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sharkikive · 3 months

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match made in heaven (ken sato x fem!reader)

Summary: You were Professor Sato’s research assistant and your apartment just got destroyed by Ultraman.

Somehow, this led to a matchmaking project between you and the infamous baseball player, Ken Sato.

Word count: 6,887

A/N: I yap a lot when it comes to writing. Just writing this because the Ken Sato brainrot is too damn strong. Just a bunch of gibberish. Not my best but currently too hung up on Kenji. Includes mention of Professor Sato, Mina and Emi (definitely having baby fever because of her).

Ken Sato.

His name was a staple in your daily life, yet you had never met the man face to face.

The moment you thought you had escaped from hearing the broken recording of his name, it was brought up once again as the news of him returning to Japan plastered the news.

You rolled your eyes at the screen, but were careful enough not to let the old man hunched over the table, poring over some papers on Kaiju, see you.

Well, you could not exactly tell the father that you were tired of hearing his son’s name everywhere, could you?

“Professor Sato,” you started. “I shall take my leave for today.”

“Ah yes, sure. Please have a safe journey back home. I’m sorry this old man can’t send you back safely,” he replied, to which you quickly dismissed.

“Professor, I’ll be fine.” You chuckled lightly, “In case you have forgotten, I’m already 26. I’m already an adult. No longer the wide-eyed, 17-year-old you first took under your wing.”

He gave out a breathy laugh, sniffling as you knew what’s going to come out of his mouth next. You resisted the urge to stop him, purely out of respect.

“Kenji is the same age as you. I wish you could meet him, but that child is very stubborn. He wouldn’t even answer my calls, let alone meet me.” He paused, as if thinking of the next sentence, but went against it.

You only smiled weakly, the only response you’d always given when he mentioned his son’s name. You took this as a sign to leave before bowing and setting off to your apartment.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were tired of listening to that man’s name every single time. Yes, you knew that it was Professor Sato’s guilt that kept him talking about his son, but the more you heard about him, the more you found him less likeable.

He came back to Japan, yet he did not even contact his father even once? Yet Professor Sato would talk about him every day.

You knew nothing about baseball, and did not care to find out, but the appearance of Ken Sato forced you to learn that he’s apparently about to be the saviour for the Giants.

You sighed, stopping under the night sky as you watched people milling about the streets.

You were an ambitious girl who had a deep interest in Kaiju and without shame, Ultraman. Ultraman was the first hero you knew and grew up with, so imagine the elation you felt when you found out that Professor Sato was affiliated with both. He agreed to take you under his wing with the condition that you finished your degree, so the moment you had gotten your scroll you showed up in front of him, eager to start.

He probably couldn’t turn you away considering how you seemed… pitiful. Yup, that’s probably the word.

You enjoyed working as his research assistant, but found out soon enough that he was a lonely man who missed his wife and son dearly. He was a father figure to you, considering that you were orphaned at a young age.

It was a peaceful night.

Well, if you consider the scene of Neronga choking Ultraman as a peaceful night.

Correction: It was supposed to be a peaceful night.

You stepped back as the gigantic hero got slammed into another building, destroying yet another public property. You winced as it was obvious that the hero was not upholding the principles and seemed more like he was trying to destroy as much as he could.

The thing that irritated you the most? You knew exactly who it was under that suit.

You shook your head, not even bothering to see how the fight would go. You were 100% sure the KDF would be gunning down the Kaiju in no time.

You set off again, mildly hoping that your apartment did not get obliterated in the chaos, or you would definitely hunt that baseball player down.

It was hard to ignore the fight when two giants were stomping around the city, and you dropped dramatically on your knees when you saw Ultraman being launched in the direction of your building.

“No-” you weakly said, knowing that your voice was merely a speck of hopelessness among the gasps of the crowd, Ultraman’s groan and Neronga’s roar. From behind your glasses, a tear rolled down your face as you saw your apartment building crumbling, all thanks to that stupid, cocky, asshole of a baseball player.

Now thanks to Professor Sato’s beloved son, you were homeless.

***

Maybe it was your lack of sleep from worrying about how the progress of rebuilding your house went, because you were dragged by Professor Sato at 2 in the morning to the secret base, facing a scene that you promptly found ridiculous.

Right, seeing the giant hero hunched over in front of you was no surprise because you knew exactly who it was. A little bit weird how he’s here considering his relationship with his father, but that wouldn’t be an issue.

But what was an issue was that the said giant was cradling an equally gigantic pink baby Kaiju and was- you took a step back.

Something must had happened because Ken Sato was crying in front of you. Not the scene you’d expect in the morning while being sleep-deprived.

Your mind was only registering the words ‘injured’, ‘need help’ and the rest was a blur as Professor Sato helped in correcting the fracture in the Kaiju’s arm. The Kaiju was calmed down, brought to sleep and you could not help but smile at the sleeping baby.

Part of the reason you were still there was because you found the baby Kaiju so adorable with her chubby cheeks and twitterings.

Another part was because you were curious to see (discreetly, of course, under the pretext of looking over the Kaiju) the dynamic between Ultradad and well, the son. You were facing the Kaiju but you were straining your ears to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Doing this-“ you picked up a sentence, -“doesn’t suddenly make you Ultradad.”

You felt slightly perturbed. Kenji came in here pleading while crying, Professor Sato helped him without any questions yet the son was barely grateful for it.

But you knew you’re no one to be meddling in their family affairs.

So you kept quiet, straining your ears with Mina - the robot - hovering nearby.

Your mind wandered to whether it would be plausible for you to chip in a request for Ken Sato’s autograph and sell it high to make up for the costs of your destroyed apartment.

That’s the least he could do after reducing your safe space into rubble.

You snapped back to the present as you heard your name being called, and was greeted with the sight of a smiling father and a son looking like he’d love to be anywhere but here.

Ken Sato was not smiling, but he didn’t look like he hated you either.

The next thing you knew was that you were left alone with Ken, and you couldn’t help but think Professor Sato had a hidden agenda because he left with a chuckle. Even Mina was nowhere in sight.

What could I possibly say to this man I’ve never met before?

The young man in front of you looked starkly different from the confident, boastful man you had seen in interviews. Instead, he seemed more like a sad excuse who looked so distraught you swore you could see him shrinking.

“So uh-” he started, scratching his head with an awkward smile. “Y/N… right?”

Your eyebrows lifted at the mention of your name.

“Dad told me about your apartment.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

You clicked your tongue. “Other than the fact that I became homeless, it’s no issue.”

You did not intend it to be a joke, but it seemed that the only immediate response he could give was to laugh awkwardly, before he buried his face in his hands. “God- I’m so- sorry.” He pried his fingers slightly to look at you, before continuing. “I came back to Japan because dad wanted me to continue this- I don’t know what you call this. Legacy?”

Your eyes trailed his movements; you got slightly startled as he suddenly sprang up and you pushed back your glasses.

“High hopes from everyone ever since I started playing for the Giants, dad wanting me to become Ultraman and-“ he sighed exasperatedly, “it was too much.”

You rubbed the tip of your nose before shrugging. “Well, you did seem confident while you were on TV. If you ask me, you gave them that confidence.”

He left his mouth slightly hanging open as he didn’t expect you to give it to him straight.

You continued, “Ultraman is a hero for some, if not all. Some of them may not care. But all,” your eyes collided with his as he plopped back down onto the sofa, “don’t know who is under that suit. All they know is Ultraman is supposed to be the hero protecting the city with-“ you pressed your lips into a thin line, “-minimal damage.”

He blinked. Did he look like he wanted to cry again?

The corner of your lips lifted up slightly, but you quickly switched it off as he looked at you imploringly.

You raised your hands shoulder-level, hiding a yawn before managing. “Don’t expect me to become your counsellor, but what I’m saying is, when you’re Ken Sato, the baseball player, of course they’d expect you to play well. When you’re Ultraman, people expect you to be the hero.” You interlinked your fingers. “They don’t see you becoming both at the same time. And now, you added another point to your resume. You became a single dad.”

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. He sucked in his lower lip and for the first time ever you thought that maybe Professor Sato’s son wasn’t that bad at all, both personality and lookwise.

“I can’t comment much about what you feel about your father. I won’t deny that my opinion on you was formed only based on what I saw, but I now know that you must have had a reason why you acted that way to your father.” You shrugged. “I saw a lonely father and a distant son. Because I spent almost all of my time with Professor Sato, please trust me, he talks about you every single day.” You spread your arms, “Your father talked about you, the TV was blaring news about you 24/7 and I was exhausted hearing your name all the time.”

He didn’t seem offended, but was merely focusing on the one sentence. “My father talks about me every day?”

”Every day,” you breathed. “You and your mother.” You smiled, “He never stopped thinking about both of you.”

”Huh.” It seemed like he didn’t know how to react.

This time, you couldn’t help but yawn so you got up quickly, intending to leave the base. If the conversation wasn’t finishing, you were sure you were about to finish it. Your eyelids couldn’t hold much longer.

It was nice having a talk with this infamous baseball player and it sure did change your perspective of him.

He looked on, confused, as you gave a slight nod before heading towards the exit.

”Hey-“ he started, doing a slight jog to catch up to you, who was almost asleep standing up. He gently grabbed the strap of your sling bag, and you snapped your eyes open. He retracted his hand, citing, “Sorry. But where do you think you’re going?”

It was your turn to look confused. “Home?” You said it as a question rather than a statement. “Wait,” you tracked back, “not home. My temporary home at the inn down the road because,” you giggled, clearly drunk from the lack of sleep, “Ultraman destroyed my home.”

”And because Ultraman destroyed your home, you’re staying with me,” he said smoothly, slightly nudging your back with his shoulder. Clearly he struggled as you were much shorter than him.

”With you?” You had no idea where the idea was going yet so you shook your head. “Why would I want to stay with you?”

He took a step back and tugged at the strap of your sling back, essentially dragging you with him. “Don’t misunderstand. Dad’s staying with me as well, we have Mina and you’re joining me because we need to train her.”

”Wait, wait, wait.” You slapped a hand on his shoulder, but he was still holding on strong to the strap. “We? Her? What are we even talking about?”

You were clearly guided by him as you found yourself standing underneath his gaze in front of the Kaiju’s enclosure.

”We as in you, me, dad and Mina.” He nodded, looking satisfied. “Her as in this baby.” He did a show of hands towards the sleeping Kaiju.

You grimaced. “Sir, I did say that my perspective on you has changed, but that doesn’t mean you’re dragging me with you.”

”You’re my dad’s research assistant, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Yes…” You didn’t like where this is going.

”You don’t have a house… yet.”

”Yes…”

You took a step back, and what you could describe him now was as a puppy as he imitated your actions. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he leaned down to level his eyes with yours before saying, “Your boss is here, and you currently have no home to go back to. So why not? Take it as me being sorry for destroying your house as well. Deal?” He put out his hand to give you a shake.

You laughed nervously. “And what is it in for me…?”

”You… get to live in the same house as Ken Sato?”

”Nice, yay,” you said flatly. You rolled your eyes. “No.”

“Oh come on,” he groaned. “I feel bad.”

”There’s no need for you to feel bad, okay. I put that behind me, whatever.” You threw your hands in the air. “I’m going, bye.” You turned around, ready to leave.

”I’ll give you my autograph, as many as you’d like,” he quickly chipped in. “Signed possession, whatever you want.” He grinned in satisfaction as he saw you stop in your tracks and you quickly turned around. “It sells. A lot.”

”Hmm…” You seemed to consider it before you shook your head. “Your reputation lately isn’t the best so to sell them might be a bit hard…” You trailed off, clearly more of an effort to swat him away since you did think about it.

You couldn’t deny, it was a nice offer. But you were more worried about how you would cope, considering that you may have found him slightly attractive…

“I’m sure dad would be happy for you to stay here as well?”

You gritted your teeth. First time meeting him in real life and he already knew your weakness. He knew that using his father’s name would cause you to waver.

Still, you held on to your decision.

“No-”

He blinked slowly, and you heard the baby Kaiju stir in her sleep.

You ran your eyes towards the Kaiju before sighing. There was one thing you were interested in.

No, not the man in front of you.

You walked over to the enclosure. “How is she with strangers?”

Kenji popped up beside you before winking. “If I say the stranger is a friend, you’ll be glad to have her around.”

You took a moment to think, weighing the pros and cons. “Full privacy? Separate bathrooms?”

He scratched the nape of his neck. “Well, there is one separate bathroom for the guests but the shower’s faulty.” Something dawned on his face as he just realised this. “The only working shower is in, uh, my room.”

You stared back at him. “So there is a chance I might run into you naked?”

“I’ll preserve my dignity.” He paused. “You know what, take my room. I can use the guest room.”

You chuckled, taking his hand in a forced handshake. “Fine, deal.”

He looked surprised, but trailed after you as both of you took the ride up. “Wait, what was the dealbreaker? Because of the Kaiju? The room? The-” he looked at you almost accusingly. “-chance of seeing the Ken Sato naked-”

“Shh-” you clamped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to silence him just as the entrance pried open, revealing a smiling Professor Sato.

“Dad,” Ken said in a muffled voice, and you pulled back from covering his mouth. “Dad,” he tried again. “She agreed to staying here.”

You looked at the professor from the corner of your eyes. So it was his doing. You wondered what the father had held over his son’s head to make him obey.

“Can I retire for the night?” You did an exaggerated show of stretching. “I’m becoming delirious from the lack of sleep.”

“Room’s to your right,” Ken offered.

“Make sure to lock the door,” Mina reminded you.

“Mina,” Ken groaned. “What are you implying?”

“Just general safety measures. Ken-” she hovered near the baseball player, “-are you okay? Your heartbeat is increasing-”

He groaned. “I’m fine, Mina. I’ll be using the guest room.”

Both of you went separate ways, leaving Professor Sato and Mina in the living room.

Professor Sato whispered, “Mina, status report on the project.”

Mina obediently replied, “Matchmaking project is showing positive progress. We can expect to see rapid progress in the next few weeks.”

***

Training and taking care of the baby Kaiju - which the professor had named Emi - was no easy feat. Contributed by your almost non-existent stamina, you were left cheering from the sides as mostly Ken and Emi did all kinds of simulation to train her. Dealing with a 20-feet monster was not on your bucket list, but you had proudly ticked it off mentally.

You heard whooping from the two and you held onto your bottle as the ground shook when Emi jumped up and down. Subconsciously, you smiled as you saw Ken cheering for the baby, and he almost got crushed when Emi gave his human form a high-five.

You quietly went up the lift as Ken was fussing over Emi to make her go to sleep. You plopped down on the sofa, switched on the TV and to no surprise, his name decorated the evening news.

Ken Sato showing good progress…

Ken Sato showing a more mature side…

Ken Sato helping the Giants to pick themselves back up…

“I definitely look better in person,” Ken’s voice came from behind and you could feel his presence near you. “May I?” He asked for permission to sit beside you but both of you knew the answer as he plopped down right next to you.

You see, these are the small things that could make you wonder whether he’s doing it on purpose or he really had no idea how they affected you.

You gulped when you could feel his knee bumping against yours, or when he casually put his arm on the back of the sofa across your shoulders. There was no contact but there might as well be something because you felt like your heart would jump right out.

Your romantic encounter with a guy was only as far as a guy who called you a creep because you were following him. That day, you were navigating the world half-blind because you broke your glasses and it seemed that he was going to your destination. Sure, you admitted that it was your fault and you apologised profusely, but that made you avoid taking the train for at least two weeks.

You got startled when Ken pressed a cold can on your cheek. The corner of your eyes caught the words ‘COCONUT WATER’. Remembering how Mina had essentially pestered Ken to drink coconut water as a ‘healthy option’, you smiled. Mina had also reminded Ken multiple times that because you didn’t drink, never, ever offer you a can of beer.

”Nah,” you refuted. “You look better on screen.” You imitated taking a camera shot of his face before chiding. “Up near you’re just…” You trailed off.

”Just what?” He asked, prying open his can of coconut water. Without asking, he took yours before helping to open it up for you.

This. These small gestures were what convinced you that you were turning crazy.

”Ugly,” you supplemented.

”Hey, play nice,” he tapped the opened can on your cheek before shoving it into your hand.

You chuckled, taking a gulp of the drink before both of you basked in silence. To him, it was a comfortable silence but to you, you were currently hoping that your heartbeat would just… stop.

You thought that maybe spending time and living together with Ken Sato would further confirm that you hated his guts, but so far, you were only getting the opposite effect. You were sure there was some character development somewhere… from that first moment he destroyed your house to that moment you met him again as he was cradling Emi.

You hated this growing feeling you had towards him and it’s so painfully obvious what Professor Sato (and Mina) were planning on doing to both of you.

The worst part was it seemed like it’s either: 1. Ken was too oblivious, or 2. He knew, but didn’t want to entertain the thought.

Was it a better idea to just leave? They did say your house would be finished being rebuilt in a few days.

”So…” you croaked. “My house will be done in a few days so I think it’s better for me to start packing.” You stole a glance at him. Now… Why am I hoping that he would stop me?

A flicker of disappointment behind his eyes but he was quick to switch it off. “Sure,” he rubbed his nose. “If… that’s what you want.”

You pursed your lips. This stupid erratic heartbeat wouldn’t stop and you hated that you didn’t know what to do with it. “I’ll… start packing then.” You took another peek at him. He wasn’t looking at you.

You stood up, but he stopped you. Your heart was making its way out of your ribcage for beating too loud, but it slowed down when he uttered, “Hey, don’t forget your coconut water."

You looked at him with an ‘Are you serious?’ look before taking it, not once unlocking your stare from his and standing up, finished the drink in one gulp. You crushed the can, and threw it in one shot towards the dustbin.

”Oh, okay.” He looked surprised by your reaction.

You stalked your way to the bedroom and closed the door. Sighing exasperatedly, you pressed your back against the door and slid down. You buried your face in your hands before lightly hitting your head with a fist. You felt bad for reacting that way but you found it harder to deny the feeling when you were so confident that you would manage to resist.

Outside in the living area, Ken looked troubled, his forehead wrinkling when he tried backtracking what he did. He turned to look over his shoulder as the spherical robot hovered near him, and he threw his head back.

”What is it, Mina? Are you here to chide me again?”

”In these kinds of situations, the woman is usually hoping the man would stop her from leaving,” Mina said.

”Mina,” he pleaded.

”I believe a misunderstanding had happened,” she offered again, to which he appeared confused. “Please, do look at the screen.”

Ken’s eyes travelled to the projection Mina made. He looked even more confused as one of his solo interviews was displayed. He looked inquiringly at Mina, before the latter sweeped her robotic hands to ask him to focus on the interview.

It was an interview he did some time last week. His face changed when he started catching on what Mina was trying to show.

“So your name has become the talk of the town again for a good reason now.” The interviewer paused for effect. “This is a question that I’m sure everyone has thought of at least once when we’re talking about Ken Sato.” The interviewer looked at him. “Do you have anyone you’re interested in or at least, someone you have set your eyes on?”

Ken’s response was immediate as he laughed and shook his head. “No, no. Not right now.” He leaned back, a relaxed stance as he waved his hand in front of his face. “Right now I’m only focusing on my baseball career. Still got a long way to go. I don’t want to waste my time on something so unimportant.”

The interviewer turned back to the screen. “You’ve heard it directly from the man, folks. He’s-“

Mina switched off the replay while Ken looked regretful.

Exasperated, he said, “Mina, you know I don’t mean it that way.”

“I believe you should be clarifying that with Y/N herself and not me. She is the subject of your affection.”

“Affection-” he mulled over the word. “Do you really think so, Mina? Is this what this…” He put a hand over his chest. “Foreign feeling is?”

“From my observation,” Mina replied as she stayed close to Ken’s shoulder. “Your expression becomes livelier, your smile becomes wider and your eyes twinkle more whenever she is around. Now,” she paused, “you do have that same reaction whenever you’re with Emi. However, I do sense your heartbeat increasing every time you’re with Y/N. I believe this is what they would call a romantic attraction.”

“So in short,” he sighed, “I like her but I’m saying the opposite thing? But-” he almost grabbed Mina to ask her more, “how would I know if she feels the same way? I- I don’t think I can handle rejection from her. Do you sense anything from her?”

There was a silence as Mina backed up, making way towards her room. “I believe that is not a question for me to answer, Ken. Why don’t you sort it out with her?”

Ken looked at the door of the room you’re in, gathering the courage to make his way. He stopped in front of the door, he shook his hands, breathing in and out as his mind reeled with all sorts of apologies and words to offer to you.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, and at the same time you swung open the door, causing him to knock a fist on your forehead.

So much for Ultraman reflexes.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Ken shouted, automatically cupping your face to see the damage he’d done. “Are you- are you okay?”

You blinked, everything happening at once too much for you. He knocked on your door, you happened to open it at the same time and now he’s-

“I’m… fine. Can you…” you tapped your palm on his hand. “...let go?”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he let go as he laughed nervously. “Reflexes fail you at times like these, right?” His face fell as he saw you avoiding his gaze. “Hey. Can we talk?”

You looked up, finally looking at him. “Yeah?”

He exhaled. “Like, properly.”

“Have we not been communicating properly?”

