#i was in the mood for angst and found family feels

[jaggedamethyst]

that will be enough (matt murdock x reader)

pairing: matt murdock x reader

content: reader has holiday anxiety (me lol), angst, some fluff if you squint

notes: I have missed matt honestly...but this is something short while I work on some other things. if you also have holiday anxiety...sending love. as always, I dont believe in proofreading.

full masterlist linked here

For Matt, the holidays were yet another reminder of the love he had in his heart—most of all for his dad. The love he had for you was intense, yet differed from the emotion held for his late father. While having laid the great Jack to rest, the feeling of doing so always persistent in his mind, he could forget it was there. With you, the warmth consistently filled his body. It made sense, then, that he was exceptionally in tune to your every action. 

Matt dreaded his somber mood during this time of year. He quickly noticed, too, your feigned enjoyment. Whether it be a mindless repetitive tapping, or a grimace at the sight of even more holiday decor—the disdain was clear. 

You’d forced yourself to accept invitations, RSVP, and show up to events this year. With each one, you were reminded of how little you actually had. Not financially, per say, but the lack of family. It was easy to say that that intimacy could be found anywhere, but people sucked. It was officially true that with your low tolerance for bullshit, you had girl bossed your way into having no friends, no family to see, and nobody to love—besides Matt. The thought made you pull away from him. The thought of placing all of this onto Matt alone—to be the only important thing in your life—was a lot. So when you found yourself at another winter soiree, Matt attached at your hip, it was easy for him to notice you weren’t okay. 

He tried to talk to you a few times, you hadn’t responded. Not purposely ignoring him, he noticed, but regressing into that state you would sometimes when you were overstimulated. There was so much happening, you couldn’t process everything. The music was meant to be the obligatory party soundtrack. You let out a huff at the ambience seemingly blaring in your ears. Your head was pounding. There were too many people. Too much talking. Not enough quiet. 

You felt a hand on your back. You turned to see Matt there, as always. You tried to hide the immediate response your body had to him, but you both knew that he was aware. 

“You okay?” His voice the only thing making sense was common for you. He’d say the same about you. When you didn’t respond, he continued, “How are you feeling?” He rubbed a few circles into your lower back, before resting his hand on your waist. 

You nodded, a hesitance there, “I’m o-okay.” You turned your head away, embarrassed by your inability to say two words without choking up. 

Without a word, Matt grasped your hand and pulled you from the table you’d be standing at. You followed him, always willing to do so, you’d go wherever he went. Shut up. You quieted your own thoughts. How pathetic it was to be so incapable and reliant on a man. Your lip quivered. Matt turned to you, again, sensing it all. He moved to grab your coats—sliding on yours, then his. 

“Come on.” 

Your feet were moving on their own. You let the feeling of his arm pulling yours lead you into the elevator. You sniffled, still not much on your mind other than the immense failure you were. 

“Hey,” Matt turned to you as the doors closed. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” 

You felt the tears building, the pressure burning your eyes. “It won’t.” 

He was in front of you now, the twinge of salt in your tears hitting the air and his lips. Matt turned swiftly, hitting the stop button. You stumbled at the jolt and grasped for the wall for support. 

“Matt! What are you doing?”

“What are you feeling?”

“Nothing, I’m good.”

He tilted his head as he did, “Lie.” 

“I hate you,” 

“Another lie.” 

You turned to face the elevator wall. You sucked your teeth at your reflection. He was always so in tune, whether good or bad you still were not sure. It was times like this, where you let as if you were crawling in your skin, that the thought of explaining that phenomenon made you feel ill. 

He interrupted the thought, “It’s okay.” Don’t get yourself worked up. 

A split second later you spoke frantically, “I don’t think I can live without you.” The words blended together, the embarrassment increasing with every letter that left your mouth. 

He smiled a bit, nodding, “Thats good to hear…seeing as I don’t really plan on going anywhere.” 

The sound of you inhaling and exhaling slow filled the elevator cart. You looked at him, then. “What I mean…meant…is that…I am overwhelmed right now.” 

An arched brow and a nod encouraged you to continue. 

“I have nobody,” He opened his mouth to interrupt. You quieted him with your hand up, “…except you. Which isn’t…ideal.” There was sympathy, but silence still. He allowed you the space, here, to say everything. “Whenever we’re out…when I’m out…I feel so lonely. It’s like this time of year just heightens that feeling I have that everything should be perfect. But nothing is. Nothing can be.” You paused, “But I want it to.” 

“I miss my dad.” Matt stated plainly. “And I don’t really talk to my mom.” It was your turn to nod this time. “I have a few people I care about, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. Especially during Christmas.” He went to lean on the opposite elevator wall as you were standing. “I imagined myself having years way beyond what I had with my dad. In church on Christmas, or maybe watching movies with him…I didn’t get much of that.” He stabilized himself, removing his red frames with one hand. “I don’t want you to feel burdened by the expectation of what a cookie-cutter life should be. Sometimes there’s other plans for us…and honestly…if we only have each other, forever, that will be enough for me.” 

You nodded aggressively, trying to make sense of that. You tried to drill the words into your mind so as to never be in this state again. 

“I hate Christmas.” 

Matt moved to hit the button, “Me too, babe.”

There wasn’t much said on the way to his apartment, nor when you’d both crawled into bed. After a while, Matt grabbed your palm and kissed the back of your hand. He spoke into your now intertwined fingers. “I can’t live without you either, by the way.” 

“Good to know that we’re both extremely helpless individuals.”

He chuckled, “We truly belong together”

You hummed. The intense feeling hadn’t completely left you, but rather been satiated by the knowledge that despite its existence—Matt would always be there, too.

[sirxlla]

Perfectionism

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Prompt: Dick came back from a bad patrol and doesnt wanna talk anyone besides you because 'they think less of him' in his mind (request @nesting-dreams for the idea )

Notes: Gender Neutral, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Dick practically dragged himself into the apartment, he thought he was hiding it well but he wore the sadness, stress and anxiety unmistakably on his face.

He was the first son, the example for all his other brothers. He felt such a pressure to be the ideal hero from everyone around him. Dick knew it was him just being a perfectionist probably but that pit in his chest wouldn't leave that easily.

