interview was meant to say pretty at the end but it was called off lol😞
masterlist !
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 940,038 others!
yourusername: pov: single mother after a day full of chasing and taking care of her 5 grown children on the paddock
tagged; landonorris, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, logansargeant, georgerussell63
username: MOTHER IS BACK ON THE PADDOCK
username: i want u fr
landonorris: ‘single mother’ who am i then?😕
yourusername: a grown child who asks me to ‘pretty please’ wipe the grease off of his pizza😁
landonorris: it was disgustingly greasy…🤢
username: LMFAOOAOAO
username: a single mom who works 2 jobs who loves her kids
yourusername: they get on my nerves all the time but i love my grown children 💓
logansargeant: sorry mom
yourusername: you and osc are an exception
alex_albon: oh, wow!
oscarpiastri: 😁
georgerussell63: you trying to say something, y/n….
yourusername: yeah give me carmen
carmenmmundt: i agree!
georgerussell63: wait-
username: you need to open a youtube channel!
username: your fit on the paddock ate today 😩
username: the picture of alex and logan w the snake 😭😭😭😭
username: can always count on y/n for content
yourusername posted to their story!
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[caption 1; baby’s nap time 😴] [caption 2; taking my sons out for lunch 🫶🫶] [caption 3; my new child, surprise! it’s a boy!💙]
Jude Bellingham answers your fan questions!
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liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,503,028 others!
landonorris: all mine.
tagged; yourusername
yourusername: lando norris…. i thought you’d post this on your jpg account…
landonorris: nope😁
yourusername: could’ve been worse thank u
yourusername: all yours. forever. 🫶
landonorris: always.
username: so y’all saw jude’s interview too…
username: caption was 100% aimed a jude
alex_albon: can i tag him pls
yourusername: no.
landonorris: yes!
yourusername: no or i won’t take you to get kbbq tmrw
alex_albon: sorry lando
username: alex’s comment😭
username: oh wow
username: the 2nd, 4th, n last pic🥴🥴🥴🥴
username: their relationship isn’t a want it’s a NEED
logansargeant: oh!
yourusername: look away pls😞😔
landonorris: no keep looking so you and every other athlete knows she’s mine 😁
username: jealous lando omg 😵‍💫😵‍💫
maxverstappen1: take that tap in merchant!
carlossainz55: yeah and he won against you guys! put some respect on his name 🙄
yourusername: my football rivalry sons…
landonorris: no i agree w max
username: not the culers and merengues of f1 fighting 😭😭
georgerussell63: my eyes!😰😰😰😰
georgerussell63: but that serves him right! y/n is a taken lady!
username: red is HER color, no one can wear read
username: the fit is everything 😍😍
username: need someone to recreate the last pic w 😖😖😣😣
oscarpiastri: i really had to stop lando from posting more exposing pictures, you’re welcome btw mother
landonorris: i had plenty of other ones to choose from…
yourusername: thank u osc😭
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bunnywanted · 1 year ago
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i can’t believe my dumb edging post is almost at 9,000 notes but NO ONE WANTS TO LISTEN TO MY CAT?!! you’re all whores
does anyone wanna hear the noise my cat makes when i open the door to let her in
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miniimight · 1 year ago
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❝ CAN YOU STOP PUTTING EVERYTHING ON THE TOP SHELVES?! ❞ you finally talk to him after a little argument ( height difference )
with deku, bakugou, rody
IZUKU
he tried to look nonchalant as he responded with a questioning hum. yeah, he was putting stuff on the top shelves. "hmm, what?"
you crossed your arms and glared at him. "you heard me."
he turned to you with the picture of innocence plastered on his face. "i don't know what you mean, i just put things where i put them. it just happens that they're high up."
you raised an accusatory eyebrow.
"for you, anyway." he mumbled, turning back to make his sandwich.
"exactly!" you exclaimed. "for me! you know i can't reach things up there and you do it on purpose!" you found your face was hot as you explained it.
you knew exactly why—you both had gotten into a little fight and you weren't talking to him for a while. this was the first time you had spoken since the argument, and even though you were yelling at him, your voice was music to his ears.
a small smile spread on his face despite his efforts to feign innocence. "on purpose?"
"yes!"
he paused, walking towards you. his disregard for space led to you being crammed against the counter behind you. he leaned over you and asked, "what it is that you need, love?"
your cheeks heated and you cast your gaze to the floor. "the box up there..." you murmured. he stretched to reach it and you flattened your palms against his chest. "izuku! you're squishing me—!"
he chuckled and brought the box down to the counter before kissing your forehead. "i'm glad we're talking again."
BAKUGO
"what was that?" he asked you, a knowing smirk on his face.
you huffed, already on top the counter trying (and failing) to reach the stupid box you needed. "i said stop putting shit on the top shelves. you know i can't reach it."
he shrugged, turning his attention back to his phone. "i dunno what you're talkin' about, princess."
you glared and pointed to the box. "you don't even use it?!"
"aw, don't jump the gun on me now, babe. you know i like to switch things up a lil' bit." he grinned, taking so much joy in your visible frustration. he was just happy you were speaking with him again.
you rolled your eyes, electing to ignore him as you tried your best not to fall off the surface or pull the cabinet down with you.
bakugo eyed you carefully as he threw away the thought of you begging for his help, reluctantly decided your immediate safety was more important. "'kay, that's enough." he walked over, his hands on your hips steadying your wobbly movement. "you'll hurt yourself, y/n. come down."
"i want that stupid box..." you pouted.
he rolled his eyes, his arms now circling around you as he lifted you off the counter. you gasped and curled your legs towards your body, clutching his wrists.
"oh, relax, you know i won't drop ya." he grumbled and set you down next to him. he easily plucked the box from its high perch, handing it to you.
"happy now?" he pinched your cheek. "stubborn brat. could've broken a bone or somethin'."
RODY
"what, having trouble sweetheart?" he snickered.
your face heated and you huffed. "rody... just get it for me, please."
"hmmm..." he pretended he was thinking hard. "i think... no."
you looked at him incredulously. "no? you put it up there!"
"i so did not." he turned up his nose, though pino was smiling and nodding her head.
you narrowed your eyes at him. "you're sabotaging me into breaking your silent treatment."
"whaaaat?" he exaggerated confusion. he held his head and pointed at himself dumbly. "me?"
"you're impossible." you rolled your eyes, moving to climb onto the counter.
"in any case, my plan worked wonderfully," his signature smirk graced his lips as he laughed softly, leaning against the wall to survey your distress.
your fingers just about brushed the side of the box before pino crashed into it, sending it further back and completely out of your reach. you swiveled to glare at the little pink bird. "pino!"
she bashfully twirled in the air before happily fluttering away.
rody's laughter filled your ears and you groaned, resting your head against the shelf. you heard shuffling—when you looked up, rody and his stupid smug smirk was beside you, easily bringing the box down.
"now we both look stupid, yeah?" he pressed a fat kiss on your cheek and softened when you laughed brightly.
© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3
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gothcsz · 3 months ago
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imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭
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tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.
~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist
a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤
You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.
Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.
Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.
Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.
You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.
“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.
“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”
Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.
You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.
You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.
You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.
She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.
You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.
It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.
It’s Javier.
You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.
You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.
He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”
He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.
You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”
Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself. 
“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”
He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”
Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.
“It’s fine, really—“
“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”
His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.
“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.
You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.
Living next door to him is going to be torture.
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Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.
You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.
You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work. 
It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.
He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.
It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.
Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.
“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.
“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.
But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all. 
His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.
In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.
And then there are the women.
You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.
Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.
It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend. 
You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.
It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.
You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.
He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.
You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.
You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring. 
And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.
You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.
Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.
You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”
“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”
He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.
“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”
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It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.
That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.
He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.
Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.
“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”
Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”
You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.
But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.
“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.
The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.
The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.
Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”
You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”
He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.
He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money. 
Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.
“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.
“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.
You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.
But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.
Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”
Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”
His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.
“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”
The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.
“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”
He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.
You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.
When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.
“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.
You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.
He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.
Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour. 
You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.
“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him,  gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”
You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”
The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.
Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.
He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.
“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”
You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”
There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.
Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.
“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”
Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”
Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.
“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”
You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming. 
“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.
The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.
You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.
“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”
And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.
“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.
Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.
“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.
You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.
“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head. 
You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”
He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”
“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.
He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.
You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.
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Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you. 
His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.
He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”
Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.
His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.
You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”
But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.
His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.
His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.
When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”
He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.
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started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤
🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .
916 notes · View notes
merlucide · 8 months ago
Note
POOKIE I CUT MY HAIR AND THIS SOUNS STUPID BUT CAN I PLEASE HAVE A RIN, CHIGIRI, OTOYA , REO, HIORI AND KURONA REACTING TO READER CUTTING HER HAIR AROUND SHOULDER LENGH AND DOING CUTE LIL HAIR SLYES WITH PINK BOWS AND STUFF AHHHH WHEN SHE USED TO HAVE LONG HAIR?!!?
(If it’s too much characters just do a few 😭💀)
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BLLK BOYS REACTION TO YOU CUTTING YOUR HAIR
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Notes: OFC POOKIE🤩🤩 and hair slays so hard omg 🤭 slay the house downs boots Houston I’m deceased😍😍
characters: Rin, Chigiri, Otoya, Reo, Hiori, Kurona
warnings: cursing
Edit: oh my god I freaking misread this. ARE U KIDDING ME?!?! IM SO SORRY OMG. UH??? IM SO PISSED RN
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ITOSHI RIN
He was stopping by your house to give back your hair tie (yes that is his excuse to see you)
He did not expect you have cut your hair and NOT tell him
Bc girl who do you think you are for not telling him?? 🙄 
He likes to feel involved😔
“You cut your hair.” No shit Sherlock 😐
lmao he kinda glares at you for not telling him. 
When yall cuddle (only way he’ll be in a better mood) he twirls you hair around and mumbles ‘it’s looks pretty on you’ 
And you’ll be like “what did you say?” 😯
“I didn’t say anything moron.” 😡
damn bro chill🙄🙄
Anywho he totally tries to do your hair, he’s not bad but like he’s not good
He can do basic braids, he tried French braiding and he got so pissed he couldn’t do it.
He went home and YouTubed how to French braid so next time he can’t do it 😘
CHIGIRI HYOMA
He thinks you look so pretty!! He really loves this look on you
He of course loved your hair before, but this one in his opinion, suits you better
He totally does your hair bc come on.
You want French braids? On it. Dutch? Ofc. Fishtail? Rope? Infinity? Carousel? Mermaid? Check, check and check mf 🤩
Beware, he yanks you head back if it’s tilted. He’s like a mom getting you ready for picture day 😭
He makes you do his hair after lol
OTOYA EITA
He looks at you hair and then back at you
“Your hair looks fire bro”
Bitch I’ll strangle you
Please, please don’t let him touch your hair.
He make make it look horrendous.
It will be full of knots when he’s finished. 
Seriously, don’t let him near your hair.
He’ll try to do piggy tails and they will be so uneven and wonky looking 😭
He blames his mistakes on you cus it’s “not the right kind of hair” 
🙄🙄
MIKAGE REO
He gets so excited to see your new look
Makes you do a spin and all :3
He’s literally fangirling you lmao
“Y/N-san you look amazing! This haircut suits you wonderfully!!”
He insists on buying you new hair accessories.
I’m sorry I know I use the ‘he’d buy u stuff’ sm 💀 
He’s actually pretty decent at doing your hair.
Puts a big ass bow in you hair lmao
HIORI YO
He loves you new look!
He tells you that it was time for something new and he loves it (not in a negative way)
he ruffles you hair lmao
like it was so pretty 🥲 why
he fixes it dw
Puts you hair in piggy tails and then y’all take those cute aesthetic couple pictures
KURONA RANZE
AH HE THINKS YOU LOOK JUST SO PRETTY!!! 
he’s so blushy and gushy cus he thinks it looks really good on you.
He flicks the bottoms out and spins you around so he can see everything.
Obviously he braids your hair🤭
he does like small braids into a jumbo braid
It looks weird but he just likes braiding lmao
you braid his hair after :3 
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seriously idk why this took so long for the low quality that this is 💀💀
Made April 7th 2024
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ma1dita · 1 year ago
Text
it will pass
part two can be found here -> without a doubt
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words: little under 2k
summary: Without a doubt, James Potter loves you. But he’s not in love with you.
warnings: none! fem!reader; i would die for best friend!james, did not demonize lily; angst, unrequited love, lil childhood speech impediment, cheesy nicknames, sharing clothes, will they wont they (they wont im sorry)
a/n: guess who just rewatched fleabag szn 2! i chose pain today sorry— god i missed writing. i am a words of affirmation gorl pls affirm me
(posted 9/8/23)
There isn’t a single doubt that James Potter loves you.
You’ve been attached at the hip since training broomsticks and pinky swears in Godric’s Hollow. You accidentally call a boy ‘Jam’ once because of your childhood speech apraxia, and he swears you’re meant to be his best friend.
“Don’t worry, I can be loud enough for the both of us, peanut!”
Like peanut butter and jelly, you two were a perfect match– and even better partners in crime. When James puts his mind to something, he sees it through. So even if you were honestly unable to string the words together, who were you to say no?
Technically it’s somewhat official too, by whatever imaginary power was bestowed upon the Potter’s house elf for your very elaborate backyard fantasy wedding the two of you had when you were seven. All of your parents were in attendance, along with your cat and you all had blueberry cupcakes after your first and only kiss.
“Miss Mippy pronounces you huzbind and wife!”
Giggles are heard all around as the tiny elf tripped on her way off the stool, knocking both your heads together. James lost a front tooth that day, but he grinned for the pictures your mothers took anyway. Without a doubt, he loves you.
There wasn’t anyone at Hogwarts who would expect one of you to be present without the other following behind. You never had to hold back your smart mouth because James was always willing to finish your fights. The both of you were a package deal, with your number of protectors growing once Remus, Sirius, and Peter came along. It was not a routine you both consciously established, but rather second nature to be in each other’s lives. Like how you always made sure his glasses were clean before quidditch matches and he’d chuck his extra jersey at your face for you to wear.
“Stay warm during the game okay? I’ll see you later, love you!”
He skated around your waist, blowing a raspberry onto your cheek as he grabbed his glasses from your fingers.
“Don’t fall off your broom. Love you too, loser.” You’re already tugging his jersey over your head, inhaling his signature scent of broom polish, cinnamon, and Sleakeasy’s hair potion.
James smiled at you softly, before running to meet up with his team. After Gryffindor won again, he threw you over his shoulder and you laughed and yelled that he smelled like sweat. He always tucked you in his bed after parties, wrapping you in his arms once the lights go out. Without a doubt, he loves you.
Your friendship is stronger than most romantic relationships, and as your teenage years fly by, both of you realize how rare that is. He often took you to the kitchens to eat vanilla sundaes after boys broke your heart (and they got black eyes to match, courtesy of him and the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team) and you would listen to him, building him up and calming him down through years of pining over a certain Lily Evans. You were there for each other through everything, silly crushes, secret trysts, boring detentions, and highly esteemed accolades. If there ever were such a thing as soulmates, you knew it had to be him, even if it was platonic. Just being around someone as vibrant as James made you consider yourself lucky.
You once saw your best friend with his head in his hands on your way to a date—he was moping after a nasty prank on Snape went wrong; it ended in Lily crying and after defending her albeit quite boisterously in true James fashion, he still didn’t get the girl.
He gets up to see you walking down the corridor to meet him halfway, and before you even speak he rubs his eyes, posture shrinking as his towering frame melts into your embrace.
“Don’t know why I thought it’d be different this time,” he mumbles, and you gladly carry the weight of his heart.
“Let’s go swimming in the Black Lake, ” you say suddenly, rubbing his broad back in small circles.
“But peanut, you have a date in an hour! You’re all dolled up and pretty...”
“I’ll have more dates. You need me right now, jelly. I’ve got you.” His nickname makes you blush a little more than you should sometimes, so you only ever pull it out as a trick up your sleeve to make him feel better.
“Love you,” you whisper, brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck.
He breathes easily for the first time in hours, mouth curling up from its frown when he sees you walk straight into the lake water with your nicest clothes on, not even hesitating for a moment. Without a doubt, he loves you.
When James puts his mind to something, he sees it through. So years later, when your best friend asks you if you could go wedding ring shopping with him to propose to the love of his life, who were you to decline? I mean, who else would go with him?
“Come on, (Y/N). I need my best girl with me to make the biggest decision of my life.” he’s practically moaning, the man ever so dramatic as he’s sprawled across your couch.
“And why aren’t you dragging Sirius with you again?”
Your eyebrow is raised as you stand at his feet, lifting his burly legs for you to place yourself under and get comfortable.
“What does Sirius know about women? He’d tell me to get the shiniest one and leave!” James’ yells into your throw pillow, anguished at the thought. You pull it off his face, before he quietly admits, “I just want to get it right.”
“When are we going?” you answer, without missing a beat.
Later that week, the saleslady recommends a wide array of glimmering engagement bands, none of which are for you. But you let yourself fall into the fantasy of the what-ifs, flashing back to your flower crown and candy ring wedding, wondering if it could’ve been you getting proposed to by him in another life.
“Would you like to try a few on?” the saleslady asks, assuming you two are together.
“Show me and my girl your best. No price limit.” he grins.
And how dare she assume that, as he puts his head on your shoulder, whisking you around the store to look at stunning rings, fingers brushing, and the both of you being able to communicate clearly with no words spoken. James plays along with the saleslady, finally choosing a whimsical-looking diamond setting placed upon your left ring finger. You remind yourself it’s not yours. Your heart comes to a screeching halt and you can’t help but feel all of a sudden like he’s being mean.
After all, he’s not yours, not really.
There is a little bit of doubt now and a weird tightness in your chest that makes you think of the possibility that you’re in love with James Potter.
Like a good best friend, you help him plan his proposal. James’ love is loud, pulling all the stops, and preferring the grandest of gestures.
“James, you are not proposing to Lily with a flash mob.”
“But it would be so cool! After all, my heart dances every time I see her face.” he wiggles his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his butterbeer.
“Your heart might, but you, unfortunately, are the worst dancer I’ve ever seen.” You laugh, reaching over to tug the quill out of his hand, crossing it off his list. He pulls you into a headlock, kissing the side of your face teasingly.
“What would I ever do without you, peanut?”
You wipe James’ spit off your cheek, pushing his face away, blushing from his attention.
“Combust, probably.”
Your heart is dancing now too, and you realize that there isn’t a single doubt that you’re in love with your best friend.
You keep yourself busy in the month before his proposal. It hurt learning too many details, such as what flowers he wanted to order to bring out her eyes (pink and yellow tulips), and scouting out the perfect location on the beach he picked (next to the lighthouse you and him visited as kids), even down to how he’d convince Lily to wear white without being suspicious (honestly he just expected you to do him a favor for this one). But after seeing each other almost every day for more than half your life, he knew something was off when you became distant.
James shows up at your apartment, his key in hand, but he decides to knock anyway. The sound of the TV is muffled, lowering in volume until he hears your footsteps pad over to the door and it swings open. You’re in one of his old Quidditch sweaters and fluffy blue socks.
“Hey. Wasn’t expecting you to come by.” You smile timidly, as he leans against the doorframe peering down at you.
“Never used to have to tell you.”
“James...” you stutter, before awkwardly opening the door completely. He shuffles towards the couch, keeping his shoes on as he sits at the end, and there’s a certain tension in the air that frightens you. You’re not sure if you’ll come out of this one unscathed.
“Talk to me (Y/N). What’s been going on with you? You don’t answer my calls, you don’t write back, hell, I haven’t seen you in a month because you started deadbolting your door. Did I do something?”
Yes, James Potter. Ever so blunt and to the point, your favorite person in the world is sitting on your couch uncomfortable with the fact that you’re not comfortable around him anymore.
You fight back against your instincts to tell him what’s wrong, but the three words escape your mouth before you can even take a breath.
“I love you.”
It’s silent. The floor creaks as you shift your weight onto your other leg. You lock eyes with him for the first time that night, and so many things are going through your head that you hope he’s able to pick up on how you’ve been physically aching, carrying the weight of his love for Lily for years.
James looks like he’s about to shake his head, and you beat him to it. You don’t want pity, and he knows that, but he mutters a consolation into the air.
“It’ll pass.”
No, it won’t. Not this.
You think he knows that too. He smiles sadly, watching you turn shrinking into yourself. You never were good at thinking before you spoke. A tear drips down your cheek as you look at your socks again. Your love for him is too big and too loud for your chest cavity to handle. This love feels like dramatic choral music clashing and banging around in your ribs.
“I’m—”
“Don’t apologize. This one’s on me,” you say, stopping him before he finishes speaking.
Without a doubt, James Potter loves you. But he’s not in love with you.
“What I was going to say...is that I’m going to have to ask you not to show up to the engagement party. It’ll be better for the both of us. We can start again from there if you want... Peanut...”
The term of endearment hangs in the air. Your dancing heart was a ticking time bomb after all. The fragments hit your insides, tearing you apart as it combusts, and you realize that nothing will be the same after this.
James stands abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He hesitates before he kisses your temple, and for some reason, this feels like a goodbye. After all, when James sets his mind on something, he sees it through. He’s been set on Lily for years.
You’re his best friend, he swears. And there are no words you can think of to deny that.
The End
“I don’t know what to say,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she replied. “I know what
we are— and I know what we’re not.”
Lang Leav
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messrmoonyy · 9 months ago
Text
-Sadie Adler as your gf hcs ( sfw/nsfw )
Sadie Adler x Fem!reader
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A/N- I am in fact posting these out of pure and utter spite because Sadie Adler can. And will. Kiss girls. Because this is what?! Fan fiction!And it brings me an insane amount of joy that the sheer idea alone of Sadie being queer angers people. Sadie Adler kisses girls pass it on!!!
These are mostlyyy epilogue and beyond based Sadie pls lemme be your lil housewife
Dedicated to @queer-sadie-adler for being the true voice of reason lately amidst the hell hole that has been the queer Sadie discussions. You’re awesome.
Masterlist - requests are open!
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• she’s incredibly protective of you. One wrong look your way and she’s ready to start shooting or swinging. Shes so a ‘ why don’t ya take a picture, it’ll last longer ‘ baby has some slight anger issues
• falls very much into the ‘ I hate everyone except you ‘ category. So stoney faced and ready to brawl with everyone, but soft gazes and tender touches with you.