Mina suddenly appeared beside both of you. “I apologise for having to interrupt but yes, I do observe some miscommunication going on. So if both of you may sort it out.”

Mina’s hands pushed both of you into the room and shut the door.

There were protests from both but they quickly died down before silence stretched. Both of you exchanged glances but not words, and neither had any idea what the other was thinking of.

All the apologies and words Ken was thinking of offering to you went up in a cloud of smoke. Instead, he asked the one thing he wished he could take back. “So when are you planning to leave?” Dang it, Ken.

Your face contorted, obviously offended. “As soon as I can. Don’t worry,” you walked over to the bed, shoved your clothes into your duffel bag and zipped it up. “I wanted to tell you that I finished packing.”

”You’re leaving tonight?” This time around, he didn’t hide his disappointment. Why, why is it so hard for him to ask you to stay? To tell you what he really feels?

Sure, he couldn’t deny that his attitude came from growing up mostly without his father around. He had grown up with this wall built around him as a defensive mechanism. He found it hard to communicate with others, to explain what he really was feeling.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He figured it was best to let the feeling die down. You’d be better off with someone else anyway.

”Just tell me when you want to leave,” he finally uttered. “I’ll open the door for you.”

You gritted your teeth and only nodded.

He turned around and shut the door. Mina and his father were outside, the latter having a worried look on his face.

”Kenji,” Professor Sato uttered.

”I want to be alone, dad,” he mentioned. “Mina,” he turned to the supercomputer, “just make sure she gets to where she wants to go safely.”

As Ken shut the door, Professor Sato turned to Mina, to which he uttered, “I trust this is not the time to ask about the progress.”

Mina answered. “Yes, Professor. I believe we may have hit a wall.”

***

You decided to leave early in the morning and with only a note, saying that you’d like to have some time off. Mina was kind enough to open the door for you, but when she asked whether you’d like to have Ken and Professor Sato see you off, you shook your head vigorously.

”Mina, tell them I’m going somewhere nice for a vacation.” You winked, but it was obvious that you were trying to hide something from breaking. “They better not look for me.”

Mina paused, as if she’s using her electronic brain to figure a way to stop you. “Kenji has a reason for acting that way.” A pause. “Though I am merely a robot with little to no experience in romantic relationships.”

You chuckled. “Thank you, Mina. Really, all of you were so kind to me. It’s just that,” you sighed, “I understand why he’d act that way. He has a whole career to look forward to. Adoring fans. He can’t be wasting-“ you gulped, the words bitter on your mouth, “-time on something so insignificant. I shall take my leave.”

”Y/N,” she uttered. “If I may ask one last question before you leave?”

You tilted your head. “Sure, Mina. What is it?”

“Were my calculations wrong about what you’re feeling?”

”And that is?”

”You hated him at first, but that hate has turned into something more… lovely."

You couldn’t help but smile. “It’s so obvious isn’t it?” You crinkled your nose. “I better take my leave before the three of them wake up.”

That was the last you saw all four of them - Professor Sato, Ken, Mina and Emi. That was what… a week ago?

Now you’re sitting, slumped in your bean bag as you groaned, bored out of your mind. Nice vacation, my ass. If that means reading the same books over and over again, surfing the web and watching the same TV shows while being cooped up in your house, you’re definitely having a nice vacation.

Even then, you found it hard to avoid that person. He was literally everywhere.

You switched off the TV, stretched, before something gigantic shook the whole city. Your eyes went wide as you realised that there was a possibility of another attack. Without much thought, you pushed up your glasses and took a glance through your apartment window.

There they are.

You saw both Ultraman and Emi traversing the landscape. You turned around to leave your apartment, but stopped as you heard sharp chirpings.

Emi was hovering near your window and you laughed, amazed at the sight in front of you. “Emi, you grew wings! You can fly now!”

The baby Kaiju smiled at you, seemingly proud that she could finally set off from the ground.

”Emi, come on.” You heard the one voice that could shatter your resolve then and there.

You tried to close the window, had enough, but the hero stopped you from shutting the window.

“Ow,” he complained, flapping his hand. Ken quickly stopped you from leaving as he said, “Look, I’ve been a jerk and-“ a loud boom resonated through the whole city, “-I want to start over.”

You sucked in your lower lip, mulling over his sentence. You lifted up your eyebrows as if to say, ‘Really, right now?’

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I like you, okay? But I didn’t know how to say it. Or maybe I was just afraid of rejection.”

You tried to keep a straight face but failed; you didn’t expect to hear a confession from Ultraman. You cleared your throat as you looked away. “Become a hero, save the day and then say all of that again,” your voice dropped to a whisper, as if anyone could hear you, “as Ken Sato.”

You’re not sure whether it was possible, but his eyes lit up brighter as he nodded. He started a light jog to launch himself before shouting, “Wait for me!” He disappeared in a twinkle in the night sky.

With your best guess, you assumed the fight must be going on between them and the KDF. Knowing that you’d be anxious waiting to see the results of the fight, you grabbed your jacket, set off into the night and tried searching a vantage point where you’d be able to at least get a view of what’s happening.

You found a spot and narrowed your eyes as you tried to get an idea of where the two of them stood. Emi… Ultraman… Is that Gigantron?

You became confused as you remembered clearly Professor Sato claiming that the most magnificent creature on Earth had died. What the hell is going on?

You gripped the railing of the bridge you were on, the fight getting further and further away from you. You watched the fight unfold… breath battered as you were silently cheering them on. You gasped as another figure launched himself into the fight.

”Professor,” you muttered to yourself. “Please, please be safe.”

The fight was a distant chaos, you could barely see what was going on. You gritted your teeth as you waited for the final call, but dropped to your knees as you realised what was going on.

”No, no, no. Ken…"

You saw the shield. Ken underneath the shield, the explosion that should have been loud, but was muffled inside the enclosure Ken had made before blinding light filled the atmosphere.

Tears filled up your vision as you saw the giant hero collapse into the sea.

***

You stared blankly at the unmoving body in front of you, while another person was strategically standing near the exit. You looked over your shoulder as you felt a light, reassuring tap.

Professor Sato wanted to offer some words of reassurance, but you merely shook your head. He let out a heavy breath, saying, “I’ll leave the two of you alone. I'll continue working on restoring Mina.”

”Thanks,” you sniffled. “Professor.”

Apparently on the day the fight happened, Mina was caught in the frenzy and was almost shut down, while the secret base was partially destroyed. Now the Professor was working on recovering Mina, while Ken…

You sighed, looking at the patient in front of you.

Nothing to worry about, actually. Despite the quick thinking of Ultraman in front of you throwing himself over the bomb, he actually managed to escape with just a broken arm. He’s not dead, Ken Sato was still here, recovering.

But what annoyed you was that it seemed every time you came to visit, he would pretend to be asleep. Not even stirring, obviously faking sleep to avoid talking to you.

So what, all that confession was for naught? Just an adrenaline rush from becoming the hero?

This time around though, it did seem like he was fast asleep. His chest was rising and falling steadily. His hair was messy, and you resisted the urge to tidy it up.

”You jerk,” you grumbled. “I was so worried for you, but… you’re really planning on leaving me hanging like this?”

”Y/N…”

You stopped grumbling to yourself as you heard the man in front of you mumbling your name. You leaned forward, curious to hear what he got to say.

”You look so…” he continued, eyes still shut.

You strained your ears to catch more.

”I like you…”

You pressed your lips together before punching his unhurt shoulder, almost too hard.

He gasped, sat up straighter, taking in big gulps of air as his irises move frantically to search for the source of the punch.

”Who-“ he blinked. “Y/N?”

”In the flesh,” you deadpanned.

”What are you-“

”I told you,” you interjected. “Tell it to my face as Ken Sato.”

He looked guilty for a moment, and you leaned back in your chair.

”You’re going to say it was a mistake, aren’t you?” You asked, clearly exasperated.

”No, it wasn’t a mistake!” He quickly said, searching for your eyes. “After the fight that day I felt like being a hero means that there was a possibility I would just-” he imitated an explosion, “disappear.”

You grabbed his collar. “If you know that even any single day you have a possibility of disappearing, that your life is short, then-” the grip around his collar became tighter, “-it means that you have to grab every opportunity as soon as you can. That includes confessing to someone you like.” You threw your hands up in frustration and stood up, pacing back and forth. “God! Why are relationships so complicated? And why am I so, so, so stupid?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“I don’t know,” you said, tears pooling in your eyes. “When you said you didn’t have any interest in anyone, and that you didn’t want to waste your time on something so insignificant. Hearing that, I just-” you sighed. “-thought that the answer was so obvious. You have your priorities straight.”

“Y/N-” he stopped you by touching your arm lightly, pulling you over to sit beside him. “That was-” He winced as he felt pain shooting up his arm. He tried again, “That was what I’d usually say in interviews before this, because baseball was the only thing that put a smile on my face. But now…” He took your hand, caressing it. “You came and it was just one, big confusion for me. You are the only person who has managed to,” he chuckled, “cause the Ken Sato to waver. It was a foreign feeling for me."

“Idiot…” you mumbled.

He pulled you closer with his good arm, and obviously inexperienced, you shut your eyes tight as you felt him softly breathing against your cheek. Of course, you thought he’d go for a kiss on your lips, but you heard him chuckle before he pressed a light one on your cheek. You opened your eyes and he was grinning.

He thought you looked adorable.

“What was that?” you asked flatly.

“A kiss?” he said, unsure of what exactly you were implying.

“Uh-uh.”

You grabbed his face, and he looked surprised as you leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Your glasses were in the way so you took them off, and you felt his arm snaking around your waist to hold you firmly in place.

In the heat of the moment and flurry of emotions, you found yourself pinned under him, his good arm caging you. He kissed you again, but this time around you felt your heart beating so loud you had to place your palms against his chest to slightly push him away.

“Ken,” you warned him. “We’re in the hospital.”

He blinked, feigning innocence. “Really? I had no idea.” He traced a finger on your cheek, wiping away the traces of your tears. He pinched your cheek as he said, “The doctor told me that I’m good to be discharged tomorrow.”

Suddenly conscious of how you’re pinned under him, you looked away. “That’s good. You can go back home in no time.”

He tapped a finger on your chin, causing you to look back at him. “My house is still under repair, remember? I’m essentially homeless.”

“You can live with your dad-“

“Take the hint, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead before collapsing beside you, both of you cramped on the small hospital bed.

You thought about how you had never, ever brought a guy home. And now Ken wanted to…?

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

He smiled, squeezing your shoulders as you buried your face in his chest. “Can I ask just one… question?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“What was the dealbreaker, really? The one that made you agree to stay at the secret base?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course.”

This time, you didn’t even hesitate. “The chance to see the Ken Sato naked of course.”

“Damn it. I knew that was the reason.”

#ken sato #kenji sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x you #x reader #kenji sato x you #ken sato x y/n #wr: mine

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muwapsturniolo · 4 months

Text

✯𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐞✯

IN WHICH…Chris films a TikTok with his best friend to his favorite song, and things take a turn.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!! Drinking, twerking, choking, making out, unprotected sex, cream pie, squirting, slapping, Nick freaking the fuck out.

THIS WAS A REQUEST!!!!

Chris was beyond bored.

He was currently sitting on the couch of his Boston home alone. Everyone had decided to go out (including Trevor), and Chris stayed home. He began to regret it once the boredom took over.

He huffs as he opens the wrapper around the sucker, shoving the cherry-flavored stick in his mouth.

Suddenly his phone rings, a smile taking over his face seeing the familiar name on the screen.

Y/n

She was a very close friend of the triplets and Nate. They considered her to be family based on her actions as a friend. She always made sure the boys stayed out of trouble and prospered in their YouTube career, never letting them quit and damn near beating anyone up that hurt them.

“Hey, you guys busy?” Her voice rings out. he could hear shuffling and the clinking of keys. Chris shakes his head and takes the sucker out his mouth, “Nah, everyone went out and I stayed home…You want to come over? I’m bored out of my mind and need entertainment.”

“On my way Topher! Is it ok if I crash there? I want to drink tonight.”

Chris rolls his eyes hearing that godforsaken nickname, “Stop calling me that ugly ass name. And you know you don’t have to ask.”

Y/n blows a raspberry before telling Chris she’s on her way.

Not even a full twenty minutes later, Y/n is strolling into the home as if it’s her own.

“Topher I missed you!” She wraps her arms around Chris and squeezes him tightly. “Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” He questions looking down at her.

“Well unless you make me stop, it’s still being said.” He rolls his eyes but can’t help but feel some kind of way about her words.

It was known to everyone who knew Y/n that she was a bit of a flirt. It was natural for her to flirt with everyone, boys and girls. Sometimes it was on purpose, other times it was on accident.

Chris could never tell if she was doing it on purpose with him. He always received mixed signals from her.

“What drinks did you bring?” He asks as he sits back at the island. She hops onto the marble slab and pulls out a bottle of Casamigos, and some form of vodka.

“My personal favorite, casa-freak-hoe!” He snorts at her play-on-words and walks over to the fridge, grabbing a few chasers.

The two adults begin to drink, taking shot after shot as they catch up with each other. It’s not long before the liquor takes over and glosses their minds.

“Let’s do something fun!” Y/n giggles setting her shot glass down.

“Like what?”

“Ooo let’s film TikTok’s!”

Soon the two are making a fool of themselves, dancing and lip-syncing to multiple audios.

A few of them were posted, fans rushing to comment on the infamous duo finally being back together.

“Ooo let's do one to freak hoe!” Y/n urges in excitement.

“Why freak hoe?” Chris asks as he clicks on the sound.

“Because I’m a freak hoe off the Casamigos!”

Chris cackles before pressing the record button.

“Imma throw this money like a free throw-“ he lip syncs before setting the phone down. He backs up and turns to Y/n, clapping his hands to the beat before doing his little dance.

Not thinking straight due to the liquor in her system, Y/n bends over and begins throwing it back on Chris. The boy immediately becomes entranced by the way her ass moves, watching as the soft skin recoils and shakes. He’s amazed at the control of her lower body, it’s almost as if it has a mind of its own.

His hands move before he can even register his own actions, grasping her hips firmly and pulling her into him even more. He groans softly as her ass grinds against his growing tent.

Y/n feels the tent against her ass and stands up straight, whining her hips.

That’s enough to make Chris snap.

He wraps his hand around her neck and pulls her body flush against his, he pulls her head back and firmly presses his lips against hers.

The two begin to sloppily make out, teeth clashing and tongues dancing with each other. With their lips still connected, Y/n turns her body so they are chest to chest. She moans into the kiss as Chris grips her ass firmly before slapping it. She trails one of her hands down to his pants and begins palming him.

He pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against hers, groaning softly.

“It only took you four years,” she teases softly.

It’s true, Y/n has been trying for four years to get Chris to make a move on her, but the boy seemed to be oblivious to her advances. She knew she was flirty and he probably brushed it off but she always amped it up around him.

“Shut the fuck up-“ he grunts before planting his lips back to hers.

The two stand in the kitchen, making out for what seems like decades before Chris finally picks her up and takes her to Nick's room.

He knew Nick would be pissed but he didn’t care, he’d deal with it later.

He slams the door before moving to the bed and laying her down. It’s not long before his hands snake down to her shorts, rubbing over her through the grey material.

The erotic sounds of her wetness moving through her folds make the both of them moan.

“Already wet?”

“S’casamigos.” She admits before bucking her hips. Chris chuckles and takes the initiative to snake his hands down her shorts.

He glides his fingers through her folds before toying with her clit. “Fuck-Chris!” She whimpers throwing her head back. His fingers felt heavenly, but unfortunately she would have to experience them at a different time.

She wasn’t lying when she told Chris she’s a freak hoe off the Casamigos. She was as wet as a waterpark and she needed to be fucked hard and rough, immediately.

“Forget the foreplay Chris and fuck me!” She demands. Chris doesn’t have to be told twice, quickly stripping them both of their clothes.

He yanks her closer by her thighs, rubbing his cock between her folds. Y/n quickly becomes irritated, “Chris I swear to god if you do-Shit!” She throws her head back when he slams into her.

There’s no waiting for her to adjust, there’s no soaking in the moment, it's just Chris continuously thrusting harshly like his life depended on it.

Her legs are being held wide open as he ruts into her, his thighs ricocheting off the back of hers. His grunts and her moans bounce off the walls along with the headboard, their melodic noises filling up the empty house.

Chris presses down on her stomach and uses his thumb to rub her clit.

“Oh shit! Oh my god!” Her back arches as she feels her orgasm quickly approaching. She clenches her eyes shut only to snap them open when she feels a sting on her cheek.

“Eyes open baby, wanna see you when you cum.”

He pushes her legs back further before jack hammering into her.

“FUCK FUCK FU-“ her eyes roll back as her body withers under him, her juices coating his abdomen. “Holy shit-“ seeing her squirt was enough for Chris to stall deep inside of her, throwing his head back as he lets go.

He collapses on top of her, breathing harshly. Much to his surprise he doesn’t get to relax for long, Y/n flipping them other. She crawls on top of him and rocks back and forth, whimpering as his cock stimulates her clit.

Chris grunts and tries to stop her movements, “Jesus Christ give me a minute.”

“Stop being a fucking pussy Chris and let me ride you!”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters before letting her do what she wants. Y/n sinks down on him and immediately begins to bounce up and down.

Chris grips her hips tightly, watching her breasts bounce with low and lustful eyes. He bites his lip and trails his hand upward, tweaking and pulling at her nipples.

“Shit princess, you look so good being on top.”

He looks down between them and groans at the unholy site.

A thick white cream sits on the base of his cock, some of the cream even on the inside of her thighs as well. He watches as it spreads around each time her thighs land against his, the thunderous slapping sounds also sounding wet and sticky.

He throws his head back and closes his eyes, the feeling of his orgasm hitting him hard.

He snaps his eyes open and looks at a smirking y/n, shocked that she slapped him.

“Eyes open baby, I want to see you when you cum.”

She taunts him with his own words. He growls and snaps his hips upward, the girl yelping and falling forward. Chris wraps his hand around her throat and pushes her back up.

Y/n’s eyes roll back as Chris continues to thrust upward meeting her bouncing. “take it baby, you can handle it.”

Incoherent noises tumble from her mouth as she holds on to his wrist. “Gonna cum with me?” He pants.

“Y-yes!” She rasps out, her eyes rolling back.

He lets go of her throat and holds on to her hips once again. Y/n leans back, using one arm to support herself as she uses the other to quickly swipe back and forth against her clit.

She lets out a loud drawn out mewl as she squirts once again. Her juices land all over the bed, along with his chest. “Fuck!” She shouts at the overstimulation coming from Chris’s thrusting.

Chris grips her hips excruciatingly tight as he cums once again, holding her down in place.

“Holy shit-” He pants out. Y/n giggles tiredly as she slowly climbs off of him. Chris stops her, watching as the thick semen pools out of her and onto his now soft cock.

He doesn’t have much time to relish at the site due to the door being swung open, “Chris were home! Is Y/n he-OH MY GOD!” Nick quickly turns around at the site of his brother and their best friend naked in his bed.

“I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO KILL THE BOTH OF YOU! WHY ARE YOU HAVING SEX IN MY ROOM!? MY ROOM!” Nick slams the bedroom door, his shouting still being heard.

The two adults quickly attempt to get dressed, their intoxicated minds making them giggle at the whole ordeal. Suddenly the door is opened once again and a bottle of Lysol is thrown, hitting Chris in the head.

A paper towel roll is thrown as well and hits Y/n in the chest, “Jesus Christ Nick what the fuck!?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! BOTH OF YOU ARE CLEANING MY ROOM AND YOU ARE SLEEPING IN HERE TONIGHT WHILE I SLEEP IN YOUR BED CHRIS! YOU TWO ARE DISGUSTING!”

The door slams shut for the last time before footsteps are heard stomping up the stairs.

Chris rolls his eyes and goes to put his shirt on but is stopped by Y/n,

“Want to go again?”

“You weren’t lying when you said you’re a freak hoe off the Casamigos.”

He pushes her down on the bed with a smile on his face before dropping to his knees in between her legs.

I HOPE YALL ENJOYED IT!!!!🍑

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n @freshsturns @adoreindie @sturnstvr

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thef1diary · 5 months

Text

Baby Jr | One

— Friendly Banter

Series summary: The teasing, fleeting touches became much more on the night Carlos won, the sexual tension between you two reached a breaking point. Perhaps it was that night, or the many nights that followed, but you were pregnant with his child, putting you in a difficult situation.

Series Masterlist

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

Warnings: allusions to smut but no actual smut yet

wc: 2.9k

Note: here it is, the first chapter of many more to come. lemme know what you think, feedback is always appreciated.

You had caught the eye of a certain Ferrari driver from the moment you joined the team. He always looked at you in fascination, having the urge to find a way to figure you out but that's all it was for the longest time. Until it wasn't.

Carlos Sainz vividly remembers the first time he set his eyes on you. He was on his way to leave the headquarters in Maranello while you were on your way inside. Carlos' gaze was watchful, almost heavy with judgment as you hurried in through the doors with more items in your arms than you should've been able to carry.

He almost stopped you to ask who you were, but he noticed the badge clipped onto your jeans, media personnel. You had already passed him before he could read your name, and shook his head knowing that your name was the more important detail compared to your role.