He had found you in the kitchen making dinner. It smelled sweet but also so savory, his stomach was just aching for food. Your little bare feet padded against the ground as you moved around the kitchen.

"Hey, I'm home." Dick states as his arms moved around you from behind, you could just feel the tension rolling off him and you hands laces with one of his as you turn around in his arms.

"Rich, what's wrong?" It was exceedingly obvious something was wrong. The burner was turned off so you didnt have to worry about burning dinner and even if so he was more important.

"Do you...I- I feel like...Am I a disappointment? I fucked up tonight on patrol...Bruce sent me home early. I just..." He trailed off and was clearly beating himself up.

"Baby, I'm sure he's not disappointed." You attempted to reassure your sweet man, your hands had to reach up to touch his face because he was quite a bit taller than you. You closed the gap between you to by pulling his head down to your shoulder so you could hug and comfort him easier.

He hugged you and just burried his face in your neck, bending over like this was quickly uncomfortable so he picked you up and set you on the counter to help level the height difference out.

"What if I mess up and someone dies?"

"Baby, you are probably the most perfect and skilled in your family and you almost never mess but My Love...you are still entirely a human. Your humanity is what makes you so efficent and good at what you do...Jason and Damian dont have that, Tim bounces off the walls like a crack addict and Bruce often cares more about vengence than anything else. You're as close to perfect as perfect can be...If you were anymore perfect I'd have to dump you cause I'd feel unworthy." You joke sincerely at the end there to try to bring his mood up a bit.

"I made this like Japanese Curry stuff, do you wanna try it together?" You asked him trying to get his mind off all this and cause you knew he hadn't eaten and that probably wasn't doing him any good.

"It smell's amazing, Honey. Whats in it?" Dick mumbled into your shoulder, he was very hungry but he was so prideful.

"Just like steak pieces, carrots, potatoes and it's got some rice I'm gonna pair with it."

Dick moves out of your way and lets you prepare the food, he's starving but he won't tell you that. Once the plates were down and both of you sat at the little kitchen table you had, you held his hand with one of yours as the both of you ate.

The gesture of just holding his hand was just gentle reassurance and as his stomach was filled the worries and anxiety slipped from his mind, plus he'd never had this food and it was very quickly a favorite of his. Turns out his anxiety was just him being hungry and a bit of a perfectionist when it came to himself.

Masterlist

[hishighnesstheprincess]

so what's your overall thoughts on the movie??

General: sa2 still clears and specifically I think the sa2 lore for the ARK trio (Shadow Maria and Gerald) is a lot better, but this was pretty good (sometimes even great) for a movieverse (loose) adaptation of sa2. I did not like Gerald though, I think his crusty ass should have been left in the 70s

Specific thoughts under the cut (spoilers obviously)

My main criticisms rn is that it basically just feels like a watered down version of sa2, from most of the main story beats to the lore to the characters etc. Obviously I was not expecting them to have the same amount of depth that the games managed to give to Shadow's story from both the extra content that comes along with the games (like the manual that confirmed Maria's illness) but I feel like cutting out stuff like Maria's illness and her wish just left the story feeling neutered in some very important ways. The other big thing I didn't like was Gerald in general. Like yeah he was kinda funny the first two acts, but then he keeps the goofy schtick up while Sonic and Shadow are trauma bonding and kicking ass in space and idk. If they wanted to show him as a more evil version of Eggman maybe have him just actually be more evil for the final act. Ideally he should have behaved more menacing after dropping the "You're no Maria" line. Also the pacing was fast as hell, and apparently the film cut relatively important stuff like explanations for how Gerald was alive at 110 years old (he was licking that Shadow quill apparently) and also led to stuff like Shadow's entire arc being kinda rushed.

Aside from those though... I kind of loved it???? Big surprise coming from me I know, and I do wonder if it's just recency bias, but I think this is easily and by far the best project the films have put out. If you've seen both trailers for this film you can predict how 95% of the plot is going to go along with the character arcs, but they're still decently effective (for everyone except Gerald). The goofiness does get to be a bit much sometimes and my god I wish they would just let movie Sonic be quiet for once in a while, but towards the later half it starts getting really good. The parallels between Sonic and Shadow are well-made and impactful. Super Sonic and Super Shadow are hype. The action is fucking fantastic (if you go to these films just for spectacle you ABSOLUTELY want to see this one). And the found family stuff is the best it's ever been. If you like Wachowski sibling content, and specifically Wachowski sibling angst, you will be feasting. Tails and Knuckles fans, GO TO THIS MOVIE. I won't say why but you'll fucking love it

Depending on my mood, it's a 6/10-8/10 from me

Random thoughts

The non-game human characters are the best balanced that they've ever been

The game human characters are not well balanced at all lmao

Even if movie 4 will inevitably be less hype than movie 3, I can honestly see it maybe being the best so far which is 100% my own bias

Amy's design is cute as hell and Metal's design is awesome as hell

I'm kinda glad Jim Carrey is (presumably) gone ngl

I hope they keep the energy Sonic had in the third act and mid-credits for the rest of the franchise, even if it will obviously be less intense than when he was literally trying to kill someone

I am going to make so many fanfics where movie Sonic suffers bc I adore him so much (/negative) (/positive)

I think it would be best if the next movie was just Sonic, Amy, and Metal. I love the sibs but this being in live action, if the cast keeps getting inflated every individual member is just going to have so much less time. Maybe Sonic and Amy get kidnapped to Little Planet or something

I want them to keep her crush on Sonic but also her spunky and somewhat violent and irrational attitude. If they kept Knuckles gullibility they should also keep her flaws

Shadow and Maria's story may be infinitely more compelling in the games but them in the movies is just more entertaining idk what to tell you

They gotta give Maddie something to do. She is literally just Tom's +1 at the moment please god give her something to do

I do not feel bad about the GUN commander guy at ALLLLLLLL lmao i think he shoulda died choking on his own blood. bitchass

you still don't need to watch the knuckles show

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Insufficient | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After a few months of dating, your relationship begins to crack, and the truth behind Azriel’s odd behavior comes out.