• you hear her before you see her. She’ll ride back home to you after going after a bounty and proudly announce her return with a ‘ honey I’m home! ‘ as she rides up to your home.
• secretly adores the way you fuss over her before she goes out. She lost everything other than you in the space of like. A year. so it’s nice to be reminded how much you care about her. And that she has someone in the world to care about herself.
• she’s actually a pretty decent cook. And you can often expect her to try cook you something nice. Especially if she’s gotten onto your bad side some how, she knows a nice romantic meal will butter you up nice and quick
• I have this thought that she is just a nightmare to share a bed with. Girly tosses and turns and takes up too much damn space. But it just gives you the excuse to crawl up close to her and get comfy in the little space she leaves, falling asleep practically on top of her.
• and on the subject of sleeping. Has just the finest motherfuckin morning voice you’ve ever heard. Her raspy ‘ Mornin my darlin’ in your ear everyday makes you wanna melt into a puddle every damn time.
• loves sharing a bath with you. Especially if she’s been gone for a few days. She’ll make some excuse that it’s just to save on water. But in reality she just wants to relax and hold you close to her, feel your skin on hers to remind her she’s not just some angry bounty hunter. All tough and rough and fighting. She needs the gentle and the calm you provide her.
• hand holding. Forehead kisses. Sitting in her lap as you read on the porch. Just small, gentle acts of intimacy. The kind not discussed but well practiced between lovers.
• she can get in her head a little sometimes. She knows it’s not easy being in a relationship like that in 1907. And she knows that she doesn’t make it much easier on you with the works she does either.
• but she loves you wholeheartedly. And she knows that you love her just as equally. And as much as she feels she doesn’t deserve you, she’ll keep loving you until you don’t want her anymore which would never happen of course
•NSFW•
• she needs to be the one in control all of the time. This isn’t to say she doesn’t like receiving, or like having you on top of her. She just likes to be the one with her hands on the reins yk.
• in fact. She quite enjoys you on top of her or In her lap. But even so, know that she’s the one pulling the strings and she’s two steps ahead of you at all times
• she’s gentle and soft with you, but determined. Whether that’s knowing exactly where to touch you and abusing that same spot over and over again until you’re a shaking mess. Or telling you where and how to touch her.
• I said this in my last hcs but fingers in the mouthhhhh. Idc what anyone says. I see it so vividly. She loves it. Loves watching you suck her fingers to get them wet. Or clean them off.
• eats pussy like a god. Will have you seeing stars and thanking whatever Lord may exist for putting that woman right between your thighs. Sloppy and thorough and has you coming with her name on your tongue.
• thigh riding!!!!
• girly loves to manspread. Will sit there and pat her leg for you to perch on, but manoeuvre you to straddle her leg instead. And she loves how it makes you blush ‘ you’re a regular ol’ cowgirl now ain’t ya honey? ‘ as she leans back in her seat to watch you I’m literally going insane
• morning sex!! Waking up spooning with her, teasing her by wiggling your hips against her until she slips a hand over your hips and between your legs
• ‘ this what y’ wanted? Been dreamin of me honey? ‘
• will absolutely get up afterwards as casual as ever and ask what’s for breakfast. As if she hadn’t just had her fingers buried in your cunt.
• her aftercare is just so gentle. Especially if she’s been gone a while and has you coming for hours on end. She’ll praise you and hold you and help clean you up. Maybe drag you into the tub with her and sit behind you to wash your hair.
• and she enjoys the intimacy of dressing you so much more than undressing. Getting you comfy and cosy in clean night clothes before snuggling up with you in bed, letting you rest your head on her chest and tangling up your legs together.
407 notes · View notes
mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years ago
Text
Something New
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: SO many okay; sub Spencer, oral (m receiving), voyeurism & exhibitionism, fingering/masturbation, HEAVY breading kink, riding, choking, marking, they both got absolutely filthy mouths, a lil begging, cockwarming too- I think I got everything?? Mentions of alcohol as well
Genre: fluff & Smut
Summary: Meeting your boyfriend's friends leads to a few curious discoveries about him for both of you.
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***
Your boyfriend is many things. A genius, a profiler, a professor- sometimes, a man with so much to say about pretty much everything, the love of your life- the list goes on. You've been dating Spencer Reid for about a year now and you really can't say you have anything to complain about. He's attentive and funny and thoughtful and kind, and even when work takes him away for days he still manages to make you feel just as loved from afar. Tonight Spencer's invited you out to meet all of his coworker friends. You've heard tons of stories but Spencer has been hesitant to introduce you to them. Not for any bad reasons- he's simply being greedy with your time. Well he was anyway, it seems the team has finally worn him down and you're joining everyone for drinks at a bar.
When you walk into the place, Spencer finds his friends quickly and pulls you close to him as he leads you to the group. Before anything can even be said by you or Spencer the table erupts into noise upon seeing you. There are compliments and whoops and it's hard to pick out any one thing that's being said by the group.
"Settle down guys." Spencer rolls his eyes. "This is my girlfriend y/n."
"It's nice to meet everyone! Spence talks about y'all all the time." You say.
"Well don't just stand there, sit, we have a million questions." One of the women at the table pulls you over to sit next to her.
"Garcia." Spencer sighs.
"Now we mostly use each other's last names, side effect of the job but I'm Penelope, that's Aaron Hotchner- but we all call him Hotch pretty much exclusively, Derek Morgan, JJ, Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi." She quickly intros the entirety of the table as Spencer slides into to booth across from you, next to Derek.
"It's so good to finally put names to faces. Considering how much time you spend together I thought he'd have more pictures of you guys but-"
"Interesting you say that because his desk at work is full of pictures of you." Derek muses.
"Dude." Spencer nudges him and you chuckle a bit as pink crawls up his neck slightly.
"His wallet has a photo of you as well." David muses.
"Rossi please." Spencer says.
"I keep lots of pictures of him at work too actually." You smile.
"You do?!" Spencer blinks at you.
"Of course I do. I take pictures all the time. Why does that surprise you?" You muse.
"Wait a minute do you have any pictures Spence would not want us to see?" Emily smirks.
"I'm absolutely positive I do." You nod.
"Oh I have got to see this." JJ says.
"Yeah y/n you have to share-"
"Y/n don't you dare." Spencer's eyes widen cutting Derek off.
"Oh come on Spencer you can't expect us not to want to know." Emily says.
"You can want whatever you'd like but you're not gonna get it." Spencer says.
"They aren't?" You tilt your head.
"Y/n, please." Spencer's eyes are pleading in a way that almost makes you want to tease him more. You of course have no intention of embarrassing him in front of his coworkers but the adorable look on his face tugs at your sadistic side. You hold his gaze for a moment before turning to the rest of the group with a smirk.
"Sorry guys, there are some things I like to keep to myself." You muse and everyone lets out playful sounds of frustration that you laugh at while Spencer settles in his seat.
"It's fine we'll simply separate them and get her to confess that way." Penelope stage whispers to the rest of the table.
"So, y/n, Spencer tells us you're a professor?" Aaron who apparently everyone calls Hotch says. He hasn't spoken much so far but he and Rossi watched the earlier chaos affectionately.
"I am, yes. We met when he was guest lecturing at the university where I work actually."
"Really? What subject do you teach?" JJ asks.
"Architecture and sometimes English."
"Sometimes English?" Derek quirks an eyebrow up at you.
"I'm primarily an architecture professor but I have an English degree as well so I'll teach an English class or two. Not every semester though, it really depends. I mostly fill in when an English professor is out." You shrug.
"That's so interesting. So how did you two actually meet? He refuses to tell us the story." Penelope asks.
"Really? Why Spence?" You look at him.
"I mean I'm not hiding it exactly-" Spencer mutters.
"You'll tell us won't you y/n?" Penelope nudges you.
"Well sure- I dunno how interesting you'll find the story but I'll tell it. He was leaving a lecture he was giving and I was conducting an- in class activity that sort of spilled into the hall as he was trying to leave. He's quite the curious boy so he asked what we were up to and then he left." You shrug.
"How did you manage to get her to go on a date with you if you didn't even try to get her attention?" Derek scoffs.
"This is why I didn't tell you the story." Spencer rolls his eyes.
"He sat in on one of my lectures the next week, at the end of which he spouted about 10 minutes' worth of information about the architecture of the building we were in." You chuckle.
"And that worked on you?" JJ muses.
"I'll admit it was strange- but I thought he was cute. I told him if he had any more obscure details about the university we could discuss it over coffee."
"So you made the first move." Derek says.
"Of course I did." You say.
"Alright! Can we please talk about something else?" Spencer grumbles.
"Come on Spence we're meeting your girlfriend for the first time you can't expect us to not have questions." Emily smiles.
"Do they have to be about the logistics of how we ended up together though?" Spencer rolls his eyes. You can't help but laugh watching him pout at his coworkers.
"I don't mind talking about it baby." You say.
"Yeah she doesn't mind baby." Derek chuckles. Spencer looks at you with a huff.
"Spence why don't you get something to drink for me hm?" You ask him.
"Anything specific?" Spencer stands at your request.
"You can pick just make it good." You say pulling him down to kiss him before he can walk to the bar. "If you wanna ask me questions Derek I'll answer them but my baby is off limits." You wink letting Spencer go get drinks.
"Fine, fine. Changing the subject." Derek smiles at you. By the time Spencer returns with drinks, you're in a completely different conversation with the rest of the table. You spend a couple of hours getting to know Spencer's friends and you'd like to think things go well. It seems like they like you, and you can say for sure that you like them. Of course, as the night goes on, the team lets alcohol loosen their lips. You, not being a big drinker have been nursing the one drink you had Spencer get you and Spencer doesn't drink more than you let him so you two are the most sober at the table, except Aaron who seems to be very mindful of his drinks. Somehow the table has gotten into making up outlandish things about other patrons of the busy bar you're in. A guy sipping whiskey is going through a breakup, a girl on the dancefloor is definitely going home with the guy she's dancing with, someone in a leather jacket 'definitely ties people up'. It seems like a game of who can make up the wildest story about strangers and you just chuckle as they play.
"I bet that lady has a man she puts on a leash." Penelope says of a woman sitting with a group of friends. That one makes you glance at Spencer to see him shift awkwardly.
"No way babygirl. That woman does not seem like the type." Derek shakes his head.
"I dunno I think it's possible. But like wouldn't she have him out with her?" Emily hums.
"Not necessarily. Even a mistress is allowed to have time without her-" Spencer's foot nudges yours before you can finish your thought. You don't think it's on purpose though, he seems to just be tense regarding the conversation.
"You speaking from experience there?" Derek asks you.
"Sorry Derek, that is classified." You smirk.
"Wait a minute what do y'all be getting up to?!" Derek's gaze turns to Spencer.
"Nothing." Spencer's response is sharp and you have to work hard not to giggle.
"Leave him alone Derek we haven't- there's no tales to tell there." You say. You doubt Spencer wants his friends to know those details of your relationship. Especially considering you haven't really explored that aspect of your relationship much. You've had a few conversations about it but you really haven't gone beyond making out and such.
"You're so sweet on our boy genius." JJ coos.
"Of course I am." You shrug.
"Wait what do you mean there's no tales to tell?" Penelope asks.
"I'm more interested in your knowledge of mistressing?" Emily shakes her head.
"Curious to get into that yourself Emily?" You ask.
"Maybe."
"Do you have tips y/n?" JJ asks.
"How did we get here?" You laugh. Drunk conversations are so funny.
"Well now you have to answer the question." Penelope says.
"Talk to your partner? I dunno everyone's different. You should find out what things they are comfortable with before you do anything really. Leashes are usually safe enough for beginners but a lot of the more interesting 'tips' would be- for more advanced stuff." You muse.
"Spencer you have got one interesting girl on your hands." Derek smirks smacking him lightly on the back.
"Please stop asking my girlfriend sex questions holy fuck." Spencer rubs his temple with a sigh.
"Aw but she seems like she knows so much." Penelope says.
"Another time ladies, I'll answer all your questions." You say.
"You will?"
"Absolutely. But I think you guys should maybe start sorting out your rides home. It's- getting pretty late and you've all been drinking." You say when you catch JJ yawning.
"Yeah I'd agree it's time to wind down, especially since this place closes soon and I hate to be the last one out." David hums.
"Do you all have rides home? Are you getting a cab or calling someone? Because you can't drive." You shake your head at the girls specifically.
"I'm fine to drive everyone home." Aaron tells you. "Will you and Spencer be good?" He asks.
"Oh yeah, we've each only had one drink. Either of us can drive." You shrug standing up. Spencer follows your lead and after him, everyone slides out of their seats. A few rounds of goodbyes later, you're on the way home, Spencer driving and both of you enjoying the quiet compared to the last few hours in a rowdy bar. Back at your apartment Spencer lets out a sigh as you both take off your shoes.
"Sorry about them." He mutters.
"What are you talking about? Your friends are great. Do you think it went badly?" You ask.
"No. No, I'm sure they love you. Maybe more than me now. I just meant- they can be a bit unpredictable when they get drunk so, sorry about the weird questions."
"Oh that? Spencer honey there are way worse things a group of profilers could ask me than if I'm a dominatrix." You scoff. "I'm pretty chill when it comes to discussing sex." You shrug walking further into your apartment. You wanna get out of this dress.
"Really?" Spencer follows after you,
"Yeah. Although- I take it you are way less comfortable with that sort of stuff?" You ask.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well- you seemed really tense earlier when they were asking me about the mistress stuff. I just figured." You say.
"Oh- that was nothing." He mutters.
"That- didn't seem like nothing. But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You hum. There's a moment of quiet as you take off your jewelry.
"I don't think my imagination is that active." Spencer speaks again and you turn to look at him. "Not in like, a sad 'my creativity is dead' sort of way. I'm fairly creative. But having an eidetic memory just means my focus is on other things. You know, the information I've read or seen that I can use- usually for work. Of course, my imagination fairs pretty well too. I mean it works well enough that I can reconstruct crime scenes in my head and stuff so it does what I need it to do for work."
"Right." You nod with a frown. When Spencer doesn't continue after a minute you add, "I'm following you Spence but I have no idea where this is going." 
"You commented on me being tense earlier."
"Correct."
"It's because my imagination was entirely too active during that conversation." He mutters, almost like he doesn't want you to know.
"Are you- embarrassed because a sexual conversation made you think about your girlfriend sexually?" You try not to laugh because it's not that his embarrassment is funny to you it's just the circumstance of not wanting to admit he finds his partner hot.
"I had an erection at a table with all my friends because my girlfriend was talking about leashing people."
"Are you interested in wearing a leash Spence?" You smirk, leaning against your dresser.
"Don't- I'm not sure." He frowns.
"We can work our way up to it if you are baby. It's not like I'm planning to collar you tonight." You chuckle at his confused look.
"Do you like doing that?" He blinks at you.
"What? Putting collars on people? I mean only if they're into it." You shrug. Spencer takes a deep breath before he speaks again.
"This- is not helping." He says.
"Helping?" You look at him. His hands, which were balled up at his sides catch your attention when they instinctively cross in front of him.
"Wait a second-"
"Don't."
"Are you-"
"Y/n."
"You're still hard from earlier." You say.
"Of course I am. All I can think about is the image in my head of my girlfriend as a mistress." Spencer huffs out.
"Well, we can always replace that image in your head with the real thing." You offer.
"I- I don't- I've never had a mistress before. I don't know what to do." He frowns.
"We'll work our way up to more complex stuff. Tonight'll be simple, pick a safe word and let me do the thinking." You push off the dresser you'd been leaning against.
"A safe word? Uh- winter. Is that a good one?"
"As long as you can remember it, it's perfect baby." You pull him forward by his shirt to kiss him sweetly. Spencer melts against your lips, letting you guide him easily to sit on the bed. You straddle him as you deepen the kiss, your tongue slipping between his lips easily. Spencer seems content to let you have your way with him and you intend to take full advantage of that. Eventually, you pull away from him only to trail your lips to his neck. His mouth drops open with a soft moan as you cover his throat in red marks. You make quick work of the buttons on Spencer's shirt, kissing and marking your way across his chest as you strip him, enjoying the quiet whines he lets out.
"You look pretty covered in marks." You tell him, bringing your lips to his again with a hand at the back of his neck. You drag your nails down his abdomen until your fingers find his belt, undoing it and his pants before you stand up. Spencer's eyes are on you immediately with a confused look and a sound expressing his discontent. "Pants off baby." You tell him and he scrambles to tug them off quickly and settle himself back on the edge of the bed.
"Are you- do you plan to stay clothed?" He croaks uncertainly.
"For now, yes." You say kneeling in front of Spencer. His eyes widen as he watches you wrap your fingers around his erection. He hisses from the contact and gasps when you gently drag one finger along the length of him. Your tongue follows the path of your finger and his breath is coming out shaky by the time you fully put your lips around him. You slowly take as much of him into your mouth as you can fit relishing in the whimpers he fails to hold back. His hands grip the edge of the bed so tightly you think he may rip the sheets as you suck his dick greedily.
"Oh my- god." Spencer chokes out, body practically shaking from your ministrations. When his thighs start to tense you pull off of him entirely and he can't stop the frustrated whine that comes out.
"Sorry baby, but if you cum now you won't enjoy it as much when I ride you." You tell him as you stand up. You give Spencer a few moments to steady his harsh breathing before speaking again. "Undress me." You tell him, turning your back so he can unzip your dress. You hear him stand, feel one hand settle on your shoulder while the other tugs the zipper down, watch his hands slide the straps of your dress from your shoulders and once it hits the floor you step out of it and turn to face him. "Open your mouth." You tell him softly and when he does you slip two fingers between his lips that he immediately begins sucking on. You can feel the action in your abdomen and it takes a moment to get your next instruction out. "Panties off." You tell him. With your fingers still in his mouth his movements are a little awkward but he manages to get your panties off and only then do you pull your fingers out. You set yourself up on the bed pulling Spencer's attention, though he stays where he is. He follows directions very well you realize. Spencer watches intently as you take the fingers that were in his mouth and slide them between your folds. You make quite the show of touching yourself while he regards you, moaning and spreading your legs widely as you toy with your wet heat. You catch his hands open and close a number of times as your fingers disappear inside of you and you know he's dying to touch you.
"Y/n?" He forces out after several minutes of what must've been silent agony for him.
"Yes, Spencer?" You let your reply come out as whiny and breathy as you can muster, swimming in the pleasure you're bringing yourself.
"Am I- do you just want me to stand here?" He asks with a frown.
"What's the matter, baby? Not content just watching?" You ask somewhat tauntingly. "Did you want a taste?" You ask.
"Please." He breathes out. You pull your fingers from your center and hold them out to him. He comes to the edge of the bed, leaning down to take your fingers in his mouth. You allow him to lick the digits clean before you shove him down onto the bed on his back. He tries to sit up but you place a hand against his chest as you swing a leg over to straddle him.
"I'm going to ride you now, okay Spence?" You look down at him for any sign of hesitation but the look in his eyes gives no indication of it as he responds.
"Yes- please. Please ride me y/n." He says. You lift yourself enough to grab his dick and line it up with your entrance before sinking down onto him with a satisfied moan. You brace yourself with your hands on his chest and set a nice rhythm for yourself, bouncing on him relentlessly, spurred on by the endless string of sounds from his lips. A beautiful combination of whimpers and moans and expletives as he begs you not to stop.
"So, pretty. You look so pretty under me baby." You tell him placing fleeting kisses against his lips.
"God I love you. Fuck that feels amazing. Oh my- shit." You can practically see his brain malfunctioning as gets lost in the heat of your walls surrounding him. There's something so satisfying about reducing a genius who always has something to say to a collection of broken sentences and desperate moans.
"I love you too baby, love the feeling of you inside me. Letting me- letting me ride you like this, so good for me." You pant out.
"Y-Y/n I- oh fuck I'm close- I'm gonna cum. Wait you have to- please y/n s-slow down." Spencer's frantic attempt at warning you only makes you want to push him over more.
"I want you to cum Spencer." You tell him.
"W-what? L-like inside- inside you?"
"Yes baby. I want to feel you cum for me." You tell him. Spencer's eyes go unfocused for a moment as if processing your words, then his hands snap up to your waist, the first time he's touched you without being explicitly instructed to.
"You mean that?" He rasps, his hold on your hips tightening.
"Yes Spencer, I mean it." You say drawing your hand up his chest to wrap a hand around his throat. "So don't stop now baby." You add. Spencer lets out a pained groan and shifts his grip on you.
"You can't- can't say those things." He grunts as he sits up and thrusts his hips up into you. 
"Oh? And why's that Spence? Don't you want to cum inside me?" You mutter kissing and nipping at his collarbone as if there aren't enough marks on his skin.
"S-so fucking badly. Wanna fill you up til you're leaking. Wanna- fuck wanna get you pregnant- you'd make such a good mother to my children and god you'd look so good all swollen 'cuz of me." Spencer's barely aware of his own rambling at this point, but your ears prick at the turn his words have taken.
"What a dirty mouth you've got all of a sudden." You muse, your body thrumming from his words. "That's what you want Spence? Wanna fuck a baby into me? Go ahead puppy, breed me if you can." If he hadn't lost it before those words seem to snap something in him and his thrusts get sloppy, they're harder and faster but messy as he chases that end you've teased. "That's it baby- fuck me like you want to put a baby in there. Fill my pussy like a good puppy." Your breathing is ragged and your sentence is broken up by loud moans as Spencer puts all his strength into railing you, but you have no intentions of giving up control of the situation.
"G-god, please. Please. I'm so close." Spencer whines out. Your fingers slip between your bodies and a few tight circles against your clit have you tumbling over the edge.
"Cum for me Spence, lemme feel you fill me up baby." You breathe out the command as you ride the waves of your own orgasm and he's spilling into you moments later.
"Holy fucking hell." He eventually huffs out and you gently kiss his heated skin as you allow him a few minutes to come down from his release.
"How we feelin?" You whisper.
"Like lead and hydrogen at the same time." He mutters and you glance up in time to catch the confused frown on his face.
"You did very well with your responsibilities for tonight Spencer." You tell him.
"Is it- is it always so... intense?"
"Well that was- more intense than I expected it to be. Had no idea you'd have such a breeding kink." You chuckle a little.