You hadn't noticed him that day, but he noticed you.

He didn't see you again until the new season came around, having almost forgotten about your brief encounter at the end of the previous year. He had to do a double take once he saw you setting up the cameras for some content he was supposed to record along with his teammate.

It was a simple video that required the drivers to answer a few questions sent in by their fans, something that should've been easy since they've done it before. But he couldn't focus on anything but you. Given that you were the ones asking the questions, reading them off the short stack of cards you had in your hand, he wasn't outed for being distracted.

Knowing the drivers still had a busy day ahead of them, you began packing up the items once the video was filmed. Keeping your eyes locked on the task, you expected the drivers to be led away by their PR managers, so you were surely startled once you heard a voice acknowledging you.

Carlos stayed back, and roaming your gaze for a split second behind him, Charles had left. You knew who he was of course, after all you followed the sport for many years before you were given the opportunity to work for one of the teams.

"I don't think we properly met, I'm Carlos." He extended his hand out and you gladly accepted, shaking it while introducing yourself. You found it sweet that despite being one of the two faces of the team, he still introduced himself like you didn't know who he was.

As a junior media employee who was still relatively new to the team, you were informed in advance that you would rarely be interacting with the drivers.

So it wasn't surprising that while working in the same team, you rarely saw Carlos in person. Working under Silvia—the head of communications—you would usually be the one tasked to edit the challenge videos, creating enough content from various footage to keep the fans engaged. The few times you did see him in person was to conduct media challenges that the team planned every once in a while to give the fans a chance to know the drivers underneath their helmets.

As the season went on, you found that you were indeed given the wrong information; you did in fact meet the drivers again and again. You were given many opportunities to travel with the team, and it would've been absurd if you denied those opportunities—not that you had a choice since you were needed at almost every race.

You were glad to experience the thrill of Formula 1 from the front row seats, able to watch all the sessions in the weekend itself but also be a part of the journey with the drivers that not many people get to see.

It was inevitable to befriend many people along the way, especially with their welcoming nature despite some news outlets suggesting otherwise. Formula 1 could be considered as one giant family that obviously had issues every once in a while but no one outside of the sport could relate to them like each other. Especially since it was described like a traveling circus by a few drivers.

While you had befriended many other employees whether it was within your team or others, you also spoke to the other eighteen drivers often.

But no other driver invaded your thoughts like Carlos did.

You didn't know if you were overthinking it all, but you believed that Carlos was a tad bit too friendly compared to Charles or even any other driver for that matter.

Whether it was a compliment that left you a blushing mess, a lingering look that followed you until you left the room, or even a small graze of his fingers against your back while crossing your path, you couldn't think of anyone but him lately.

You heard a Monégasque accent calling your name and you slowed your pace, allowing him to catch up to you as you greeted without needing to look to see who it was, "Charles"

"Here, it's still hot," he was holding two disposable cups of coffee in his hands, extending one towards you.

You gestured to your own hands, carrying one too many things again.

He sighed, "I still don't know how you do that." He stopped walking as he neared a surface to put down the cups. "Here, give it to me," he spoke but didn't let you make a decision as he grabbed the various folders, a clipboard, and a tablet from your hands. You were still holding on to a tripod and a camera but he freed up one of your hands so you could hold the cup.

"I will have to let you know, that tablet you're holding, is very valuable to the team," you stated, mainly in a joking manner because you knew he wouldn't do anything to it.

"Oh is it now? What's on it?" Charles asked once you resumed walking, this time sipping on your coffee before answering his question. "First, perfect," you hummed, gesturing towards the cup. "Second, it has all the schedules for meetings, interviews, and everything that you or Carlos could possibly need a reminder for during the weekend."

He gasped, almost offended, "I do not need reminders for anything during the weekend, not like Carlos does."

Despite how it may seem, your role didn't entail being a driver's assistant. In fact your job was to manage a few social media accounts and create content that included the drivers as much as possible but every now and then you also helped the company keep the public images of the drivers reputable.

Lately, Carlos had been finding reasons to talk to you, and most of that time would be spent reviewing his schedule multiple times throughout the day.

"He can be a little forgetful sometimes," you commented but Charles shook his head.

"A little? He needed you to remind him what time the race was."

You grimaced, knowing Charles was correct. "Well, you're his teammate so you know him better than I do."

"Yeah, I guess I'll ask him, thanks for the coffee," Charles stated as you two entered a meeting room. There were still fifteen minutes before it started, but you preferred to use that time so you could prepare yourself for all the notetaking it usually required. Since you were still a fairly new employee, you wanted to absorb all the information like a sponge.

Confused, you responded back, "you're the one who got the coffee."

He placed the items he was holding on the table, then noticing the time on his watch, a brief gasp overtaking his expression. "Thanks for the company then, I'll see you later," he playfully winked like he always did before leaving the room.

Moments later, a knock distracts you from reviewing the previous notes and stats from the last meeting. Thinking it was Charles, you ask, "did you forget somet- oh, Carlos."

"Are you busy?" He asks as he leans his forearms on the back of a chair. Shaking your head you respond, "not really, what's up?"

"I forget how crazy the crowds can get outside, so can I stay here for a few minutes?" You smile, "of course you can, come sit." He rolled a chair out and sighed in relief after finally getting off his feet.

Carlos closed his eyes for a moment relishing in the moments of silence in his hectic life. It didn't last long as you hummed a random tune which you usually did while working. It was so faint but since it was completely silent otherwise, Carlos' ears perked up as he heard it.

Instead of looking for the moments of silence he thought he needed earlier to even do a simple task as breathing, Carlos leaned forward with his usual watchful gaze focused on you. "Are you planning on more ways for us to make a fool out of ourselves?" He asked.

You chuckled, "I would never do that." Carlos gave you a look that indicated he didn't believe you.

"The last challenge was planned by you, no?" He countered and when you sheepishly smiled, he knew he was correct.

"You know, Charles is right," you spoke after a few moments of silence.

"How so?" He leaned back, stretching his arms above his head for a moment that almost caused you to lose track of your thoughts. You've gotten better at keeping yourself calm and collected around Carlos lately, but you still took a little moment to appreciate how his muscles flexed in the full sleeved shirt he wore.

"There's a team debrief happening in about five minutes where you're needed, and it's a bit of a walk so I'm wondering if you're gonna reach in time." To confirm your words, he glanced at his watch, raising his eyebrows when he realized you were spot on.

"You know my schedule so well now," he couldn't help but comment, chuckling as he did so.

"Only because you forget it," you retaliated.

"Maybe I do that on purpose," he stood up, once again stretching to the point where the hem of his shirt raised a bit, revealing a sliver of skin that your gaze immediately shifted to. While you might've gotten better, you still needed a bit more practice every now and then. Carlos chuckled when you didn't have a response right away, knowing you were distracted but he didn't feel the need to expose you just yet.

As he pulled his shirt down, your eyes snapped to his, finally coming up with a response "and almost get me fired for making you late?"

He shrugged, "maybe." You knew he would never do such a thing that would jeopardize your job, so you shrugged off his comment.

"Go now, Sainz" you urged, waving your hand to emphasize your point.

"I'm going, I'm going, relax, cariño." You could hear his laugh as he left the room, and you didn't focus on the papers in front of you until his footsteps had faded away.

It was just friendly banter, you reminded yourself even after hearing the nickname he gave you. Sometimes your conversations were borderline flirtatious, but it was still fine. Until it wasn't.

As the year progressed further, you were no longer just an employee with a career in motorsport; you were a member of the team that celebrated each high while consoling and sticking together during the lows.

While your job wasn't directly connected to the race, nor could you help in changing the outcome like the mechanics and engineers could, you helped uplift the mood in the room on multiple occasions.

Which is why when Carlos stood on the top step of the podium, claiming his first place trophy that would eventually become a part of a larger collection, you felt like you won.

The spray of champagne reached the crowd of his team waiting below the podium. A laugh bubbled up your throat as Carlos tried to aim the spill of the drink in the team principal's mouth standing on the floor a few feet away from you.

A proud smile grew on your face as you watched the drivers and a representative from your team that collected the constructors trophy gathered together on the top step to take a photo.

The celebrations continued in the team garage, since both drivers made it on the podium. The energy buzzing through each member was noticeable, knowing that this win would be celebrated until the next. After the team photo was taken, the champagne popped once again.

A few people were able to get away from becoming soaked, others were being targeted. Charles managed to slip away, but Carlos couldn't. He happily accepted the spray, soaking his race suit further after the podium.

His eyes however, darted across the crowd and landed on you. Standing just out of reach of the champagne shenanigans but still close enough to celebrate, Carlos decided to pull you even closer.

Grabbing the bottle from the nearest person, he covered the top and shook it. Releasing his thumb, he let the fizzy drink spray out, directing it at you this time. "Carlos!" You shrieked, but laughing nonetheless.

Once satisfied, he took a sip from the bottle, his gaze fixed on you as yours moved down to his neck, watching his Adam's apple bob while he swallowed. Passing the bottle to you, you moistened your lips before tipping it up and sipping the cool champagne.

His attention was diverted as Charles had found another bottle of champagne, deciding to drench his teammate even further after the celebrations began to die down. You smiled as Carlos tried to run away, dodging the alcohol, but it quickly dropped once he used you as a shield.

"Oh, no, no, no," you held your hand out at Charles who smiled mischievously, stopping in his tracks right in front of you.

"You are a part of the team," he commented, and you almost ignored his words as you felt Carlos' hands rest on your waist from behind, feeling his breath on your neck.

The heat of your thoughts was ruined when Charles decided to rain champagne down on you, cooling you off instantly. "Charles," you groaned, knowing that it would be an excruciatingly long process to wash all the champagne out of your hair, especially if it began to dry soon.

The team began to disperse, rightfully so as everyone wanted to change out of their champagne soaked clothes, you included. Trying to wring out as much liquid as you could, you muttered a curse under your breath. This was the first time you ever experienced a win like today.

Speaking of, the winner of the race was standing off to the side, shirtless. Carlos had removed his fireproof top but still had his race suit zipped down to his waist and placed a cap on his head backwards to keep his hair out of his face.

You parted your lips and watched his back muscles flex as he moved around, then hastily looked away as he turned. You kept wringing your shirt as he moved past you, and despite the fact that there was enough space for him to pass you without touching you, his fingertips brushed over your back, down to your waist. He lingered on your hip for too long, but he didn't say anything, only smiled when you inhaled deeply.

You had returned to your hotel room and immediately rushed towards the shower. The champagne from earlier had dried, creating an unpleasant sensation as a layer of tackiness remained behind. Washing away all the sweat and champagne, you sighed in relief, standing underneath the shower for a few extra minutes to release all the soreness in your muscles.

You still felt the buzzing excitement of the day running through your veins as you dried and dressed yourself, but you were also exhausted, ready to climb into bed and drift away into the safety of your dreams.

That plan was interrupted as you heard a knock on the door. Pulling your shirt over your body, you peeked through the peephole, smiling when you saw him standing on the other side.

"Oh hello, don't tell me you forgot your room number," you greeted Carlos as you opened the door.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he was transfixed by the sight of your hair, still wet from your shower, dripping down to your shirt beginning to cling to your body.

"I think I did, tell me you don't remember it either," his voice dropped an octave, and his stare was no longer calculating, but rather enticingly seductive.

"And why would I do that?" You almost whispered, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him.

He stepped forward, leaning one arm on the doorframe while his gaze glanced over you to briefly look inside the room. "I'm sure yours is big enough for two people."

The corner of your lip turned up at his words, knowing it was just a ploy to let him in. The realization that he desired you just as much as you had grown to want him dawned on you as you stared at him standing in front of you.

Trapping your lip between your teeth for a moment, instantly attracting Carlos' gaze towards them, you nodded.

"Let's check," you stepped back, pulling him inside by the collar of his shirt.

——

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#carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #babyjr fic #thef1diary fic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fluff

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lixie-phoria · 8 months

Text

↳ ♡₊˚. rest please ꒱

9th!member reader falling sick from overwork and stress

requested - yes // Would you be able to possibly do a skz x ninth reader where she’s not feeling well and like throws up everywhere, and chan and the members help her though her not feeling well then specifically chan?

gn!reader x ot8 // warnings - reader is overworked, faints, mentions of diets, reader throws up (lmk if I missed anything!)

there is only one bang chan. you're sure of it. but as you stand up from the floor of the dance room, you see double images of your leader looking at you in confusion.

"yn?"

his voice resonates through your head, like an echo from someplace far, concern woven through his urgency.

you should probably reply to him, right?

"yn? can you hear me?"

when he steps forward, the world shifts. a searing pain runs across your head, like a red hot spike drilling into your skull.

"wha-"

you see it happen in the mirror - your figure collapsing onto the ground, jeongin's panicked yell, and the thud that follows immediately after before everything goes black.

it was just the three of you in the practice room that day, the others too busy with vocal training or recording or filming. it was comeback season, and to top things off your solo project was nearing too, closely following the release of your group album. and to say that you were overworked was an understatement. you don't remember the last time you slept for longer than an hour.

your days revolved around practice, recording, photo shoots, diets, promotions, and what not. this was busiest you have ever been, and it was slowly starting to show.

you register a dull pain in your upper arm and the throbbing of your head as you blink up at the bright ceiling lights glaring at you. you're covered in sweat, lying on the couch with your head awkwardly propped up against it's arm rest.

"she's up!" someone shouts as your senses return to you slowly. you're still in the dance room, but everything feels stuffy. someone is pressing an ice pack against your forehead.

"yn you scared us!"

all the members seem to have assembled in the dance room, crowding over your figure.

"what happened?" your voice is hoarse and your head feels groggy as you sit up, leaning away from felix as he tries to push you back down.

"you fainted! you were out for nearly fifteen minutes!"

"what?"

"yeah. scared the life out of chan hyung," jeongin adds.

"of course she did! do you know how worried we were?"

you feel mortified. you can't believe you fainted in the middle of practice.

"are you ok? does anything hurt? you fell pretty hard."

you shake your head - no. of course, the pounding in your head was getting worse and you were sure you bruised your arm but you weren't going to tell them that. being the maknae meant they already babied you a lot. there was no way you would admit how sick you felt.

"alright good. let's leave then."

"leave?" you stare at chan in confusion as he goes to unplug his phone from the speaker.

"yeah. you don't think we're going to let you dance after this, right?"

your eye twitches in mild annoyance as you listen to him speak so matter of factly.

"how come i don't have a say in this?"

"because the last time we let you have your say, you passed out."

"i'm ok! i don't need a break," you hiss, eyes narrowing as chan turns to look at you exasperated.

"yn-"

"i passed out, so what? big deal! you can't just call off practice when we have an album coming out!"

your voice escalates as you snap, and the others look at you in shock.

"yn calm down-"

"stop asking me to calm down!"

you don't know where the burst of annoyance was coming from, but it was strong and red hot, urging you to take it out on your members.

"i'm fine! stop treating me like a baby!"

you push away felix's hand from your shoulder, standing up to prove your point.

but that was a big mistake.

an ugly feeling immediately rises up your chest, slithering through your throat as the world tilts again and the lights blink at you.

"fuck."

you were far from fine, and that is the last thing you register before pushing past lee know and han, running out of the room and to the nearest washroom you can find, heaving your insides out.

it's terrible, kneeling on the ground as your head pounds worse than ever and flashes fill your vision.

"yn!"

you distantly register chan's panicked voice as he skids into your cubical, wasting no time in kneeling down right beside you, pulling your hair up into a makeshift pony.

"i need you to breath, ynnie. let it all out," he whispers softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you back as your body tembles from the gags.

a small part of you wonders what chan is doing in the washroom, before realizing that in your hurry you probably ran into the common staff bathroom.

"are you feeling better?"

chan's hands hover behind your back as you weakly get to your feet, mustering the energy to pull the flush and rinse your mouth with water.

you can do nothing but nod, slumping against him as you exit the bathroom, and his hands immediately clasp your waist, holding you up.

"i'm so sorry," you mumble, closing your eyes as you let him guide you to wherever he decided was best.

"it's not your fault."

"i shouldn't have yelled at you."

"it's ok, yn. we all have our bad days."

you feel the cold breeze on your face as you open your eyes to see he's walking you out of the building's back door, with your manager waiting with the car.

"if I take you to the dorms will you please rest?"

your brain wants to refuse. you need to perfect your choreography. you don't have time for rest.

but your body is an entirely different story. you can barely walk or see straight.

"ok."

your voice is small, and chan immediately knows you're reluctant.

you hear him sigh softly as he helps you into the car before climbing in himself.

"ynnie, please rest. or you'll get worse and might not recover until the release day. wouldn't that be worse?"

he does have a point.

"and taking a break is okay. you're doing so well, you don't have to push yourself when there's nothing you're lacking in."

he ruffles your hair softly as you lean into the seat.

"thank you."

"don't thank me when I didn't even realise how overworked you were until you literally collapsed!"

you laugh softly, slightly leaning down to rest your head against his shoulder.

"don't blame your-"

you're cut off when Chan's ringtone blares into the silence and he jumps slightly, fishing out the device from his pocket.

"fuck."

"what's wrong?" You turn to look at his steadily paling face.

"I forgot to tell the others you're okay and I'm taking you back to the dorms."

"shit," you agree, wincing as chan hesitantly slides the accept button.

"hello...?"

"YAH WHERE ARE YOU BOTH WE'VE BEEN SEARCHING THE BUILDING FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES IS YN OKAY?"

lee know is loud, and chan has to lean away from his phone as the second oldest's voice comes out loud enough as though he's on speaker.

"minho-ah I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you guys. She's okay now we're going to the dorms."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT?"

you sigh before taking the phone from chan as his wince deepens.

"I'm okay. I'm so sorry for worrying you but please calm down."

the change in lee know's voice is so immediate it earns a snort from chan.

"oh yn, of course! Please take care, I'll bring back some soup and ramen for you when we come back from practice."

"thank you! Now please stop worrying."

you hand back chan his phone as he flashes you a grateful smile.

"i hope he brings me back ramen and soup too."

©lixie-phoria, 2024

taglist - @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

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rafesgfs · 1 year

Text

bad ideas (and good results)

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader, sort of spencer reid x reader

summary: after aaron’s rejection, you enlist spencer’s help to make him jealous.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: reader putting on a naked show, airplane turbulence, reid calling reader out for daddy issues

a/n: accidentally put too much spencer in this whoops

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The tension between the two of you was so palpable you were practically choking on it. You couldn’t be alone in a room with him without resisting the urge to throw yourself at him. Even with others around, you still had to peel off your drenched panties when you got home and take a cold shower.

And you knew he felt the same, though he wasn’t as obvious about how it affected him. The team had commented how you were his soft spot, always assigning you to him on cases (when you were newer, you had brushed the thought aside, thinking he wanted to watch over you and evaluate your work), getting your favorite coffee every morning and even putting his jacket around you when you’d been soaked in lake water after catching the unsub.

So when you decided to take the leap and ask him if he wanted to have dinner, you weren’t expecting him to reject you so blatantly. Just a flat-out no. Didn’t even try cushioning the blow.

You still couldn’t erase his expression from your memories as he told you he didn’t like you in that way. Confused at the time, you had stood there dumbfounded by what he was saying. Walking out of his office and heading home was a blur and you wondered if you had imagined his previous actions.

Sitting on your couch with a bottle of wine in hand, you thought about your interactions. Surely you didn’t imagine the way he looked at you on those nights you stayed late to help him with paperwork? Or the way he had comforted you after an unsub had harassed you mercilessly during an interrogation. Or when you had to share that hotel room in Alaska and sleep in the same bed for “warmth.”

After an hour of watching The Wedding Date, you had got an idea that was so delusional it might work. Calling Spencer in the wee hours of the night had him pick up the phone after the second ring, concerned it was an emergency. In a way it was, and he had gotten to your apartment in record time.

He had barely knocked on the door when you swung it open, grabbing by the arm and practically dragging him and his Jesus haircut inside. Spencer raised an eyebrow at your excitement, glancing at the state of your apartment as you drag him to the couch.

“What’s going on? Why’d you need me to come at,” he checks his watch. “Eleven thirty-seven at night?”

You sighed, pushing him to sit on the couch and grabbing the remote. “I kind of asked Hotch out. And before you congratulate me for making the first move, he doesn’t feel the same and basically told me he found me ugly and disgusting.”

Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “He did not say that.”

“Whatever, it was implied,” you reply and Boy Genius gives out a snort at your dramatics. “Anyways, I was watching The Wedding Date when I got this idea … In the movie, this girl hires an escort to be her date to her sister’s wedding because her ex is going to be there. And I was thinking …”

“Go on.” he encourages.

Spencer was the only one to know about your crush on Aaron. The others, especially the girls, had a suspicion you did but Spencer was the one you spilled all your information to. Mostly because he was the first to catch you making eyes at your boss and the closest in age to you. He had listened to the details of your days with Aaron, sometimes debriefing you on how Aaron had interacted with you, the words he had said about you, or the way his body language gave him away. You had eaten up everything he had said in the hopes it had been true.