Word Count: ~ 1.8k

Warnings: ANGST, so much angst, sort of unrequited feelings, breakup, mentions of sex + torture and murder, Nesta being an absolute queen

A/N: enjoy some delicious azzy angst😋 lmk what you think I should do for the next part, like should they get back together, or reader finds a new mans while az grovels??

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

It had been a warm, sunny day when you’d first met him.

The bakery had been going steadily as ever in Velaris, your family-owned shop hard at work to make the citizen's pastries and your famous sourdough bread. Generations of the family had owned it beforehand, and you were still helping out, you had been working the front that day.

Azriel had walked in, asking for some sort of treat that his High Lady was craving. His description of it hadn’t been the best, leading to almost thirty minutes of you showing him different sweet treats and pastries until he finally found what he wanted, and ordered a dozen of them.

That had been the beginning of your situationship, where he’d come to the shop asking for various things once every now and then, only to subtly get closer to you and even slightly flirt.

Eventually, he asked you out to dinner, and after a few more, you two began dating, and he admitted that he felt a little spark when he first saw you. Looking back, you wondered if that was the only reason he even pursued you in the first place, not for your personality, or even your looks, but just because of that spark.

The first few weeks had been lovely, him being thoughtful and caring to you in the little acts. Such as the way he made coffee for you just how you liked it in the mornings, how he began to put things lower on shelves so you could reach them, how he would talk quietly when you had migraines, or be patient when you were in a mood. The best example probably being the first time you had your period in front of him.

He hadn’t acted disgusted by it, instead, he’d gently cared for you, helping you through it, buying you chocolate and all the foods and snacks you were craving, getting heating pads, making sure you were alright for the entire insufferable week.

However, after that, the honeymoon period must’ve worn off, because he seemed constantly tense or stressed after that. His face remained like stone, not budging or cracking, even for you. The softening of his eyes that had happened before it was replaced by something strained as if he was waiting impatiently for something.

Even in bed, he wouldn’t look at you, remained quiet as a mouse, the only sign that he was enjoying himself being a large exhale as he buried his face in your neck or turned away. That was another problem, he knew how to fuck, he knew how to do that very well, but he didn’t know how to make love. Any time you tried to teach him, he just didn’t accept it, simply giving an unsatisfactory hum in response and continuing what he was doing.

He’d come home from missions, drenched in sweat and sometimes even blood, and not say anything even when you cleaned him off and led him to bed, giving you a cold shoulder. You fully understood that he had a bloody past and history, but you at least expected him to open up a little bit to you. Without any emotional transparency, it wasn’t really a relationship, was it?

His family was nice, though. You liked them, especially Nesta, since she seemed not to put up with everyone else’s bullshit. She was the only one you opened up to about your issues with Azriel, and how you were thinking of breaking things off or taking a break.

“He’s a hard one, but it sounds like he’s being an ass. If it were me, I wouldn’t put up with that.”

She said while you both sat in the library, neither of you noticing the small shadows lurking near the books. You sighed, nodding slowly.

“I know, it’s just…I feel like he’s waiting for something else, like just me isn’t enough.”

You said with a frown, and Nesta gave a little hum of acknowledgment.

“Just give it a week or two, and if you’re still unhappy, I’d leave.”

She said with a shrug, and not long after the both of you went your separate ways. You followed Nesta’s advice, giving the relationship a week or two, and it remained stressed and tense. However, when you finally managed to get into Azriel’s office during the day, about to break things off, he spoke first.

“Let me guess, your testing weeks weren’t satisfactory?”

He asked in a sharp tone, eyes narrowed on you with a piercing gaze. You took a sharp breath in, glaring at him despite the embarrassment that tried to take over.

“You were spying on me.”

You said, trying to keep your tone even despite how it wavered slightly. He stood then, towering over you from his superior height.

“I don’t like when people talk about me behind my back, let alone my partner.”

He said, the words clipped and full of anger simmering under the surface. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. You’d never been afraid of him, not really, but at this moment you didn’t exactly want to be close to him. His keen eyes noticed, and something like hurt and anger flashed in them.

“Don’t act like I’m some terrible person for having a girl talk because you’ve been acting weird. I can’t believe you spied on me.”

He huffed, taking another step closer, the shadows swirling and writhing, looking more agitated than ever. You took another step back, only to run straight into a wall that was now behind you. He continued stalking closer until your heart was beating faster and faster until he leaned down so you were eye-to-eye.

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for. I’m not gentle or loving, I am a spymaster, I torture and kill people for my work, and have for centuries. I won’t be forced to change just to fit what you think I should be, or what you want in a relationship.”

He hissed, his words now full of anger and frustration. You leaned back, trying to keep away.

“That’s your problem. You don’t know how to separate your work life from your personal life, and you’re taking it out on me. You can be gentle and loving, I’ve seen it before, but I’m not what you want. You’ve been acting like I need to be something more for you when I’m not. I don’t know what you want, but your inability to communicate and be transparent isn’t my problem.”

You said back, tears now welling up as you tried to push him away. He didn’t back up, only moving closer and pushing you into the wall. His temper was building, and you could tell. It was only a matter of time until he would….

“A mate! I wanted a mate!”

Snap.

The silence stretched on and on for what seemed like hours after he said that, yelling it in your face. You’d never heard him raise his voice before. You gaped at the sight of him unwinding and shattering right in front of you as he rambled on.

“It’s not fair, Rhys gets Feyre, Cassian gets Nesta, Lucien gets Elain even if she doesn’t want him, and who do I get? No one.”

He said in an almost panicked tone, rambling on and on. He pushed off the wall, pacing around in his office, hands fidgeting.

“I thought—when I felt that spark when I went in your shop, that it might be you, but you weren’t enough. You aren’t my mate, because it would’ve snapped by now, I would’ve felt it, but I didn’t. You aren’t enough for me, and you never will be.”

He said, finally sighing at the end. He wouldn’t even look at you, eyes unfocused and only looking randomly around the room, anywhere but towards you. You swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that welled up because of his words. You weren’t enough. You never would be.

He looked like he felt a bit bad for half a second before his expression hardened again into that unflinching steel you’d grown to hate. He finally looked at you again, no hint of empathy or guilt now in his gaze for leading you on, or practically torturing you these past months.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally choked words out.