"I- I'm sorry that was-"
"No need to apologize. I liked it." You shrug.
"You did?"
"Oh yeah- you're so nasty about it. It's sexy, even if you're not in charge." You say. When you shift to stand up, Spencer's arm wraps around you lazily.
"Don't." He mutters.
"We gotta get cleaned up baby."
"It can wait." He groans.
"If you insist." You smile gently. You didn't expect to go down this road with your boyfriend tonight. But you can't say you're disappointed with the outcome. You learned something new about your boy genius.
***
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justwinginglife · 4 months ago
Text
How Soshiro Hoshina Broke The Internet
Just a silly lil fic based off of a conversation I had with @ryescapades and @minasfwoopyponytail, thanks for indulging my goofy ideas! We love our precious baby Soshiro. Once again, mentions of mature content, but no explicit detail, we're here for a silly time not a sexy one.
“You’re 50 Shades of Stupid and this is your dumbest idea yet.” 
Hoshina grumbled and grumbled, but it didn’t stop Narumi from eagerly setting up the camera and chuckling to himself. “Hey, you lost the bet; this is your punishment, own up to it.”
If it had been just the two of them alone, he might’ve socked Narumi in the jaw. Might’ve declared the bet faulty and stomped off. Might’ve challenged him to another dare with double the stakes to distract Narumi and to avoid paying the price of his last lost challenge. 
But Okonogi was there as a witness, Captain Ashiro was there for moral support (she wanted to take pictures of this whole ordeal and claim it was for the good of the Defense Force), and you were there to make sure he didn’t storm off, with your big brown eyes that he fell victim to every time. 
If Hoshina even looked like he might bail, Narumi would call out to you, “Y/N! Looks like your man’s a big wimp. If you ever wanna know what a real man is like, my door’s always open,” and then Hoshina would stare him down, storms in his eyes, thunder in his throat, as he swore misfortune upon the Narumi line for the next 70 generations if he so much as breathed near you. And Narumi would laugh, knowing he had Hoshina right where he wanted him. 
It didn’t help that you were also curious to see this all play out, so whenever Hoshina would start to sulk, you’d dance your fingers through his hair and murmur against his ear, “But baby… I wanna see it too. Do you think, maybe, you could do it just for me? Please, ‘Shiro? I’ll love you eternally.”
So he begrudgingly put on the bunny ears. 
When Ashiro snapped a picture of him, Hoshina cursed her family name too. Then he threatened to tell Kafka every embarrassing story he knew about her until she put her phone away. But her hand hovered by her pocket as though she was just waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Narumi finally had everything set up the way he wanted it; all Hoshina had to do was dance. Apparently dancing was all the rage on TeekTook these days. 
Hoshina flipped Narumi off but when the music turned on, he danced as promised. And when Okonogi laughed so hard they had to redo the take, he made a mental note to curse her family line as well. 
Finally, the video came to its conclusion and his debt was paid. Hoshina collapsed on the ground, exhausted from the shame of it all. Narumi snickered, but you shooed him off, even bothering to kick the girls out of the room too. Then you knelt down on the floor in front of him and took his face in your hands. 
“See, all done, baby. That wasn’t so hard.” You murmured as you planted kisses over every square inch of his face. 
He accepted your kisses but he still pouted. “Easy for you to say. That was worse than going to battle.”
You nibbled on his ear and trailed kisses down his neck. “Aww, don’t say that, love. You looked so sexy dancing like that. I might be your number one fan.”
He yanked you closer to him. “Yeah? Keep saying things like that and I might just take you right here, in Narumi’s office.”
“It would serve him right, don’t you think? Besides, I think your number one fan deserves an autograph. Maybe you could write it out to me with your tongue? Hmm?” Your voice was dripping with innocence though your intentions were anything but. 
And when Narumi finally came back to his office to find the smell of sweat and sex stenching the air, to find his chair had been broken from exertion, to find his desk was sticky with slick, he cursed Hoshina and then cursed himself for not thinking up a more torturous punishment. 
Narumi’s displeasure continued when he awoke the next morning and discovered that Hoshina’s dancing video had gone viral, but not in the way that he’d wanted. Everyone was calling him the sexiest captain in the Defense Force. Narumi snapped his phone in half after reading all the comments in favor of Hoshina.
When you got your hands on this information, Hoshina should’ve run. You were far too devious not to use this to your advantage. But he fell victim to the curl of your lashes as they batted at him and the next thing he knew, you were setting up the camera for another video. 
“R-remind me why we’re doing this again?” He asked meekly as he watched you flit about, prepping the equipment. He could feel an impending sense of doom settling in, but you were so adorable that he found it impossible to resist you. He could only hope you’d go easy on him. 
“Baby, you can’t let your followers down.” You said matter-of-factly, still fiddling with the camera. “Think of this as boosting citizen morale.”
“Please, I don’t want to dance again,” He pleaded.
You took him in your arms and ran your hands up and down his back until he relaxed. “No more dancing, I promise. How about we just do a trend, okay?”
He sighed. “Do I have to?”
“I’ll let you try that position on me again, the one we almost broke Narumi’s desk with.”
He sat up straight. “Fine. Fine. Strap the mic to me. What are we doing?”
You handed him a script. “Just need you to say this and then we’re all done, easy peasy.”
He took the paper from you and peered at the words. His brows furrowed in confusion as he skimmed the page. “Okay, what does ‘very mindful, very demure’ mean and why am I saying it?”
Several videos later -he was unsure how you’d managed to coax multiple out of him when he’d only originally promised you one- his views had doubled and he’d acquired a fairly large fanbase, much to Narumi’s dismay. With every follower that he accumulated, you found yourself brewing more and more schemes. Just how much could you make him do? Just how much would he let you make him do?
It was too early to convince him to wear a maid outfit… but maybe if you convinced him to wear other things and his followers liked it, he’d eventually cave in. You’d always wanted to see him in a compression shirt and now that you’d been given this opportunity, you couldn’t waste it. You bought him one and presented it to him under the guise of wanting to use it in a “get ready with me” video.
When he first put on the shirt, you almost forgot about your goal of getting him into a maid uniform. In fact, you almost dropped the camera. But you got ahold of yourself, gripped the camera tight, and panned over every ripple of his muscles in slow motion. After views skyrocketed, you convinced him that he needed to do a “get ready with me” video every day.
Washing his face made the viewers go crazy, because he’d run his fingers through his hair to get it out of the way. Eating breakfast made the viewers go crazy, because he’d lick his lips. And of course, the viewers would go absolutely feral when he’d put on that damn compression shirt that by now all of them knew well. You knew how they felt. You were lucky you were hidden behind the camera so he couldn’t see just how much you were drooling, just how much you were enjoying yourself. How much you were enjoying him. 
And his damn intros killed you every time. It took all your willpower not to pounce on him because of how fucking adorable he was. 
“Hi guys. It’s me. Again. Don’t know how this is interesting to you all, but I’m back with another video, I guess?”
“Good morning, all. Turns out you really liked the last video. Not sure why, but I suppose here’s another.”
“Greetings. Um. I guess you’re getting ready with me… again?”
When he started to get weary of doing the same video over and over again, claiming that there was no way that people on the internet actually wanted to keep watching him do such mundane things everyday, you suggested doing a poll. Make his site more interactive. Ask the people what they want. 
The comment section blew up with requests for more compression shirts and his fans even sent him the money to buy a whole wardrobe full of them. So now he had compression shirts of every color and he was still unsure why. They were just shirts to him. 
But you convinced him to give the people what they wanted. You told him if anything, he could consider this as part of his job, because he was advertising the Defense Force. You could tell he only barely believed you when he reluctantly agreed to more videos. 
Eventually, he got camera shy and wanted you to be in videos with him. 
This worked out perfectly for you.
From the very first video you starred in with him, you had a maid uniform on. You thought the least you could do was get the idea in his head. He questioned it but you told him you were trying to draw the attention away from him so he could feel more comfortable on camera. He adored you for it. And he loved the way you looked - you knew because he would steal glances at you in between takes and sometimes even during takes- so he didn’t think too hard about it at the time.
Then you did more and more videos with him, all in the maid uniform, and when you’d worn out almost the entire catalog of TeekTok trends at your disposal, you finally proposed the idea of him wearing a maid uniform.
He turned bright red.
You almost kissed him for it.
“But w-why? No one wants to see that.” He squeaked out.
“Trust me, baby, the viewers will love it.”
The red traveled from his cheeks to his ears. “But w-why?” He repeated again.
“Because you’ll look so good, I promise.” You rubbed calming circles into his palm.
He bit his lip. “D-do I h-have to?”
You faked a pout. “I mean… you don’t have to. It’s just,” You sighed dramatically, “I’ve been wearing one this whole time to make you feel better about being on camera and now I’m getting a little shy… it would just make me so happy if you wore it with me.” You peered up at him with the same big, brown eyes that always ensnared him without fail. 
Then you got on your knees in front of him. 
He choked at the sight of you. 
You crawled in between his legs, nuzzling up against his thigh. “I just want to match you baby. I just want everyone to know we’re together and we love each other. Don’t you love me baby? Don’t you wanna match with me?”
He gulped. “I-I… I s-suppose if it would… if it would make you happy… I could maybe… do it. For you. Just the once.”
Your eyes lit up. “Really? You’ll do it? I love you so much baby, I’ll be right back!” And then you procured for him the maid outfit that had been patiently waiting for him in your closet. He didn’t even dare to question how you’d retrieved it so fast. You were so sweet and innocent, he could hardly accuse you of masterminding this entire situation even though that was exactly what you’d done. 
When he put on the uniform and you saw him standing there, cheeks tinged with pink, thumbs twiddling nervously, dress fluttering from the fan, you couldn’t hold back anymore. He was too adorable. You kissed him. 
And then you pinned a mic to him, turned the camera on, and made history.
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httpsdana · 4 months ago
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heyyy
i saw your last post and i have an idea, what about the reader having a bad past with birthdays and she didn't have birthdays since 12yo ( or anything anyway :))) ) then pablo will do to her a birthday surprise after he knew it...
20 Presents for 20th Birthday~Pablo Gavi
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
*Pictures are from Pinterest*
this was actually so cute to write I hope you enjoy <3
request from here
master list
players/drivers I write for
Birthdays were never y/n's favorite events. Especially not her own birthday. She hadn't celebrated her birthday since she was 12. Her parents always celebrated her birthday, until her father died, and her mother never spoke to her after that, never even telling her happy birthday.
So ever since she turned 12,she had lived with her aunt, who also made sure to not celebrate her niece's birthday.
After Pablo found out about her bad experience with birthdays, he wanted to make sure her 20th birthday is one to remember.
y/n woke up in the morning, remembering that she had turned 20. As usual, she didn't expect anyone to remember her birthday. She opened her phone, only for the messages to come flooding. She was surprised, but smiled at the thoughtfulness of Gavi's friends, who are her only friends
Pedri : happy birthday y/n! have an amazing day 💖
Fermin: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIL SIS. I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR DAY 🫶🏼🫶🏼
Lamine Yamal: happy birthday mom 🫶🏼
Alejandro Balde: happy birthday little one! enjoy your day to the max 🥳
Aurora💋: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL. I CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAIN ❤️😍 MOM AND DAD SAY HI 😁
She felt her eyes tearing up at the sweet messages from her friends. They already made her day better when she was in a gloomy mood at the thought of that day. That's when she came across the message that made her cry.
Pablito❤️: happy birthday to my sweet beautiful girlfriend. I'm gonna make sure you have the best day ever. I love you so so so much baby. now get ready to receive your 20 gifts for your 20th birthday ❤️❤️
She replied to all the messages, smiling gratefully at the friends she has gained because of her boyfriend. After that, she got up and entered the bathroom pf her bedroom. She was met with a sticky note on her mirror.
Your skin deserves as much love and care as you give to everyone around you. I hope this helps keep your glow as radiant as your smile.
She smiled, looking at the cute box that was on the bathroom counter. She opened it and saw all the skin care products that were there. All the expensive things she had put on her wishlist previously.
After doing her skin care routine, she changed out of her PJs and left to the kitchen.
A chocolate box was waiting for her on the kitchen counter. She smiled as she read the note on it.
Each piece in this box is as rich and delightful as the moments we share. I hope you enjoy every bite my love
She felt herself blushing at his sweetness, opening the box to see all the cute chocolate bites that were there. She ate a few pieces as she drank her coffee and wondered what Pablo had also planned out. She still couldn't believe he got her 20 gifts.
She walked to the living room to continue her tour around the house, and was met with a brand new stylish handbag on the coffee table. She admired the bag, then opened it to see it's inside, only to notice a designer perfume inside, a luxury fragrance she's been wanting. With also another note.
Just like this bag carries all your essentials, may this perfume add a touch of elegance to your every day. Enjoy both as a little reminder of how much you mean to me.
She shook her head with a smile, already feeling bad and how much all this must've costed him.
y/n thought that maybe the gifts in her apartment were over, only for her to receive a message from Pablo.
Pablito❤️: you've got a few more gifts at your apartment, before Pedri picks you up for your next destination
She smiled at the message replying with a thank you for everything he had gotten her and saying he didn't have to. She went to her closet to get ready. She didn't know what to wear, but when she opened the closet, she was met with the new barca jersey, the number 6 on the back and her name printed out on the top.
Wear this jersey with pride and remember that I'm always cheering you on, no matter where you go. Can't wait to see you in it.
She grinned happily, admiring the beautiful jersey in front on her. She was always a barca fan, so receiving a jersey that has her name and Pablo's number meant the world to her.
She paired the jersey up with some wide jeans. After getting ready, she received a message from Pedri saying that he's gonna be outside her door in a few minutes.
As she was putting on her choose, something on the small table, where they put their keys, caught her attention.
Her jaw dropped when she saw the polaroid camera there, also with a note.
Capture every special moment of this day with this camera and let each photo be a snapshot of our beautiful memories together.
She beamed at the sweet message, putting the camera in her bag and heading out. She saw Pedri in his car there, a smile on his face.
She got in the car next to him and he greeted her.
"hey you. happy birthday" he said sweetly, making her smile
"thank you Pedri. now where are we going?" she asked, putting on her seatbelt.
"we are going to the stadium now" he said, starting the car.
"oh and before we move, make sure to wear these sunglasses so the sun doesn't burn your eyes" Pedri gave her a small bag.
She opened it, seeing the beautiful sunglasses inside. She smiled and put them on, before Pedri started his drive.
The drive was silent, and when they arrived y/n was about to open the door, before Pedri stopped her.
He gave her a small paper, and when she looked at it she saw that it was a voucher, for her favorite spa.
"make sure to enjoy your day at the spa whenever you want. it's available for the next two weeks" he smile.
"thank you Pedri" she said genuinely making him smile
"it's not me who you should thank. plus it's your birthday. now go don't be late" he ushered her out of his car.
She got out of the car and made her way inside the stadium.
As she started her walk, one of the staff member came by her side. She gave her a big bouquet of roses, her favorite flowers, and told her to follow her.
She walked behind her, the bouquet still in her hand. At the beginning of the hallway, she was met by Lamine.
"y/n! happy birthday" he exclaimed, giving her a small hug.
"thank you son" she joked, making him laugh.
Suddenly, he pulled a small bag from behind him, giving it to y/n
"from gavi" he said. She smiled gratefully, handing him the bouquet so she can open it.
She saw a box in the bag, seemingly a jewelry box. She opened it, and was met with some of her all time favorite lyrics.
I want to wear his initial on a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me
She giggled silently, removing the paper, and seeing the gorgeous gold necklace, that had the letter P on it.
Lamine helped her put her necklace on, before handing her the bouquet. She continued her walk with the staff member.
Until she was then met by Fermin.
"here's the birthday girl. how has your day been?" he asked, giving her a hug.
"it's been amazing." she answered.
He also pulled a back from behind him, giving it to y/n. She opened the box inside, and saw a gorgeous bracelet. It had her initial on it, but when she looked at the back of it, she noticed the date of hers and Pablo's anniversary on the back.
"that's adorable" she mumbled, putting the gold bracelet on.
"you gotta go now. I'll see you tonight" Fermin waved at her, before leaving her and the staff
tonight? that's weird
They walked more down the hallway, and finally they reached the pitch. The staff told y/n to walk a bit and she'll know what to do next.
y/n walked alone on the pitch, until she saw a familiar figure standing there. When she noticed it was Pablo, she placed the bouquet on the grass and ran into his arms.
She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, while he lifted her of the ground by hugging her waist.
"I love you so much" she mumbled into his neck. He placed her down on the floor, holding her face in his hands
"did you like my gifts?" he asked softly, his voice holding adoration and love
"like them? I loved them Pablo. you shouldn't have done all that" she said, feeling guilty once again about the money he spent
He shook his head nonchalantly.
"don't be silly. that's the least I could do to make up all the birthdays of the past." he said, making her smile.
She leaned in and connected their lips into a passionate kiss, that they only pulled away from when they needed some air.
"come on you still have, how many gifts? nine?" he said, making her laugh
"20 gifts is a lot Gavi. you really shouldn't have" she said, making him sigh.
"just shut up. if it makes you better, I didn't pay for all of them yet" he said, making her confused.
"well I haven't payed for the restaurant we're having dinner at tomorrow. I haven't booked our trip to Greece yet. Also we haven't gotten our outfits for the Taylor Swift concert in Miami-" he was interrupted by her squeal
"we're gonna see Taylor Swift?!" she almost screamed making him laugh
"yes we are" he nodded, making her jump again into his arms
"I love you so so so much" she said quickly, while he kissed her temple
"I love you more, now come on we have to go shopping for your birthday party tonight" he said.
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stevie-petey · 1 year ago
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episode eight: the upside down
You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends? “Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused.  “Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!” “We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted. Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”
Summary: drinking game time ! take a shot every time jonathan tries ditching you or every time you almost die at the byers house, you find out that steve really is an athlete and tbh it's hot, but you know what's even hotter ? saving hawkins and reaching a tentative compromise with steve after he loans you $5 for snacks. after, jonathan makes a promise you really hope he can keep.
Rating: general, cursing and slight scary violence
Warnings: violence, use of fire and weapons, guns, use of fem!reader and use of y/n, slight mentions of blood and death
Words: 13.7k
Before you swing in: the final chapter ,,, my heart </3 please enjoy my child, i put so much into this chapter. action scenes scare me, they're hard and i'm weak, so i hope this lives up to everything you guys wanted n more ;) i cannot believe we're at the end (but i do have another chapter planned that's set in season 1, so shhhh). thank you so so so much for all your support. i never thought this silly lil fic would get that much attention, but i'm insanely flattered and grateful for each and every one of y'all. i'm so proud of what i've created and you guys are my beloveds ,,, anyways, enjoy !!!
-
You almost miss Jonathan and Nancy sneaking off. 
You had been explaining a comic book that had been in your bag to El when you noticed a shift in your periphery. Turning your head, you see Jonathan stand, offer Nancy his hand to help her up, and then walk towards the main doors together. 
What the fuck. 
“They wouldn’t dare…” You excuse yourself and run out the gym and into the hallway to follow them, absolutely furious. You’re so sick of their bullshit, of Jonathan’s bullshit and putting Nancy first. This isn’t even a petty jealousy thing, this is about the years of friendship between the two of you that has just suddenly disappeared within a damn week all due to circumstances completely out of your control. 
The slam of the main door is the only warning Jonathan gets before you’re yanking him by his coat and flinging him back, forcing him to look at you. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
You’ve never, ever yelled at him like this before. Not even earlier this week when he’d given you that bullshit apology after screaming at you for being in his room, for saying the two of you weren’t family. You didn’t yell at him for hiding Nancy’s pictures from you, for going off without you to find the monster. Despite everything, you’ve never been this cruel to him, even if he may have deserved it at times.
Jonathan’s wide eyes stare down at your hand that’s still clutched around his coat, frightened. “Bug, we were just–”
“Just what? Sneaking off without me?”
“It’s not like that, Y/N.” Nancy now steps in, her hands held up as if you’re some rabid dog she wants to calm down. “We just figured we’d help Joyce and Hopper.”
“‘We’? Are you fucking kidding me? You two talked about this, had an entire conversation, and still somehow came to the conclusion that ditching me was a great fucking idea?” You scoff, deeply hurt by the fact that the two of them had an entire conversation without thinking to include you in it. 
“Bug, can we talk about this one on one?” Jonathan asks, his voice lowered. You can see the genuine upset in his eyes and for a moment your grip on him lessens, but then you see Nancy behind him and your anger only returns. 
“No, we can discuss this right here.” 
He sighs and tries to grab the hand not clutching his coat, but you slap it away. “Bug–”
“You’ve lost that privilege.” 
“Bug–I mean, Y/N,” His voice falters. “Look, my mom and Hopper are out there right now trying to find Will while that monster is still out. Nance and I… We want to finish what we started.” 
“Without me?” You don’t mean for it to happen, but your voice catches at the end.
Jonathan’s gaze softens and this time he succeeds in grabbing your hand. You let go of him and allow him to pull you in, weak against him as always. “I’m doing this to protect them, to protect you, Y/N. I’m always trying to protect you. You know that, right?”
You used to think that you did, but now? You’re not so sure, and it terrifies you. 
Nancy has stepped away from the conversation, now kicking at rocks while you’re with Jonathan, and you can’t help but think about how wrong all of this feels. 
Throughout this entire week it’s felt like someone has given you a photo of Jonathan, smeared its lines and edges, removed his moles and his crooked smile and made it neater, altered so that if you squint you can see the boy you grew up with underneath it all… But it’s fuzzy, almost too unclear to really see. 
Now he’s standing in front of you, his smile once more crooked and cunning and his moles faded underneath the moonlight and for a second you can see him. There he is, clear and untouched and him in a way that’s never quite been yours.
“I know,” you tell him. “But how many more times do you expect me to forgive you for lying and ditching me? If you want to protect me, you need to talk to me.”
Jonathan winces. “I know, I know it sounds stupid and I know I’ve fucked up more than enough this week, I just get caught up in wanting to make sure you’re safe. It’d kill me if I let anything happen to you… I just, I can’t lose you, bug.”
“So pushing me away is your grand plan of keeping me?”
“I’ve always been an idiot.” He manages a smile, and you can’t help but laugh. 
“That’s true, but if you attempt to ditch me one more time I swear to god I’ll pour tar all over your car.”