He was also the only one you could go to with this plan. Derek would’ve had you relayed all the details of your crush to him before agreeing and you didn’t want to tell him he had been right about your crush. You’d have rather died than have Derek Morgan know he was right. Spencer was sweet and attractive, and despite your taste for older men than the doctor, it would be believable considering how much time you spend with each other outside of work.

“I was thinking that we fake date to make Hotch jealous.” you finish, slightly grimacing at how stupid the plan was now that you said it out loud. Before Spencer could reply, you jumped in. “I know it probably won’t make him jealous considering he doesn’t like me that way but on the off chance that it does–I kind of want him to hurt a fraction of what I had tonight. And you probably think the plan is idiotic and pathetic–”

“Alright,” he said, cutting off your rambling. When you raise an eyebrow, he lifts a shoulder. “I don’t think it's idiotic or pathetic. I think we should do it.”

It took you a few seconds to process his words. “Really?”

Spencer nods, giving you a small smile. “Yes, I would do anything for you. Besides, it would be a good experiment and I love experiments.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Of course you do.”

“So how is this fake dating thing going to work?”

You spend a good half hour talking about the parameters of the plan. Both of you had decided it was best to keep it subtle instead of announcing to the team you were “seeing” each other. Neither of you would confirm it and if asked, you’d redirect the topic somewhat noticeably so whoever had asked would be able to pick up on it.

Spencer surprised you when he came up with the idea for small touches and light flirting. When you had given him a look, he was quick to explain his idea. Obviously, you had to be affectionate towards each other in front of the team and especially Aaron, but not so much that it qualified as PDA.

The smart doctor had proposed small touches like lingering fingers, a hand on a shoulder (you pointed out you did this with him quite often and he argued it would only make more sense to keep doing it), hair ruffling (again you told him you’ve done this to him and he admitted he liked getting his hair played a certain way), and hand squeezes.

You waited for the shock on Spencer’s face when you wondered out loud if it was effective for you to “sneak” into his hotel room during a case and have a member of the team see you going into his room so they could relay what they saw to the others; instead, you were met with an intuitive hum of agreement.

By the time you’d gotten done with planning, it was ten minutes past midnight and Spencer was yawning every few minutes. And while his apartment was only about ten blocks from yours, you offered for him to stay the night with the promise to stop at his place before work for him to get a change of clothes. He accepted and both of you had fallen asleep in the living room while the credits of the movie played in the background.

In the morning, you came to the realization that the wine you had drank had caused you to oversleep, and keeping Spencer up past midnight had also caused him to wake up about half an hour later than usual. You slapped him awake with a pillow before rushing to get ready.

Spencer had been half asleep as he got in your car but after a near-death experience with a semi, he had woken up and clutched his seatbelt all the way to work. As you entered the building, you were rolling your eyes as he mumbled how you were more of a reckless driver than Derek–impossible–and how he feared for his life whenever you were in the driver’s seat.

As soon as you pushed through the glass doors, Emily noticed something different. You placed your stuff on your desk, plopping down on your chair when she sits on your desk, glancing between you and Spencer, eyebrows raised.

“Reid, are you wearing the same sweater from yesterday?” she questioned, and your ears perked up at her words.

Your eyes flicker to Spencer’s outfit. With your lateness, you weren’t able to stop at Spencer’s place and he had assured you he could change into something from his go bag. He was in the midst of picking up the duffel when Emily commented on his fashion sense. You gave him a look to play along but he was looking down at his outfit to notice.

He tilted his head, nodding. “Yeah, we woke up late this morning.”

You’ve never seen Emily’s head turn so fast–you were worried she had accidentally snapped her own neck. The brunette smirked at you before turning back to Spencer. “We?”

Spencer looked up, eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes flickered with recognition and took the opportunity to start your idea. His slight blush was the cherry on top. “What?”

Emily’s smirk grew, and she looked like a cat that swallowed a canary. She turned to you, giving you the look she’d make when a guy would flirt with you during a girl’s night out. “So … what’d you do last night?”

You couldn’t help but grin at her nosiness. “Work. Long, hard work.”

“Yeah, I bet.” she chuckled, side-eyeing Spencer. “The work definitely looks hard when you’re doing it.”

The water you sipped trickled out of your mouth at the innuendo, and you furiously wiped your chin. Emily cackled at her own joke, drawing JJ’s attention from nearby. You try to ignore her, gently pushing her off your desk, mumbling about having to do work, but it only makes her gasp for breath.

JJ sauntered over to your desk, curious at whatever made Emily cackle like the green witch from the Kansas movie. “What’s going on here?”

Emily leans over to whisper in her ear before pointing at Spencer who had taken his go-bag along with him to the bathroom. JJ adopts Emily’s smirk, sharing a look with the brunette before glancing between you and the men’s bathroom.

The blonde pulls up a chair next to yours, the girls surrounding your desks. JJ leans in close, grinning mad wildly at you. “I thought you liked Hotch, not Spence.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed by the whole thing while you smiled internally. “I don’t like either of them, beyond friends. … Stop looking at me like that!”

“Clearly you like Reid more than that if you guys spent the night together.” Emily wiggled her brows, earning another chuckle from JJ. She yelped at the small smack you gave her on the arm.

“We didn’t spend the night together.” you hissed, keeping your voice low. How you would’ve loved to show Rossi your performance right now after he commented you were a terrible liar. “We were doing paperwork together and we fell asleep because it was late and so we woke up late.”

The girls gave each other a look, nodding at you, clearly not believing the semi-lie you told. (Did it count as a lie if you told them the half-truth but in a way that was unconvincing?)

“Uh-huh.”

“Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

“Yeah, especially if you guys were up late. It’s only reasonable that he stayed the night.”

“Mm-hm. You guys were probably so tired you didn’t do anything before sleeping.”

The sarcasm was leaking from their voices, practically dripping on the floor. You didn’t know how to answer their cryptic responses, covering your smile with a hand. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. Despite Aaron’s harsh rejection not even twelve hours ago, you were feeling better.

Thankfully, you were saved from coming up with a reply when Penelope came in the room with a case file in her hands, gesturing towards the briefing room. Unfortunately, JJ and Emily’s amusement was so obvious, Penelope was able to pick up on the brewing gossip from just the look on their smug faces.

You passed her on the way up the stairs, giving her a small smile as she stayed back to get the information from JJ and Emily. You rolled your eyes when you heard the technical analysis gasp, walking to the briefing room faster.

While you temporarily escaped Penelope’s wave of questions upon entering the briefing room, you were met with the presence of the man your bones–and pussy–ached for. You avoided looking in his general direction as you sat next to Derek.

He turned to you as the girls entered the room, smiling. “Damn Mama, you look tired. What’d you do last night?”

And as if on cue, Spencer sat down in the empty chair on the other side of you, causing Emily to burst out laughing. The guys turned to look at her, confused by her reaction to Spencer’s timed action. She waved away their confusion, hiding behind her iPad, pretending to study the case all the while her shoulders shook from silent laughter.

Penelope had her eyes set on you and Spencer, giving you a look that read she wanted all the details directly from you. Saving you from having to explain Emily’s reaction, Penelope started the briefing, pulling everyone’s attention from you and Spencer to the serial killer running around Los Angeles.

It was easy to ignore Aaron’s stares through the briefing, too focused on the case details to give him attention but that couldn’t be said on the plane, especially when he walked up behind you on the steps. Your eyes met his and it felt like your nerves told your brain it was a fight or flight situation, causing you to internally panic.

You more or so sprinted up steps and into the plane, inadvertently sitting down next to the man half your coworkers suspected you were hooking up with. While it wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to anyone on the team, your normal spot had been right beside Aaron, the window seat while he took up the aisle seat. So accidentally sitting next to Spencer had caused Emily and JJ to share a glance with each other.

After Aaron had given the team details on what they were supposed to do–thankfully he had partnered you up with Rossi instead of himself–your phone buzzed relentlessly as Penelope texted you asking for details about your new paramour. Said paramour was peeking over your shoulder to read the numerous Penelope had sent.

After a second of them being left unanswered, she called you, her name popping up on your phone. You playfully glared at Emily and JJ before getting up and answering the call.

“Yes, baby girl?” you cooed, pushing the curtains aside to get a cup of coffee. “What can I help you with?”

“You and Reid?!” her voice was so loud you flinched as it hit your eardrum. “I thought you liked Hotch!”

“I don’t like either of them.” you sighed, heart pounding at the lie. Even just hearing his name had caused your body to tense, and you were sure there was a patch of wetness on your underwear. “And Spence and I are just friends.”

“JJ told me you guys spent the night together,” she replied, and you could practically hear her brain cogs working overtime. “As in doing intimate, not-suitable-for-work stuff.”

“No funny business, I swear,” you mutter, hissing when you spill coffee on yourself.

“Please don’t lie to me,” begged Penelope. “You can tell me anything, you know that. And you don’t have to be ashamed that you like Spencer, he’s cute in a nerdy way! You guys would make a great couple–”

Spencer pushed through the curtains, and it was as if Penelope sensed him through the phone because she went silent. Boy genius reached over you to grab a plastic cup from the counter, pouring his own coffee.

“Is that Garcia?” he asked, motioning to the phone. You nodded, smiling at the nearly inaudible hitch of Penelope’s breath. He chuckled, moving a tad closer to the speaker. “Hi, Garcia.”

Before she could reply, you intervened. “Bye Pen.”

You hung up, sighing. Taking a sip of coffee, you leaned against the small counter. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think our plan would progress so fast. Do you think it makes it look less believable?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it just made it more so,” said Spencer, mirroring your actions. “It’s very realistic friends would hook up when the situation pushes them to like working late nights, watching movies, or going to chess tournaments together.”

Giving him a blank look, you slurped your coffee rather loudly.

He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. “Anyways, the only thing people may not believe is that I was able to … get you.”

“That’s insane. Why don’t you think you could pull me?”

Spencer blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just that I’m me and you’re … you. It’s kind of obvious you’re out of my league. I mean you’re very pretty and you could get any guy and honestly, I find it hard to believe Hotch would turn you down–”

You grinned, interrupting his rambling. “Aww, Spence, you’re so sweet. But you underestimate yourself. You’re very cute and if I wasn’t attracted to men twenty years older than me, then I would’ve gone for you.”

“Have you ever wondered if your attraction to much older men is caused by your daddy issues?” he blurted.

The plane lurched to the side, bringing Spencer to pin you against the counter, a hand placed on the counter to keep himself from falling right into you as the plane stabilized. Fortunately, Spencer’s coffee had spilled on the floor instead of either of you. Unfortunately (or fortunately), Aaron had chosen that moment to walk into your little space.

You and Spencer freeze in place as your boss–and the object of your desires–catches you in a position that would’ve had Penelope screaming from excitement. Spencer's free hand was on the counter, trapping you in between. His torso touched yours, your breast pressing up against his chest and your right hand was on his shoulder to stop him from crushing you during the turbulence.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed at the contact and the lack of space between you and Spencer. Both of you immediately sprung into action, Spencer taking a step back while you slid to your left, trying to put more space between you both.

While you were internally celebrating Aaron’s almost-jealous expression, you were more embarrassed at what he must be thinking. You didn’t plan to be so outward with Spencer, after all, you both agreed on only subtle touches, not pressed up against each other in a public space.

“Are you two alright?” Aaron questioned, eyes darting between you and Spencer.

You didn’t want to be delusional and lie to yourself but the vein on Aaron’s neck was bulging, a thing that only happened when he felt stressed or angry. You must’ve smiled subconsciously because he stared at you, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, the turbulence just caught us by surprise,” you reply, motioning to the coffee-stained floor. You stepped around him, shoulder brushing up against his arm. The curtains parted and you backed out. “I’m gonna head back.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger as you walk back.

By the time you head back to the hotel, you’re grumpy and sticky from sweat. Throughout the day, everyone has heard you moan and groan about the heat. By now, the team has figured out you’d rather freeze to death than heat.

The AC at the police station could only do so much when the temperature outside was over one hundred degrees. Rossi fanning you while you checked out the crime scene hadn’t helped and when you got back to the station, you begged Aaron to let you stay inside, breaking that awkward tension between the both of you through your hatred of heat.

Not that the tension hadn’t grown whenever Spencer and you were in the same room. Aaron would send him out to look at the body or interview close friends but as soon as he came back to the station, Aaron would find some excuse to send him back out, not giving you two the opportunity to work the plan. Not that you cared that much, you were too busy melting.

When everyone got to the hotel, Aaron held out four keys, and the team groaned. You’d have to share.

JJ snatched a key from Aaron’s hand. “Me and Em will share.”

“I’m not sharing a room with Reid, again,” Derek announced, crossing his arms. A confused Spencer tilted his head at him, a little hurt at the comment.

JJ smiled, handing Spencer a key. “Spencer can share with his friend.”

You glared at JJ, and she threw you another smug smile. Emily snorted, faking a cough when Rossi turned to look at her. Turning to Spencer, you nodded. “Yeah, we can share.”

“Actually,” objected Aaron, eyes never leaving you. “It’s Reid’s turn to have a room to himself.”

Derek looked at him, confused. “No, it isn’t. He had a room to himself in Alaska, it’s my turn actually–”

“Morgan, you can share with Rossi,” Aaron said with finality, giving him a key. He looked at you once again. “I’ll share a room with you.”

You knew the plan had worked but you were too exhausted and sticky to be happy about it. Not that you hadn’t wanted to share a room with him again, but all you could think about was taking a cold shower and hopefully freezing your entire body to the point where you stay cold all throughout the case.

The team dispersed. Aaron and your room was on the third floor while the rest stayed on the first. He carried your duffel bag, and you didn’t bother fighting him like you usually had. The elevator ride up was awkward and you wished he could make up his mind on whether he wanted you or not.

As soon as he unlocked the door, you rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, setting the temperature to cold. You snatched your bag from his shoulder and ran back to the bathroom, peeling off your work clothes. A moan slips out as the cold water hits your skin, and for the entirety of the shower, you forget about the man behind the door.

Exiting the shower, you notice you haven't shut the bathroom door completely. The tiny crack allowed you to see Aaron sitting at the table, staring at the file in front of him. If you could see him, he could probably see you.

This is fucking crazy.

Maybe it was a breeze from the vent or maybe you mastered some form of telekinesis but the door cracked open further, about four inches wide now. You don’t make a move to close it.

Heart pounding, you dry yourself, turning away from the door as you bend over to dry your legs. The vent was the only noise you hear as you do so. You’re about to cave and shut the door but you feel eyes on you as you stand up straight.

You don’t turn around. Confidence grows as you take your time drying your hair with the towel, sometimes running a hand through it to separate the wet and semi-dry strands. The reality of the situation finally dawns on you when you squeeze the remaining water out of your hair.

Growing wet at the thought of Aaron watching you, nakedly drying yourself, you can’t help but give him a small peek at what he was missing. You turn around, enough so he could see a glimpse of your pussy. No, you don’t look in his direction, but you can see him staring from your peripherals.

The door had cracked open further since you last saw it. There was no doubt he saw every inch of your backside as you hadn’t wrapped the towel around you once.

You let your hands squeeze your breasts once before bending down to grab a t-shirt from your go bag. It’s oversize, the hem falling just below your ass. Putting a pair of red panties on, you remember how much Aaron likes the color.

Once you’re done, you zipped up your bag and looked in the mirror. It’s obvious how free your breasts are under the shirt, your nipples peeking from the thin material. Reading the words on the shirt, you realize it was one of Spencer’s. You remember stealing it from his duffel after swimming into the lake to save an unsub.

Your lips twitched into a smirk. Opening the door, you were met with Aaron’s unrelenting stare, eyes drifting up and down your body. Not giving him the satisfaction, you ignore him, dropping your bag on your bed.

Wait.

Looking around the room, you notice just one bed.

Shit.

In your distracted haze about the one-bed problem, you failed to notice Aaron moving. A hand gripped your waist tightly, pulling you back towards a hard chest. You freeze, glancing behind you to see a heated Aaron. His lips graze your ear.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic

3K notes · View notes

easy-there-leftovers · 3 months

Text

Mixed Messages

Written with season 1 Spencer in mind

Summary: The 5 times that you think you might hate Spencer Reid + the 1 time you realize you can't.

Alternatively; You're completely oblivious to your own growing feelings for Spencer that it constantly puts you in harm's way.

This can be seen as a prequel-sequel + sequel (?) to "A Question Unasked," but can be read independently of it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! (mentored by Hotch!) reader | cw: slight spoilers for s1e02, s1e04, s1e06, s1e10, and s1e18 | reader gets really mean in the later half lol |slight description of canon-typical violence, slight timeframe switches because it made more sense that way | word count: 8.9k (yowza--)

“It’s something, I know it is.” You mutter to yourself, rubbing the pads of your fingers together in an attempt to gather your thoughts. But you can’t.

Can’t find it.

Can’t find that one word.

“What do you call that thing when you–” you snap your fingers at your colleague. Your equal. “I’m sorry– what do you call the urge to do something or behave a certain way?”

This was your second case out on the field with the rest of the BAU since you’ve been recruited, and it had not been easy for you.

The BAU always seemed like a prestigious unit to be a part of. Only the best of the best ever got to rub elbows up in that department, having been founded by Jason Gideon and David Rossi.

Two of the most legendary profilers in the world.

And right now you, you haven’t been feeling the best. But Aaron Hotchner seemed to have thought otherwise.

Spencer thinks for a moment, trying to understand what you had just asked him while he stared at the board that still had the team’s ideas on it.

“Actually, it could be a number of things; urges, cravings, stressors, compulsions–”

“That one! You’re amazing at this, Dr. Reid.”

After noticing your knack for the more analytical aspects of the job, your mentor, the unit chief himself, had assigned you to work with one Dr. Spencer Reid. Another fresh grad that could not have been any older than you, but certainly seemed way smarter.

He said that you would work well together.

And you believed him.

You looked at the calendar that had been marked when the fires were started, fully missing how the genius had frozen at your praise, and you frantically reviewed the theory in your head.

Double-checking, triple-checking, and nodding when you see it’s consistent.

You then hurriedly pulled up the recording of Matthew in his dorm. Hovering so close to the screen, that Spencer had to be equally as close to it, and by extension to you, in order to even try seeing what you were seeing.

“Do you see it?” You look back at him, and his face is so close, you almost lose your nerve but thankfully, Gideon opens the door to check up on the both of you.

He pauses as if he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be, but carries on anyway.

“Don’t just look at the next move. It’s like chess, think three steps ahead.” He says it mostly to Spencer, you notice, but you also notice how he was slightly bothered by your proximity to his protege.

He doesn’t say anything about it, but you’re working as a profiler now for a reason.

You move away a little.

When he leaves, Spencer turns to look at you again and asks what you saw.

“See this?” You ask as you point to the part where there were two, clearly lit windows on screen and he nods. “There are two fires, right?” He nods again.

“Now look at this,” You show him the part where Matthew gets wet with gasoline, and is eventually set aflame.

“That was the third fire.”

You see Spencer’s eyes light up at your statement, and you hurriedly scrub back to where the unsub had been trying the door knob. Making sure to zoom in on the handle.

This time, it's the boy-genius that says it. “He turns the knob three times.” He looks at you to confirm his statement, and you nod. Looking into his eyes.

Something you did out of respect.

“Right, so if we’re not wrong,” you use the pronoun on purpose, “the professor’s office should have something to do with the number three as well.”

He walks with you to the burned office, professor Wallace’s office, and there you collectively discover more of the same number.

You have all the evidence you need.

***

“Sir Hotchner, we know why the profiles never fit.” It’s you who opens the door first, but Spencer is the one that carefully closes it behind you.

He looks at Gideon. “You were right to tell Morgan not to rely on precedent.” He then sets up the computer that you two had brought and you continue for him.

“So far, the fires that have been set are completely task-oriented.”

Hotch quirks his brows at that. “So once the fires are set, the unsub is done?”

You nod.

“Correct, sir. The reason why the profile never fit is because it contradicts the mold of a classic serial arsonist– his use of fire is the compulsion of a completely different disorder.” “Which is?” Gideon questions.

“An extreme manifestation of OCD– Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.” Spencer answers as he finally found out how to turn the computer on. The two of you exchanging lines in perfect synchronization.

“He does everything in threes. And if I’m right, he’ll have to kill again.”

The four of you discuss the behavioral evidence that had led to this discovery, with Spencer taking the lead as he mentions its possible tie to ‘scrupulosity,’ a type of OCD centering on religious obsession.

As you continue though, and you know you shouldn’t take it to heart, but the way that Gideon’s constantly questioning your ideas and not Spencer’s was starting to make you feel uneasy. As if you were a bug under his careful scrutiny.

Or was it the way that you sat?

Granted, there were only three chairs in the area, so you had absentmindedly sat on the bit of the desk that had been uncluttered. No one else seemed to be bothered by it, and certainly not Spencer, who had cleared the area nearest to him just for you.

So what…?

Being the non-confrontational kind, but not one to be pushed around, you take a mental departure from the discussion and start thinking about what else could be useful to the case. Bringing something new to the table that’s relevant.

You try to think if there had been anyone that stood out to you. Spencer had mentioned religious obsession, and the call from earlier definitely supported the idea, but you couldn’t single out one theology student that would fit that criteria.