“Oh,” You murmured, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Okay.”

You whispered, managing to push off the wall to walk to the door, opening it and walking down the hall, to the room you two had shared, and you began packing your belongings. Picture frames of your family, your clothes, little trinkets, toiletries, you left no trace of you behind as you packed it in a large duffel bag in the closet.

You walked to the front door of the House, open the door, and walk out, the 10,000 steps down looming in front of you. Azriel didn’t offer to fly you down, and it was only when you turned to look back at him, his face stone cold, that you felt it.

The snap.

A shifting warmth and coldness all at once.

And a mating bond.

His face fell in what looked like pure devastation and realization, hazel eyes wide and lips parted. It might’ve been the most emotion you’d seen him show in weeks. He began to walk out, trying to go after you as you began taking the steps, but a large flap and wave of wind stopped him.

Cassian’s large, hulking form stopped him, shaking his head grimly as he walked towards you, where you were still going down the steps, and he laid a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll fly you.”

He said simply, and you nodded with a sniffle as he picked you up, his wings carried him into the air as he soared up, only to land moments later and drop you off back at the bakery where your family was working. He set you on the ground, pulling you into a warm hug.

“I’m sorry,”

He said, letting you pull away, and for some reason, you believed him. You, Cassian, and Nesta made quite the dynamic trio, and you would probably miss them the most. They were some of your closest friends, and also wonderful drinking buddies. You and Nesta loved cheating in card games and beating Cassian when he was too drunk to notice until he owed either of you a fortune.

“You can always come visit me and Nes, just send a letter or somethin’.”

He murmured to you, wiping the tears from your cheek, and giving you an apologetic grin, before sending you off inside your family’s bakery and flying off.

This time, when you saw the shadow still curled around your wrist like it always had been when you and Azriel were dating, you smacked it off, sticking your hand right into a clear ray of sunshine to chase it off.

You were done being dragged down by shadows and darkness, and for once in your miserable life, you were going to look for the light instead.

[district4loading]

A Trip

Le Sserafim Yunjin x Male Reader

8k Words

Content Warning: smut, very fluffy, a little bit of angst cause reader has daddy issues (why not), lots of plot

Minors DNI

A/N: Hello fearnots!! I took a small step out of my comfort zone to (happily) fulfill a request from one of my followers. I hope they enjoy it and I hope you all do too!

Also most of the information I got about Yunjin is from google so feel free to message me if it's wrong. I will change it.

(So sorry if there are typos, i proofread this at midnight lmao.)

-

Nothing could lighten your mood like Yunjin, she's perfect for you

-

You wake up hearing the loud hum of the airplane fill your ears, it was a sound you were all too familiar with by now, a sound that often times meant work. You keep your eyes shut, shuffling in your seat to turn your head away from the vibrant daylight that shone through the window, breaching your eyelids. Then you hear whats probably the pilots rough voice on the intercom, muttering something about preparing for landing. That's when your eyes finally open and almost immediately they meet a pair of eyes so beautiful you can't help but smile.

It's your girlfriend Yunjin. You've been together for eight months and some change now but due to your conflicting schedules, you haven't been able to spend much quality time together recently. So the second you two found an open window you took it and decided to do something with the short week you had off. You're heading to Boston so she can meet your family for the first time, then the plan is to go on a mini roadtrip to Albany so you can meet her parents too then after that get a hotel and relax, maybe even head to the city.

The chances of your schedules being free at the same times are really slim so you want to make the most of your time together. 

Yunjin smiles softly when you wake up and you begin to start wondering how long she's been watching you. "How did you sleep?" You stifle a yawn, stretching your arms and legs a bit as the plane begins to descend, feeling a slight discomfort in your ears.

"I didn't"

You quickly go from being tiredly relaxed to being slightly concerned "Jen, it's been thirteen hours. What do you mean you didn't sleep?" There's another yawn that tries to come out while you're talking, you manage to suppress it but it still makes you teary eyed as your body was still trying to get over the effects of waking up.

"I couldn't, I don't know I've just been thinking a lot" She chews her bottom lip nervously before speaking again "I'm about to meet your parents, you know? It's a little nerve wracking"

Theres a gentle smile that grows on your face when you realize why she hasn't slept, you think it's cute. "You have nothing to be nervous about, they will love you. We're gonna go over there and we're gonna spend the day with them and it's gonna be great" You try to reassure her, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

Yunjin pokes out her bottom lip and tilts her head to rest on your shoulder for a bit "You sure?" 

"Yeah baby" You nod before leaning over to plant a kiss on her forehead, catching a whiff of her hair. 

The plane lands and you two do your best to get through customs and everything without any troubles and you can't help but notice how easy it is. No fans, no paparazzi, no bodyguards, no extensive amounts of suitcases, just you and Yunjin. The feeling was sort of bittersweet to you, on one hand it was nice not having to push through crowds of people but on the other, you kind of missed the support, the "I love you's," the look of genuine support on the faces of your fans. "What are you in your head about now?" Yunjin taps your arm as you roll two big suitcases through the airport. You glance at her and hum, not yet processing the question "You were making that face again"

"What face?"

"That face you make when you're thinking about something too hard" She responds cleverly causing you to roll your eyes slightly.

She gives you a moment, allowing you to be silent as you try to figure out how to convey what you want to. "Don't you miss it?" You ask a bit vaguely, assuming that she'd get what you were talking about. When you only get a confused look from her you begin to expand on it "The attention, the fans.. you know.” You almost cringe at yourself, feeling like a little bit of an attention whore.

Which… you kind of were, otherwise you wouldn’t have be an idol

"Oh" Yunjin pauses, then gets visibly confused "A little bit, I mean it's really wholesome the nice things they say and the little interactions... but isn't this more peaceful?"

"Yeah, I don't know it's just weird being in an airport for something other than work" You say as you walk through the double doors, inhaling the all but fresh scent of Boston air. The smell of home. You pull out your phone and shoot your father a message asking where he was parked and you get one back almost immediately "They're a little farther down" You nod in the direction where they were parked towards, a disorder of cars and angry drivers honking.