The boy laughs and for a brief moment everything feels okay again, but it doesn’t last very long. “In our defense, we figured you’d be better off with the kids since you’re not really a fighter, ya know?” 
You drop his hand. “Excuse me?” 
Jonathan’s smile is gone. “What?”
“I’m not really a fighter? You’re kidding, right?”
“Hey, no I didn’t mean it like that–” Jonathan fumbles over his words, clearly taken aback by your sudden mood change. 
You step away from him. “How many times did I defend you against Lonnie? Better yet, remind me how we became friends in the first place. Wasn’t it because I threw milk at a bunch of idiots bullying you? Huh?”
“Y/N–”
“God, I can’t believe I almost let you get away with it again! I mean, do you even hear the bullshit that comes out of your mouth?” You deepen your voice, now doing a poor impersonation of him. “‘Hey, bug! You know I love you, right? Cool! Now, I’m gonna go do fuck all and ignore you and ditch you and then somehow turn it into me being a good guy because duh! I can never do any wrong!’”
“Please, just–”
“Did I get it right? It was a pretty good impersonation in my opinion. I mean, I am the one who has had to deal with this shit all fucking week. I think I'm an expert on this topic now.” 
Jonathan looks pained but you don’t fucking care anymore. You’ve reached your limit, you’re sick and tired of being treated like some delicate creature that’s incapable of taking care of itself. You literally slapped Tommy Hagan this afternoon in order to help Jonathan, yet here he is basically calling you weak. 
And yet Nancy is the fighter. She’s the one who gets to go along on the adventure while you’re sidelined because for some damn reason you’re always the second option. Never taking matters into your own hands, always the one left behind to clean up the mess and take care of those also discarded. 
You’re sick of it. 
You step closer to Jonathan again, so that you’re nose to nose, and whisper, “I’m tired of never being good enough.” 
And with that, you reach into his coat and snatch up his keys, a game you’ve always played with him but now has turned into a bitter taste in your mouth, and run back into the gym. Someone has to inform the kids of the plan, make sure they’ll be okay on their own. 
Dustin sees you approach and smiles, but when he notices the angry pace in your steps, he frowns. “Uh oh.”
“Yeah, uh oh.” 
“Jonathan again?”
You nod, still too angry to trust your words. “Yeah.” 
He notices the keys in your hand. “Where are you going?”
Mike and Lucas look over now, curious as to what’s happening. 
You sigh. “I’m going with Nancy and Jonathan to the Byers house, we’re going to kill the monster.” 
“Why the hell are you going?” Dustin exclaims while Mike shouts “sick!” and Lucas mumbles “great, alone again”. El remains quiet, still resting. 
You flick your brother’s hat. “I have to, Dustin.”
“For Jonathan?” He shakes his head. “I like him, but aren’t you mad at him right now?”
“Is it just me, or is she always mad at him these days?” Mike whispers over to Lucas, who simply shrugs. 
“Girls, man.” 
You ignore them and focus on Dustin. “It doesn’t matter. He needs my help, and no one in the party gets left behind. Remember?”
“Y/N–”
“I love you,” you kiss the top of his head. “I promise I’ll be safe, just be careful, okay? I’m putting you in charge, so don’t let me down. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll see you in a few hours tops!”
Dustin tries to argue some more, but you quickly run back outside before he can get another word in. You feel horrible leaving him behind, but you know this is the right decision. If you can kill the monster, there’s less of a chance of the kids or Joyce and Hopper getting hurt. Jonathan and Nancy may be fine on their own, but there’s always power in numbers and they’ll need all the help they can get. 
You just… you have to help. You know this is what you’re supposed to be doing, even if it pains you to do so. Dustin and the kids are smart; as long as they stay at the school, they’ll be fine. 
In theory, that is.
Nancy and Jonathan are waiting for you outside. You push past them and march towards Jonathan’s care; they awkwardly follow after you. You unlock it, throw yourself into the backseat, and promptly dig through your backpack to make sure you have everything. 
The two teens get in a few minutes after you. Not one word is spoken as Jonathan starts the car and the three of you drive off, leaving Hawkins Middle behind. 
– 
You thought the car ride with Nancy and Jonathan from the funeral home had been tense, but this one? Downright painful. 
Jonathan has a tight grip on the steering wheel and keeps trying to catch your eye through the rearview mirror but you avoid his gaze. You’ve spent the last five minutes arranging and rearranging your backpack to give you something to do while Nancy has tried three times to make conversation to make this car ride bearable. 
“El seems nice.” 
“You said four words to her, Nancy.” You retort, switching open your switchblade once more to watch the moonlight dance off of its blades. 
“Right.” 
Nancy shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat. You know she realizes she’s once again upset the balance in your relationship with Jonathan. It was only an hour ago that she tried getting you to admit your feelings for him before convincing the boy to up and leave you. Sure, Jonathan made his own decision in the end, but damn. She could’ve at least pretended to want you around. 
She notices your knives and tries to spark conversation again. “I love the color of the handle, it’s beautiful.” 
“Thanks,” you switch the blades closed and sit up in your seat. “Anyways, you geniuses have a plan or were you just counting on ditching me and winging it from there?”
“Y/N–”
“No, Nancy. I insist, let’s talk about a plan. We’re here to kill a monster, right?”
She closes her mouth and frowns, turning to Jonathan for help, but he’s no use. He’s busy tapping his fingers against the wheel and praying that the world will just swallow him up whole. Too bad for him you’re a stubborn pain in the ass and would simply pluck him back up so you can torture him some more. 
Nancy sighs. “Well, Jonathan and I were thinking we use the supplies we got earlier and lure the monster to his place, then we kill it.” 
“Awesome plan, guys!” You say, your voice dripping with sickly sweetness that leaves them both feeling even more uncomfortable. “But may I suggest some actual details or shall we just bank off of this wonderfully dull and vague plan?” 
“Sure, Y/N. Tell us what you had in mind.” Nancy rubs her face tiredly, knowing she deserves this. 
“Great! I’m assuming we’re luring the monster with blood?” They nod at you, so you continue. “Okay, so before we lure it I think we should completely booby-trap Jonathan’s house. Nail the bear trap down onto the floor, make sure the floor is cleared of anything that could trip us up. Then, once we’ve got the house secured, we knick ourselves to draw some blood and pray to whatever god is up there that we can kill the thing.” 
You pause for a moment, remembering how all the Christmas lights had been unscrewed by Joyce earlier. “The lights, we need to fix them. The monster communicates through the lights so if we have them, then we can track it.”
“That all sounds great, bug.” Jonathan finally speaks up, ass kissing. 
“Thanks, pal. Still don’t have the bug privilege back, but I’m sure you simply forgot.” 
He gulps, once more going back to being silent as he drives you and Nancy to his house. 
Nancy again tries to diffuse the tension. “How do we even kill the monster though? I mean, will my bullets be enough?”
“I have this idea, but it’s… well, it’s out there.” You bite your lip, now feeling your cocky demeanor slipping. “If we can safely set fire to it, I think that’s our best bet.”
“Fire?” Jonathan exclaims, but Nancy shushes him. 
“I think you’re right.” 
“Y/N, I know you’re mad at me but do we really have to set fire to my house–”
Now it’s your turn to shush Jonathan. “This isn’t about that. I wouldn’t burn your house down, I already told you I’d just pour tar on your car whenever I get the chance. For now, I really do think the best thing to do is burn the monster alive. In every horror movie and book, fire always gets the job done.” 
Despite herself, Nancy lets out a soft chuckle as Jonathan parks the car, now at his house. “She’s right, Jonathan. And who burns down houses these days? Tar really is the best form of revenge.” 
“I’m flattered, Wheeler. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be off my shitlist in no time.” You tell her, patting her on the shoulder before getting out of the car. You quickly open up the trunk and gather the monster hunting supplies while Jonathan and Nancy take their time getting out. 
You let yourself into the Byers home using your own key to the place. It’s been nestled in between the key to your house and the spare key to Jonathan’s car on your keychain for a few years now. 
The first thing you get started on are the lights. There’s hundreds of them to get through, but you drop your supplies and begin screwing them in one by one. Nancy and Jonathan come in soon after and silently begin to help. 
No conversation is made besides the necessary comments about the prep work. You’re all too focused on the possibility of what could happen next; the danger of the situation has finally set in. After the lights have all been fixed, you instruct Jonathan to begin nailing the bear trap down while you and Nancy discuss where to pour the gasoline. You both agree to make a path from the living room to Will’s room. 
As Nancy pours the gasoline, you follow behind her and pick up any flammables. You weren't lying to Jonathan earlier, you really don’t want to burn his house down. While the house is wrecked, it’s still a home despite everything that’s happened in it. You practically grew up within its walls, you’d do anything to keep it as protected as possible. 
When you’re done, you watch Nancy load her gun. A shiver runs down our spine; she looks at ease with it, which you figure should be reassuring, but the gravity of everything leaves you feeling on edge. You leave her alone and walk into the kitchen where Jonathan is, now hammering a ton of nails into his bat. 
You begin to sharpen your blades next to him, still finding that you only feel secure by his side. The rhythmic sound of his hammering calms you, in a sense. It serves as a distraction. You know you insisted on coming, you don’t regret it and you know you’re stronger than everyone seems to give you credit for, but you’re also terrified. This isn’t just some adventure in the woods; this could kill the ones you love dearly. 
Once you’re both done preparing your weapons, the two of you walk to Will’s room and rig up a simple snare. Jonathan grabs a yo-yo and you pull up a chair to set it on. The idea is that when the string gets pulled, it’ll alert you that the monster has sprung the bear trap. It’s not the most efficient warning system, but it’ll have to do. 
The last thing to do is set the bear trap, which takes all three of you to achieve. Jonathan and Nancy hold down the edges with their body weight and you very carefully set the trap with your hand. You shake a bit as you do so, but you force your nerves down. You remind yourself that Jonathan thinks you’re too weak, too cowardly, you have to prove him wrong. 
When the bear trap clicks into place, you let out a harsh exhale and sink against the wall, your heart still pounding. Jonathan and Nancy copy you and the three of you sit in silence. You’re still shaking a bit, and Jonathan is next to you just as tense, but for the first time since you’ve met him you can’t reach out to grab his hand to steady yourself. He’s too far, both literally and figuratively. Even with him next to you, you couldn’t be more far apart. 
In the back of your mind, you hope the kids are alright. Hopefully they’re having a better night than you currently are. 
“C’mon,” you say after a few minutes, getting up to walk over to the living room. “We’ve done all we can, now we just have to draw some blood and be the prettiest bait in Hawkins.”
– 
Nancy and Jonathan decide to cut the palm of their hands, but you respectfully would rather die than have a matching scar with them. The idea makes you so uncomfortable you visibly cringe when Jonathan tells you the idea. “Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ll find somewhere else to cut.” 
He looks hurt by what you’ve said but doesn’t voice it. Instead, the three of you stand in the living room in a triangle facing each other and he begins reciting the plan. “Remember…”
Nancy goes first. “Straight into Will’s room and–” 
“Don’t step on the trap.” You finish.
Jonathan nods. “And then?”
“Wait for the yo-yo to move.” The girl says. 
“Then…” Jonathan flicks the lighter on.
You whistle low. “Let there be light…” 
“Right. Light.” The boy nods again. “Alright, we ready?”
“Ready.”
“Scar time.” 
Jonathan and Nancy bring their hands up and place their knives flat against their palms. You roll up your sleeve and place your own knife against the upper part of your arm, just below your shoulder, and take a deep breath. 
“On three,” Jonathan says. He begins counting and you all can’t seem to stop shaking. He senses your unease and looks up at you and Nancy. “You guys don’t have to do this.”
Nancy glares at him, her own voice shaky. “Jonathan, stop talking.”
You nod. “Yeah, what she said.”
Jonathan tries to argue, but Nancy squeezes her eyes shut and yells, “Three!”
You close your own eyes and slice at your arm, the pain immediate. You gasp out, never having been good with pain, but you know you have to do this for Will. The blood trails down your arm, dripping from your elbow onto the ground, and you watch as blood from Jonathan’s and Nancy’s own cuts falls onto the ground too. 
Well, at least it’ll be an easy scar to hide compared to theirs. 
“Fuck, that stings.” You say to break the silence, and Nancy nods her head in agreement. 
“Not the most pleasant feeling.” 
Jonathan guides the two of you over to the couch and grabs the first aid kit that you had prepared on the coffee table. He sits in the middle, leaving room for both you and Nancy on each side of him, but you’re still pissed at him and opt to sit on the floor in front of the couch.
Nancy begins to patch up his wound, and it takes everything within you not to reach over and help him yourself. It feels unnatural to watch someone else taking care of him, but the space between you still feels too vast to cross. 
You patch up your own cut while the two of them talk quietly. You wind a bandage tight around your arm, ensuring you won’t bleed through, and Jonathan watches above you with guilt in his eyes. Nancy is trying to reassure him that everything will be okay, but as he watches you struggle to tie the bandage he wonders if he’s fucked up more than just your friendship.
“Bug, let me help with that.” He leans down and ties your bandage before you can stop him. 
You glare at him, still having not said anything to Jonathan besides what was needed for preparation. Nancy distracts herself by cleaning up around his cut and your stomach twists into knots. This is all so miserable. 
“Y/N, I know you’re upset with me and you can go whenever. I won’t blame you, you’ve done enough for me.” Jonathan says, trying to catch your eye. 
You turn away and inspect your bandage, still reeling over the fact that he tied it for you. “I’m here for Will, and only Will.”
“Y/N…” There’s a hurt in his voice that almost makes you turn around to throw your arms around his neck and whisper a million apologies to him. To tell him everything, that you love him and that you’d do anything for him and that’s why you’re so terrified of how you feel. You know you’d burn yourself up if it meant he’d be taken care of, if it meant he was safe and happy and far away from anything that could harm him. You know you’d use up everything within you to love him. 
Instead, you remain silent.
After getting no response from you, Jonathan clears his throat and begins to say something about how the lights will serve as an alarm for the monster, trying to pretend that everything is okay, but he’s cut off by a sudden pounding on the door.
You all jump and your fingers tighten around your switchblade, ready to open it. As your heart pounds you think of all the possible ways the plan could go wrong. When you’re on possibility number twelve, a voice calls through the door. 
“Jonathan?”
“Is that… Steve?” You say out loud, in complete disbelief. 
Steve continues to pound on the door. “Are you there, man? It’s… It’s Steve! Listen, I just wanna talk!”
You’re the first to react, standing up to run over to the door. You fling it open and step outside, making sure Steve won’t be able to see inside the house. When he sees you, he stumbles back a bit. “Henderson?”
His face is still bleeding from earlier and his hair is a mess, and yet there’s a softness to him that you haven’t seen before with him. “Steve, now isn’t really a good time.”
“Can I just talk to Jonathan real quick? I just… I want to apologize about what happened earlier, see if we can maybe–” His eyes land on your bandaged arm. You curse and roll down your sleeve, feeling like an idiot for forgetting to hide the wound before going outside. 
Steve reaches out to touch it, a hint of worry on his face and his voice is now full of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
You shiver at his touch, it’s gentle as he skims along the bandage and inspects it for any other problems. You pull away, now hiding the wound. “It’s nothing, but you should really go.”
“I want to help you, Y/N. Do you need me to get you anything?” His face is so full of worry for you that it makes you ache. Then a thought occurs to him. “Wait, where’s Byers? Why isn’t he here to help you?”
You’re about to make up a lie, but Nancy flings the door open. “Steve, listen to me.”
He looks between the two of you in complete shock. “Okay, what–”
“You need to leave.” Nancy orders.
Steve looks at you. “I’m not trying to start anything, okay?”
“I know, but–” You get cut off by Nancy.
“I don’t care about that. You need to leave.”
Steve begins to plead with the girl and you step away a bit, not wanting to intrude. You feel bad for him, he looks so beat down by what’s happened today and you suppose that you can’t really blame him. After spending maybe a total of ten hours with Nancy and Jonathan, you also have come close to losing your mind. 
If you were with Jonathan, if you truly had him, you’d react the same as Steve. Begging for the girl he loves to listen to him, to give him another chance with the promise of him changing. 
“I just want to make things right.” Steve says, impressing you with his vulnerability. He’s openly admitting to his mistakes and taking accountability mere hours after the situation has occurred, leaving you both in awe of him and also saddened for him. He loves Nancy more than anything, you can hear it in his voice. 
He deserves better. 
As you’re thinking this, you see his eyes flicker down towards Nancy’s bandaged hand and his brows furrow. “What happened to your hand? Is that blood?” His eyes now flicker over to you again. “Why are you both hurt?”
“We’re clumsy?” You say as Nancy yanks her hand away from Steve.
“It was an accident.” She agrees. 
Steve looks between the two of you, now sensing that something else is wrong. “What’s going on?” 
“Nothing!” Nancy insists, but something in Steve’s demeanor shifts. 
“Wait a second, did he do this to you? To Y/N?” His once soft voice is now filled with anger and you step in front of him. 
“Steve, it wasn’t Jonathan. You need to go, I promise I’ll explain everything later–” 
He grabs you by your side and gently moves you so that he can get past and shove through the door. Nancy yells at him to stop and tries to push him out, but she’s useless against his strength. When he manages to break in, he stumbles inside and scans over the house. 
“Shit!” You follow after him, your brain running a million miles a second trying to figure out how to explain everything to him. 
“What the fuck?” Steve mumbles, eyeing the bat with nails in it. “Y/N, what’s going on here?”
He’s looking to you for reassurance and you guess he assumes that the two of you are allies in this Jonathan and Nancy situation. You really wish you could explain, but Jonathan has grabbed him by the shoulders and is trying to push him outside. The two stumble around for a few seconds and you just helplessly watch. 
“Steve, there’s no time to explain, please just listen to Jonathan and get out of here!” You’re helping Jonathan now, trying to get Steve out the door and away from harm’s reach, but he’s still fighting back confused and lost as ever and you pity him. 
You hear a click and turn around, gasping when you see Nancy holding her gun up to Steve. “Woah, what the fuck Nancy?”
“What! What is going on?” Steve yells, now more panicked than anything else. 
While Jonathan has stepped away, you find yourself standing in front of Steve as if to somehow block the bullet. You can’t let him get hurt, he doesn’t have any part of this, he can still have a normal and happy life if he just leaves now. “Nancy, put the fucking gun down, this isn’t helping!”
Steve pleads with her as well and the two of you scream at the girl to just listen and not swing around loaded weapons, but Nancy remains firm in her stance. “You have five seconds to get out of here. I’m doing this for you.”
“Because holding a gun to his head is any better than telling him the truth?” You exclaim, entirely over the situation. 
As the four of you are arguing, the lights begin to flicker. Steve and Nancy don’t seem to notice, but you do. You look at Jonathan and say your first real words to him in hours. “Jonathan…”
He hears you and he runs over to your side, grabbing your hand as the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder. You feel your heartbeat race and you can feel him shaking beside you. He’s terrified, so are you, but his hand around yours manages to steady you. 
“Nancy!” Jonathan tries to get the girl’s attention, but she’s too busy counting down to hear him. 
He shouts at her again and the lights start to flicker more wildly and you draw your switchblade out, adrenaline coursing through you. It’s time. 
Jonathan yells once more and finally catches Nancy’s attention. “The lights!”
She whips her head around and curses, Jonathan, still tightly holding your hand, tugs you along so that you follow him as he secures his weapons and grabs the bat. “It’s here.”
“What’s here?” Steve is flailing around, utterly lost.
You all ignore him and now stand back to back in a triangle. Nancy holds up her gun, Jonathan wields his bat, and you flick your wrist to bring out your knives. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know!” 
The lights flicker rapidly and you feel overwhelmed. They were supposed to serve as a guide towards the monster, but there's no possible way to see which direction it’ll come from and for a fleeting moment you think you’ve made a huge mistake. 
Steve is still screaming, demanding answers, but you’re too busy scanning your surroundings to offer him some information. “Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going–”
The roof opens up, cutting Steve off, and you scream as the monster attempts to come down right above you. Jonathan shields you from the fallen debris and you cling onto him in utter fear. This isn’t real. This cannot be happening. 
Nancy begins to shoot at the thing while Jonathan guides you to safety. He brings you to the edge of the living room and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to really look at him for the first time all night. “Listen to me, stay here while I get Nancy.”
He kisses your forehead and then leaves, rushing over to Nancy to pull her away and guide her towards Will’s room. Steve stands next to you, frozen, and it forces you back to reality. The plan, you have to stick to the plan. 
You grab Steve’s hand and yank him so that he follows. The monster has dropped down now, a horrible creature on all fours that opens its gaping mouth to let out a horrible screech that you feel deep within your bones. This is what killed Barb. 
The four of you run to Will’s room and you only just barely have enough time to warn Steve about the bear trap. You look over your shoulder and shout, “Jump!” right as your ankle catches on its chains. 
You fall. Hard. 
Pain sears through your ankle and you try to get up, but any pressure on it sends flames through your entire body and you let out another scream. The monster catches up, looming over you, and you brace for your death. There’s no fucking way you’re getting out of this. 
You squeeze your eyes as the monster stalks close to you, its ugly mouth open and ready to kill you. Jonathan is screaming at you to get up, but Nancy is holding him back from helping. You’re relieved by this, knowing that someone has to be there for Will once this is all done. He’ll need his brother, and Nancy seems to understand this. You catch her eye and nod at her, sending a silent thank you. 
“Bug! No, let go of me! I have to help her, Nancy!” Jonathan’s voice becomes hoarse by how loud he screams, his voice breaking with fear and desperation. 
Then, right before the monster lunges at you, you feel a familiar pair of arms slide underneath your legs and pick you up. “What–”
Steve Harrington has swooped in to save you, picking you up as if you weigh nothing, ever the athlete, and swiftly jumps over the bear trap while screaming his head off. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”
You’re so delirious from the pain in your ankle and the adrenaline pumping through your veins that you can’t help but let a laugh escape you. No fucking way is any of this real. Steve Harrington is carrying you bridal style into Will’s bedroom with Jonathan and Nancy as witnesses. 
What a life. 
Once you’re both secured in the room, Steve sets you down gently right as Nancy yells at him to shut up. As soon as Steve lets go of you, Jonathan is at your side and pulls you into a crushing hug. 
“Bug.” He breathes out against your ear, relief heavy. 