You tried getting up from where you sat. Pacing has always helped you gather your thoughts, but you didn’t even need to take those few steps when you felt the cold sweat run down your back.

And it seemed like Gideon had noticed it. “What is it?”

You turned to slowly face the rest of them. “I think I know who it might be.” You groan as you think about it.

“And it’s not a he.” If you thought about this too late and another fire is happening right now–

—-------

It wasn’t until you were on the flight home that you felt like you could breathe easy again. You didn’t have to be near Gideon anymore, giving you the side eye every time you were the least bit close to his protege.

You could just exist silently while you think about what to write in your report.

It wasn’t Spencer’s fault, nor his mentor’s, you thought as you stared at the somewhat empty file in your hand.

You’re sure that Reid didn’t mean to take credit for the theory that you had essentially spelled out for him, and you’re also sure that Gideon was just a little uncomfortable with how unprofessional you might’ve seemed.

Looking all cozied up with his golden boy. That had to be the only reason why he practically ignored you, but congratulated the boy-genius.

You sigh and wonder if you’ll ever get on his good side. Maybe you just needed to work a little harder.

As you nod at your resolve, it's your mentor that takes a seat in front of you.

“Congratulations on your second case.” You’re still a little starstruck, getting to work with him, but you manage out a polite, ‘thank you’ as a response.

You try to make yourself look busy by rereading the other file that had been completed.

You already made a fool of yourself in front of one of your seniors, you didn't want to mess up in front of him too. Hotch could–

“I meant it, by the way.”

You look up at him again. Eyes wide in question, and perhaps fear, as you realize you don’t understand what he’s talking about.

“You were focused on that calendar more than any of us, even before we landed in Arizona. You recognized the pattern before you even knew what it meant. And that definitely helped.”

“Oh.” Is all you could say, because what else could you have said?

A small laugh leaves your mouth. He recognized you for your efforts. Made it known that he saw what you saw, and that what you saw was helpful.

Without the usual mention of the boy-genius.

It was a moment just for you.

A moment where you vowed to work harder. Smarter.

And the moment you knew that SSA Aaron Hotchner was the best leader that you could ever have.

“Oh and agent?” Both you and Spencer look back to see your supervisor, but you see that it’s you that he’s singling out. “A private word, if you please.”

You nod without a second thought, despite not knowing what this other meeting could possibly be for. You were just as clueless as you were about the one earlier.

What you weren’t clueless about was how you felt towards your situation. You had been assigned to work with Spencer so often that you were starting to get sick of it.

Not a slight to his company at all, on the contrary! You actually enjoyed it! He was a fascinating and accomplished young man that charmed his way into your heart with his little fun facts and references.

And if that weren’t enough, Morgan hadn’t exactly coined the nickname “pretty boy” just for laughs.

Dr. Reid lived up to that expectation.

With his soft brown hair, bright, inquisitive eyes, and how cozy he always seemed in his clothes— how could anyone dislike him?

No, it was the attention that you were getting that was starting to frustrate you. Or perhaps the wrong kind of attention, would be more appropriate.

Lately, it seemed as if you were only being treated as an extension of Dr. Reid. As if you were always attached at the hip, and that you always knew where he had to be and what it was that he was doing.

You don’t know where all this came from. Not even a little bit.

All you know is that it was slowly starting to rub you the wrong way, and that you wanted a semi-permanent departure from the situation.

But that didn’t happen because Spencer had just unknowingly shut down your only chance.

You digress, and put your feelings aside for now. You were at work, after all.

“What did you want to discuss with me sir?”

Hotch makes the effort to clear away his desk for a bit, and places his hands on top of it. Grasping them together as he looks at you with his usual stern expression.

“We’ll be issuing you a gun soon. You’re qualified to own one after having enough hours on the field, and you’ve shown a respectable record, so please keep that in mind.”

Your eyes widen in glee. Those were just a few words, but you couldn’t help how your heart swelled in pride at them.

It wasn’t the gun that you were happy about, it was what it represented.

Being issued a gun by the bureau signified that you were officially part of the team, and that you were deemed a responsible enough member of the organization to be trusted with it.

You should be honored to be given this chance and yet it felt sort of wrong— something didn’t sit right with you.

“Sir, with all due respect, while I’m thankful for the opportunity, I don’t see why I’m being issued a gun when Dr. Reid has still yet to have one.”

He sighs at that, as if he had hoped that you wouldn’t ask, but he tells you anyway.

“Dr. Reid has failed numerous firearm qualifications and will be retaking his test soon.”

You nod slowly, still not quite seeing the relation between the two scenarios.

He sighs again, but this time, with a small, tight smile.

“We’ve been thinking that it would instill more confidence in him if you knew your way around a gun. He seems to have a great respect for you, and seeing you have one might help him a bit.”

You smile at that and respond good-naturedly. “Duly noted, sir! I’ll make sure he has the confidence that could rival even Derek Morgan’s.”

He shows you a polite smile and dismisses you promptly. Getting back to his stack as you nod and you make your way to his door.

It shouldn’t bother you, and it doesn’t, you think.

A job’s a job.

If it wasn’t going to be you, it was going to be someone else. You just so happened to have been given this particular job due to the presumed rapport you had with one another, and you saw no problem with that.

You trust your boss, and it’s not like you dislike Spencer, so it shouldn’t bother you at all.

And yet it does, ever so slightly, when you see Morgan and Elle, crowding and cooing around him like he was a baby when you make it out of Hotch’s office.

You’re confused at what it is that you’re feeling, but you hear something akin to the word, ‘math.’ What could they be teasing him about now?

“Is something going on here?” You hope they don’t see how hard you’re trying to keep a straight face. Looking to and fro.

You’re at work now, and you can’t let your emotions get the best of you.

"Was just caught trying to add my stack onto pretty boy's plate." Morgan says with his usual chuckle.

You detect a slight hint of something else hidden somewhere in there, probably another inside joke that you weren’t in on, but you can’t bring yourself to pay it any mind.

So you let out a small, ‘hm’ to let them know that you heard what he said, and you eventually turn your back to them to reach your desk.

You don’t see the way Derek shoots you a knowing look.

And you don’t see the way Spencer looks at you longingly either. Too busy burying yourself in another stack of files, sure to go overtime once again, to drown out the unknown feeling that was welling up inside you.

Did you hate Spencer Reid?

“Isn’t it amazing he knows what he knows and he’s only twenty-four?” Gideon huffs out and gives Aaron a small smile in response.

“Imagine what he’ll know by fifty.”

It’s times like these that you remember that he does have the capability to smile. Well of course he’s smiling, his surrogate son looked like he was having the time of his life, blowing out those trick candles.

Everyone crowded around him.

Everyone but you and the two seniors.

You want this moment to be something that everyone can enjoy, and you know just how much it would sour Gideon’s mood if you were right over there. So you opted to take your place right next to Hotch.

And Hotch seemed to notice that.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of them?”

You really don’t want to answer that right now. Not when the reason is staring right back at you, waiting for your response as well.

“I can see the party just fine from here.” Is what you settle for, and look right at Spencer’s still heaving back to make a point.

Before he could question it any further, he’s called to the other side of the room where a phone call was waiting for him.

Reid takes the opportunity to excuse himself and take his place by Gideon’s side.

“You having fun?” The elder asks and he nods slowly at that.

“Yes, definitely. I am definitely– having fun.”

He punctuates each pause with a tight-lipped smile and a snark that is just itching to break free and you can’t help the little chuckle that escapes you. As it happens however, you quickly try to hide it behind a cough and a cover of your mouth.

You’re right next to Gideon, you need to look professional, you think, no matter how cute or ridiculous Spencer might look.

You quickly try to find Hotch with your eyes to ground yourself. Trying your best to zone out and not pay attention to the conversation happening right beside you, but it’s getting increasingly harder to do that.

“I wonder where the cake was from.” The younger one asks absentmindedly, but you feel the twitch of your fingers at the question.

Gideon subtly looks over to you, but he doesn’t answer him. Instead asking if he made a wish yet, which quickly changes the trajectory of Spencer’s questions.

You let out a breath of relief, but the moment is short-lived when you see the solemn expression on Hotch’s face.

“Sorry guys. Party’s over.” You put your game face on, and quickly excuse yourself from them to grab your go bag.

What you didn’t see was that Spencer had failed to notice Gideon’s gaze because he had been looking somewhere else.

He had been looking at you. Waiting for you to greet him with a happy birthday like the rest of them did. You were the only one that wasn’t there, after all.

But you had already been looking at Hotch, and that, he notices.

***

The more cases you work for the BAU, the more you realize how much of your work isn't just the investigation anymore.

You feel it when you still see the victims’ faces when you close your eyes.

Feel it in the hammer of your chest when you have to face off another degenerate with a gun.

Feel it in the tenseness of your shoulders when either Spencer, or Gideon, or Hotch, or any of them are looking at you because if they even have the slightest idea that you’re not doing fine, you’ll lose your place on the team.

If you even had one, that is.

It was a strange position you were in. Everyone was expecting you to be boy-genius’ sidekick or something. Having all these ideas of you being someone bigger and stronger than you really were.

Someone that was smart enough to show him just where to look, but not smart enough for the rest of the local PD to listen to because for some reason, it was more believable when it came out of Dr. Reid’s mouth.

You still remember how Morgan rolled his eyes at you when you corrected him. ‘It’s a ballad, actually. Not a poem.’

What’s worse was that the only person that didn’t seem to have this expectation of you was Spencer himself because he had no idea that any of this was even going on.

He didn’t ask for this.

He was just doing his job, just like you were.

You’re officially off duty, now that you’re on the flight back to Quantico. So you unfortunately no longer have the excuse to shut away your feelings for the sake of your profession.

You sigh and figure that maybe a little shut eye could help, but that idea is completely thrown out the window when you hear the soft pads of rubber-soled shoes shuffling on the jet’s carpeted floor.

You look up to see the less than comfortable posture of one Dr. Spencer Reid. Obviously caught between trying to go back to the main space, and just staying near the tail where you were.

Your heart warms at the sight and you invite him over.

You were thankful that he took up on your offer.

Even under the harsh lights of the craft, you still notice just how soft Spencer looks. Even softer now that he’s donning your gift, and rambling on and on about how cool the color purple was to him. Gesticulating with his hands in a frenzy and you relax for what feels like the first time in months.

If you didn’t work together, you realize, you could’ve been a lot closer. He’s everything that you liked about a guy. He was smart and sensible, with a childlike wonder for anything and everything.

There was an endless amount of things that he could accomplish, with a brain like that.

And he was only twenty-four.

He was just like you, so why weren’t you closer? You ask yourself this as you sigh out, but you immediately find your answer in the form of his and your mentor looking right back at you. Whispering amongst themselves and occasionally shaking their heads.

Looking just like they had earlier when you had brought in Spencer’s cake before the rest of BAU had showed up for duty.

You know that there’s no way Reid can see them. Not when his back is quite literally turned to them, so you opt to ignore it. Maybe it was all in your head.

And maybe working with him so often wasn’t so bad.

After all, how could you hate Spencer Reid when he’s this happy from just a scarf?

You see the scarf again, soon enough.

Maybe a little too soon.

The BAU had received an urgent call to McAllister, Virginia to investigate the supposed work of a satanic cult. Two bodies that had sustained identical blunt-force trauma to the head were recovered, one skeleton and one fresh, but the team was debating the involvement of the cult in the case.

“You're saying that there's no such thing as devil worship?” Elle asks with disbelief, but is quickly answered by Gideon.

“Not at all. But most of the satanism that we've seen is juveniles damaging property, desecrating churches, cemeteries,” He shrugs a little as he pauses.

“Besides,” you add. “Satanists, removed from religious stigma, are just ethical hedonists. They reject the perceived oppression of the Christian community by building their own, and indulging in more worldly pleasures. They’re not inherently violent.”

The elder nods at that, and you feel a bit proud of yourself in that moment.

“And to my knowledge, there has never been a proven case of a satanic ritual killing in the United States.”

“Well, maybe there is now.”

***

The scene is certainly interesting.

Gideon, Reid, JJ, and you were curious about the state of the older body, so you had made your way down the steep slope to check up on it. You get acquainted with the local sheriff while you’re there too and he explains that they found the body when they were doing their own investigation.

Just seventy-five feet away from where they found Adam.

“It's a man. The male pelvis is more narrow and the opening at the bottom is heart-shaped, as opposed to oval.” Spencer announces as he prods at the body’s clothes with a stick, but he is immediately distracted by another element.

“Melted wax?”

“Candle wax?” JJ asks as she leans forward a bit to see it too. Spencer agrees.

“Candles are used in rituals.”

“They’re also used on birthday cakes.” Gideon is no longer interested in the scene and looks for something else that could be nearby.

You, however, notice something different about the body. You were expecting it to look different.

If you were blitzed from behind, gravity tells you that you should fall forward. Chest on the ground.

But this skeleton’s chest was facing up.

“Actually, they were originally used to protect the birthday celebrant from demons for the coming year. As a matter of fact, down to the fourth century, Christianity rejected the birthday celebration as a pagan ritual.”

You nod, seemingly not paying attention, but you add on to that. Much to Spencer's delight.

“Yeah, they thought that evil spirits lurked around the days of major changes so they lit candles for every year that had passed. Anway, sir, do you happen to have a good picture of Adam’s dead body?”

The sheriff narrows his eyes at the two of you, then looks at JJ who only shakes her head with a smile.

“What kind of kids did you bring out here?”

***

You’re surprised it took you this long to actually feel like you needed a gun.

Hotch, as always, had paired you and Spencer together.

Again.

But this time, it was to go out on the field.

You had been left behind with him to continue searching the Jenson’s house. To look for anything that could concretely point to the group being responsible if the case ever went to court, but you and Reid found nothing.

And it was expected that you would find nothing. You and him had agreed that it was just far too convenient if you did, but then that kid— Cory— He asked you two to check the abandoned house farther up.

A house that you’re pretty sure not even his father knew about.

And that’s when you got the idea. It was dark, law enforcers weren’t nearby, and you were trying to trace the tracks of an unsub that lived in an area only locals wouldn’t get lost in. You had every right to feel nervous.

Especially when you had that sinking feeling that the unsub was the one guiding you right where he wanted you to be.

So when he led you to a house that had the goth kids’ insignia written in bright, red paint, you knew that you had to play along.

But you also knew that whatever may or may not have been up there, the team wouldn’t want Spencer to see.

You didn’t want him to see.

So you look back at him, and nod. Giving him a look that told him that you would check the house alone, that you had a plan, and that he should stay exactly where he was until you gave him the okay clear.

By the time you got back down, he knew you saw it.

You saw the girl, and you knew you had to get Spencer out of here.

Fast.

“Was she in there?” Cory grabbed you by the shoulder, and you could only gulp.

You had to think quickly, but you were also still so shocked to see her in– whatever state it was that you saw.

And then this kid was just pretending like he didn't know jackshit about it.

“She was in there.” Was all you could breathe out, vacantly looking past the kid that eventually let you go.

You instinctively reach for your phone, speed dialing Hotch, but the service was so bad up here that it wouldn’t even go through. You had to clear the area, in case this goes haywire.

With no other choice, you said what you thought could get him out of there.

“Dr. Reid, I need you to check back downhill and see if the deputies have returned.” He looks at you incredulously.

“What? No! I can’t leave you here– ”

“We need the rest of the sheriffs and the crime scene team here.” Looking dead into his eyes, he still doesn’t relent.

You need to calm yourself down. The more he thinks you’re not okay, the more difficult it’s going to be to convince him to leave.

He whispers your name as if it’ll persuade you. Grasping your shoulders like Cory did, albeit more gently.

“Right now, you’re experiencing an acute stress response, also known as the fight-or-flight response. It would be much safer for all of us to–” “Do as you’re told.”

He freezes, but he’s still looking right at you. Eyes shaking in what you assume to be fear or worry, but he eventually nods and leaves. Constantly looking over his shoulder at you and he trips a little because of it.

You make sure that he’s out of sight before turning back to the football-genius.

You saw the gun he wasn’t so subtly concealing in his pants, and there was no way you were going to risk him hurting anyone else. You included.

You position yourself right in front of the house. If he makes a break for it and runs in there, it’ll be game over for just one cop and one manic robber. So you try to keep the open forest his only escape route.

That’s when you start cornering him.

Telling him that you knew what the profile said about the killer and how it all seemed too good to be true. How the crime had to have been done by someone who was just as smart and connected as him.

How it could have only been done by him.

What you failed to take into account however was how Spencer would have definitely come back to check on you and report his findings.

Your heart drops as he stumbles into the fray.

Which is why you’re here right now.

Gun drawn at the kid, with his own resting right on your friend’s head.

“She shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all this, it was his run! I didn’t mean to hurt her, but make no mistake– I will shoot your boy right now.”

You raise your hands and drop your gun in surrender. Scared of what he might do to him if you don’t.

—-

You hear Aaron Hotchner shout for you as he approaches uphill and you sigh.

You’re fully expecting to hear a lecture, but not the look of deep impatience that graces your supervisor’s face.

“Agent, I hope you understood what just happened.”

You shrink under his gaze, but he doesn’t let up. “Your actions during this operation put both you, and Reid, in serious danger.”

“Sir, but we handled it. I even made extra sure to evacuate Dr. Reid from the premises, I just wasn’t expecting him to come back and–”

“But that doesn't change the fact that he had a gun on Reid mere moments before you took him down. You were antagonizing him and while you may have been successful in apprehending him, what you did also put Reid at risk.”

This was unfair.

He was talking like you hadn’t had the same gun pointed at you too.

Like he hadn't made an effort to shoot at you.

There was nothing you could’ve said that could stop him, and you acted as fast as you could but you knew Hotch wouldn’t listen to any of it.

So you stayed quiet. Nodding along in understanding as he gave you a rundown of everything that you could’ve done better, and anything that you could’ve said differently.

Things that, he said, you could’ve done better while trying to keep yourself calm.

Tring to keep yourself calm after discovering a dead body, and being threatened by someone that had your friend at gunpoint.

What’s worse is that not even a moment after Hotch left you to talk to the rest of the team, Morgan came and it looked like he had his fair share of complaints too.

“Sir Derek Morgan, I understand that you might be mad–” “Oh, so you know I’m mad?” You curse and groan out childishly, you know that, but you just really wanted to leave now.

“Kid, I get that he jumped you, but you can’t just go rogue and expect everyone else to know what you’re doing.”��

You scoff.

“I didn’t go ‘rogue,’ I sent out Spencer to get backup so I could handle him myself. He would’ve been out of the line of fire. I did that to protect him–”

“No. You did that to play hero.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Splitting up and acting on your own like that wasn’t heroic. It was reckless. Do you know how much sleep he’s losing right now and how much more he’s going to lose just when all of this hits?”

You shake your head humorlessly. Why is it always about him?

You’re not responsible for knowing anything and everything about him, you’ve barely known each other for a year. Why is it suddenly part of your job description to be boy-genius' caretaker?

“He’s been having nightmares,” he says your name with a weight in it.

“Don’t give him any more reasons to stay up at night.”

And he just leaves you right there. Going up to the very guy you were talking about, who was being checked by the only medic the county had on standby. Probing to see if he was alright.

And he seemed like it. If the way his face lit up at Morgan’s embrace or the way that he smiled when JJ congratulated him was anything to go by.

Or the way that Hotch patted his back to soothe him.

Or the way that Elle seemed to be intently listening to what he was saying–

He’s not your responsibility, so why the hell should you care?

God, it just wasn't fair.

And you know that. You know that he didn’t ask for any of this to happen, and that you should be happy that he’s fine–

But you can’t bring yourself to look at him for any longer. Not when he goes to look at you with that tight-lipped smile and raised brows that makes him look like he can’t do anything without you.

Not when it’s starting to look like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Not when it starts to feel like he’s doing this on purpose.

You’re starting to hate Spencer Reid.

After Morgan knocks some sense into the camera man that had been spying on the pair, Elle is the one that gives you his camera and makes her way to Spencer first. You know exactly what should be on that film, but you just wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

That maybe if you didn’t look at it any closer, you wouldn’t see anything that could make you hate him more than you already do.

That he had been behaving and just being the good, perfect boy that Gideon and Hotch, and everyone else, seemed to rave on and on about.

But you didn’t even need a proper light to see just what was on it.

And you made sure he knew exactly what he had done.

“I– I fell in–”

“Doctor Spencer Reid!” Seeing you walking towards him with an anger he had never seen directed towards anyone before made him freeze where he stood. Cowering under your gaze.

“What in the fuck was going on inside you goddamn head, huh?” Elle had already left by then to talk to the camera guy with Morgan just a few feet away to leave you two to it.

She knew what was going to happen, and she was going to let it. It needed to.

“It was an accident, I swear! She pulled me in and I—” He tried to reason, but you were having none out of it.

“And you what? Decided that then and there was the right place to eat her face off? Might I remind you that you are still on duty and this behavior is completely unacceptable!”

If this had been you, this is exactly what you would’ve been lectured about.

But Spencer feels his brows knitting together and he shakes his head in confusion.

“You’re-- not jealous about me kissing Lila?”

“You think I’m what?!”

You cannot believe the gall of this man.

Cannot comprehend how oblivious he seems to the severity of the situation.