Yunjin's starting to get nervous again and you catch it immediately so you take her hand in yours "Hey, just breathe" You tell her before bringing it up to leave a kiss on her knuckle for comfort. She nods and you both begin to walk around the outside of the airport, wondering how and why there were so many people there at eight in the morning.

You eventually spot your parents’ silver SUV and you point it out to Yunjin. She makes eye contact with your parents who are standing there waiting for you and she feels her nerves coming up again, but she manages to tell herself everything will be okay thanks to you. You roll the suitcases near the car "Hey mom, hey dad" You greet them with hugs so tight and loving that you think you might pop all while Yunjin stands there awkwardly. You step back next to her "This is my girlfriend, Yunjin"

"We know her name by now, she's all you talk about" Your mother says, brushing past you. Yunjin puts her hand out thinking that your mom was going for a handshake but instead she pulls her in for a hug. You winced a bit, feeling like you should've maybe warned her about how much your mom likes to give hugs. "It's great to finally meet you, you can call me mom" She says, holding onto her arms when she pulls away. Your mom looks Yunjin up and down, a look of pure adoration in her eyes "She's so pretty and she's so tall I might have to steal her from you" Your mom turns to you before backing up and you both just awkwardly laugh at the older woman's humor.

"Nice to meet you" Your father reaches his hand out to shake hers, firm and proper then he looks at you "Your sisters are home, they didn't want to come for the ride" He shrugs as he grabs one of your suitcases to load in the car. Your mom and Yunjin get inside and as you expected, your mom is talking her ears off, you snicker, hoping it's not too overbearing. "So whats the plan?" Your father asks as you help him with the bags.

You take your eyes off of the girls. "What plan?"

"With her, you really like her? are your fans going to be okay with it?" He purposefully lowers his voice so they can’t hear.

Your father was the reason you got into the industry in the first place. When you were fifteen he packed your bags and sent you down to SM entertainment--on the other side of the world--to train in hopes that you'd make your big break. Why at a company like that? You had no clue. But one thing you were sure of was that your relationship with him has never been the same since then. It's also quite relevant to add that he was a trainee when he was younger but he never made the cut, deciding to instead to move to the states for college and lead a normal life.

So he knew enough to know what could happen if you went public with your relationship. 

You give him a look and you're kind of annoyed that he's bringing it up now. He thinks your career is the most important thing and in his eyes, relationships were merely just scandals waiting to happen. He didn't see the point in them, so when he found out that you were dating Yunjin, he obviously didn't approve. But you never cared about what he thought because she's the love of your life. "I don't just like her dad. I love her and the fans will just have to deal with it if we decide to go public"

"But you won't" He says it in that matter-of-fact tone. The one that you hate and he knows you do. Maybe it's immature, but you held a lot of contempt for him deep inside of you because of the way he's run your entire life. Now he's trying to do the same right now and you won't let him because you're older. You're your own man.

There's something about him that just makes you want to rebel and do something crazy out of nothing but pure spite. Something drastic like posting a picture of you and Yunjin kissing just to show him that he doesn't run your life.

You couldn't do that though, mainly for company reasons. "Remember to be careful Y/n, your career is everything, your brand is everything. You haven't even been able to go solo from your group yet and if you want to-"

"I don't wanna talk to you about this" You slam the trunk closed a little harder than you should've, most likely startling Yunjin and your mom then you walk around to get into the backseat.

Yunjin tilts her head, laughing a bit "Why'd you close the trunk so hard" You shrug, trying to make it seem like everything was okay but it wasn't. Not when your dad's being an asshole again. You we're hoping he'd show a little respect for the occasion but then again, he's him. You shouldn't have expected anything. "You okay?" She gets a bit more concerned noticing the change in your demeanor and that's when your dad gets into the car and starts the engine.

"Yeah no everything's fine"

Yunjin knows you too well. She recognizes that tone and she can tell somethings bothering you but she doesn't say anything, knowing that you don't want to talk about it. "Okay" She subtly takes your hand into hers as the car begins to move, silently telling you that she's there for you. She'll always be. "Well, your mom was just telling me about how gross you were as a kid..." She says, triggering a long lost memory in the back of your mind and you're almost betrayed that your mother would tell her about it. 

"Mommm! Come on!" You complain and the car bubbles with laughter, some coming from you as well even if you were embarrassed.

-

The car ride ended up being full of conversation and good energy. It lightened your mood to see how quickly Yunjin and your mom got along with each other. You expected for the short exchange you had with your dad to kill your mood, maybe even have you bothered for the entire day. He has that effect on you. But for once he doesn't and maybe its cause Yunjin had your hand in hers, moving her thumb to rub your knuckles for extra comfort.

Nothing could lighten your mood like Yunjin, she's perfect for you

When you arrive, your dad pulls into the garage where you look over and see your car. The car you plan on driving all the way down to Albany to see Yunjin's parents. You get out and walk into the house where both your sisters are sitting on the couch, Sarah and April. They look up at you, their eyes lighting up the brightest you've ever seen them.

"Oh my god, I can't believe my lame ass brother is actually dating a member of Le Sserafim" Sarah, the older among the two teases like she always did. It's good to know she still has that fire in her.

"I havent even been here for a minute and you're already bullying me" You fake complain, silently enjoying the playful relationship you shared with her. Yunjin purses her lips to stifle a laugh as you walk over to put Sarah in a fake headlock and hold her there right up until she's saying sorry. It was your big brother, little sister dynamic and you were glad that after all this time she was still willing to play along with it no matter if she was getting older or not.

The youngest, April kind of looks a bit shy and you know exactly why. "Oh... I forgot to say, April really likes Le Sserafim" You mention to Yunjin who continues to smile even bigger after taking in the flattering information. She walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to her. 

You just watch as she tries her best to get your sisters comfortable with her, cracking jokes to make them laugh. She was more natural at meeting people than she'd ever give herself credit for. You turn to your mom "I need the keys for my car" You mention as you walk with her up the stairs, leaving the others downstairs.

"How long are you staying?"

"Maybe three hours, then we have to head down to Albany. It's a long drive so I don't want to leave too late" You explain she gives you a look, an inquisitive hum leaving her throat as she moves to open the bedroom door.