“I’m okay.” You tell him, threading your fingers through his hair. He’s shaking harder than ever, and holding onto you as if he’s scared he’ll lose you again. “I’m okay, bee.” 
He pulls away and his hands are all over you, checking everywhere for any other injuries. “Did it hurt you, are you bleeding? There should be a first aid kit–”
You grab his hands and kiss his knuckles, which seems to calm him down a bit. “I’m fine, just twisted my ankle. If you help me up, I’m sure I’ll be able to stand again.” 
Jonathan quickly helps you to your feet and you lean against him for the extra support. While you put on a brave face for Jonathan, you’re terrified out of your fucking mind. You almost died. Jonathan is still holding your hand and he’s looking at you as if seeing you for the first time and you force yourself to look away. It’s the same look from the field days ago, when you thought he’d kiss you. 
You have to focus on what’s at stake.
How the hell are you guys supposed to kill this thing?
The monster screeches, breaking the moment between you and Jonathan, and he flicks his lighter on and forces you to stand behind him. Nancy holds up her gun and you bring your knives closer to your face, Steve standing weaponless behind you. 
You all wait, tense, for the monster. It stalks closer to the room, its awful growls alerting you of its proximity, but it doesn’t appear. 
“What’s it doing?” Nancy asks, frustrated. 
“I don’t know.” You respond, equally as frustrated and scared. 
Another few agonizing seconds pass, and you stare at the yo-yo and hope that it remains still. Then, the lights stop flickering and it becomes quiet. All you can hear is your blood roaring in your ears. 
Nancy looks around. “Do you hear anything?”
“No,” Jonathan shakes his head, inching closer to the door. 
“Wait!” You tug at your still interlocked hands. You pick up his bat that had been thrown on the ground and hand it to him. “Be careful. Please.”
He gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go, accepting the bat.
As Jonathan pokes his head out to see if the monster is outside, Steve bends his head down and whispers in your ear, “Romantic.”
“Shut. Up.” You hit him in the chest, fearfully watching your best friend to make sure he doesn't die. When he motions an all clear, Nancy follows him outside, then you, then Steve. 
The house is silent and your heart sinks when you see that the bear trap has been left untouched. You realize with a horrible gut wrench that the monster is smarter than the three of you had anticipated. 
So much for your plan, then.
“It’s smarter than we thought.” 
“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees with dismay. 
He stalks against the wall towards the living room and you all follow in a single file line. You do your best to stick close to the wall but you limp with every step. Your ankle is definitely out of commission for now. Great. 
All of you are on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It couldn’t have been that easy, there’s no possible way that the monster simply up and left. You enter the living room, which has gotten even more wrecked due the monster. The wallpaper has been torn off of some parts of the wall and you see papers scattered everywhere. 
“Shit…” you mumble, kicking at a shredded wallpaper strip. 
In the corner, Steve has started to hyperventilate and mumble to himself. “This is crazy, this is so crazy, this is fucking crazy.” 
You limp over to him and grab his shoulders, making him face you. “Steve, hey. It’s okay, I’m here.”
“Y/N, what the hell just happened?” 
“It’s… complicated. For now, can you trust me that everything will be okay?” 
“Of course I trust you, it’s just…” He nods, his eyes softening. You lessen your hold on him and give him a smile, he seems to be calming down. Then, he looks around the room and seemingly remembers where he is. “This is crazy!” 
Steve lunges for the phone on the wall and tries to call for help. 
You stumble after him, the pain in your ankle slowing you down. “Steve, wait–”
Nancy gets to him first, grabbing the phone out of his hand and throwing it across the room. He looks at her, shocked. “What are you doing? Are you insane?”
“It’s going to come back!” Nancy yells at him, and you wince at the way she treats him. You know Steve will only listen to her, but she could at least be nicer about the whole situation. The three of you have had some time to process everything happening, Steve was thrown into the deep end. 
“You could be a little nicer,” you mumble, and Nancy sends you a glare. You raise your hands up in surrender. “Sorry.” 
“Steve, you need to leave. Right now.”
He looks so overwhelmed and you give him a pitying look. He stares at you, reminiscent of the way he looked at you earlier in the alley, silently begging you to say something, anything, but again you can only shake your head at him. You won’t force him to stay, it wouldn’t be fair.
“Y/N, please…” He tries one more time to get you on his side, but you can’t. Frustrated by your lack of response, Steve groans. “Fuck it!” 
He runs out the door. 
You’ll admit that you’re a bit disappointed, but you also understand. Who in their right mind would stay? 
You and Nancy share a look before the lights begin to flicker again. Dread fills you. “Fuck…”
Jonathan is back by your side and he and Nancy again form a triangle with you, all your backs pressed together as you desperately try to locate the monster. You all stumble in a circle, searching for any sign of the thing, but there’s nothing. 
“Where is it?” Nancy gasps out.
“Just fucking show yourself!” You shout, just wanting this all to be over with. Your body is drained from living in a state of fear for so long. 
“Come on you son of a bitch!” Jonathan echoes your taunts. 
Suddenly the lights turn off and you’re left alone in complete darkness. Faintly you can hear the monster’s familiar growl approaching from behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, the air stands still. It’s back. Before you can react, it pounces on Jonathan. 
“Jonathan!” You scream alongside Nancy. Desperation takes over you and before you can even process what’s happening, you ignore the pain in your ankle and jump onto its back, stabbing repeatedly at it. 
Your blades only bounce off of its thick skin and the monster struggles to get you off. You hold on as tight as you can, shouting and kicking at it so that it can’t hurt him, but then it opens its mouth and for a horrifying moment you’re afraid that Jonathan will die.
“No!” You scream even louder than before and double down on your effort, stabbing and slashing as much as you possibly can to try and create some damage, but your arms are starting to ache and your ankle now feels like it’s on fire. 
“Nancy, its skin is too thick!” You sob out, nearing complete exhaustion. Then, just as you’re about to collapse from exhaustion, gunshots fill the room. 
Nancy begins to shoot at the monster and with the help of your blades, the two of you manage to pierce its skin, but even then the damage is minimal. It’s not enough, it won’t be enough. Tears stream down your face and the monster only gets closer to Jonathan, so you do the only thing you can think of: you crawl onto the top of its body and stab at its mouth. 
The monster lets out a blood curdling scream and flings you off of its back. You go flying across the room and land against the wall with a groan. All the air has been knocked out of you and your ribs are definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. Every part of you aches, but you manage to lift your head up and blearily process the monster now approaching Nancy as she continues to shoot at it, but it remains unphased. 
You crawl over to Jonathan, who is still laying on the ground. He’s motionless, and you fight everything within you not to break down and sob. You have to keep going, he has to be alive. As you reach Jonathan and frantically check for a pulse, the monster has now cornered Nancy and her gun seems to be out of bullets.
It’s over. You know it is. 
Right as you’ve accepted your fate, a screaming Steve Harrington wielding Jonathan’s bat once again manages to save the day. 
He hits the monster with the bat, effectively saving Nancy and you’re so impressed with his batting skills that you almost find him attractive with how easily he hits and dodges the monster. However, you file those thoughts away for later and finally manage to wake Jonathan up. He startles with a gasp and you check over his chest, scared he may have gotten pierced by the monster’s claws. 
“I’m fine, we need to help.”
You help each other up and you have to lean heavily against him due to your ankle. You bull riding the monster has only made the sprain worse; you’re too afraid to look down and see the damage that’s been done. 
As the two of you hobble over to Nancy, Jonathan looks at you. “Is Harrington really here right now?”
“Yes.”
“Lovely.”
Steve manages to lure the monster closer and closer to the bear trap and you watch him in awe. He’s quick footed and so sure of himself, the complete opposite of the boy from only ten minutes ago who had run out of the house screaming his head off. Now, Steve is swift with his hits and even twirls the bat in his hand to show off. The small act causes you to smile despite the horrible circumstances. 
By the time you and Jonathan are up and recovered, Steve has successfully led the monster straight into the trap. It clamps around the monster’s foot and it screeches, flailing around in the trap. Steve still has his bat held up, now frantically looking over to everyone else. “He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!”
“Jonathan, now!” Nancy screams, motioning over at him to use his lighter. 
Jonathan listens, using his free hand to flick the lighter on and then drops it onto the ground, right into the trail of gasoline. Immediately the monster goes up in flames, letting out horrible noises. You all shield your faces from the flames and Jonathan pulls you closer into him, still having yet to let go of you; you feel yourself sink into his side as you watch the monster wither away.
“Bug, I have to get the fire extinguisher, do you think you can stand on your own?” Jonathan asks you, his voice soft but urgent. 
You quickly nod and brace yourself for his departure. “Yeah, go.” 
He lets go of you as gently as possible before running to grab the extinguisher. When he has it, he orders everyone to get back and then smothers the flames. It takes a couple seconds, but eventually the fire gets put out, leaving behind an awful stench that makes everyone cough and gag. 
“Holy fuck,” you wheeze out, hunched over. “Burnt monster smells horrible.” 
“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve coughs out. 
Nancy covers her face with her jacket. “Where did it go?”
“It has to be dead.” Jonathan pants against the wall, looking like he’s three seconds away from passing out. “It has to be.”
“It fucking better be dead.” You mumble, hobbling closer to see what exactly was left behind. When you get closer and see the giant lump of melted skin all over the bear trap, you gag. “Oh god. Yeah, okay. It’s dead.”
Everyone sighs with relief. 
Then, you notice a Christmas light above you flicker on. Your heart stops, terrified that the monster has somehow survived, but then a second one turns on, then a third, until a path seems to be guiding you towards the living room. 
You all follow, cautious but curious, but these lights don’t feel threatening. There’s an energy to them, a comforting one that leaves you breathless. When you get to the living room, tears form in your eyes, now understanding what this all is. You look at Jonathan, who also seems to be thinking what you are. 
It’s Joyce, you know it is. 
“Mom,” he breathes out. 
You limp over to him and grab his hand. He turns to you, his eyes shining with an appreciation that he only ever has for you. He seems to be drinking you in, as if now realizing just how close the two of you came to dying tonight. You’re doing the same, thankful that he’s alive and standing next to you despite everything. There’s so much the two of you want to say, but as always the words aren’t needed. You understand each other perfectly, the balance between you centered once more. 
You put your head on Jonathan’s shoulder and he brings his hand to your hair to softly stroke it. The two of you stand like that for a second, breathing each other in and enjoying the tenderness after such a miserable day, before you slowly break apart and follow the lights going outside. 
The porch light flickers and Nancy stands next to you, watching it with uncertainty. “Where’s it going?”
“I don’t think it’s the monster.” Jonathan tells her. 
“It’s Will.” You don’t know how you know this, or what makes you feel so certain that you’re right, but somehow you know that you are. Somewhere deep within you, you feel the faint outline of hope flicker. 
A new silence surrounds the four of you at your words, and for once there’s hope between you all. Then, after a minute or so of silence, everyone begins to head back inside. Steve first, then Nancy, and finally Jonathan, leaving you alone with the crisp early winter air.
You take a deep breath, the cold air serving as a reminder that you’re alive. You let it fill your lungs until you can’t breathe in anymore, then you release the air through an exhale and feel your body settle into its exhaustion. This is the first time you’ve had a moment to yourself, so you let the exhaustion weigh upon you like a warm blanket. 
Will is safe, you can feel it. Despite everything, he’s safe and alive. Jonathan is too, still your best friend regardless of all the unspoken words between the two of you. Dustin is at the school with the kids, away from danger. Everything is okay, it’ll be okay. 
You let the moment wash over you, incredibly grateful to be lucky enough to have survived it all. Everyone you love and hold close to you is safe. You didn’t fuck up this time. God, you did it. 
Jonathan comes running out after a while, his face alight with joy and he crashes into you and picks you up to twirl you around. You laugh, loud and freely, and bury your face in his hair as he continues. “Bee, stop! Put me down, you dummy!” 
He does as he’s told, but doesn’t let go of you once your feet are on the ground. “My mom just called, they saved Will. He–he’s in the hospital, he’s okay.” 
You squeal and throw your arms around Jonathan again, squeezing him so hard that you’re afraid you'll hurt him, but he simply laughs and squeezes you just as tight. Tears come again, but this time they’re happy ones, and if it weren’t for your ankle you’d be jumping up and down right now. 
Jonathan’s laughter dies down and he cups your chin around his fingers so that you look up at him. “You did it.” 
“We did it, bug.” You softly push against him. You can’t take all the credit. 
His eyes are shining again, you haven’t seen him this happy in so long, you get lost in it. His face is lit up and his smile is back and you’re so in love with him that it claws against your throat and threatens to spill out in excess.
A beat of silence passes and Jonathan just soaks your presence in. You can’t quite read his face, but for once this doesn’t frighten you. You enjoy it, you relish in the fact that he’s still yours yet now forming into someone new and lovely and wonderful. 
“You never gave up.” He whispers at last, adoration in his voice. 
“Never.” 
“You never left me.” 
“Never.” You breathe out, the word so simple with such heavy weight behind it. 
The moment is so raw, so tender, and Jonathan is giving you that look again, the one that leaves you feeling like the sun itself has settled upon you and kissed your cheek. His eyes flick down to your lips and you smile, taunting him to lean in. He seems to understand, giving you his own teasing smile before leaning in. You lean in as well, every part of you buzzing, and right before your lips touch his, Steve bursts through the door.
“Jonathan, dude, do you have like, any food in the house?” He asks, completely oblivious to what he’s just interrupted. 
You and Jonathan break apart, laughing the tension away. He ducks his head down, clears his throat, and turns to Steve. “Sorry, man. Been a little busy this week for grocery shopping.”
Steve’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Oh shit, right. Sorry, okay. Uh… Well, I’ll be inside, I guess.” 
“We’ll be in shortly.” You tell Steve. You want to be frustrated by his timing, but something tells you that you’ll have all the time in the world to tell Jonathan how you feel. Now just isn’t the time. 
– 
The moment you arrive at the hospital, Jonathan sprints out of the car and straight towards the front desk to find out where Will is. You and Nancy follow behind, figuring you won’t be able to see Will for a while since you’re not blood related, so the two of you wish Jonathan goodbye and head towards the waiting room. 
Steve lags behind, obviously unsure where to go. Nancy immediately walks inside, but you notice his hesitation and nudge his shoulder. “I’m sure that the cut on your eyebrow needs to be looked out. Let’s go sit, okay?”
He sighs deeply. “Yeah, sure. Totally. Let’s go sit in a room full of people who probably hate me. No biggie.”
“Either come or don’t.” You shrug. “But the way I see it, you can start mending some metaphorical wounds while you wait in there.”
You don’t wait for Steve to figure out what to do, you know that Dustin is somewhere inside the waiting room and you’re buzzing to see him and the rest of the kids. You hobble inside, still very much in pain due to your injuries, but the moment you see your brother it all fades away. 
He runs into your arms and almost knocks you down with the force. Dustin clings onto you, mumbling over and over again how sorry he is. 
“Hey, wait a second,” you pull him away and crouch down, groaning a bit at the pain. “What are you sorry about? What happened?”
You look around the room and see everyone there. Nancy, Hopper, the kids, Steve, even Nancy’s parents, but there’s someone missing…
“El,” you breathe out. 
Dustin’s lip trembles and he begins to cry. You soothe him, grabbing his hand to bring him over to the seats and sit between him and Mike. Lucas is to the left of Dustin and you can’t help but notice how all the boys have dried tears in their eyes. 
When they’re ready, you have the kids explain what happened, and the more they tell you, the more guilty you feel. You should’ve been there for them, you left them all alone with that monster. You got Will back, and yet you’ve lost El as a result. It seems that no matter what you do, it’ll never quite be enough in the end. 
“It’s not your fault.” You tell Dustin, who still keeps apologizing. It was you who had left him in charge, you’re why El ended up vanquished by the monster. “You did everything you could. I shouldn’t have left you guys all alone, but I’m proud that you all took care of one another, okay?”
He sniffs and nods his head, but you know he doesn’t believe you. All the boys are somber; you know it’ll take time for them to recover. So, you do what you do best, you console them. You hold their hands and rub their backs and offer your spare comics in your bag. You do whatever you can to comfort them, to reassure them that they’re safe now and that no one will hurt them, but the light in their eyes has dimmed. 
They’ll never be the same again. 
And El… she had been so young, you don’t think you’ll ever not feel the heavy weight of guilt whenever you think of her. She had been so sweet and had trusted you. 
You should’ve been there, you wish you could’ve saved her.
Steve watches from his seat across from you. He listens in as you comfort the boys, taking care of them in such a natural way. He admires this softer side of you, one he hasn’t quite seen before. Sure, you’ve always been gentle and sincere, but watching you with the kids is something special in itself. You manage to get them to laugh, you offer them your shoulder to cry or sleep on, and you read aloud to them stories from your comics and Steve finds himself drawn towards your interactions with the kids. 
It’s sweet, something delicate and lovely, and Steve admires everything that you are. When he sees you awkwardly stand up and stumble over to the vending machines in the hall, Steve finds himself following after you. 
-
“Bitch!” You slam the palm of your hand against the vending machine in vain. The bag of chips hangs by the little spiral, taunting you. 
“That’s not a very nice word, Henderson.” 
You turn and see Steve, leaning against the wall with a fond expression. “You stalking me?”
“Nah, just wanted to watch you fight against a vending machine.”
“Ha,” you snort, turning back to the machine. “Unless you can help me get this last chip bag, you’re free to go sit back down.”
You mean it to be a joke, not expecting Steve to actually listen, but he’s at your side within a second. “Step back, let Steve handle her.” 
“What–”
Steve motions for you to move, so you reluctantly do as you’re told. Once you’re out of the way, Steve claps his hands, stretches out his neck, and then begins to aggressively shake the vending machine. 
“That is so not what you’re supposed to do–”
Suddenly the bag drops down from the hook and into the retrieval slot. Steve reaches inside, grabs the bag, and then dangles it in the air. “Tada!” 
You laugh and grab the bag from him. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was impressive.” 
“What can I say? I’m charming like that.” 
“Sure,” you smile at him, neither of you have moved yet. He’s still standing in front of you with that cocky smile on his face that’s slowly started to warm on you. You truly do understand why so many girls have fallen for him. If you ever saw Steve on the street, a stranger passing by, you’d fall a little bit in love with him yourself.
The thought startles you. “Well, uh…”
“Yes?” Steve raises his eyebrows at you, smiling. 
“Thank you for the chips. The kids haven’t eaten anything in hours, so…” You wave the three bags in your arms. “Gotta keep 'em fed.”
“Wait a second, there’s only three bags there. Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“I only had enough money for the boy’s chips.” You say, feeling suddenly sheepish. “It’s fine, though. I’ll just eat a few pieces from them and wait until we get home.”
Steve scoffs. “Yeah, no.”
You frown at him, confused as he rustles through his jean pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I don’t want your money–”
He doesn’t listen and simply puts the cash into the vending machine and punches in a few numbers. Slowly, one by one, multiple different bags of sweets and chips come falling down within the machine. Once the last one has dropped, Steve bends down and offers the huge stash to you. 
“A feast, on me.” He winks at you and you can’t help but blush. 
“T–thanks, I guess.” You now carefully balance the rest of the snacks in your arms, the mound almost blocking your view. You’re not sure how much Steve just paid, but with all these snacks you and the kids will surely be well fed. 
Steve shrugs, and if you weren’t so tired you’d think the blush on his face was a real one. “It’s the least I can do, all things considered.”
His words give you pause. You know he’s referencing earlier today, back in the alley where fists slammed against skin and he had dragged you away from your best friend, but the memory feels like years ago. So much has happened since then, Steve has saved your life since then. 
“Steve…” Your ankle is starting to sting again from standing for so long, so you adjust your footing and try to figure out what you want to say. “I never got to thank you back at Jonathan’s.”
“Thank me?” His face scrunches in confusion in a sickeningly cute way that it almost distracts you.
“Yes. You saved my life tonight, Steve. I won’t ever forget that.” 
“Oh…There’s no need to thank me. I mean, what are friends for?” Steve freezes and clears his throat. “I mean, shit. We aren’t friends, you keep saying that. Sorry. You know what I mean.”
You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends?
“Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused. 
“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!”
“We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted.
Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”
Steve starts moving around in what you can only guess is a happy dance. “Sweet! Does this mean I get a cool nickname, too?”
“A nickname?” A bag of chips threatens to fall from your arms, but Steve catches it before it can land on the ground and takes a few more snacks off of your hands. 
He readjusts the snacks he now has so that he can carry them easier. “Yeah, I mean. Byers has one, why can’t I?”
You don’t think you’ll ever stop feeling so thrown every time Steve mentions a small detail about you that he’s somehow come to notice. He has a habit of doing that, surprising you by how much he seems to pay attention to you. You thought that no one ever had before, but Steve continues to prove you wrong. 
“I’ll tell ya what,” you begin to walk back towards the waiting room, careful to step carefully to not drop anything or upset your ankle. “Let’s see how this ‘friends’ thing works out, then I’ll decide what nickname fits you best. Deal?”
Steve thinks for a moment and follows. “Hmm. I don’t know, I think I’ll need some type of precaution to make sure you give me a nickname in the end. I want one, Y/N. I’m so serious right now.”
You laugh at his pleading tone. “I can add you to my baking list. Whatever I bake, you’ll get a piece of it. Is that better?”
“God, yes!” Steve punches the air and cheers. 
You’re smiling so much that your face aches. You haven’t felt this light and carefree in so long, you’d almost forgotten what it’s like. The two of you don’t say anything else as you walk back to the waiting room, though Steve seems to slow down so that you don’t hurt your ankle keeping up, though you still let out a few winces and groans.
When you’ve arrived back at your seat, Steve sets down the snacks and runs off without another word. You’re confused by his sudden departure but don’t think much of it. Instead, you wake the boys up and show them your array of snacks, which wakes them up immediately. 
You’re mediating a fight between Mike and Lucas over who gets the bag of Chips Ahoy when a nurse interrupts. “Excuse me, ma’am. This young man over here told me I should come over and check out your ankle?”
The woman smiles and you look past her and see Steve sheepishly waving from his seat across from you. You’re stunned. Had he really gone out of his way to ensure your ankle gets treated?
You shake the thoughts out of your head and inform the woman all she needs to know. You tell her how you’d fallen and what type of pain you feel when you stand up. She inspects the ankle, her fingers cold but kind, and within a few minutes has diagnosed you with a sprained ankle. 