And for what, because some hot blonde just happened to give him the slightest bit of attention? That since the rest of the team wasn’t around, he could go ahead and play house with some model and waste all his training on the field for nothing?

You shake your head incredulously at the thought.

“I don't know just what the hell is going on in that fuckass head of yours, Doctor, but that little bone-headed stunt that you just pulled? Could’ve cost you your life and hers.”

Spencer tried to quell your anger. Tried to apologize, but you just kept going. Seemingly growing more and more frustrated at his feeble attempts.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit who you do and don’t kiss in your spare time, Mr. 187. But let me remind you of something in case that brain of yours got all scrambled from exchanging extracellular fluids with Miss Archer,”

No longer caring for his aversion for germs, because he certainly stopped caring about that earlier today, you brought your index and middle finger up to rest dead center on his forehead.

He closed his eyes and whimpered at your touch.

“You are still being pursued by a psychotic killer who is going around, shooting people in the head. We’re lucky that the guy in the bushes was just some sorry voyeur doing his goddamn job, but if it had been anyone else, you would’ve been fucking–!”

Spencer feels the contact get ripped away from him suddenly, and he instinctively chases after it.

The realization of how insane that must’ve been however, makes him open his eyes.

He sees Morgan pulling you into his chest as he strides towards Lila’s house. He sees you struggle against the hold, but as his friend keeps shushing you and repeating your name from inside, you eventually calm down and relax. Disappearing into his form as Derek’s back now faces him and he can’t see you anymore.

The boy-genius feels his heart clench at the sight. A feeling not so dissimilar to what he felt when the blonde first started kissing him.

He didn’t know what to do then. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but some small, sick part of him just wanted your attention on him so badly that he was willing to do whatever it took for that to happen.

He had been waiting for so long–

But as he recalls how you were seething at him, how even though he had your eyes right where he wanted them to be, all he could feel was the heavy cloak of shame burdening him. Weighing on his form like the weight of his wet, pool bacteria-infected clothes.

And something tells him that no amount of bathing or scrubbing would ever rid him of it.

He doesn’t even notice the rest of the team coming back to apprehend the trespasser until Elle picks up the roll of film that you had dropped when you were dragged away. Holding it out for him to take.

He extends his hand out of instinct, but he crushes it soon after he recognizes what’s on it.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Is all that she says as she leaves him frozen there too.

***

Meanwhile, you were still in Derek’s arms. Crying like some young little fragile thing and you hated it.

You didn’t even know why you were crying anymore because even you knew that breaking a code of conduct was nothing to shed a few tears over.

“Come on, sweet girl, talk to me.” Morgan coos as he continues to hug you, which makes you sob all the harder. Embarrassed that an authority figure just saw you lose your shit on the job, so you shake your head no.

He’s probably going to tell Hotch and you’re going to get transferred out–

“We can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

But somehow those exact words had you spilling your heart out on to him. Doing so in such a frantic state as if this was a one-time opportunity that you were never going to be granted ever again.

So much so that all your insecurities came out of your mouth in word vomit.

How you tried so hard to do everything right. How you fought tooth and nail just to make it onto the team.

How even though you were just as young as Reid, everyone else seemed to dote on him more.

How everyone expected you to know just as much, if not more, than him so that he wouldn’t feel so out of place, and how every time that you didn’t, everyone only seemed to care because you had put him in danger.

How none of your efforts were ever noticed because they would either be overshadowed by Spencer’s, or brushed aside because it was not enough to make up for something that could’ve gotten him hurt.

And most of all, how bad you felt because none of it was his fault, and you knew you were being unfair to him.

And Morgan listened to all of it. Listening and occasionally apologizing when he knew that he had been guilty of one or two of those transgressions.

Patting your back and giving you all the comfort that he could before he knew you had to refocus on the case.

When you see Spencer again, his eyes remain low and you can’t bring yourself to apologize in that instant because you were still on duty and work had to be done.

No matter how sorry and how pathetic you felt, it had to wait.

What you don’t see is how his gaze lingers on his friend’s hand. Absent-mindedly moving up and down your arm in, what he understands to be, a protective manner.

—————

He was being a distraction. A liability. To the case, or to Lila, or to you, you’re not sure anymore, but you needed him out. So you did exactly what you were hired at the BAU to do.

You’ve always thought the art piece on Lila’s wall was bizarre. And now that you’re looking at it again with a much clearer mind, you finally see why.

You had asked for everyone in the room to take the wall apart, after gaining Lila’s approval, and you all pieced together the final clue.

A mural depicting the birth of the star that is now Lila Archer.

After Spencer points out that the man in the mural was his ex-classmate, Parker Dunley, the team sees no further reason to question his involvement and makes the preparations to leave.

Yet something is gnawing at you, telling you that this can’t be it.

And at this point? No one is going to listen to a theory you have because nobody listens to you once Spencer says anything.

So you suggest the next best thing.

“Excuse me?” Your unit chief raises his eyebrows at your suggestion, but you can tell that it’s mostly a formality.

“Sir, with all due respect, it is in our best interest to relieve Dr. Reid of his position as Miss Archer’s bodyguard. He is now a potential target, and he knows Parker Dunley best among all of you. He would be most useful to the investigation if he joined the others.”

Spencer makes no attempt to contest, wanting nothing more than to just get this over with and talk to you when it’s all done, and Lila doesn’t say anything either. Just wanting the ‘traitor’ to leave her house and never come back.

Hotch senses this and sighs. He looks over to Gideon, who looks like he couldn’t care any less, and then back to you.

“Alright then. You’re switching places with Reid. We’ll let you know if anything happens.”

He then discusses with the others that he’ll be joining JJ at the local PD while Morgan, Elle, Reid, and Gideon will be closing in on Dunley.

So that left you alone with Lila, which was going a lot easier than you had expected it to.

“I’m sorry about your boyfriend. If I knew you were a thing, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to kiss him.”

She seemed so guilty as she said it and you just shook your head, but you noted the use of the term, “try.”

“Oh Miss Archer, please don’t apologize. He's not my boyfriend. I was just really upset that he could’ve gotten you hurt when he was supposed to be protecting you.”

You move to stand a little closer to her, still keeping a fair amount of distance so you wouldn’t crowd her.

"Besides, I think he's more into you than you think."

Under more normal circumstances, you supposed that they could work. Spencer most likely only hesitated because he was holding on to some semblance of professionalism he could maintain with the beautiful woman.

In another life, maybe this would've panned out differently.

“I saw the way he looked at you, you know?” Now that interests you and you tilt your head at her.

“Like he hated me?”

Her laugh was empty as she shook her head. “You’re just like him.” Is all she said.

But before you could ask any further, a call had interrupted you.

You looked at the caller ID and saw that it was the very guy you were talking about. ‘Dr. Reid,’ it read. The sight makes you sigh.

You know him well enough that he would never call you for work, and that this must have been for something personal.

‘Stay professional,’ you told yourself, so you drop the call.

If it had really been important, someone else would call you.

As soon as you move to put your phone down however, it rang again. You checked it and fair enough, this time it was from Derek Morgan.

You bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Sweet girl, listen to me. We have a name, and it’s ‘Maggie Lowe.’ We’re on our wa—Christ man—we're on our way back over there, okay? Stay put and we’ll let Hotch and JJ know.”

There’s shouting from his end that worries you, but you nod with a hum and end the call.

You turned back to Lila and asked her very hurriedly if she knew anyone by that name, and her reaction tells you everything.

You try to tell her that she’s the unsub and just while she’s still confused at your sudden change in demeanor, her phone rings.

She shows you that it’s ‘Mags’, her friend, and you immediately try to calm her down and ask her to keep her friend on the phone. Expressing softly, but with great urgency, that it is imperative they keep her on the line.

Just as Lila answers, you immediately dial Garcia. “Oracle of Quantico, speak if you deign to hear the truth.”

“Miss Garcia, I need an emergency trace to a cell phone from Lila Archer’s phone.”

You hear her gasp a little, reasonably concerned that you had been speaking so softly. A stark contrast to your usually strong and sure voice, but she steels her own and lets you know that she’s on it.

You recite to her Lila’s phone number, having memorized it from her manager, and you instinctively look back at her to see her still pacing on the phone.

You try to smile warmly, mentally patting her on the back for her efforts, and she nods back in response. Somewhat thankful for yours.

As you wait, you suddenly remember Spencer’s phone call from earlier. Was this why he called?

Fuck, what if he wondered off and had been calling for backup but you just dropped the phone on him?

Maggie could be anywhere. It would be no surprise to you if she had actually gone back to find Dunley to eradicate any leads that could trace back to her. What if she was–

You’re quick to tune back into your own call however when you hear Penelope halt her typing and call out your name.

“Is Lila’s address 6028 Pike Street?”

You don’t like where this is going. “Yeah.”

“She’s calling from inside the house.” You sigh, in relief? In fear?

“I’m sending you backup right now, please be safe, my love.” She says with a tremor in her voice and you drop the call immediately. Catching the attention of the blonde in front of you.

“Lila–” but then you hear a shout and a thud from another room and you shake your head. You didn’t need to ask how she got in the house because that wasn’t important anymore.

The profile was. And the profile said that it was an erotomanic killer.

You could work with that.

—----

It didn’t take long for you to find Maggie. Well, you'd laugh if you could, because it was more like she found you.

On the other end of her gun.

With Lila in her arms.

There was no way that you could stall for however long it would take for the rest of your team to get here, so your best shot at surviving this was to talk her out of it.

“Maggie, put the gun down–”

“Don’t call me Maggie, you don’t know me.” She spit out, venom in her voice as she tried ushering Lila out with her.

“I know what it’s like.”

You don’t know what the fuck you were saying, but you were panicking. It wasn’t your first time being held at gunpoint, it had happened so often that Hotch even claimed you were always begging for it.

But this was different. None of the right words were coming to you.

You had to think of a way to deal with this, fast, and you didn’t know how to make it believable enough.

“No you don’t, little girl. Don’t pretend like you do.”

“But I do!” You put your gun down in a panic and held your hands up in surrender.

“I know what it’s like to l-” your mouth went dry. “To love someone– someone that doesn’t love you back.”

You seriously don’t know what the fuck you’re saying.

Maggie laughs at what you say though.

“Well it sucks to be you, but my baby loves me. Isn’t that right?” She makes a show of tucking Lila’s hair behind her ear, but even through her fear, she denies her friend.

“I don’t, Mags.” Maggie’s jaw tightens at that.

“Yes you do, I know you do– Don’t act like you don’t, you stupid, ungrateful–” you cut her off.

“She doesn’t, Miss Lowe. And I know you know that.” She shakes her head, but still keeps her gun on Lila.

You push a little harder. “I know because I know what it’s like to love someone. To meet your match.” You approach her just a little.

She shifts the gun to you now, but you continue to push.

“I know what it feels like to get tunnel vision. Where nothing matters, not even yourself, as long as it makes her happy. Keeps her safe. ”

You look her in the eye, and you can tell that it’s not enough. You need to switch gears, but you can’t think of anything else to do.

“And– And I know what it’s like–to feel everything so strongly—so much so that you don’t even know what’s happening until it just is.”

You realize it now. It was all you

It was never about the teasing of your teammates, never about the expectation that Hotch or Gideon had.

You never hated Spencer. You just wanted to belong. You just wanted to be treated like how he was.

The realization makes your eyes water.

You didn’t even notice it, but as more and more words fall free from your mouth, all you can think about is him.

About how you’re sorry. About how you never meant to hurt him. About how he doesn’t deserve your frustrations and that everything you did was just for him.

About how you could never hate anyone as loveable as him.

You shake the thought away. Hands still up high.

Maggie’s eyes narrow, her finger twitching on the trigger. “You think you can understand me, huh? Talk your way out?”

You shake your head. “No, but I think I can reach you,”

You take a step forward.

“I thought I hated him, Maggie. I thought he was doing it all on purpose. Kept thinking, ‘we were so similar.’ So why was it that being smart was special, and made everyone treasure him, but not me? And I think, maybe–”

You take another.

“Maybe I was just scared. Scared that I wasn’t good enough. That I would always be overshadowed.”

Maggie’s grip on the gun tightens. “So what? You think that makes us the same?”

“No,” you say softly, taking another careful step forward.

“But I do think that you’re the type of person that’s willing to do anything, no matter how desperate, to be seen.”

Maggie’s expression wavers, but the gun remains steady. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” you insist. “I know that hurting Lila won’t fill that void. It won’t give you what you’re looking for.”

Maggie’s hand trembles. “I would never hurt her--”

“Yes, you will. You will because you’re a danger to her, but that can change. You don’t have to hurt anyone anymore.”

Maggie’s face contorted with rage.

“Shut up! You don’t know anything!”

When Maggie goes to shoot at you, you tackle the gun out of her hand. Wrestling her to the ground as you did.

You look behind you and tell Lila to hurry and grab your gun from off the floor and leave, and she does just that.

Not even sparing you, nor her ‘friend,’ a glance as she makes her escape to where you hope your team now was.

From outside, the team sees Lila holding a gun like a bomb in her hands, and running into the arms of Spencer Reid. The others that were still in their car quickly try to get out. To understand the situation, but then a single gunshot is heard from inside the house.

The rest of the team rushes in.

Due to the results of my poll, there will be a part two! One where it's all from Spencer's point of view + the aftermath of this case lol

Please let me know what you think of this one though!! Or any ideas you might want to see in the second part, or literally anything at all--

Like my work? Consider tipping me!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x mentored by hotch! reader

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divinesolas · 4 months

Text

Not a one time thing

r.q: being friends with benefits, with jace where you both end up drunk at a party and end up having sx and the next day you guys laugh it off and forget abt it. but jace starts to crave you more and first you’re hesitant about it, but then you guys agree on friends with benefits. now you guys js randomly whenever you’re stressed or in the mood and calling eachother in the middle of the night. jace starts to catch feelings and like fights the urge to say ily while they’re doing it. and then they js like end up together idk. but you’re like my fav jace writer rn

w.c: 1k

c.w: slight nsfw, sweet jace, mutual pining, fwb to lovers, cute little drabble, not proofread, written with f!reader in mind but is basically gn!reader

You thought your slip up with Jace would be a one time thing, that after the two of you walk out of the party laughing about it that that would be it. Yet not even two nights later you’re staring down at a “are you up?” text from him. You don’t answer him, texting him back in the morning and saying you had been asleep and asking him what he needed, he had said it was nothing and he ‘figured it out’ but that just left you way too curious.

Yet when he shows up at your house at two am with his puppy dog eyes and a rock between his legs you let him push you on the couch and let him have you once again. When you wake up and he’s making breakfast in your kitchen shirtless you decide to lay down some ground rules to quell the pounding of your heart.

Strictly friends with benefits. No feelings attached. exclusively one another, definitely a rule in place just to avoid stds, no other reason. Arrangement must be broken off is one of you begins to like someone else.

Sounds easy enough. Its a good stress reliever for you, whenever you have a test or your studying is not going as well as expected you give him a ring and he’s quick to show up to take your mind off of it and you do the same for him. It works well, at least for you, but Jace seems to be struggling a lot more then you are.

You can’t tell he is of course. He is good at hiding it, but it begins to grow more and more daunting as he’s thrusting into you, staring at your with heart eyes that you can’t see since your eyes are closed, his thumb rubs affectionally on your jaw as he watches you climax, it’s gotten to the point he has no care for his own pleasure, he gets his fill from watching your eyes rolls in the back of your head.

Four times. It was a new record for him. Four times he almost told you that he loved you. He watches you as you scroll through your phone, oblivious to the internal battle he’s having. You are so beautiful. You haven’t even bothered to put back on any of your clothes, he admires you fully, he had no clue how long he was until you look at him with a raised brow, “You like what you see big guy?”

He loves you.

He simply reaches over and places a kiss on your lips before he lays back down. “What’s that for?” Because i love you. “To shut you up.” You roll your eyes and smack him on the chest. “Says you while staring at my bare chest you perv.”

He thinks he can keep it in for awhile, let his feelings pass. Yet he ends up blowing up. You have been spending a lot more time with cregan. Cregan fucking stark his best friend yet he has never wanted to murder a man more. Why are you walking around and smiling with him? Why did you fucking bail on him one night to hang out with cregan?

“Is this over?”

You turn to him confused, setting down the pizza you had ordered for the two of you down on the table and shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

His posture is rigid, he’s fiddling around with his fingers, he would normally be shirtless but you take notice of the fact he’s wearing a plain white shirt. “Are we over?”

“No? Why would,” You attempt to put it in the words, we seems to intimate despite the fact that's how he worded it, “our arrangement,, end? You like someone?”

“What about cregan? You like him don’t you?” You tilt your head at him and let out a confused laugh. “You mean your best friend cregan? what the fuck are you on about?”

“You said our arrangement ends if one of us starts to like someone else.” “Yes i did, so what you think i like cregan?” “Yes.” This is what breaks you and you laugh, you cover your face in your hands as you turn away and you laugh. “what the are you talking about? No i don’t like cregan. Why would it matter if i did?”

“Because i love you.” You freeze. You turn around quickly to stare at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“I love you. I don’t want to be some stupid arrangement. I want there to be us, we. Together.”

You gulp, you feel your feelings you’ve kept locked down bubbling up to the surface. You have to be rational, he is clearly not thinking straight you know him. “Jace. This is coming from you being jealous you shouldn’t say stuff like that. Hey ill stop hanging out with cregan without you-”

“No. I’m in love with you. This is not because I’m fucking jealous, sure maybe i am but i am so madly in love with you everyday i have to stop myself from professing my love to you from the highest mountain. If I'm saying this because I'm jealous then why do i feel the urge to tell you i love you while you’re withering underneath me. I love you.”

He had made his way over to you. He stands in front of you looking like a kicked puppy. “If you don’t feel the same we should end this. Never speak again, maybe that would kill me but i can’t just keep ignoring how i feel for you any longer.” He tenses in your silence, “Please answer me.”

“I never wanted to get into this arrangement with you because i knew one day i would crack. I ignored your calls and texts because i was so nervous to begin this dangerous game with you because i am so madly in love with you Jace.”

He rushes to cup your cheeks and he pulls you into a kiss. You can feel him grinning against your lips and he must feel the way you’re smiling back.

“Does boyfriend Jace fuck anything different than friend Jace?”

“You’re about to find out.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

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moremaybank · 4 months

Text

tending to jj's cuts and bruises after he defends your honour... (based on this post and this request) [0.8k]

"Ow."

Your hands work diligently at the cut etched across his cheekbone from your stance between his legs. For a moment, one wanders off, stroking his non-battered cheek in a silent apology for the added pain.

"You did this to yourself," you state matter-of-factly. "No one told you to turn into the Hulk."

"Well, you don't have to be mean about it."

"I'm not trying to be mean. I just don't understand why you can't let shit go sometimes."

You move on to his split lip. A jagged, dark red line cuts through the mouth that you think about far too often. You ache to kiss it, believing that maybe you occupy the healing powers he so obviously needs, but then you think better of it.

There's no way he feels it too.

You dab a wet towel at his lip, cleaning off the dried blood, and once his mouth is free, he chooses to defend himself, thankfully with his words this go around.

"You didn't hear what he said about you, Y/N/N. I wasn't about to jus' let him get away with that shit."

Your eyes meet his, and you pause your movements. Though you appreciated his loyalty and how he'd always stick up for you no matter the cost, you never enjoy when he actually goes to those great lengths just to protect you.

Simply having him in your corner was more than you could ever ask for.

"Kelce is an idiot. I don't care what he has to say about me, and you shouldn't either."

"Well, I do. He's lucky he didn't leave in a bodybag."

Your eyes narrow at him. "You're impossible."

"'M jus' sayin," he says. His tender and sore hands travel up the sides of your thighs, warmth blossoming through you in their wake. He gives your flesh a squeeze. Funnily enough, he can no longer feel the pain flashing through them like lightning bolts now that he's touching you. "I'll never let anyone say or do anythin' to hurt you, princess. I'll always protect you."

You feel the warmth bloom in your cheeks, and you're eternally glad that he isn't holding your face the way he always does. You'd be busted if he were.

You offer him a small smile, one you can't suppress. How can you be expected to after those sentiments?

"Look, I know I probably sound like a broken record, but you can't keep putting yourself in the position to get in trouble. You're not a kid anymore, and you've had enough run-ins with the law as it is."

"'M not scared of gettin' in shit, Y/N/N."

"I'm serious," you frown down at him.

"So am I. Fuck the opps."

You scoff, wanting to wipe that devilish smirk off his face. "You sound like Pope."

"Who d'you think taught him that?"

You know he thinks this is all just a joke. Not the defending you part, but the getting in trouble with the law part. He'll always do what he feels he needs to, regardless of the possible consequences. It's just how he is. Still, you don't think it's a joke. You hate how Shoupe and the rest of them take all his indiscretions and use it as ammo to remind him that he'll never escape the southside. You'd hate to be the reason that he 'proves them right.'

"J, I mean it." You set the items that occupy your hands down on the marble counter, and grab his face in your hands, careful of his cuts and bruises. "All I'm asking is that you try and keep it together. Please. I don't like watching you get hurt."

He's silent for a moment, analyzing your words and the sincere look on your face. Yeah, you're his best friend, but it's always a nice reminder that someone actually wants to look out for him and care for him.