"I thought you were going to stay here for the night, change of plans?" You nod and you just shrug but then she gives you a look, one that says to cut the bullshit and tell her what you're feeling.

"Dad's being.. dad again. I don't want to spend too much time under the same roof as him" You mutter, leaning against the king sized bed as you watch her fish through a drawer for your keys. 

She pauses for a minute, a small sigh escaping her lips and you already know whats coming. A water-downed attempt to defend the indefensible "He just wants the best for you, you know" She closes the drawer after finding the keys and puts them in your hands, acknowledging your unconvincing glare. 

"Yeah, right. Did he also want the best for me when he sent me to train at a company that doesn't give a fuck about me?" You ask, not meaning for there to be so much hostility in your tone. Hell, you didn't even mean to curse at her. It just got on your nerves that she'd ever begin to defend him, especially with the whole 'he's doing it in good faith' argument because if he was, he would've let it be your choice to begin with. Not just the choice of company, but the decision to go to Korea in the first place.

She flinches at your language and you apologize shortly after. You move to leave the room, ready to head off downstairs to see what Yunjin and your sisters were doing when your mother holds your arm. "Before you go and leave forever, talk to me, tell me about how everything's been going in Korea. I haven't seen my son in months and he's already leaving after spending what? two seconds here?" 

"Sorry" You apologize and its genuine, like actually. 

-

You ended up staying and talking about basically everything that's happened in this past year with your mom, who was always a really good listener. She gave great advice about how to solve some of your problems when you go back. It was a good maybe half hour long heartfelt conversation. One that you had with her often over the phone but it's even better in person.

"I should probably get back, Yunjin's probably wondering where I am" You stand up and stretch your arms a bit. Then you leave the room. When you get down stairs, you see Sarah and April and they're watching something in the living room. Theres a moment where you look around in confusion before asking "Where's Yunjin?"

"In the garage with dad" April shrugs, not even bothering to look away from the TV. 

Your heart sinks.

"Fuck" You mutter as you walk over to the garage, already knowing what he was trying to do. You walk through the garage door and they're talking. His demeanor was almost intimidating and hers was small and it only made you angrier. You step between them and shove him backwards. "The hell are you doing?" You're level with him this time, almost mirroring his muscular build and his height. It was almost scary how alike you were.

"I was just trying to tell her-"

"I don't care, I don't want you to tell her anything" It's kind of contradicting, but you can barely think straight right now.

"Y/n, no its fine he was just" Yunjin tries to argue, touching your arm with her soft hand. You turn to look at her for a moment, your eyes softening when they meet hers.

All of your anger almost goes away, thats what she does to you.

"What did he say to you, Jen?"

Yunjin's eyes darting to hers and then back to yours before she can even speak he cuts in "I was just letting her know that she's going to ruin your career" You turn to him struggling to even begin to comprehend what the fuck he just said. By the cold stare you give him he can tell you're angry but he doesn't care. "Don't be like that, you know it's true! and when you two break up, there's going to be rumors and-"

You look over to Yunjin "We're leaving" Is all you say as you walk behind your parents' car, popping the trunk to take your suitcases and transfer them to your car. If you had no self control, you would have probably punched your dad in the face and maybe even have a full on altercation with him right there in the garage.

But Yunjin didn't need to see that and your mother probably wouldn't be able to handle that.

Soon everything's packed and you're inside of your car, reaching to put your seatbelt on. "Tell mom I said goodbye" You tell your dad and you can't even look him in the eyes when you do. You just watch as the garage doors slide open to make way for your car. Yunjin gets in too and she sets up the navigation on your phone. "How longs the drive?" 

"Two and a half hours" She answers as she puts her seatbelt on. You put the keys in the ignition and you pull off, just glad that you're away from him and the dark emotions he's dredged up.

The car ride starts off silent, you're thinking about a lot. About how Yunjin must've felt hearing that from your father, about how telling it was that he thought he had any right to say something like that to her and especially about how much you damn near hated the man. 

"So" Yunjin breaks the silence.

"So" You repeat her words.

"When were you gonna tell me that you have daddy issues?" 

Your face scrunches up in confusion "I don't have daddy issues" You repeat the term, seeing it as something that could only apply to women. Until you actually start thinking about it, how your relationship with him isn't good, how you get upset when he's around and especially how small he makes you want to act out like a teenager. "Holy shit, I have daddy issues" You realize, causing Yunjin to almost burst out laughing.

The mood was lightening up and you were happy about that, not wanting the altercation with your dad to sour the entire trip. "I had a feeling, you talk about your mom and your sisters a lot but not him." She mentions and you kind of nod, not even realizing how obvious it was. 

"Seriously though, what he said, did it bother you?"

Yunjin shakes her head "Not at all, I still really liked hanging out with your sisters and talking to your mother. They're great" She smiles and you do too, being able to tell that she was being fully genuine in her answer.

You knew each other like that.

-

The rest of the trip was quiet, mostly because Yunjin ended up falling asleep in the beginning half and for the entire ride. You expected her to sleep especially because she didn't get any on the plane.

Shamelessly, you found yourself glancing at her at the occasional red light just to watch her sleeping peacefully.

It made you happy to know that she was yours and only yours.

When you finally arrive in front of her home, you park out front and reach over to tap her awake. It took a few light pushes to wake her up. You watch as she smacks her lips together, wiping the sleep out of her eyes while she stretched her back. It was all the signs that you just woke her up from a really good nap. "What? are we here already?" She yawns and looks out of the window. 

It's already beginning to get dark, the streetlights in the neighborhood were already on, shedding warm light on the empty sidewalk. Now you begin feeling the nerves about meeting her mom and dad. You hope it goes better than the visit to your parents house and you hope they like you. "You ready?" 

You nod your head and the two of you get out and walk up to the door, ringing the doorbell only once. Then the door opens, revealing what you assume to be Yunjin's dad. She opens up her arms, hugging him tightly with a big comfy smile on her face "Hey Jen, you guys got here just in time. Your mom's just finished cooking" He pulls away from the hug then sizes you up a bit, you almost feel a chill run down your spine "I'm guessing this is Y/n?" He asks, putting his hand out to shake yours, nice and firm.