“All you can really do is stay off of it for a few weeks while it heals. I can go and get you some crutches, if you’d like?” She asks, rolling her gloves off and tucking them back into her pocket.
You nod. “If you wouldn’t mind, that’d be great.”
The nurse leaves with the promise of being back soon. In the meantime she instructs you to keep your ankle elevated, so you prop it against the coffee table and wait. You’re annoyed that you even have to have crutches, but then you think of Barb, of El. You’re luckier than you should be. 
– 
After an hour or so, Jonathan opens the door to the waiting room. He spots you and Mike talking softly with each other and whistles over to catch your attention. When Mike looks up, Jonathan nods at him and the boy scrambles out of his seat. 
“Guys! Guys! He’s up, Will is up!” Mike shakes awake Lucas and Dustin, who had been cuddling on the seats fast asleep. “Will’s up!”
Once they’re awake, they quickly follow after Mike and the three boys are gone in an instant, sprinting down the hall towards Will’s room. Clearly they’re eager to see their friend. 
You do your best to get up as fast as possible, but your new crutches serve more as a nuisance rather than an aid. As you struggle to get up, somehow knocking over the mountain of snacks, Steve rushes over. 
He grabs the crutches and offers you his hand. “Here, careful.”
“Thanks,” you awkwardly accept his hand and get up. Jonathan watches from the doorway, a curious look on his face. Nancy does the same from her seat, not saying a word as she watches Steve gently help you navigate the waiting room with your injury. 
Jonathan holds the door open for you and takes over once you’re out the door. He grabs the crutches from Steve and is now the one to hold your hand, balancing you. “I can take it from here, Harrington.”
“Right, yeah.” Steve scratches the back of his head and coughs. “I’ll just… yeah.” 
He heads back inside and you and Jonathan watch as he leaves. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jonathan turns to you. “Are you two friends now or something?”
“We almost died tonight, bee. I think it’s safe to call Steve a friend now.”
Jonathan bites his lip, though there’s a far off look in his eye that leaves you feeling like you’ve missed something in the conversation. “Guess that’s true. Anyways, let’s get you to Will.”
By the time you make it to the room, the boys have swarmed around Will and are telling him everything he’s missed this week. He’s listening eagerly as they’re telling him about El, but when he sees you enter the room, his eyes light up and he tries to sit up. 
“Y/N!” Will calls out, pure excitement in his voice. 
You practically fall over in your haste to get to him. The second you’re close enough, you collapse onto his bed and give him the tightest hug you possibly can without hurting him. He feels so small against you, smaller than he’s ever felt before, and his sunken eyes and pale skin make you want to cry. 
But he’s alive and here and in your arms once again, happy and wonderful and safe. 
“Little bee,” you try not to cry, but tears are thick in your voice. “I missed you.”
Will manages a weak smile and shrugs, trying to play off the gravity of the situation. “Took a little detour home.” 
You laugh and ruffle his hair. “At least you came home, that’s all that matters.”
“Ahem,” Mike obnoxiously clears his throat, effectively ending your moment with Will. “You’re hogging Will, move over.” 
You laugh again and move away, allowing the boys to resume their millions of updates. You maneuver your crutches and walk over to Jonathan, who is standing by the door. He’s looking at the boys and Will with a soft smile on his face and you join him, standing side by side as you watch your boys finally come together again. 
Then, you feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn around. Nancy is leaning against the doorway behind you; she looks frail and distraught. There’s a sadness in her eyes as she watches the kids. You know that watching the boys reunite with their friend must remind her of Barb. She never got her happy reunion. 
You feel awful for the girl, so when her bittersweet smile drops and she turns to leave the room, you nudge Jonathan to make him aware of the situation. He sees her fleeing and begins to follow after her, but he stops. 
“What are you waiting for? Go.” You tell him, knowing it’s for the best. 
He shifts his weight, uncertain. “Are you sure?”
You’re not sure how to decipher the hidden meanings underneath those three words, but you find that you’re exhausted trying to keep reading between the lines. The feelings you’ve kept buried bubble to the surface, but you remind yourself that he loves Nancy, despite your weird moments of almost with him. There’s something there between you and Jonathan, you both can feel it, but it feels too raw and fragile to bring into the light. 
Without having to ask, you know that Jonathan will choose her. 
It breaks your heart, but you look over at Dustin and Will, who are laughing about some joke while Joyce gazes at them fondly, and you know that you can’t lose this. Maybe Jonathan knows this, too. The small family you��ve built together, it’s too precious to ruin. 
Joyce and your boys, you can’t lose them. They’re yours, and Jonathan is yours in a way that you can’t quite keep to yourself forever, but for now it’s enough. You approach Joyce, grab her hand and give her a tired smile, and the smile she returns to you reminds you that this is more than enough for you. 
You turn to Jonathan, pushing down your feelings once more in favor of appreciating the fact that Will is looking at you again, alive. “Go, bee.” 
Jonathan gives you one last look. You study his face for a moment, watching as it shifts from confusion, to hurt, then finally into acceptance. You’ll never be sure of what exactly he’d been thinking in that moment, but it seemed to have been enough for him, too.
He smiles, lets out a deep breath, and then leaves.
The door closes softly behind him. 
– 
A month later you find yourself in the passenger seat of Jonathan's car, tired from your shift at Bookstrordinary but excited to pick up your brothers. Somehow, even after missing three consecutive shifts last month, Mrs. Waters refused to fire you. 
But Jonathan? He hadn’t been so lucky. His boss fired him from the Hawk, but he hadn’t been too upset. He still drives you to and from work, so you suppose things could be worse. 
It’s late, but the two of you take your time driving to the Wheeler’s. Nothing much has changed between you two following Will’s reappearance. Sure, maybe you’re at his house more just to make sure Will is adapting well, but besides that everything seemed to go back to normal. 
Well, almost normal. 
Steve appeared at your job a few days after your conversation in the hospital. He had surprised you when you walked in, and when you asked what he was doing in a bookstore, Steve simply shrugged and said, “You can’t figure out my nickname if we don’t hang out, right? So, I’m here.”
He had become a regular at the store, stopping by whenever he could, and slowly the two of you became good friends. You’ve come to enjoy Steve’s presence, something that you never thought would ever happen. But he keeps you company as you work, he wanders around and explores the comics and books you recommend to him, and it’s nice having someone to goof off with. 
Plus, you did promise to add him to your baking list, so he’s also become your taste tester who happily eats any creation you bring in for him.
As for Nancy…
That was more of a sore subject for Jonathan. 
There was a few weeks following Will’s reappearance that you thought Jonathan and Nancy would get together, but it never happened. You’re not quite sure why, maybe it had something to do with Jonathan’s hesitation of approaching her, but it had crushed him when you and he saw Nancy and Steve making out in the hall as if nothing bad had ever happened. 
The way Jonathan’s face crumbled when he saw the couple only solidified that he’d never be yours, but you comforted him anyways. You told him he deserved better and then dragged him away. It’d taken him a few days, but eventually Jonathan was able to fake a smile again. 
You haven’t spoken about it since that day, but you leave your window open most nights for him to crawl in. The nightmares from that night fighting the monster plague you both, and the loneliness feels a little heavier than usual, but at least you have each other. 
“Jonathan! Y/N! Come in, the boys are downstairs.” Mrs. Wheeler answers the door, letting the two of you in. “And Y/N, I love that sweater on you.”
You thank the woman. “It was a gift from my mom. She claims I need to up my wardrobe, whatever that means.”
“Well, I think she has lovely taste.” 
“I’ll let you know you think so!” You open the basement door and motion for Jonathan to go down first. 
When he reaches the bottom of the steps, Jonathan makes a face. “Woah, what’s that smell? Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?”
“My vote is farting.” You say, hopping down the last step. Your ankle has mostly healed by now, but sometimes if you land on it wrong it makes a weird clicking noise followed by some pain, but you choose to pretend that it’s normal. 
The boys laugh and Lucas points at your brother. “Oh, that’s just Dustin. He farted.”
He begins making fart noises with his mouth and you and Dustin share a look. “Very mature, Lucas.”
The boy continues to sing and make fart noises and you can’t believe that this is your life. You’re standing in a smelly basement while picking up your stubborn brother all while simultaneously enjoying the fact that you get to call this your life. 
Jonathan calls over to Will to grab his things, so you follow suit and gently berate Lucas. “Alright, that’s enough. I gotta get Dustin home.”
“What, I thought I got to stay–”
“Jonathan is our ride and I made cookies, so let’s go.”
The moment the word “cookies” leaves your mouth, Dustin hops up and collects his things without any further argument. 
Once he’s ready, he and Lucas play wrestle as they say goodbye. While they’re distracted, you walk over to Mike and discreetly hand him a container full of double fudge brownies. You’d specifically made them for him, knowing they were his favorite, because you noticed how hard it’s been for him to adjust to El being gone. He really cared about her, anyone could see that. 
Mike’s eyes widen and he throws his arms around you. “Thanks, Y/N.”
You pat his back. “Anytime, Wheeler.”
Dustin breaks away from Lucas and runs up the stairs, so you take that as your cue to leave. 
Upstairs, Jonathan and Will are talking to Mrs. Wheeler. When they see you enter, the woman turns to you and asks if you’ll be bringing over your usual round of holiday treats. “Of course, I’ll get started on them tomorrow. You guys still like the sugar cookies?”
“If you make them, I think I’ll die of happiness.” Mrs. Wheeler informs you, and you laugh and tell her that you’ll have them ready as soon as possible. 
You bid her goodbye, Dustin now by your side, and you follow Jonathan and Will to the front door. Right before you open the door, Nancy calls Jonathan’s name from the top of the stairs. 
“Hey, Jonathan, wait up!” 
You, Dustin, and Will stand awkwardly in the back while Nancy hands Jonathan a wrapped gift and wishes him a merry Christmas. They share an awkward exchange since Jonathan hadn’t gotten her anything, but Nancy assures him that it’s fine. The interaction is painful to watch as Nancy doesn’t spare you a single glance. Dustin and Will look at you uncertainly when she kisses Jonathan’s cheek, but you ignore them and pretend to be interested in a Christmas decoration on the table.
This will never get any easier. 
“You ready?” Jonathan turns back to you guys, a blush on his face, and all you can do is silently nod. 
In the car you sit in the back with Dustin, who squeezes your arm in reassurance. He’s come to understand your complex feelings for Jonathan and has pieced together Nancy’s involvement. While he’s never outright consoled you, he’s shown his support in other small and wonderful ways. 
“Thanks,” you whisper, and Dustin smiles. 
“We all buckled up?” Jonathan asks as he starts up the car. 
“Yes, captain.” You mock salute. 
Will giggles at you before he sees the gift and looks up at Jonathan. “Can I open it?”
“Yeah, sure.” 
You and Dustin lean forward so you can see what’s in the box. When Will unwraps a beautiful, and no doubt expensive, camera, you gasp. The bitterness and hurt from moments ago vanishes. This gift is from Steve, you know it is, and something warm settles deep within your bones. 
You think about last month, how you’d told him not everyone can just afford a camera. 
Seems like Steve listened. 
Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. 
– 
A week later you knock on the Byers’ door, a giant container of your annual holiday cookies in your arms. 
“Bug!” Jonathan answers the door with an excited smile on his face. His new camera is in his hands and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already taken a photo of you with your crooked earmuffs and oversized box of cookies.
He’s been using the camera ever since he got it. There’s now multiple pictures of you, always unaware or caught off guard, now hanging in the kitchen. It makes you blush to think about. 
“You didn’t even give me a chance to smile.” You complain, shoving your way inside. It’s snowing and you’re freezing. 
Joyce grabs the container to help you as soon as she sees you. “Here, honey. I’ve got it.”
You thank her and walk over to Will, who is drawing at the kitchen table. “Hey little bee. Whatcha drawing?”
“Hi, Y/N.” He slides over his picture and you’re shown a quick sketch of you and the party, this time fighting what appears to be a misshapen dog. “It’s a Dire Wolf, we’re fighting it in our latest campaign.”
“Ah, I see. Looks fluffy, though. Can’t possibly be a dangerous creature.”
Will rolls his eyes at you. “This is why you don’t play with us.”
“Careful, you’re sassing the girl who has just bravely ridden her bike through the snow to deliver her famous Christmas cookies.”
Will is out of his seat in an instant, running over to his mom, who has just placed the container on the counter. “Did you make the oatmeal raisin cookies?”
“Duh,” you snort. 
“And the chocolate chip?”
“I sure did.” You stand next to him and point at a new cookie you’re trying out this year. “This batch is a caramel banana one. Steve seemed to like it and I think it’s pretty good, so I hope you do too.”
Jonathan swoops over and kisses your head. “Of course we’ll like it, bug.”
“He’s right, you know. We always love whatever you make us, honey.” Joyce informs you, her mouth now full of cookies. 
“I’d hope so, this is like my fifth year making these for you guys. It’d be awkward if you hated my baking.” You say, now securing your earmuffs back on your head. “Anyways, I should get going. It’s Christmas, my mom won’t want me out too long.” 
Joyce looks out the window and frowns. “Did you really bike here in this weather?”
“It wasn’t too bad, I’ll be fine–”
“No. Jonathan, grab your keys and drive Y/N home.” She stares you down, daring you to argue with her, but you don’t. You know better than to argue with Joyce Byers. 
Once Jonathan has his keys, you say goodbye to everyone and wish them a merry Christmas. Jonathan throws your bike in his trunk and soon you’re off on the road. The drive is quiet but cozy. The snowflakes fall in a pretty spiral and there’s a soft song playing on the radio. 
Sometimes, if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the events from last month never happened. Will never disappeared. You never discovered that you love Jonathan. Nancy Wheeler never became friends with Jonathan, possibly something more had there been more time. When you close your eyes and sit still, you can imagine that your brother never has nightmares that wake him up screaming. That your heart doesn’t hurt when you make your best friend laugh. 
For a moment, you can forget. 
“Can we always stay like this?” You ask Jonathan softly, almost as if you’ll disturb the peace that winter has brought with its quiet snow. 
“Like what?”
You’re not sure how to express what you’re feeling. “This, us. Together.”
“Of course we’ll always stay like this.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. He says this like it’s a fact, the most obvious thing in the world. 
“Pinky promise me.” You hold your pinky up. You know it’s silly, but you need him to hear you, to understand what you’re saying.
Jonathan looks over at you. “Y/N–”
“Please, promise me, bee.”
He’s silent for a moment, seeming to understand the weight of everything between, around, and within the two of you. Then, he extends his pinky finger and wraps it around yours. “I promise, bug.” 
And you believe him.
[END OF SEASON ONE]
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sturniolo-simp4life · 9 months ago
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Call Me Back- Chris Sturniolo 
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Paring- Chris Sturniolo and Y/n 
Description- Chris has been ignoring you for a while, upsetting you, until one night he shows up at your apartment. 
Warnings- angst, crying. Remember everything is fictional! Nothing here applies to real life.
NOT PROOF READ!
You had really been upset this past week. Chris had been distant this week. At first, you thought he was busy with filming and that he needed space. 
But it had gotten more complicated. 
He stopped answering your calls and texts. You could see his likes on other girls' social media.
Another thing- you didn’t care about whose posts he liked, whether they were girls or not.
It was that he was liking pictures of half-naked girls was what got to you. 
You could feel your heart swell when you got a notification. 
Chris.sturniolo made a post 
You clicked on the notification. A picture popped up. It looked like Chris was at a party. He had that big bright smile the one he would always show around you.
What really caught your attention though, was that his arm was clinging onto another girl's waist. 
The girl was leaning her head on his shoulder, and her arm was on his other shoulder. 
You felt your heart crack. Had he found another girl? Is that why he had been ignoring you? 
The girl did look perfect for him though. Golden brown hair. Crisp, green eyes. Big, perfect pink lips. You felt your heart crack even more. It looked like a match made in heaven. 
You hadn’t even realized tears welled up in your eyes until they started streaming down your cheeks. You choked a sob, as you sank into your pillow. 
You didn’t like your emotions getting the best of you but when they did, it was too late. 
What if you were just overreacting? What if she was just a close friend? 
But you saw how both their eyes showed happiness. Connection. Love. 
You cried yourself to sleep that night. 
___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___ 
Two more days passed. Two more notifications, each day. Each post with the same girl. The same bright eyes.
The same smile. The same pang of pain in your heart. You had tried calling him too, but he would just ignore your calls, or not answer. 
You decided that you did want to live a sob story, so you went to the grocery store, hoping to at least be productive and get some tasks done. 
You found yourself driving to target, hoping to buy some things. For one: food. It was always your comfort. 
You also needed to buy your daily necessities, like toilet paper and soaps. 
And you defiantly bought snacks and candy. 
You thought things were going well. You thought you could avoid any possible thought of Chris at all today.
You were literally finished checking out your items. 
But no. The world must really hate you. 
The way your heart shattered when you heard that laugh. As you saw those brown locks of hair.  
Chris. 
And you heard the female laughter following. That golden brown hair. Those deep, crisp, green eyes. That girl. 
You couldn’t bring yourself to move. At all. Who is she? Why do I feel like this? You couldn’t bring yourself to speak.
And the next thing you knew, they were right in front of you. “Oh hey y/n!” You heard Chris’s voice. You couldn’t utter a word. 
You couldn’t hear, you couldn’t feel you couldn’t speak. Are you alright? He asked. Are you okay?
I can’t do this. You finally snapped back to reality, and you ran. You ran right out of that store. You couldn’t turn back.  
He had ignored you for almost a week and a half. Hadn’t picked up any of your calls. And now suddenly acting like he cares? You couldn’t do this. 
You cried as soon as you got home. 
___---___---___---___---___---___---___  What time is it? Was your first thought as you woke up. You rubbed your eyes. Sighed. You needed to relax.  
You grabbed your phone, a blanket, and snacks from your kitchen, and made your way to the living room. 
10 things I hate about you. Thats what you decided to put. 
You wrapped the blanket around yourself, its warmth covering you, protecting you, keeping you safe. Why can’t they be Chris’s arms. 
You were about halfway into the movie and on your third bowl of popcorn when you heard a knock on the door. You sighed, not wanting to get up. 
The knocks wouldn’t stop, so you forced yourself to answer it. 
“What are you doing here,” you asked. Where’s your new girl? You wanted to ask. Why haven’t you broken up with me? 
“I wanted to see if you were alright.” he said.  
“You wanted to see if I was okay?” you could feel your voice rising.
“Oh Chris I’ve been great. I’ve just been ignored for a whole week by my boyfriend, not to mention that he’s been hasn’t been answering my texts of calls, and hanging out with some girl I don’t even know?” 
You were crying at this point. “So yeah Chris. I’ve been doing great.” He was silent for a moment, his eyes showing pure heartbreak. 
You couldn’t. You completely broke down. Sobbing. 
Chris knew you didn’t like crying. That’s why he was so shocked. It broke his heart that he made you feel this way. 
He pulled you into a hug, murmuring soft, reassuring words into your ear. “Shhh, you're alright pretty girl. Don’t cry. Please.” his voice cracked on the last word. 
Once you had calmed down a bit, both of you took a seat on the couch. 
“10 things I hate about you,” he said. “That’s always been your comfort movie.” You nodded your head. 
A few moments passed. “Look y/n, I owe an apology. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out in what feels like forever.” he sighed. “What about that girl?” you asked. 
That’s what was bothering you the most. 
“Yeah um, she's the reason. Ally. She was one of my best friends in middle school, and she surprised me by showing up out of nowhere. She moved away right before high school- before we even met. I was just happy to see her when she came. She has a boyfriend, you know.” 
“Oh,” was all you could manage with a voice crack. “I-I’m so sorry.” Guilty guilty I feel so guilty.
I felt a tear slip down my cheek, many more following. For the second time, Chris pulled me into a hug, kissing my hair and rubbing my back. “It’s not your fault pretty girl. Don’t cry. I promise you.”  
His touch leaves a trail of butterflies on my skin. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, my sweet girl. I promise you that won’t happen again.” 
You sniffled as you hugged him burying your face into the crook of his neck. He suddenly picked you up bridal style. “Lets get you showered and ready for bed, yeah?” 
You nodded your head. “Chris I love you.” 
He looked down at you and smiled at me. “I love you too baby.”  
tags- @tillies33ssss @theyluvme-2315 @alorsxsturn @maya555sblog
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akascow · 1 month ago
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okay so
i think the viktor and mel hallucinations during jayce's whole Moment in 2x07, their eyes are just completely black. and its VERY faint but u can KIND OF see the outline of their irises if u look REALLY close (irl)
to show u what i mean:
first ones are just normal settings (tho my computer brightness is all the way up), i only messed with the exposure n highlights of the pictures and stuff in the middle ones, and outlined the eyes in the third ones
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​which could make sense in terms of his mental state i think ? he maybe feels like he let them down, or betrayed them or couldnt help them in a way ??
they dont feel human to him anymore. or maybe hes created these images so theyre judging him as he can only reminisce on what happened and how he left things
mel’s vision looks maybe like either angry, stubborn, strong willed or annoyed lol... her chin is kinda turned down, with downturned eyebrows, and her lower lids are halfway closed implying that shes like glaring or narrowing her eyes at him, her lips almost look pursed together and i think ? her nostrils are flared but its so hard to tell lmao we only get like three frames of over exposure HAAH take these with a grain of salt lmfao
viktor (even tho i cannot for the life of me read his expression HAHA) to the best of my ability i think kinda looks hurt or confused, maybe innocent for lack of a better term or scared. ((which given how he left jayce it would kinda fit lmao)) BUT his brows are ever so slightly scrunched together, one is higher than the other which usually implies confusion or thinking or admiring. eyes are wide open, mouth is agape a teenie bit, these are usually seen with softer, positive or more admirable expressions, and his chin is tilted upward. im not trying to turn this into a jayvik thing i swear im just comparing to my facial recognition knowledge HAHA
and as he loses himself deeper in the hexcore, the more he starts losing and/or fearing the two ppl he loved most ? ... and worries how he’d get back to them (if at all) and how he would imagine they would react.
the two ppl who not only made and brought him to who he is today, but uplifted and supported and stood by him for ~10 years despite everything
anyway this theory would all pair nicely with the voices that start playing in the background during his lil Montage lmao it kind of culminates into a massive guilty conscious, that then outwardly presents itself in their hallucinations:
“i never asked for this” - jayce to viktor, after their conversation about him breaking their promise about destroying the hexcore, resulting in vik leaving him lmao. also jayce literally turned viktor into this metal husk so hes gotta have that sitting on his shoulders too lmfao
“[heimer] was my mentor, and i betrayed him” - jayce (to mel) abt voting heimer off the council despite heimer ending up being completely right about magic in the first place
“it corrupts” “you must destroy it” “ive seen nations destroyed” - heimer about the hexcore, jayce screams over this as those lines play, anguishing over the fact that he literally did this to himself and hes the reason Piltover is (or will be) no more bc he ignored the warnings
“its your time now jayce” “perhaps its time for the era of magic” - mel to jayce, context is in the quotes HAHA. jayce is screaming no! no! and please! during these lines, i think its just to hammer (pun intended) home on the fact that it all ties back to him for ‘creating’ magic. its on HIM (at least in his own mind) for the destruction of Piltover and all of its people
not to mention the reason hes stuck down there for so long is because his own invention (hextech hammer) disabled him enough to make him unable to climb out for (as far as we know) weeks or even months... more outward projection of self guilt, but like far more literal than symbolic i guess
and as other people mentioned already, it put him in the same position of viktor (down in the depths of zaun having to pull himself up to piltover with the challenges of a disabled leg and illness and no one to support or help him) which allowed him to relate to viktor in a way he never could have before
maybe im just thinking too hard about it idk (im not). or unless this was extremely obvious to the average viewer HAHA. in my defense i spent this whole montage pausing every .6 seconds to take a picture of seggsy and broken and whimpering jayce so i wasnt really paying that much attention to it all AHAHA
anyway do u think this was a hallucination or was it actually the mage standing here with him for a flash lmao
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okay sorry for that long ass post i would add a page break sooner but it would interrupt my flow of thoughts that i need u all to experience like i do HA
...
also shameless self promos but u should check out my jayvik butterfly effect and viktors humanity symbolism analysis posts if u liked this one >:)
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carmenized-onions · 8 months ago
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Doing Too Much. | House Call
logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.