He likes it even better when it's you who's doing so.

The corners of his lips turn up and his hands migrate to the backs of your thighs. He uses his hold on you to urge you closer. "You're worried about me."

You give him an incredulous look. "Yes, JJ. I worry about you. After all this time, I don't even know why you question that."

"'Cause you're the only one who does."

You melt inside, and you're sure you do so on the outside as well. Your eyes soften, and to distract him from it, you go back to cleaning him up, reaching for some q-tips and the disinfectant.

His eyes flutter closed when you touch him again.

"If you wanted attention, you coulda just said so," you joke, unable to resist poking fun at him.

"Shut up," he says, laughing softly. His eyes are open again, and he looks up at you so tenderly that he wants to tell you what he's been feeling all this time.

I love you.

It's on the tip of his tongue, but when he wills it to leave his mouth, they refuse him.

He goes for the next best thing.

"Look, I'll try to...control myself. No promises, though."

A small smile graces your lips. "Thank you."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

#꒰ — daydreams ꒱#꒰ — jj maybank ꒱#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank brainrot #jj maybank brain rot #jj maybank concepts #jj maybank concept #jj maybank thoughts #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank obx #jj maybank outer banks

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sincerelymina · 1 month

Text

invisible string

content ꒰ 2.3k ꒱ re4r leon x female reader. fluff! reader is friends with ashley. short & sweet. no warnings really. both reader & leon are hopeless romantics. and also bookworms apparently. mentions of the women in leon's life. french people slander. spoilers for the stranger by camus. not proofread, as usual. i miss autumn dearly. author's note i watched before sunrise the other night and it made me believe in love again for a second there. def recommend if you haven't seen it !! also listened to champagne coast by blood orange on repeat while writing this hehe. reblogs & comments are always very appreciated. ꣑ৎ

"He's, like, really gorgeous," your closest friend, Ashley, sighs dreamily, walking hand-in-hand with you towards the train station. The chilly October air nips at both of your cheeks, hers flushed red. "I think you'll really like him."

Given her track record, you'll be the judge of that.

"I dunno Ash," you shrug, giving the girl a lopsided smile in a poor attempt to reassure her, "He's a blonde. Are you sure he isn't the devil reincarnate?" You deadpan with a sip from your stale coffee.

At her frown, you sigh, "...I guess he did save your life."

Ashley had been dying to introduce you to Leon, whom she barely hung out with herself; his schedule was chaotic, like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Between his personal life (or lack thereof) and missions in foreign countries, he almost never had the time. But finally, he had a day off, one he could dedicate to the President's daughter—and you.

"Trust me, Leon's a total sweetheart," she says as the two of you step onto the train, "He might not look it, but deep down, he's a big softie."

"If you say so," you mumble more to yourself than to her.

Gorgeous was an understatement. Through the glass windows of the café, you see Leon sitting in the corner near the record player, his blonde locks falling in front of his pretty face. A worn book is poised between his index finger and his thumb; Camus, how predictable.

The small bell above the door chimes softly as you both stumble inside, Ashley quickly waving with her sugary sweet smile at the sight of her little knight in shining armor. Oh, you had no chance with him if she was around. Your smile pales in comparison to hers; awkward and stiff.

Whatever, you didn't owe this stranger anything. Even if he was perfect in every way imaginable.

Leon smiles back at Ashley, then stares at you momentarily, before gesturing for the two of you to come on over. You have to fight the urge to physically cringe; the look he gave you felt so...weird. It wasn't exactly a nasty scowl, but it also wasn't a polite grin.

"Leon! How've you been?" The blonde gushes, taking a seat across from him; you follow right next to her. Before he gets the chance to reply, Ashley introduces you as well, "This is my friend I'm always talking about. She's the best girl I know."

You offer him a half-hearted smile, paired with a little shy shrug; damn, this man had you acting a fool already. To your surprise, he smiles back, albeit a little tensely, and nods, "It's nice to meet you."

"Like wise."

Ashley keeps the conversation afloat, mostly asking Leon about his missions—vaguely, of course, given their classified nature—and life in general. He'd reply and return the questions back to her, while you sat there with a constipated expression plastered onto your face, feeling completely out of place. Obviously, they weren't deliberately trying to single you out, but your attempts at trying to chime in had gone unnoticed. More like ignored.

You felt like a fucking third wheeler.

At least, until Ashley excused herself, claiming she needed to go to the bathroom "real quickly." Five minutes of awkward silence had already passed, mixed in with the occasional this coffee's really good and it's kind of cold in here. Leon looks at you, you look at him. Then out the window at the red and orange fallen leaves, and lastly, to the wall adjacent, just...admiring the vinyls on display.

Your eyes land upon his book, set haphazardly next to the ceramic mug, and then it hits you: you've read The Stranger, you can make conversation! At least, enough conversation until Ashley came back.

Breaking the unbearable silence, you say, meeting his gaze, "So...Camus."

Leon looks at the book, then at you, "What about him?" An inscrutable look etched itself onto his perfect features.

Ouch. Still, you persevere, "Have you read the book before? I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

You take a sip of your vanilla latte, a maroonish lipstick mark left on the rim; this was much better than the sad cup of coffee you drank in the morning.

He chuckles, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Only a million times." Cheesy, but you could work with it. "I love French literature."

You shrug, feigning disinterest, "The French suck though."

But, not wanting to burst his bubble, you add, "The whole concept of absurdism really stuck with me, I have to admit. Sometimes I wish I could be as indifferent as Meursault. He just...doesn't care." You laugh, the words flowing so naturally it shocked you.

"Just drifting through life without any real purpose?" Leon adds for you with a light scoff, his gaze softening a bit. "In my dreams. I liked how the trial was more of a judgement of his character rather than his actions. It's almost as if the real crime was his nonchalance towards his mother's death."

That's the most you've heard Leon talk in the half an hour you'd known him. He looked so cute, explaining the parts of the book he enjoyed. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

You're both fully engrossed in each other and your shared taste in literature, the outside world fading into a blur. You can't even seem to notice Ashley, who finally returns with a sly look on her pretty face. She slides in right next to you, clasping her hands together above the table.

"Wow, you two seem to be really hitting it off." Oh, her disappearance was so deliberate. Her voice snaps you both out of your little trance.

All her comment earns are two awkward chuckles and averting gazes. It's like everything's falling into place, just how she wanted it to, so seamlessly. Ashley really was pretty good at this whole matchmaker thing. Hell, she could give Cupid a run for his money.

The more you got to know Leon, the more that sweetness Ashley had mentioned began to seep through his rough exterior, like the morning sun pouring in through parted curtains.

Now it was her getting sidelined.

Leon was slowly falling in love with you.

He couldn't help himself. Despite his awful luck with women in the past, he still found himself gazing longingly at you, wishing you were in his arms. After the little get-together with Ashley, you two exchanged numbers, started hanging out together without her. You called that night before bed. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

You were just a college girl who did ballet and enjoyed the same music & literature as him; you couldn't be like Ada, right? An ordinary civilian, someone who hadn't seen the things he and his old flame had. He felt some semblance of normalcy around you, something he couldn't even feel with Ashley or Claire. It was so refreshing.

Ever since Leon met you, he no longer found himself picking up random women at bars for meaningless sex. Almost as if he was remaining faithful and loyal to you, even if you weren't together.

He was smitten.

No one, not even the woman in the red dress, the President's doe-eyed daughter, or his closest friend, could steal his attention away from you. They were all very beautiful, Leon had to admit, but you were ethereal. Out of this fucking world.

When you called asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie together, Leon felt his cheeks go hot, regardless of the biting cold December winds outside. He was walking back to his apartment after a rather unsuccessful mission; every muscle in his body ached, exhaustion creeping beneath his skin. But he couldn't leave you hanging.

"Yeah, sure." He manages to reply. "What movie?"

"Before sunrise." You say; Leon found your choice interesting. "It's one of my favorites. Have you seen it?"

"Who hasn't?" Leon chuckles. "I'll be over soon. Gotta take care of a few things first." He desperately needed a steaming hot shower after whatever the fuck his last mission was.

"Okay, great." He can almost hear the smile through your tone. "See ya."

Come two hours, and Leon's standing in your doorway, in all his blonde glory. "Hey sweetheart," he smiles softly; definitely a totally platonic, friendly, kind pet name specially for you. The cute look that'd sneak onto your face whenever he used it had Leon's chest tightening uncontrollably.

"Hi Leon." You let him walk past you.

He'd been to your apartment a few times before, but never alone; usually either with Ashley or some of his friends that you'd met in the two months you knew each other so far. Your heart was beating a little too fast for comfort right now, the idea of the two of you being alone together at night sending your mind into a frenzy.

There's a comfortable amount of space between you and Leon on the sofa, though you wished you were curled up on his lap. If only you knew how badly he wanted that too. The movie plays, but your concentration is on anything but. His cologne invades your senses, the subtle sound of his breathing solidifying the fact that he was right next to you.

Feigning fatigue, you "casually" let your head fall upon his shoulder, causing Leon's breath to hitch. He sits still, not daring to move an inch, afraid you might move yourself. He felt the way your knee brushed against his, your arms that were just itching to wrap around him. At first, he thought he was just imagining things; wishful thinking playing tricks on him for the umpteenth time.

But then your arms did wrap around his waist, lazily draped over him. You made yourself more comfortable, body flush against his, leaning against him like he was your boyfriend.

Leon really didn't want to say anything. But he just couldn't help it. "Everything okay?" You were generally touchy, sure, but there seemed to be meaning behind your actions this time.

"Yeah." The way you say yeah makes it seem like he's crazy for insinuating otherwise. "Why do you ask?"

"I-I don't know," Leon feels like he's dug his own grave. He clears his throat, "You're being awfully...affectionate." And now he wants to shoot himself.

You laugh. You fucking laugh. Leon blinks twice, wondering if he's dreaming.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not necessarily." He coughs. "It's just a little, um," Leon frantically searches for the right words to use, "Unexpected, I guess."

"I can let go if you're uncomfortable." Please don't, he wants to say.

"Nah, it's fine. I don't mind." And on that note, you smile, returning your gaze to movie, even if Leon's face was a million times more interesting. Of course the scene playing on the screen is Jesse and Celine's first kiss. How cliché. You're both fighting the urge to follow by example.

Silence envelopes the room, the air thick with tension that never really existed between the two of you before. Getting all awkward over a kissing scene felt so awfully juvenile, but it wasn't your fault Leon had that effect on you, and vice-versa. Both of your eyes are locked on the TV, not daring to look at one another.

To your surprise, Leon says, very quietly, "You're really pretty."

His words rip through the stillness. You don't know how to respond, but also don't want to leave him hanging. So you pull back a bit, enough to get a better view of his perfect face, and smile, "What?"

"You heard me," he mumbles, baby blue eyes meeting yours. Seeing Leon all shy strikes something within you.

"I did. I just..." God, this was awkward.

"I know this might seem weird, but..." Leon sighs softly, biting the corner of his lip for a second as he searched for the best words to use. "I think you're a great girl. Sweet, too. And I really want to kiss you." He mentally chastised himself for sounding so cliché, so corny.

He quickly adds, "You don't have to say anything, by the way. I just...I needed to get that off my chest." As if you could go on normally after this.

You stare at him in disbelief, mulling over his words, wondering if he was just saying things. When you were inviting him over to watch a movie together, you didn't expect a heartfelt confession, but really it was naïve to think you wouldn't. Especially after holding onto him like that. Your reluctance to respond has Leon's expression fall flat.

So you don't say anything. You kiss him. And he doesn't waste any time kissing you back. It's soft, delicate. Testing the waters. His hands clasp onto your hips, slowly smoothing up and down your back. It doesn't take long for him to really get into it, though.

The outside world fades into nothing, the feeling of Leon's chapped lips on yours overpowering any other. "Are you sure about this?" He mumbles between kisses, unsure if you really wanted to kiss, or simply did it to please him. You mumble a quick shut up and tangle your fingers into his soft hair.

Your hips shift a bit, coaxing him into pulling you onto his lap, lips still connected together. You only get sloppier with your kisses, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose, just in case he might change his mind about all of this the moment you part.

"Easy baby," Leon whispers, pushing you back slightly; this definitely wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "I'm not going anywhere."

It's safe to say the movie didn't get finished. Good thing you both watched it before.

#𐙚˖˚ mina's fics #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #ashley graham #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy oneshot #re4 leon #leon kennedy fluff

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captain-hawks · 1 year

Text

liability

levi ackerman x f!reader

summary: the tables are turned when you save Levi during a mission, nearly getting yourself killed in the process. he's furious, but you don't quite understand why.

word count: 1.6k

content: feels, confessions, kissing

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You startle as the heavy wooden door to the room bursts open, hinges groaning weakly in protest as Levi strides in, slamming it just as hard behind him. The warm glow from the small lantern sitting on the desk beside you contrasts sharply with the cold steel of the eyes it illuminates when he comes to stand before you, everything about his posture conveying the extent of the anger roiling dangerously inside of him.

Carefully closing the notebook you were recording field notes in for Hange, you let go of the pencil in your hand and try to ignore how uncharacteristically ruffled Levi’s hair is, as if he’s been repeatedly dragging his hands through it. You quell your urge to comment on it—because any other day, you’d make a remark just to get a rise out of him.

But you know better than to poke the bear right now, not when you’re well aware you’re the origin point of the fury that he’s outright shaking with. A trail of dried blood remains crusted to the side of his face, matching the dark stains along the torn and tattered remains of his dark green cloak.

He almost died today.

And so did you.

“That you were about to be Titan food if nobody stepped in to help you,” you offer in a flat tone, arms crossed over your chest.

Levi clicks his tongue against his teeth in annoyance, swiping a thumb across the cut on his bottom lip as he continues to level you with that piercing stare. “I was fine,” he snaps.

He was two seconds from being torn to shreds by the three Titans that cornered him while he fought to re-engage his malfunctioning ODM gear, and if you hadn’t come ricocheting through the trees to distract them, humanity may have very well finally lost its strongest soldier.

You tell him as much, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation, and he takes a step toward you, borderline shouting, “I told you to stand the fuck down.”

He had.

You’d locked eyes with him the moment you careened through the thick cover of the branches, had clearly heard what he shouted at you the moment he realized what you were about to do—and you’d promptly ignored his command.

“I didn’t hear you,” you shrug, though you both know it for the bald lie that it is.

He moves closer.

“I’m your Captain, and I gave you a goddamn order.”

“It was a shitty order. You would have died,” you retort.

Levi nearly closes the distance between the two of you, your back pressing against the wall behind you as the toes of his boots scuff against your own. With one hand splayed flat on the surface beside your head, his breath is hot on your face as he seethes, “You almost died.”

A Titan had grabbed you, almost crushing you to death in the process as your fingers fumbled for purchase on your sword, hoping that your last remaining blade would hold out. You hadn’t had time to think through a solid plan, your body having jumped into action without a second thought the moment you realized Levi was well and truly fucked when you could no longer see and hear him soaring through the air. So you’d acted on pure instinct, buying Levi the precious moments he needed to get his gear back in working order, and he’d then immediately killed the Titan that had you in its grip.

It was fine. You both survived.

Barely.

You’d hardly had time to say a word to Levi afterward, both of you caught up in rejoining the main fray of the battle alongside your fellow Scouts.

“I’m fine,” you counter, turning your head to the side to break the intense eye contact.

Levi grasps your chin, turning your head to face him again, mouth set in a hard line. “You’re reckless,” he growls.

You sigh in annoyance, fighting a losing battle to temper down your body’s reaction to Levi’s close proximity, the whisper of his body heat like a beacon to your tired, weary bones.

Right.

So maybe your reckless decision wasn’t just made out of the goodness of your heart as a Scout, but also was heavily inspired by one inescapable, undeniable fact—you’re in love with Levi Ackerman.

Your crush had been innocent enough at first, a bright flare of feelings sparking to life inside of you the first time you watched the way he effortlessly operates on missions. One would have thought that, as you became familiar with his cold and merciless demeanor up close, his piss poor attitude with you and your fellow Scouts would help quell the frantic beating of your heart every time he was in your proximity.

But that wasn’t the case, not at all.

Rather, you found yourself even more drawn to him, craving the few and far between moments when you’d catch him letting his guard down. The moments when, despite his scathing remarks, it was abundantly clear just how much he cared about each and every member of the Scout Regiment.

The moments when you saw just how far he’d go to protect those closest to him.

And when you found yourself transferred to run under Levi’s command, stamping down on the inconvenient, endlessly smoldering embers of your laughably unrequited crush only became more difficult as you were forced into even closer quarters with him than ever before. The only thing that helped after that was Levi’s unfailing tendency to express one of only two emotions toward you at all times: stark indifference or annoyed exasperation.

Unable to formulate a smart response to snap into the scant space remaining between your mouths, you mutter, “You’re reckless, too.”

Levi places his other hand on the wall on the other side of your head, effectively caging you in, his hair brushing against your forehead. “Well you can’t be,” he seethes.

“I’d argue that your life matters more than most of the others here,” you offer plainly, meaning every word.

“Not to me.”

You roll your eyes, “Self-deprecation doesn’t suit you, Capt—”

“Your life matters more to me,” he cuts you off roughly, voice nearly breaking.

If it weren’t for the steady pressure of the wall holding you up, you would have swayed. “What?”

One of his hands curls into a fist, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he takes a deep, steadying breath. “I was furious when you were switched into my squad.”

Yeah, he’d been downright incorrigible for days.

“I noticed,” you comment, deflating slightly.

Your life? The lives of your fellow Scouts, of all of you.

Of course.

“That’s not what I…” He stares at you, eyebrows knitting together, a strange expression on his face. “You don’t know, do you?” Stormy slate softens to the soft gray hue of the skies after a storm as his eyes scan your face.

“I know that I annoy you to no end and you spent weeks petitioning Erwin to move me elsewhere,” you roll your eyes.

“Because my feelings make me a liability on the field with you under my command.”

Blood rushes in your ears, and your next words are so tentative, so small, “Your feelings?”

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly underestimating just how unbelievable the words coming out of his mouth are. “I can’t think straight around you,” he chokes out, his forehead falling against yours.

“But you…” you trail off, trying to reconcile the conflicting meaning of what he’s saying with what you’ve come to believe for so long.

“I’ve been trying to avoid this, how I feel, because it wouldn’t be fair to you. It’s why I…act the way I do around you.”

Idly, you wonder if it’s actually possible to forget how to breathe. “What do you want, Levi?” you ask quietly, carefully placing a hand over his chest, his heart beating steadily behind his ribcage.

He covers your hand with his own and murmurs, “Something that would be really goddamn selfish in the grand scheme of things,” glancing down at the winged emblem on his jacket.

“And what if I want you to be selfish?”

A sharp inhale from Levi is your only warning before he cups your face in his hands and brings his lips crashing into yours.

Your body sinks into his embrace as he wraps you up in his arms, fingers splayed possessively along the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you hard, like he’s trying to convey everything that he’s been holding back, every touch he’s denied himself in your presence.

The cinders in your chest ignite, burning hotter with each press of his plush lips against yours, each nip of his teeth along your bottom lip. His fingertips are a searing brand on your waist as he grasps your hip, tugging out a small, needy whine from your lips in return, and his warm, answering chuckle has your legs threatening to give out beneath you.

You both freeze suddenly at the sound of two rapid knocks against the door, followed by the sound of Hange calling out, “Hey, did you want to go over those notes?”

The look Levi gives your notebook, innocently sitting atop the table, is downright scathing as he barks out, “She’s busy.”

“Levi?” Hange asks, tone brimming with curiosity.

“We’re busy,” he exhales, tilting his head up toward the ceiling in annoyance.

The answering noise that leaves Hange’s mouth can only be described as complete and total delight as they laugh before walking away, footsteps pointedly loud as they make their way back down the hallway.

Realizing that you had actually noted a few important things regarding new discoveries on Titan behavior, your eyes stray back to the notebook, uncertain. “Are you sure I shouldn’t just…”

“Absolutely not,” Levi cuts you off brusquely with another searing kiss, tugging you toward the bed in the corner of the room. “You’re mine tonight.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #dee writes

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cimmanonrowl · 1 month

Text

In the right time, maybe.

Chapter One | Chapter Navigation

Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x bfd!reader

Contents: age gap, older guy x young woman relationship, forbidden love, flashback, sassy!reader, even sassier!aaron.

7 years ago.

“The calls started coming in…” It was the first thing you heard your mother say since you joined her and your father for breakfast.

You forced yourself to continue eating. But the eggs taste like nothing, the toast dry in your mouth like gravel. For the last 15 minutes you spent sitting across them, the tension pressed down heavily on your chest. Now that she spoke, you couldn’t help but glance at your father, searching his face for any hint of emotion. But his expression was unreadable as always— calm and composed as he listened to your mother’s sweet voice.

There was a faint smile on her face as she set her knife and fork down on her plate. “Cynthia called first thing this morning, and not out of concern, I’m sure. She wanted to know if the rumors she’d heard were true…” she trailed off, the sweetness dripping from her mouth contrasted with the coldness of her eyes. “That my daughter had been arrested. At a frat party.”