"That's me, it's good to meet you" You nod and move to enter the house. You look around the foyer, noticing a bunch of pictures on the wall of Yunjin and her family together. In some of them she looks so adorable, so happy as a little girl.

Then you walk into the dining room where Yunjin's mom is setting the table. She looks up and smiles upon seeing the two of you, placing a plate down before walking over to hug her daughter first. "Here's the famous boyfriend I assume" She jokes, opening her arms to hug you too.

"Wow, it's nice to finally meet you guys" You smile politely.

Then you take a seat at the table and Yunjin sits next to you and when everyones actually settled in, some conversation begins. "So Y/n" Her mom begins and you hum in response, making sure to make good eye contact "You work in the industry too, right?"

"Yeah, i'm in my fourth year" You nod.

"I'm, curious. How do you two manage to make time for each other?" 

Wow, right out the gate with the heavy questions

You look over to Yunjin, who has already started eating and then your eyes find their way back to her mom's. Noticing that her dad was looking too, you cleared your throat as you tried to figure out a good way to answer the question "It's hard, with the way our schedules conflict a lot but we manage to find windows and do little acts of service for each other when we have free time. For example, when i'm not working and she is, I'll go out and buy her gifts or something and vice versa" You explain and you can feel Yunjin staring at you with that smile on her face.

Yunjin's parents look satisfied with your explanation and you almost feel proud of yourself for handling the question well.

-

The dinner goes way better than you expected, much better than the visit to your parents house which you're grateful for nonetheless. You stay after dinner, getting to know Yunjin's parents better as you played a few fun board games with some music playing in the background. Soon it started feeling like more of a hangout with friends rather than meeting your girlfriends parents.

So it was safe to say that they liked you.

When it started to get late, you and Yunjin said your goodbyes, exchanging friendly hugs with the each other before leaving. There's a nice hotel just thirty minutes away from her parents house, providing you with a place to stay the night before heading down to the city. 

It took a bit of waiting but finally, you were able to book an acceptable room with a good view of Albany.

You put your bags down and without even taking off your clothes, you fall backwards onto the bed and you just lay there. "Well today was... one hell of a day" You mutter, the altercation with your father still in the back of your mind. 

Yunjin sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you lay there. You notice that there's a look on her face. That one she makes when she wants to ask a question but isn't sure how or maybe she doesn't want to ruin the mood with the weight of the question. "Babe?" You ask, sitting up "You alright?" 

"I... your dad... there was something else he said and I know it shouldn't have but it kind of got to me" She subtly begins to play with her fingers, like she's about to break some bad news. You already feel your blood boiling as you start to realize that his words may have bothered her way more than you thought.

Before she continues you stop her "Yunjin you're not going to ruin my career, seriously I value you more than anything in the-"

"No, it's not that" You quirk your eyebrow, deciding that you'll just shut up and listen. "He also said that this is all for nothing, that we'll fall out of love because we barely see each other." Yunjin looks worried, like for the first time she's having some doubts about your relationship. That's because it's the only thing that feels like it could be true. You two had to go almost extreme lengths to have dates, or hang out when you're free. 

Sometimes it gets so busy that you go weeks without seeing each other and that's what worried Yunjin the most. It was the distance. You hold her hand with yours, an act of affection that you found yourself doing a lot when you needed to reassure her "Jen, I love you and... what we have isn't going to fizzle out, it's going to be there forever. My dads just trying to get into your head, I can't believe he said that" You mutter the last part, making a mental note to give him a call later and maybe curse him out.

"Really? Cause sometimes I feel like things at work can get stressful, so stressful to the point where even in our free time we need time to recharge alone. Then when is there going to be time for... just us?" She asks, and its a valid question and a valid feeling but all you do is hold her hand tighter, firmer. 

"You can recharge in bed with me and my arms wrapped around your body" 

This makes Yunjin laugh, cracking a smile at your comment even though you weren't joking at all. She nods "I know.. I'm sorry I let things get to my head. I've just been overthinking a lot and I didn't get much sleep" There's a small smile that threatens to show on your face and she immediately catches the curving of your lips "What?" She laughs a bit, pushing your shoulder lightly. She already knows what you're thinking.

"I know something that'll help you sleep better" You lean in, leaving a small peck on her lips.

Yunjin begins smiling "What is it?" She asks, her lips just centimeters away from yours. You lean forwards again to press your lips together and the kiss is longer this time, slower. You pull away just enough to disconnect your lips.

"Guess" Is all you say before you push her body back on the bed and you kiss her again but its a bit harder this time. It lasts for a minute too, a whole minute (and maybe even more than that because who's counting?) where you're just exploring each others' mouths. Her breathing becomes heavier and you shuffle a bit, careful not to break the kiss as you do.

You finally pull yourself off of her lips, just for a moment so you can get yourself out of the limiting confines of your clothes. Watching as you take your shirt off, Yunjin follows and pulls her top over her head. You move to unbutton and unzip her tight jeans. She's wearing the ones that you loved, the ones that cling to her thighs so perfectly. As you pull them off, Yunjin lifts her legs and straightens them to help you out.

"I've been wanting to do that all day" 

"Really? While you were meeting my parents?" She giggles, pretending to be shocked, she knew that you were looking. 

She caught on every time "Don't act like you didn't know" You reach for your belt and you sling it off, standing up from the bed for a moment just to drop your loose fitting jeans all the way. Then you get back into bed with her and you crawl in between her legs. Yunjin wraps them around you, bringing your body that much closer to hers.

You kiss her lips again, breathing slow and heavy breaths as you do, you couldn't get enough of her plump lips. Then you begin sliding your hand down between the crevice where your bodies met all the way down to her panties. You allow your hand to rest there, feeling the heat through the lacy fabric while you began to move your lips elsewhere. First the corner of her lips. then her cheek, then her jawline and eventually to her neck.

Yunjin moans softly, rolling her hips up into your hand as you begin to suck on her warm flesh. You lick the skin, then gently take it between your teeth and you suck hard enough to get a reaction but not to leave a mark of any kind. It's a lot to deal with. Your lips on her neck, your hand teasing her right where she needs you the most right now and the way your warm body felt on hers. No matter how torturous the teasing feels right now, she's loving the time and care you take with her body.