[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth
[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.
portion; 4.8k
possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?
pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)
After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me
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Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.
When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.
It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.
‘Connections Puzzle #342’
Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,
‘Morning’
Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,
‘Good morning!’
‘Connections Puzzle #342’
And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,
‘Fuck you.’
Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.
Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.
And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.
Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—
Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,
‘How’s reworking the menu going?’
‘Hard to say’
‘Ask me tomorrow’
God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.
Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?
While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”
There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.
Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.
Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.
‘Are you busy?’
‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’
You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.
‘Are you fucking firing me????’
‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’
While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.
Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”
Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”
“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”
“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”
“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”
“…He what?”
You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”
Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”
“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”
“Yessir.”
“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”
They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”
You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.
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Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”
You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”
When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”
“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.
“What floor?”
“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”
“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”
What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?
“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.
“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.
He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”
“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”
He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”
You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”
“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”
“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”
“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”
“I did.”
“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...
“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”
“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”
“Mhm.”
“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”
He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”
“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”
“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.
“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.
Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.
You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.
“Yeah?”
She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”
Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?
You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”
She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”
She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”
You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”
“What for?”
“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”
You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”
He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”
He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”
Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.  
“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”
Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”
“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”
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The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.
So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!
You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.
But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning.  Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.
“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.
“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.
Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”
“But?”
“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.
He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”
“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.
“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.
Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”
No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?
“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”
Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?
“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”
You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”
“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”
“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”
“That sounds fucking disgusting.”
“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.
Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.
Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?
You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”
“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.
“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”
“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”
She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”
You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”
“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”
“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”
Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”
She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.
Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.
Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”
Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.
“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”
Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”
“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”
Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”
“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”
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“What are you actually dragging me out for?”
“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”
“Oh?”
You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.
“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”
She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”
“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.
“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”
She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”
“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”
“Doing too much.”
She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”
“I can cook like Michelin—”
“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”
She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”
She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”
“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”
She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”
You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”
“More like coach.”
“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”
When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”
“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”
“Jeans on a bookshelf?”
You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”
“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”
“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”
“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.
You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”
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As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.
You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.
You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’
Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.
You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”
She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.
Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.
Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”
“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.
Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?
“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.
“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”
“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.
You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”
She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.
It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”
She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”
“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”
“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”
“Then what’s the point!?”
Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.
When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.
Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…
You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.
‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’
You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.
‘Thank you’
‘For helping Syd’
‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’
‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.
‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.
‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’
‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’
Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.
“Are we going?”
“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.
You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”
You almost brake check the guy behind you.
 “How do you fuckin’ do that!?”
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the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.
Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.
Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.
The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.
Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.
We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.
I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.
As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!
Next Part
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eds6ngel · 7 months ago
Note
may i request some sweet robin x reader smut? like robin just got off work at the video store and she’s rlly shy n needy for her gf?? 🥵
desperate little thing ᝰ.ᥫ᭡。
robin buckley x fem!reader
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summary: robin comes home from work to what you think is tiredness, but her movements against your body paint an entirely new picture…
warnings: SMUT!! fem!reader. kissing. fingering. oral (robin receives.) praise and dirty talk. r loves boobs and vaginas (as do i.) mentions of consent. use of pet names (baby girl, baby, honey, hun, sweetheart.) swearing. mentions of homophobia. implied lesbian!reader, but vague enough for any sapphics to enjoy !! established relationship. mentions of food. some fluff and comfort at the beginning and end. [1.7k.]
a/n: thank you for the request, sweetheart!! made this into my lil domestic smutty sapphic dream. hope you enjoy !! ♡
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Dinner on the stove. Robin on her way home. Everything perfect for a relaxing night in as a couple.
You and Robin had recently bought an apartment together, residing just thirty minutes away from Hawkins. It was convenient enough to get out of the homophobic town and closer to the accepting lesbian spaces of the city, but still close enough to Family Video, as well as Steve, Nancy, Jonathan and the rest of your friends and family.
With your hand stirring the pasta, the sound of a key turning alerts you from your concentration, knowing that only one other person in your life would be entering at this very second.
“Smells good, sweetheart,” her voice comes softly through the hallway, keys being thrown into the dish by the door, her body slowly pattering towards the direction of yourself.
“Thanks, honey. Trying some pesto tonight. Haven’t made it in a while,” you reply back, her presence becoming closer before eventually two slender arms wrap around your waist, the feeling of brown locks tickling your neck, a soft cheek pressed into your shoulder.
“God, baby, you look exhausted,” you chuckle, feeling her relax into your body, a faint hum leaving her mouth.
However, what you soon discover is that she isn’t tired at all. Her body was already entirely pressed against you, but the slow movement of her clit against your ass has you reeling in the fact that maybe it was a different emotion entirely…
“You okay back there, baby?” you ask, trying to get her to admit to her neediness.
“Yeah… Just…”
Robin always became slightly shy when she was desperate, afraid to ask for what she needed. Despite you both being switches, she never wanted to cross any boundaries. It was sweet to you, always having to remind her that if you didn’t want to do something, you would simply verbalise it.
“Just what, hun?”
“Just… want you. S’been a long day.”
That’s what you needed her to admit. Your hand comes down to the knob, turning it so the stove was off, the pasta water quickly losing its bubbles.
You grab her wrists from where they are perched on your stomach, spinning around and pressing a light-feathered kiss on the top of each of them.
“Yeah? Pretty girl just wants to sit back and let me help her relax? Is that it?” you say in between the fluttering of your lashes, hands moving from her wrists, to her arms, all the way up to her two pink-tainted cheeks.
“Please, baby. Just want you. Do whatever you want.”
You bite your lip with a smile, pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw and murmuring, “No, baby. This is about you, ‘kay? Tell me what you need.”
Robin gulps, never liking to admit to her own needs and desires. She was a giver at heart and always followed your lead whenever you needed it. It was very uncommon for her to put herself first, but tonight… she may just have to do that.
“Need your hands on me, please…”
You chuckle lowly, licking your lips, “Where to, honey?” Teasing her, you begin to trace over every area that made her squirm, “This gorgeous neck of yours? Or maybe… your perfect boobs, all for me. Or…” you cup her mound, “Is it here?”
Robin lets a whine escape her mouth at the feeling of your bare hand against her clothed pussy.
“Oh, right here, sweetheart? I can feel it, too. Feel how wet you are through these pants.”
“Please, baby. I will do anything, just—”
This is the kind of behaviour you wanted from her. Needy to the max. “Nuh uh, none of that, baby. You had a tough day and I’ll take care of you however you need, okay? All I need you to do is strip for me and sit that cute ass on the counter.”
Robin follows your orders, ridding of her restrictive Family Video attire, meanwhile, you remove your flowery apron.
“That’s it. Such a good girl for me. So pretty. So gorgeous.”
Your hands instantly land on your favourite girls, needing them between your hands, flicking her nipples between your thumbs. You spend every minute worshipping every inch of her skin, drawing every moan and whine you can from her. There was something so magical, so alluring and arousing, about hearing your girl succumb to your words and actions. How some people found the art of treasuring and pleasing their girl to be boring and unattractive forever confused you. How could the pure action of worshipping your favourite person’s entire existence be a drag?
You finally come to her beautiful pussy. What a sight to see. She was an outie, which you relished in. There was something so gorgeous about them, about hers specifically, that made you thank whatever God or star that exists for her presence in your life.
“You ready for my fingers, baby? Think you’re wet enough for two, don’t you?”
Robin’s eyes are closed, her head already floating amongst the clouds, simple nods and rambles “Yeah, yeah. Two is good, perfect even. You’re perfect. Always perfect.”
You chuckle, pressing a light kiss to her clit, her hips bucking at the feeling, “You’re perfect too, baby.”
Sucking your two fingers between your lips, you dip them down before slowly pushing them inside of Robin, her thighs raising up towards your head, caging you in, perfect for you to eventually add your mouth to.
“Fuck, honey, y-yes. Just like that, baby girl. S-Shit, just like that.”
The squelching of her pussy against your slick fingers, combined with her praise and gorgeous moans had you subconsciously increasing the pace. You look up at her with innocent eyes, before slowly lowering your head down to her clit, lapping at her juices. Robin instantaneously throws her head back, eyes fluttering shut as she tries her best not to rut against your mouth.
You could feel her pussy gush more and more of her slick around your fingers, your mind spiralling with the fact that all it took was you doing a household chore, a basic human need, for her to get this damn worked up for you. For her to be sat atop the kitchen counter in your newly shared apartment, high-pitched whines echoing against the four walls, probably vibrating through the floorboards below, all because of your tender and loving care. The transfer from sweet to sensual sending shock waves to your own vagina.
Robin’s hands are scrunched up in balls amongst your messy hair, sweat transferring onto your cheeks from where her thighs are suffocating you, to which you have no complaint, of course.
Her praise and general explicit words are a bunch of babbles, your focus too much on the movement of your fingers dragging against her velvet walls, sucking you back in each time you tried to leave, and the flick of your tongue in both upwards and sideways motions on her clit.
You wrapped your entire lips around her bud, sucking it harshly, her hips instantly bucking in a now speedy motion, her urge no longer being able to be held back. Your movements were fast, harsh, Robin having no care about anything else in the world except for you. If she died right now and went to Heaven, or simply nothingness, she wouldn’t care. Whatever situation, it was for sure the best way to go.
With the extra brash movements, your fingers start struggling to move, Robin’s walls tightening around them, her orgasm approaching with the increased sweetness hitting your tongue and the beautiful noises of gasping breaths infiltrating your ears.
“G-Gonna cum soon. S-So, close. So, so close, honey.”
Knowing that your next action would tip her over the edge, you break eye contact with the beautiful girl in front of you to shake your head back and forth against her clit, lips suctioned around her as you feel her thighs crush you against her vulva.
“F-Fuck, I-I’m cumming. Holy shit, I’m cumming,” is what you make out of her breathy gasps and sweet moans, mouth open in a wide ‘O’ and eyes shut tightly as her entire body shakes against you. The grip of her hand against your hair tightens to the max as she rides out her high, hips rutting in small thrusts against your lips, your fingers slowing to a steady pace as to not overstimulate her.
Once her body stops shaking, you bring your fingers to a halt, Robin’s cheeks rosy and hair messy as she lets out steady deep breaths, catching herself back to normality.
“Less stressed now, Robbie?” you sweetly ask, lips parting from her clit. Robin opens her eyes to the wonderful sight of her slick dripping down your chin, more being added to the inside of your mouth as you suck your fingers clean.
“Yeah,” she pants out, “Feel so much better. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”
You cup her face, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before parting and stroking her cheeks, looking her in the eye, “You’re too sweet, honey. Just wanted to take care of you when you needed it.”
You almost melt with the amount of love and appreciation present in her eyes, her blue orbs sparkling with affection and adoration for your presence in this exact moment.
“I love you,” she whispers out, almost giggling like a schoolgirl in the waves of her afterglow, to which you had to admit was a different kind of gorgeous sight to witness on a multiple weekly basis.
“I love you too,” you reply, placing a kiss to her forehead, “How about I finish plating up this pasta for you and then we can cuddle and stick on a movie?”
“Ooh yeah! I love that!” she brightens up, “I actually brought a new one home today. It’s called ‘Desert Hearts.’ It’s actually a lesbian rom-com, which I was shocked to find as it’s basically perfect for us—”
You chuckle to yourself, heading back towards the stove to heat up the pasta once again. This was the Robin you came to love, that you wanted to see in every living moment, and you were glad you were able to get her back to her rambling, talkative self in such a small amount of time.
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taglist: @agxxb
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beelmons · 2 years ago
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Mandatory team-building exercise
Pairing: BAU x Fem!BAU!Reader (becomes Hotch-centered) Genre: Smut (18+, minors are not encouraged to interact or read this story) CW: unprotected sex (i do not encourage), slight exhibitionism (not really, but ppl know stuff), jealous!hotch (a lil only), hoeing around, reader is bisexual Word count: 6,795 (very sorry about this) Summary: After a night of drinking, your boss proposes a bonding exercise so the team can get even closer: Everyone must make out with you, and you have to choose who kisses best. A/N: I got too carried away with this, no idea if i did any good, but here you go. Tag list (tagging everyone who reblogged and voted hotch): @ssamorganhotchner @montyfandomlove @hotchners-sweetheart @hey-dw @cassiemartzz &lt;;3
Best part of going to O’keefe’s was wrapping the night up at Rossi’s, slightly tipsy, laughing about everything, and generally enjoying the genuine personalities of your friends, no masks or guards up, which was something hard to do at work. David’s house was a place where you could bare your soul and still feel safe. 
“...and I swear, everyone just thought it was the most normal thing.” JJ said while swinging her glass of wine around, and the people around her let out a light laugh. 
“I bet Rossi could agree with that, couldn’t you?” Morgan directed the question to Dave “After all, it’s your fault that we don’t get to fraternize with other agents, ain’t that right?” his comment made everyone laugh once again. 
“No, no, never within the same department. I was in the bureau during the 70’s and 80’s, you didn’t get that many women out here, let alone in the BAU. By the end of my career, we only had two female agents in this unit and I had already been married thrice. So, do the math, if I had wanted to sleep with someone from the same unit, it would have had to be…” he made a pause for dramatic build-up “well, Gideon.” 
The entire team let out a disgusted yet amused grunt at the mere idea of seeing two of their former bosses interacting in such fashion. You watched Spencer’s face be particularly crumpled, he was possibly picturing it in vivid detail by accident, consequences of having such a bright mind, so you decided to grab the hand that was holding his long island tea and push it gently towards his lips. You giggled at how he automatically obeyed and swallowed down a rather big gulp of his beverage. 
“I’m just glad these are problems we don’t have to face in the BAU, you know, fraternization between agents.” Hotch said, taking a sip off his glass. 
The silence that took over the group was deafening. Accusatory looks were being exchanged between everyone, and they could notice how certain glances lasted longer than appropriate. Hotch didn’t usually stay long enough to see how the nights ended, when everyone was too hammered to call their own cabs, or too impaired to question themselves whether the person they were kissing was or was not part of the team. 
“Well, I think this is a conversation you kids should have without your parent present.” David, who was way faster at reading the situation compared to the unit chief, got up from his chair, leaving his glass by the table. Aaron sighed in what seemed like disappointment, and immediately followed Dave's actions. “No, no.” the older man quickly put a hand on his shoulder indicating him to sit down “I think it’s better if you stay; do some bonding. I’ll be in my room, sleeping, don’t be afraid to be noisy, the place is soundproof, just make sure to leave the alarm active once you leave.”
Incredulity washed over the unit chief as he watched his fellow team leader walk away from the situation. The eyes had turned to him instead, silently questioning about the decision he was going to take. It was a bit awkward to discuss your personal affairs with your boss present, sure, but it’s not like you didn’t have a relationship with him. Hotch, reserved and all, knew each member to a level of intimacy that few others could be able to reach, and had protected them in ways no other superior would approve of.  
“Whatever I hear today will come through the ears of your friend, not your superior, but there’s no discussing this back at the office, understood?” the boss clarified as he went back to his seat, his hand reaching for the scotch he had left on the table. There was a second of doubtful silence, people were unsure how safe it was to share such private, and risky, information. Hotch started to catch up, feeling slightly unwelcome and bothersome, so he let out another sigh.  
“Elle was Reid’s first time.” you spurted out of the blue, trying to ease the anxiety that was probably growing within your superior. 
“Hey!” your partner yelled out, being sat next to you on one of the couches, clearly offended that he was the scapegoat to the situation. 
“Greenaway?!” Morgan asked from across the living room. 
“Do you know any more Elles, Morgan?” you said, your eyes rolling. 
“How did you even land that, kid?” the dark-skinned man continued to ask. 
“I’m not really a fan of discussing my sex life out in the open, which is why this was told in confidence to my close and dear friend” the young doctor shot you a quick glare with a hint of anger on it. 
“Oh, so now it’s a sex life?” JJ teased. 
“Totally.” you said, taking a sip of your own drink before continuing “Because he told me this two minutes before he shoved his tongue in my mouth, and his fingers down my pants.” 
“No way!” Prentiss let out while everyone else laughed in surprise, Hotch’s eyebrows simply slightly raised at the confession. 
Reid was sinking on his seat, his ears reddened from the looks that he was receiving. You made sure to squeeze his thigh lightly and shoot him a smile, which deflated the uneasiness that he was feeling. You didn’t mean any harm, and there was no wrong in letting the secret out in front of your most cherished friends, they would have found out one way or another. 
“Morgan and I made out once.” Garcia interrupted the teasing in order to protect her favorite boy wonder from any further teasing, and Derek drew a smug smile on his face at her affirmation. 
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Hotch contributed with an absolutely unphased expression, or so until another idea ran through his mind, his brows furrowing in concern “Hold on, was this on company time?” both suspects froze in their place and exchanged questioning, guilty looks. Regardless of the answer, their expressions had been enough to give them away “you know what? it’s better if I don’t know.” 
“That office is certainly cozy, don’t you think?” JJ said once again, her eyes traveling between you and Penelope. 
“Impossible.” Derek’s eyes spread wide open, his jaw basically dropping “Please don’t tell me the three made out in Garcia’s office and didn’t invite us to watch” he let out in a pleading, hurt tone. 
“Four.” Emily barged in. 
The men in the room seemed to melt at the revelation, the expression being quite literal for Morgan who slid down the chair in defeat, landing on his knees as if he had been shot in the cruelests of fashions. Spencer could only furrow his brows and let his mouth fall open, already trying to picture the situation. 
“Was it like, taking turns on each other? or the four of you putting your lips together in one single kiss?” the blond asked in order to assess the spatial situation better. 
“I’d say it was kind of a free-for-all sort of situation.” Prentiss answered him. 
“At some point, I’d close my eyes and whomever’s lips came to mine, I was fine with it.” JJ commented, earning a flirty giggle from the rest of the girls around her. 
“You women are killing me.” Morgan said once again, but a sudden epiphany seemed to come through his brain, and he turned in your direction with a pointed finger “Wait a second. That means you have been through everyone’s lips?!” he said in surprise. 
“You’ve made out with her too?!” Garcia said in an offended tone. 
“Christmas last year, got a little carried away with that mistletoe kiss.” he admitted “But nothing further than that.” 
Everyone’s eyes turned to you, the crowd had a mixture of accusation and admiration on their faces, depending on who you looked at, and their staring was making you a little uncomfortable, if you were being honest. 
“Have you all looked at yourselves? This is a ridiculously hot group of people. Being bisexual is very hard with a team like this.” you argued in your defense and decided to down whatever liquid was still inside your glass. Their faces seemed to light up with a hint of shyness. Everyone thought so, of course, but compliments on your physical appearances were not something you exchanged frequently. It was nice to hear once in a while. 
“Did you ever end up sleeping with someone?” Hotch’s question took everyone by surprise, yet they were intrigued enough to allow him to ask uninterrupted. 
Your eyebrows raised with slight offense “Come on, Hotch, I’m not a slut. The closest I have come to was Reid, and even so we stopped because I didn’t want to jeopardize our jobs.” you complained. 
“Sorry, that was not my intention-” he began, until Reid’s question cut him off. 
“Who’s the best?” he asked. 
“Spencer!” JJ yelled accusingly. 
“No, no, let the kid ask.” Morgan put a hand in front of JJ’s chest, trying to keep her opinions from coming out. Yet again, you were put as the center of attention, but you decided to shrug off the question. 
“It’s not like I keep track of each time!” you let out, pushing your friend by the shoulder playfully at his suggestion “Most of them were really far apart from each other, and it only happened once with each one of you.” you clarified, your eyes traveling to Aaron, as if you were trying to justify yourself to him. 
“So, what I hear is: if they were to happen one after the other, then we could find out?” Emily questioned in your direction. 
“There’s a pretty spacious coat closet by the entrance.” Reid pointed out. 
“Oh, we could make it into a competition, and whoever wins gets to sleep with her!” Garcia blurted with a little too much excitement. 
“Wha-” you tried to complain in confusion “Stop your horses, I don’t even get a say in this?!” 
“No.” Hotch stated. The way his eyes were stern, yet completely determined, caused a sensation in you that could only be described as lust. He was always commanding, but there was something about him instructing you to do the dirtiest things to your coworkers that had gotten you excited “This is now a mandatory team-bonding exercise.” his words came out almost like an order.  