The clinking of silverware against china was the only sound left in the dining room. Through the tall windows, the morning sun filtered, flooding the room with a faint, golden glow. Everything was set perfectly as you always remembered— freshly brewed coffee in delicate cups, pastries neatly stacked on a silver platter, and fruit arranged in pristine order on elegant porcelain plates.

And you sat there, eyes downcast, pushing your scrambled eggs around on your plate, unable to bring yourself to take another bite.

“She was very polite about it, of course,” Mother dear continued, her voice as smooth as Italian silk, “But I could hear it in her tone— the faux concern, the curiosity for the gossip. My friends will be buzzing about this for weeks. Oh, did you hear what happened to her daughter? Arrested for assaulting a Teacher’s Aide, that poor woman.” She mimicked them with a faint, elegant smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

You urged yourself to stay quiet. What could you even say to make this better?

“How delightful it will be for them to have such fresh material to gossip about. By the time I arrive today, I’m sure the whole country club already knows what happened. Can you imagine the whispers?” She raised one of her delicate eyebrows, her lips pursed.

Your father sipped his coffee slowly, the lines of his face set in that stoic, unreadable expression he’s mastered over the years. Your cheeks burned with shame. You cleared your throat as the words refused to come out, your eyes fixed on the table as the embarrassment and regret clawed at you.

“I didn’t…” you finally found your voice, though it was weak, trembling. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Mom. It was just—”

“A prank?” your mother cut you off, humming sarcastically. “That’s what you told us earlier at the police station, remember? A prank. Do you think that makes it better? Do you think the chancellor or our family friends care that it was just a prank?”

You swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze.

“No.”

“Of course not, you stupid girl. Because it doesn’t matter why you did it. All that matters is the outcome. The damage is done.”

The events of last night loomed in the air— your arrest at the frat party, the flashing lights, the crowd of onlookers recording everything. You can still feel the cold metal of the handcuffs and how it harshly bit on your skin, the sting of the police officers’ loud voices, and worst of all, the cameras. Those fucking cameras. Although you haven’t got the courage to check your phone yet, you know those videos are out there now, circulating the internet with your name being dragged around by everyone in the Law Department who knew who you were.

“The scandal you’ve caused…” Your stomach turned, the humiliation hitting you all over again as your mother ranted relentlessly. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up to ten missed calls from women at the country club, all of them pretending to be concerned, but really just salivating at the chance to gossip about how my daughter was arrested at some filthy frat party? What in the world were you doing in that dirty place, anyway? I was certain I raised you with a better taste than that.”

Your mother placed her napkin on the table with almost graceful precision, but you could tell she was holding herself back from losing her composure, holding herself back from the storm of anger that was simmering just beneath the surface.

“I just thought- I thought it was a chance to… meet people and socialize. It’s my first semester and you always tell me the importance of building connec–”

“With people of value. I didn’t mean in a rathole, did I?”

You pursed your lips. “Most of them are family acquaintances, Mom.”

“It didn’t occur to you that must be the reason why they’re only acquaintances?” Your mother’s tone remained deceptively soft, almost pleasant, as she continued. “That you don’t meet those people in charity nights or country clubs because they hang out in dirty, frat houses?”

“But Dad is part of a frat in Law School, Mom. It’s one of the ways to build connections inside the academe. Some professors are even part of those frats. It has perks—”

“And did your father also tell you to crack open someone’s skull in the middle of the party?”

“N-no…”

“That’s what I thought,” she smiled sweetly.

Your throat tightened, the shame creeping up inside you, wrapping itself around your chest until it was hard to breathe. No matter how you don’t agree with her words, even when you want so badly to defend yourself, at the end of the day, you know you’re still wrong.

“I’m sorry, Mom. It was just a lapse of judgement.”

“Is that what you call it?” she sounded amused as she echoed the words you used. “Because to me, it seems like you didn’t even use your brain. How would it be a lapse of judgment?”

You didn’t answer— you couldn’t. You’re fully aware that no amount of explanation would even justify what happened.

It was intended as a stupid joke, a harmless prank—something to rile up the frat boys and mess with the Teacher’s Aide who always gave you a hard time. He was a prick. Always acting pretentious and condescending in class, always shaming you during recitation. So you and a couple of your friends thought it’d be funny to mess with him. You had gotten the idea to stage a scene at the party— just a small “accident” involving him that would get everyone to whisper about him for weeks.

You didn’t think it through.

No one did.

The prank backfired spectacularly. It was supposed to be harmless— just a spill of paint and a couple of embarrassing photos to post on the University board— but ended up with the man slipping and hitting his head hard on the corner of a table. The frat house had erupted into chaos after that, drunk people shouting, running around, and the guy lying there unconscious with a concerning amount of blood pooling on the floor.

That’s when someone must’ve called the cops.

Your father cleared his throat. “We’ve done our best to protect you from consequences in the past, sweetheart,” he began, his voice low but steady, the kind of tone that demanded your full attention. “But this— this isn’t something we can simply sweep under the rug.”

“You’ve embarrassed us, is what he’s saying,” your mother scoffed lightly, rolling her eyes at your father. “The truth is, you’ve embarrassed not only yourself but our family. Tell me, how are we supposed to face everyone? The people in your father’s work? My friends in the country club?”

You fell silent with her question. You’ve heard it all before— how important the family’s image is, how every action you take isn’t just your own, but a reflection of them. It was a lesson you’ve been taught since you were a child, but now, sitting here in the aftermath of your arrest, it felt heavier than ever.

“And the pictures,” your mother continued, her voice cutting through your thoughts again. “The videos. Did you think about that? How those images are going to be plastered all over social media for everyone to see? Your cheap dress? Your behavior? Do you even care how many of our friends’ children see them? I can only imagine the things they’ll say behind your back.”

Your father set his coffee down. His face was calm, but the disappointment in his eyes was unmistakable, and it made you want to shrink into yourself.

“I want you to realize how serious this is, sweetheart,” he said after a deep sigh, his voice never rising, but somehow becoming even more terrifying in its restraint. “It’s not just the scandal you’ve brought on this family, though that in itself is bad enough. It’s the fact that the university’s TA, the man you assaulted—and don’t tell me it wasn’t serious because we’ve heard the details— he’s considering filing a lawsuit against you.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The word ‘lawsuit’ sent a chill down your spine. You knew things were bad, but you hadn’t fully processed that it could come to this. The prank had gone wrong—horribly so—but you hadn’t truly considered that it could escalate into something this big. The thought of legal action, of your parents being dragged into court over something you did…

Your mother inhaled slowly. Although she doesn’t raise her voice, each word cuts deeper than if she had screamed. “We’ll be dragged through the mud. And what then? What happens to our reputation? To your future?”

You ignored the fact that, based on her words, your reputation is much more important than your future. Or whatever you feel at the moment.

You could barely breathe as the conversation went on. You gripped the edge of your chair, trying to steady yourself, but it felt like the ground beneath you was crumbling away.

“I didn’t mean it. I’m really- I’m so sorry…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, shaking.

“That doesn’t matter,” your father said. “Intent doesn’t minimize consequences. And now, we’re facing a very real possibility that you could be expelled, sued, and publicly humiliated all at once.”

The walls felt as if they were closing in around you.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed as she continued. “And then there’s the matter of money. Do you have any idea how much it will cost us to make this go away? To keep your record clean, to keep you in Law School after almost killing someone?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice low and cutting. “Do you even realize how selfish and stupid you’ve been?”

You swallowed hard. Expulsion. A permanent mark on your academic record. Your future— everything you’ve worked for— now hangs in the balance because of one reckless night.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to cry in front of them. You feel small and ashamed, under the weight of everything that’s about to come crashing down on you. But then, you have no one else to blame but yourself.

Your father heaved another deep sigh. “We’ll need to contact our lawyer,” he said calmly, his mind already moving to control the damage. “We’ll have to negotiate with the university board and the TA. I already set a meeting with the chancellor. He’s an old friend, let’s just hope he will help us.”

You nodded numbly, the shame and guilt overwhelming you. The image of your mother at the country club, having to endure the whispers and judgemental looks, the thought of your father having to navigate meetings with lawyers and school administrators to clean up the mess you’ve made was so shameful to think about.

Your mother rose from her seat with a graceful composure. “Your father and I will fix this,” she said one last time, her voice clipped and emotionless. “But this will be the last time, I warn you. You’ve embarrassed us enough.”

Without another glance in your direction, she left the room, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Your father followed, quieter but no less distant, leaving you alone at the table.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” was all he said.

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel your house helpers’ gaze focused on you, watching you from the corner in which they all stand. You felt sick, not only because of the hangover but because it felt like the entire world had shifted beneath you, and you were left to deal with the wreckage.

“Miss? Are you awake?”

The knock on your door pulled you from sleep. You stirred in bed, your eyes heavy. There was a dull ache pounding in your head from all the crying you’d done. And with heavy feeling, you rolled over, blinking against the fading evening light that seeped through the curtains, trying to make sense of the knock.

It came again, a little louder this time. You pushed yourself up on your elbows just as the door creaked open, revealing the familiar figure of your family’s longtime maid. She was standing by the front door, her expression polite, her eyes reflecting a hint of sympathy she was trying to hide.

“Miss,” she repeated softly, “your parents have requested you come down for dinner.”

You rubbed your eyes and sat up fully. “Dinner?” your voice was scratchy as you mumbled.

“Yes, miss,” she replied, stepping slightly into the room. “Your parents have a guest tonight. It’s… important that you join them.”

Something in her tone caught your attention. A guest. You wonder who could it be. Though it was most likely just your family lawyer joining you for dinner. Your father did say you would talk about the situation later.

So you gave her a polite nod and swung your legs over the side of the bed. “Alright,” you said quietly, already feeling the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. The last thing you want to do is face them again— especially over dinner— but you know there’s no avoiding it.

The maid disappeared quietly down the hall as you stood, your legs still shaky beneath you. You glance at yourself in the full-body mirror, grimacing at your reflection. Your hair was a mess, your eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying. You tried to fix yourself up as best as you could, smoothing down your hair and splashing some cold water on your face to wake yourself up. But no matter how much you try to pull yourself together, the heaviness still loomed over your shoulders.

You made your way down the staircase, the smell of dinner wafting through the house. The soft murmur of voices reached your ears as you near the dining room— your parents, speaking in hushed tones. You couldn’t make out the words, but you picked up the urgency of their conversation that made you pause just outside the doorway.

You closed your eyes for a moment, preparing yourself, before stepping into the room.

The first thing you noticed was that your parents aren’t alone. Seated at the table with them, in the same spot he always sat at during family dinners so long ago… was Aaron. His presence was like a jolt of electricity, sending your heart skipping in your chest for a split second before it settled into an uneasy rhythm.

It has been so long since you last saw him— years, really. He’d been a constant figure in your life growing up, your father’s best friend since college. He’d been older than you by quite a bit, of course, but back then, you’d always been slightly captivated by him— his quiet intelligence, his boisterous laughter, the way he seemed to understand the world in ways you couldn’t yet grasp. It was endearing. He always had this presence about him, something solid and unshakeable, like he was the person you wanted around when things fell apart.

But now, sitting there at the dining table, he looked different— older, yes, but in a way that’s more refined. His hair was shorter than you remember, clean cut, dark brown with threads of silver creeping in at his temples, and his jawline was sharper, with the beginnings of stubble framing his mouth. He was wearing a tailored suit, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders, the crisp white collar open at his throat, his tie undone as if he’d just come from a long day at work.

Then there’s the intensity to his eyes. His expression was serious, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line as he listened to your parents talk.

As you step further into the room, Aaron’s gaze lifted, and for a moment, his eyes locked with yours. Your breath got caught right in your throat.

“Aaron,” your father said formally, cutting into the silence as he noticed you standing there. “You remember my daughter.”

Aaron’s lips twitched into a slight smile, but it was fleeting. “Of course,” he said, his voice deep and even. “It’s been a while.”

You swallowed hard, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. You force yourself to walk further into the room, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “Hi, Aaron,” just a short greeting, your voice shaky– that’s all you had managed.

Your mother glanced at you. “Come sit down,” she said, gesturing to the empty seat across from Aaron. “We were just discussing the situation.”

Your stomach churned in shame. The situation. You know exactly what they’re talking about. And how embarrassing it was.

You took your seat, your hands trembling slightly as you settled into the chair. You focused yourself on a maid filling your glass with water, thanking her promptly and watching her walk away.

“Your father and I,” your mother started, effectively catching your attention, “were just going over the legal implications of what happened at the university.”

You glanced at your father, unsure of what to say. You know how grave the situation was, but seeing Aaron here, sitting with your parents as they calmly discuss your future as if it were some business negotiation, makes you want to crawl out of your skin and disappear forever.

“And Aaron’s here because?” You frowned, your voice sounded sarcastic without intending to. “We already have a family lawyer. Do we really need to drag him into this?”

Your father’s gaze sharpened just a bit. “Aaron has been a trusted friend of the family for years. Given the severity of your circumstances, we thought his experience would be invaluable.”

“Experience?” You let out a small, incredulous laugh, folding your arms across your chest. “He’s an FBI agent, Dad, not my defense attorney. This isn’t a federal case. It’s just a stupid prank gone wrong. I don’t see why we need to make this a whole ‘bring in the cavalry’ thing.” You glanced back at Aaron. “And I’m sure he’s got more important things to do than babysit me.”

Aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, his voice calm but firm when he spoke. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think this was serious.” His hazel eyes locked onto yours, and there was a weight to his words that made your earlier sarcasm feel childish and misplaced. “There’s a chance the university will pursue disciplinary action against you. But there’s also the matter of the TA. His injuries are documented, and he has every right to file charges.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. The potential lawsuit. The school hearing. Your entire future balancing on the edge of a knife. Deep down, you know he’s right, but the idea of Aaron being here, so entrenched in this mess, felt too personal— too invasive. Why on Earth would you want him here?

You’re used to your parents managing everything, controlling every detail of your life, but Aaron? It was different.

Your father cleared his throat. “He’s just offering legal advice and some advice on how we can keep this from spiraling any further.”

“I appreciate the help,” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your voice laced with a slight edge of stubbornness, “but I don’t need to be micromanaged by a fed. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with this.”

Your mother raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “And what exactly do you plan to do? Handle it on your own? When all you did all day is lock yourself in your room and cry? Is that your idea of handling problems?”

You bit back the urge to say, ‘Yes, so what?’

The tension in the room thickened as your mother’s words silenced you. You felt the familiar heat of frustration creeping up your neck. It’s the same old story— no matter what, they always think you need to be rescued, that you’re not capable of handling your own life. That all you could do was cry, although that was exactly what you did.

Aaron, however, remained calm, his gaze never wavering from yours. “No one’s saying you’re not capable,” he said, his voice low and measured. “But this is a situation that’s already out of your control. There are legal repercussions, reputational damage, and the possibility of expulsion. Ignoring it or downplaying it won’t make it go away.”

His tone was steady, not condescending, but the message was clear: Whether you like it or not, this is bigger than you. So listen to me, little girl.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to snap back at him. But instead, you exhaled slowly, trying to tamp down the frustration bubbling up inside you. “Fine,” you voice was tight as you spoke. “But I still don’t understand why Aaron needs to be involved. We can handle this with our own lawyer.”

Your mother interjected with an eye roll. “Aaron is a friend, and I don’t think you’re in much position to say who can help us and who can’t.” She paused and stared at you with that poised, assessing gaze she always has. “I suggest you listen to him.”

“And if I don’t?”

You almost flinched when you heard the sharp sound of your father’s sigh. “I’m too tired to deal with this attitude. Don’t push my button. I will send you to your Grandma if you don’t shut your damn mouth.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. You glanced at Aaron again, feeling a flicker of something you can’t quite place. He was watching you carefully. And for a brief moment, you felt like you were back to being that younger version of yourself, looking up to him, admiring him, thinking he had all the answers, thinking he could fix everything.

But now, everything feels different. When you’re the problem he’s been called in to fix.

“Alright,” you finally said, the fight going out of you as the reality of the situation set in. “Whatever.”

Aaron nodded slightly, his expression softening just a touch, and didn’t say anything else.

Later that evening, you have been called to your father’s office. The dim light casted long shadows over the dark wood paneling and the rows of bookshelves lining the walls. You’ve always thought of this room as intimidating, with all the thick books and deep leather armchairs, and the old oak desk, but tonight you feel even more antsy.

You were perched on the edge of the sofa, your legs stretched out in front of you, painting your toenails with a level of focus that belies how much your mind was actually racing. You needed something to do with your hands, something to distract yourself from the fact that you were alone in the room with Aaron.

The smell of polish hangs faintly in the air. You felt the hem of your nightdress ride up your thighs as you leaned forward slightly to get a better angle on your toes.

And from your seat, you can hear the faint sound of the videos Aaron was busy watching.

He sat across from you in one of the large armchairs, his back straight, his attention narrowed down on the laptop balanced on his knees. He was watching video clips and scrolling through photos from the night of the frat party. You’ve caught glimpses of the screen ealier, the images of yourself in that tight, short dress flashing by, a reminder of just how badly things have spiraled out of control.

You could feel his presence like a heat in the room, a steady pressure that makes it hard to breathe. Every now and then, his gaze shifted from the screen to you, but it was subtle, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t so hyper-aware of him. You don’t have to look up to know when his eyes are on you; you can feel it in the way your skin tingled, the way your heart skipped a beat.

He cleared his throat eventually, the sound breaking the heavy silence. “These videos,” he started, his voice low and gruff, “are all over social media. It’s worse than I thought.”

You paused mid-stroke, the small brush hovering over your toe, your pulse quickening at the seriousness in his tone. You glanced up at him, trying to gauge his expression. He addressed you in a formal manner. But still, there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t name— something that made your stomach flutter in a way you’d rather ignore.

“Yeah, well,” you mumbled, turning your attention back to your nails, “I guess that’s what happens when everyone has a phone in their hand these days.”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint clicking as he scrolled through more images, the silence stretching on between you. The weight of his scrutiny, even if it was just on a screen, made you squirm slightly in your seat.

You shifted your position, the movement causing your nightdress to ride up even more, the silky fabric sliding higher up your thighs.

You caught a brief flicker of movement from the corner of your eye— his gaze dropping to your legs, lingering for just a second longer than necessary before he quickly looked back at the screen. It was so quick, so subtle, that you almost convinced yourself you imagined it. But your heart did that traitorous little skip again, and you had to force yourself to focus on what you were doing, so you don’t dwell on it.

“This isn’t going to go away on its own,” Aaron said again after a beat of silence, as if he was choosing his words with great care. “The videos, the pictures—they’re everywhere. The university is likely to use them as evidence if they pursue disciplinary action.”

You placed the nail polish brush back in the bottle, twisting it shut with a sharp click. “So what?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. “We already knew it was bad.”

“It’s worse,” he pressed, his eyes lifting to meet yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch. “And I’m not just talking about the university. This could get very public, very fast. You need to understand what that means.”

You bristled at his words, feeling a flare of defensiveness rise up. “I get it, okay? I know I screwed up. I’m not stupid. But we don’t need to keep going over it.” You shifted again, fanning your hand over the wet nail polish, the nightdress inching up higher as you moved, exposing more of your skin.

This time, you didn’t miss the way Aaron’s eyes darted to the fabric as it rode up, his gaze lingering before he caught himself and quickly looked away, his jaw tightening slightly. There was something in his expression now, something that was not just concern or frustration.

You felt a strange mix of emotions— embarrassment, maybe, or something closer to satisfaction— at catching him off guard, at seeing that brief lapse in his composure. He’d always been so steady, so in control, and there was a part of you that was curious, maybe even a little thrilled, to see that control waver even only for a second.

“Are you going to keep staring at those videos all night? Or are we actually going to talk about something useful?”

Aaron’s eyes snapped back to yours, his expression hardening even more. “This is useful,” he replied evenly, though his voice is a bit more clipped now. “The more we understand about what’s out there, the better we can prepare for what’s coming.”

You leaned back slightly, stretching your legs out and letting the nightdress fall naturally over your thighs. “I think we both know what’s coming,” your tone edged with resignation. “I’m going to be dragged through the mud, and my parents are going to do everything they can to make it disappear. That’s how this always goes.”

Aaron’s gaze darkened, and he set the laptop aside, leaning forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. “Is that what you think this is?” he said quietly, but firmly. “You’re not a kid anymore, and this isn’t just about your parents cleaning up a mess. This is about your future. If this ends up in a court, your future will be at stake.”

There was something strange with the way he said it. You’re not a kid anymore. And you dropped your eyes, suddenly feeling very exposed— not just because of the nightdress, but because of everything you’ve been trying so hard to brush off.

“Why do you care so much, anyway? This is none of your business.”

For a moment, he was silent, and you wondered whether that was too much and you crossed a line. But then, he suddenly said, “Forget it. You’re pretty much the same kid I knew. I thought you’d be able to handle this with maturity, but obviously I’m wrong.”

Obviously.

You felt a surge of anger with that. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re still the same spoiled and whiny child from before.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief and offense. You’re not sure you followed everything he said after that. Because in the back of your mind, all you wondered about is what goes on in his brain when he looks at you with those dark, piercing eyes.

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