There was yet another exchange of looks, this time excited ones, between the team members, and they decided to look at you for approval. “Okay, but sleeping with me is one hell of a prize, and I don’t seem to be getting anything out of this. So, how do I win, and what do I win?” 
“Seems fair that you have a reward as well if you achieve your desired result. How about, if no one is able to convince you to sleep with them, you get one of their vacation days each.” Hotch proposed. “Garcia and JJ, since the two of you are committed you don’t have to actively participate, but you will place a bet on the member you think she’ll most likely succumb to, if you win, you get the loser’s vacation day.”  
Your mouth crooked with pleasure, an expression that your partners mimicked. You were feeling exposed, in the good way, in the kinky way. You still took a second to consider, you knew there was no going back if you agreed to this, but yet again, these were the people you had trusted your entire life to, your job, your safety, your dignity. They would never do anything to undermine you, and their respect for you wouldn’t waver for something like this. 
“We have to set some rules, though.” Spencer weighed in “Only mouths and hands allowed in the erogenous zones.” 
“You worried that if we allow something else you’ll lose?” Morgan teased.
“Mhm, sure, we know what you’re trying to compensate for with those biceps, Morgan. I’m not afraid of you.” his friend teased back. There was a short moment of playful conflict between the two, when Derek pretended to jump menacingly towards Reid, yet he was stopped by Penelope’s hand on his chest. 
“Okay. I’m game.” you agreed along with a nod of your head “Who wants to give it a try first?” you asked, taking a look at the entire group. 
Bunch of eager hands raised at the cue. Morgan’s and Prentiss’s almost touching the ceiling as they competed to see who could raise it higher. JJ and Penelope, who were unfortunately not single at the moment, could only laugh at their little quarrel. Your finger moved rhythmically, pretending to select at random while humming a classic ‘choosing’ song. Ultimately, your digit landed on Prentiss and you wiggled it to indicate her to follow you; she stood up to reach for your hand, allowing you to lead her towards the closet by the entrance. 
She locked the door behind her and turned around with her hands extended towards you, trying to find your body in the pitch-dark small room; your eyesights finally adjusted to the lack of light and you could barely make out her shape. 
“You sure you’re good with this?” she double-checked once her limbs landed on your waist. 
“Em, I love the commitment to consent, but stop talking.” you ordered. 
Within seconds, your own arms wrapped around her neck urging her to come closer; she obliged, happily, and her own head bent forward to meet your lips. You could taste the faint flavor of her balm, which you identified as piña colada. 
Her lips moved slowly, yet sensually, the hands that were gripping your hips pulled them closer, and you could heart the rustling of your clothes rubbing together. After a couple of seconds, her tongue began to prod your bottom lip, ever so chivalrous asking for permission. You chuckled amusedly at the gesture, and she took advantage of the opening to slip in. 
Emily liked to take her time, not really taking control, more like exploring a place that always felt familiar and was revisiting just then. On your side, your fingers curled into the slightly messy hair, and your body rolled on its own to be feeling more of her against you. 
You could feel her hand dragging upwards over your clothes, she traced the side of your body and caused your shirt to come up a little bit, the cool air felt interesting against your now hot skin, and so a sound slipped past your lips. It was Emily’s turn to laugh, pulling away so she could make out your eyes. 
“Better than last time?” she asked, her face not leaving yours. 
“Mhm.” you could simply hum, still breathless from the session. 
“Do you have enough material to work with, judge?” she teased, her nose grazing yours in a playful manner. 
“You will be hard to top, Em.” you admitted to her as your body pulled away. 
“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” she joked “I’ll send in the next contestant, who do you want me to get?” 
“You know what? Just send in whoever you’d like, surprise me.” 
She smiled before sneaking out of the narrow room. You were left alone with a bunch of coats and purses, your idea building anticipation within yourself. Spencer or Morgan, who would come through that door? You were dying to know. Although, if you were being honest, there was only one other person you wanted in there with you. However, you weren’t sure if the team-bonding exercise applied to him as well, he was the sole pair of lips you were dying to taste, and still the only ones you hadn’t. 
Your train of thought was interrupted by the opening of the door; you jumped slightly in your place, and the man that was entering the room could notice. 
“Whoa, sweetheart, you that excited to see me?” Morgan chuckled at your startled reaction, and he swiftly closed the door behind you. 
“You’re a pleasant surprise, yes.” you said trying to ease your nervousness. Morgan made you particularly uneasy, not for anything bad, you were just sure that man had some sort of a psychic ability, he would always guess what you were thinking without even opening your mouth. 
“You were expecting someone different, weren’t you?” he stood before you, towering over your body. 
He took a couple of steps forward and you retracted until your back eventually hit the wall, he continued to pace forward until the gap between your bodies almost disappeared; being caged in by him, your hands traveled to your front, and they landed on his chest, almost as if you were trying to put some space in between you. 
He caught up to your actions, observant as he was, and so he raised his own hands to cup your cheeks. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness once again, and you could see the natural glim of his as he looked into you. 
“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, alright? We can just pretend like we did until Hotch gets his turn.” he reassured, and your mouth dropped open. 
“Why would you-” you started to try and justify yourself, but he cut you off with a laugh. 
“I’ve got an eye for tragic lovers.” 
You sighed a little bit; Morgan had to be a mind reader, there was no other way. As if he was doing just that, his arms fell back to his sides and he stepped back to give you more space. Your hands desperately clung to the front of his t-shirt, not allowing him to escape any further from your grip. 
“Hold on.” you told him “There’s no need to pretend, he already thinks we’re going to do it, so what’s the harm?” 
The room was a bit too dark for you to make out his specific facial expression, but you were sure his eyebrows were raised in a startled surprise. 
“Damn, you’re good at convincing.” without further delay, his hands darted back to the position on your face, and he used them to pull you forward. 
You felt his lips on yours immediately, he was less gentle than Emily, but nonetheless chivalrous. You had to grant him access to your mouth, and he quickly obeyed your desires. His fingers moved back to the nape of your head, keeping you in place against his mouth as his tongue danced fervently around yours. 
Your hands had moved back to his chest, using them to stabilize yourself since his strength and mild roughness was making you lose your balance. You couldn’t help the slight squeeze that you gave his pecs, being that they felt firm under your fingers. Derek took your initiative with the touch as an invitation to do so as well. One of his arms fell down, and sensually slipped to your lower back, he was cautious, lowering inch by inch in search of any sign of complaint or rejection, but you didn’t provide  any, and his palm gently began to caress the area of your ass. 
Your hips rolled unconsciously against his, his breath hitched inside his throat as you did so to the point where he had to pull apart to catch it back. He didn’t want to leave you unattended, therefore his head tilted to the side to take a gentle nibble at your jaw before he moved down to your neck. The hand on your neck joined the other on your rear, adding much needed pressure to his front; you let out a pleased sound, and it was his sign to retract. 
He stole a quick, last peck from your lips before he pulled back. “I think I’ve done a good job.” he said with a cheeky tone.  
“Certainly, contestant” you went along with the joke and he answered with a laugh “Please send in the next test subject” he nodded at your instructions and calmly walked out. 
Thanks to Morgan’s comment, you realized that Aaron was probably game as well, and the mere thought of him appearing behind that door at any given second was making you nervous enough to begin pacing around the small room. You yet again reacted when the entrance was open again, and you must have made a movement or expression that indicated disappointment, because Reid pursed his lips at the sight of you. 
“Not who you were expecting?” he asked before he closed the door behind him, and you could notice the tint of sadness in his voice. 
“Come on, don’t be like that.” you reached out towards him in an attempt to find his hands, and when you finally did you pulled him closer to you “You know it’s always a delight to make out with you.” you tried to reassure him. 
“It’s mutual, you know?” he said, his hands still in yours. 
“I figured, I am an excellent kisser” you teased. 
“That’s not what I meant.” his voice seemed more stern than usual “You and Hotch.” 
You were thankful for the darkness that didn’t allow the blush of your face to be seen; after a couple of seconds, you cleared your throat, trying to avoid sounding too hopeful. 
“You don’t have to force yourself to kiss me” he added “Plus, I don’t know how comfortable I would be doing so while you think of another man.” 
Your eyebrows raised at his candor. Vulnerable Spencer could always sway you, mostly because you knew none of his words ever held an ill intention. He was honest to a fault, and you always felt compelled to soothe his anxieties. 
“Then be good enough to make me forget.” you almost let out as a whisper. 
You knew it would have to be up to you to take control with him, so you cupped his face and quickly dragged him down to your level to press a kiss to his lips and shut up whatever other excuse he was going to emit. Spencer was much more familiar with your lips compared to others, barely any foreplay before his tongue was already massaging yours sensually. His fingers gripped your hips in a similar fashion he had done before (that one time you were telling the rest of the team about). 
He pushed you backwards a bit, having you pressed against an already too familiar wall, and you could feel his knee slipping past your thighs, right in between them. His lips continued to work around yours, gently nonetheless, but you could feel the grip on your hips getting tighter, and you realized he was trying to move them, bringing friction to your front. 
A light moan slipped past your lips straight into his mouth, so his body moved forward to press against you a little tighter. “Isn’t that cheating?” you took the opportunity to say. 
“It’s not.” he answered before taking another kiss away from you “My mouth is where it’s supposed to be.” 
You giggled at his logic; Spencer was just that good when it came to loopholes. You were too focused on the pleasure that was taking over you as your clothed crotch continued to rub against his leg to actually care. Your hips started to take a rhythm on their own, and your kiss turned into a session of adjoining lips panting in unison. His fingers kept digging further into the skin that he had managed to expose due to the movement. 
At some point, your head dropped back to allow yourself to get lost in the moment, and you felt his lips attack its base with open-mouthed, yet non-invasive, kisses. Your legs began to shake and Spencer pressed against you to keep you up, your light orgasm running within every vein of your body. 
He let out a light chuckle as he pulled away from you, making sure you could keep your balance. “Bet Morgan didn’t do that” he said proudly. 
You hit him in the arm and pushed him towards the door with a smile, watching him smugly prance his way out. You laughed to yourself to disguise the anxiety that began to overwhelm you. You made sure to fix your clothes in a somewhat presentable manner, and you unconsciously pressed yourself back against the wall, as if you were too scared to meet him face first. 
Your heart felt like jumping straight up out of your chest when the knob finally twisted the damned piece of fine wood open. For the brief moment the hall light illuminated the insides, your eyes met, you could see the startle in his eyes once he noticed the way you stood there seemingly frozen by his appearance. He couldn’t bear the sight, his hands immediately darting to your face without having even shut the entrance. In a blink, his entire presence was right by yours, and his nose rubbed desperately against your own, almost as if it had taken all of his strength to stop himself from kissing you right away. 
“Can I?” he asked in a mutter. 
“Yes.” you barely let him finish his question when you answered. 
Your firm and resolute agreement was nothing but a turn on to him, and his lips pressed passionately against yours without a second thought. You struggled to catch your breath as he devoured every inch of your now plump skin. His hands were nowhere near quiet, either, they presumed permission to explore as well and traveled south to where your lower-back, and any work you had done to tidy your shirt was long gone, being that he was heavily bothered by the fact that you were clothed.
The tip of his fingers were carefully memorizing the areas where your skin curved, every so often gripping selfishly with the intention of leaving at least a faint mark. You wondered how he could keep going without taking a break, and as if he could read your mind he pulled away.
“That’s plenty to be able to judge your performance.” you joked, suddenly aware that this had all begun because of a silly game you had tipsily come up with. 
“I’m sorry.” he said, his hands fixing themselves on your face instead, keeping it still to have you at the same level as him. 
“What for?” your eyebrows furrowed questioningly, even if in the darkness he couldn’t quite see your expression. 
“It’s not enough for me.” his lips smashed onto yours once again with a similar force “Please tell me this urge isn’t one-sided.” he tried to reassure himself. 
“It’s not.” you hurried to clarify, and your hands tugged at his shirt to serve as guarantee. 
Aaron reached for the hem of your top and swiftly pulled it over your head, giving your aching lips a second of rest. Once your breasts were partially freed, you noticed him bend over, and one of his hands moved the remaining fabric away to expose your nipple; the way his mouth so hungrily latched to it made you shiver with pleasure, your right limb moving to his hair, and the left one covering your mouth to stop the loud moan from coming out. He didn’t take long to bring your other nub attention as well, and caged, throaty whines began to fill the room. 
You could feel his erection pressing against your hip; he would roll them from time to time just as a reminder of the effect you had on him. You couldn’t process all that, though, if you were being honest, his every move, kiss, and suck driving you further away from sanity. As if his mouth wasn’t already doing wonders around your chest, you bolted up when you realized one of Hotch’s hands had found its way inside your pants, toying with the elastic band of your underwear. 
“Aaron.” you removed the cover from your face to let out an aroused moan of his name. 
He finally let go of your upper body, his back straightening to be close to your face once again “Tell me,” he almost whispered “when he was doing this to you, were you thinking of me?” 
When you didn’t jerk away from his touch, he moved past the last restrictive garment, and one of his digits trailed up your entire slit, an experimental feeling to gather your reaction. To his pleasure, you melted into his touch, and the lack of light didn’t allow you to see the wide smile it generated on him. He took advantage of your approval to slip his finger inside your cunt. 
“Cat got your tongue?” he teased as the aforementioned began to painstakingly slowly twirl within you “Tell me, is there anyone else that can make you this agitated? So wet, so desperate to be touched?” 
“N-No” you tried to answer in one go, however, the way the tip of his finger caressed your walls in search of reactions was not allowing you to think straight. 
“I’ll ask you again.” he said, his tone ever commanding “While he was touching you like this, did you secretly wish it was me?” he kept pressing his initial line of questioning, that you were too gone to remember it was about your little anecdote with Reid. 
His wrist twisted in a way that allowed him to penetrate deeper, owning a moan that you tried to subtly suppress. 
“Yes!” you cried out in the lowest tone you were able to, still oddly aware that the rest of your coworkers were outside. 
“Let him know.” he basically growled against your ear, you lacked contact in your lower body for a second, only to let out a loud, uncontained whimper once he added a second finger to the formula. You grabbed for dear life onto his biceps, trying to keep your balance as he continued to thrust his fingers inside and out, your head also laid against the crook of his neck, unable to keep yourself facing him as he spilled dirty nothings in your ear. 
“Aaron, please.” you begged as your hips tried to get him even further within you “I need more.” 
The arm that was helping you keep still moved so his fingers could tangle in your hair, his grip allowed him to tilt your head back with a gentle tug, not quite enough to hurt you, but firm enough to force it a little. 
“I’ll fuck you so good you’ll forget every word but my name.” his mouth pressed against yours once again to give you a reaffirming, rough kiss.
He removed his hand from your downside, and it energetically began to search around for the top he had removed earlier. Unable to find it, between other pieces of clothing and the darkness of the room, Aaron decided to remove his own shirt and hurried to throw it over your shoulders. 
Your face reddened at his intentions, he was trying to cover you so the rest of the members wouldn’t see you literally half naked. Once he was comfortable with how many buttons he had hooked, he grabbed your hand to guide you outside the narrow closet. 
Unfortunately for the both of you, and his subordinates, the only path towards the guest rooms, that Dave had prepared earlier, was to follow the hallway that crossed the living room area on the side. You braced yourself mentally, your hand covering your face as you began to feel the confused sights of your coworkers during your little parade. 
“Last one out set the alarm.” you could hear Hotch command, but you didn’t dare to look back at your friends, or him for that matter. 
The rest of the group simply stared at how their shirtless superior was dragging a girl, their very best friend, who was wearing his shirt over what was obviously a barely clothed chest, to the rooms their other boss had prepared for a very specific purpose. They exchanged puzzled looks in complete silence until Emily spoke up. 
“Anyone know the alarm code?” she asked. 
Back to you and Aaron, he had chosen the closest door he could find open. As soon as you stepped in, he grabbed your hips once again to press them against his, his erection made itself known against them, and you couldn’t help but to curiously wander one hand down. Your foreheads met and so did your eyes as you palmed his front; he let out an airy quiet moan. 
Not able to take his frustration any longer, he twirled in his place along with you, making you stumble and fall on your back on to the bed. He landed right on top, his palms against the mattress cushioning the fall so he wouldn’t lay his entire weight on you. 
There was no exchange of words, only a quick glance at your covered bottom that you understood as a command. Your back arched upwards and he could steal a glance of your perked nipples rubbing against his lent shirt. Shortly, you began to wiggle underneath him to remove the pants that you were pushing down along with your underwear. Once you were exposed, garments missing somewhere around the area, Aaron sat on his knees to unbuckle his belt. 
The second his member became exposed, you let out a pleased gasp, which prompted him to smile in a rather shy way. Your legs subtly spread apart, revealing more of your intimate parts, and he understood that as an invitation to enter. His tip trailed slowly up and down your entrance, but before you could complain, he began to push in. He was as desperate as you were, and the way you let out a soft whine at his size. 
Once he had pushed all the way in, he reached for your hands, intertwining your fingers together and pushing them all the way over your head. He could get a clear view of your face and breasts, and once he made sure you had adjusted to him, his hips began to move. Another moan escaped your lips, so he leaned down to meet his mouth with yours, planting a passionate, deep kiss to it. 
You could feel yourself being filled by him, soft noises coming out of your mouth into his at the gentleness of his thrusts. Said gesture, however, wouldn’t seem to last long, and you noticed in the way the grip of your hands felt tighter with each one. 
“No one else can touch you like this.” he pulled away from the kiss to focus on the side of your neck, you felt his lips attach to the skin and roughly suck on it. Aaron pulled away to admire the redness that spread on the spot, proud of the mark that he knew it was going to leave. 
“No one else.” you reassured, your back arching a little at the pulsating pain on your neck. 
“Good girl.” he praised, his hips snapping with a particularly rough thrust that caused a low ‘fuck’ out of you. 
“Don’t hold back your voice.” 
He repeated his movement, and this time you squirmed trying to free your hands, a loud, throat-deep whimper resonating around the otherwise empty room. He smirked at the volume of the sound, yet his hips continued to pound in you, the initial slow movements gone from his rhythm. 
“Aaron…” you whispered in between moans “I want to cum.” you tried to beg. 
“Not yet, sweetheart.” his eyes glimmered with certain darkness
His hips changed angles even when his current speed wouldn’t give in, the way he was pushing now allowed your clit to rub slightly against his lower torso with every thrust, probably so he wouldn’t have to use his hands and set yours free. 
“I need to know I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.” he growled “I need you to say you’re mine.” 
“I’m-” you were about to start talking when he snapped his hips roughly, and you could feel him slide all the way in, his balls making a loud clapping sound when they hit the skin on your ass. The sound you made was loud, almost like a scream, and you were sure whoever was still outside certainly heard it. 
“What 's that? Couldn’t hear you.” his mouth had curled into a smug smirk. 
“I’m yours, Aaron. I’m all yours.” you cried out, your wrists once again twisting in an attempt to free themselves. 
He muttered another praise and let go of your hands, which could only fall flat to your sides and grip onto the sheets of the bed; he leaned back to be sitting on his knees once again, not allowing his member to slip out of you, and grabbed at your hips to slide them onto his lap. He held them in position as he continued to thrust, but one of his thumbs snuck to the upper part of your cunt, rapidly teasing the sensitive nerve bundle. 
You kept slightly gritting your teeth, your walls clenching around his shaft without mercy, and even if it was not obvious on his face, you could tell by the way his member throbbed inside of you that he was about to reach his limit as well. 
“Cum.” he suddenly commanded, and you didn’t need anything more. 
You allowed yourself to be engulfed by your climax, your body twisting itself and your hands pulling at the fabric beneath them, your legs also curled, basically pushing your partner in your direction, not even giving him the option to pull back. 
On his part, his head was thrown back, and you could see the way his adam’s apple bobbed with the loud groans he let out, his fingers gripping tighter on your skin, however this time the mark that his hold would leave was a complete accident. 
He didn’t pull out once he had spilled himself completely into you, instead, his body dropped forward, his arms slipping under your body to hold you close to him, head on your chest, eyes closed, just trying to take in the fact that he had just made love to you. 
“Aaron?” you said with a curious tone, your arms wrapping around his back and allowing one of your hands to tangle in his hair. He answered with a short hum, too tired to give you an actual answer “Does it bother you that I made out with the rest of the team tonight?” you asked, nervous that it would have hurt him in any way. 
“No.” he said matter-of-factly “As long as I only get to do it from now on.” 
You shared a light chuckle, and without noticing, the both of you drifted off to sleep. 
The next morning was a bit awkward for Rossi, being that he was not expecting to see the entire team, save for you and Hotch, curled on his living room furniture. JJ, Reid, and Emily had curled up together on the larger piece, while Morgan and Garcia cuddled on one of the individual seats. The clearing of his throat woke everyone up in a startle, and they looked around confusedly for the missing members of the group. 
“What the hell happened last night?” David asked no one in particular. 
“We were playing a game, and we must have fallen asleep waiting for it to end.” Garcia said with a slightly suggestive, yet groggy, voice, and Rossi decided it was better not to ask. 
“By the way, how do we interpret this?” Emily asked “Who won?” 
“Do you even have to ask?” Morgan scoffed, and Emily shrugged in defeat. 
“Then, who won between the two of you?” Reid asked, pointing at JJ and Garcia. 
“No one, really.” Jennifer replied. 
“What? You both failed? Who did you choose?” Morgan inquired. 
The blondes exchanged looks to see if they had had the same thought, and so they replied in unison once they had figured they were correct. 
“Spencer.” their tones were flat, almost as if the answer was obvious. Reid lit up in a smile, wiggling his eyebrows victoriously at Derek. 
“What?! No way you would just pick him!” he was baffled at the answer. 
“Girls talk, Derek” Penelope told him “Let’s just say Elle reviewed his service with five stars.” 
The group broke into a shared laugh, and Rossi only interrupted so he could inquire on the whereabouts of his friends. 
“Where’s Aaron?” he prompted. 
“One of the guest rooms.” Reid said. 
“And is he with…?” Dave continued. 
“Yup” the five members said in unison, referring to you. 
“Also, Rossi, if you don’t mind, I kind of have a design suggestion.” Spencer turned in the direction of his superior
The older man raised his eyebrows, curious about the words that were about to come out of the younger’s mouth. “Let’s hear it.” 
“Please make all the rooms soundproof.”
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