"Baby" She tries to whisper, but it comes out as more of a needy whine. Her hips haven't stopped moving yet either. "Please"

Thats when you finally slide your hand beneath the waistband of her panties and you palm her cunt. You take note of how wet she is as you begin to rub messy circles around her clit, providing enough pressure for now "You're soaked, baby" You announce, as if she wasn't already painfully aware.

"For.. you" She manages to say through her soft moans and then as quickly as you put them in, you slide them right out to use both of your hands to pull her panties off. Then you motion for her to lean up, and you reach around to unclip her bra, letting it slide off of her arms delicately. You struggle a bit to shimmy out of your boxers while you were still on the bed and once they're off, the two of you are completely bare in each others presence.

You put your body flush to hers again and you leave a kiss on her neck, sliding your hand back to where they belonged. "I'm going to put a finger in" You warn, and an enthusiastic hum from her follows. You slide your middle finger into the smooth and tight confines of her cunt. Yunjin moans, biting her lip as you curl the finger and begin pumping it in and out.

"Feels so.. good" She breathes and you decide to let your mouth explore other parts of her wonderful body. You kiss along the perfect curve of her collarbone, getting every inch wet with your saliva and your tongue. Yunjin didn't even have to say it in words, her body language spoke volumes. Especially the way she rides your fingers and whines your name.

You slide another finger inside and she moans louder, really beginning to feel the stretch as you work them both inside. You kiss all the way down to her left nipple which you take into your mouth almost immediately, her back arches a bit when you do and you grab her right breast with your hand. You begin to massage it, tweaking the nipple between your fingers while you sucked on the other one.

Then you switch, rubbing the saliva you left back into her breasts and along her body. It was like you were claiming her as yours or--for lack of better words--marking your territory. "Baby.. please" She gapes, her voice just above a whisper as she begs. You hum in response "Need you inside"

 So you slide your fingers out and take them between your lips "You taste so good, Jen" You mutter as you lean over her body, positioning yourself more properly between her legs. Theres a moment when you look into her eyes, your faces just a few inches apart. Then you take your cock into your hand and you begin stroking it, just lathering it up with the mix of her slick and your saliva. 

The moment you prod her entrance, another "Please" escapes her lips but this time it sounds so breathless, so desperate, like she'll die if you're not inside of her by the next second. You waste no more time and you push your hips forward immediately feeling the way her warm walls wrapped around you. It was like a tight hug and you fit so perfectly inside of her, like you were made to be inside of her.

Yunjin winces, her eyebrows upturned as she shuts her eyes all in an attempt to cope with the indescribable pleasure of you being inside of her. You lean down and close the gap, putting you lips together as she moans long high pitched whines. She wraps her legs around you and thats when you reach the hilt "Fuck" You curse on her lips, feeling her throb inside.

You begin to move, starting off slow and deep with your movements, sure to make her feel every every inch. You're bodies are on fire as you share this intimate moment of pleasure together, relishing in the particular feeling when your hips meet. She's so wet that you can hear it, you can hear it and its driving you insane. Yunjin feels so good, you just want to stay in the moment forever.

You move to kiss her neck again, mostly so you can allow her to moan as loud as she wants to. It's because you want to hear her pretty moans, every stutter, every word she tries to get out in an attempt to let you know how good she's feeling--more importantly how good you're making her feel. She does just that "Fuck baby... so deep" and "You're so big, stretching me so good" and "don't stop." You hear all the praise and you're obsessed with it.

"You feel so good" You grunt as you begin to pick up the pace, fucking her faster "So tight and wet for me" 

Theres a whimper that escapes her lips and shortly after a loud moan "Yes, faster please fuck me faster...harder." She pleads and you do just that, hearing the moment she begins to choke on her own words, literally losing breath as you began to hit the deepest spots inside of her. You can feel her nails scratching her back. "I love You" She moans, and the words sound so beautiful coming out of her mouth. 

"I love you" You groan, feeling the way her cunt pulses and throbs around your cock. It felt so fucking good you couldn't even believe how good she felt, like nothing ever before. "Fuck" You sigh, leaning up to hold yourself up by your arms. Yujin looks so beautiful with her eyes closed and her eyebrows kitted together. Her whole face is flushed a shade of red and so is her body as you get her closer and closer to her climax.

Yunjin grabs onto your forearms tightly, "Gonna cum for you" 

You reach your hand down and you begin to rub her clit in tight circles, feeling the swollen bud throb on your fingers. You're looking right at her, wanting to catch the exact moment that she topples over the edge. "Go ahead baby, let go" Your voice is soft while you say it.

She does it so beautifully. First her eyes go wide and she stares into nothing as her body goes rigid, you keep going and a moan gets caught in her throat. Yunjin gasps, then chokes out a sob right before she begins to tremble and shudder. You can feel it inside, the way her cunt begins to pulse and clench around your sensitive cock. It feels so good and it starts getting hard for you to hold back as well.

"I'm cumming" She finally gasps, releasing as her creamy slick begins to coat your entire cock. Her back arches as her orgasm knocks the wind out of her and it stays that way for a moment. With a longer moan she falls backwards and thats when you know she's done. "Fuck" She sighs as your thrusts slow to a stop. You lean down and kiss her, just to seal everything in. it's slow and sensual, a moment that could make it feel like time has frozen and the only thing that matters are her lips and her body.

Eventually you pull away from the kiss, and before you can even do anything, Yunjin flips you over. She's giggling as she does because she's still in her post-orgasm state, feeling like she's floating. The look in her eyes is so loving and lustful at the same time "Let me make you feel good" She says it in a tone that sends a chill down your spine, so sexy and naughty as she's about to please you.

Yunjin's hovering over your lap and you watch her every move. From the moment she wraps her hand around your throbbing cock to the second your tip comes into contact with her entrance. You squirm a bit, and she bites her lip, the look in her eye is dangerous, it’s fucking deadly the way it makes your heart stop for a moment. 

Your eyes are glossed over, lost in lust as your eyes flicker downwards. She's teasing, sliding the head through her folds and she just watches you with that desperate look in your eyes. "Please" You nearly whimper and thats all it takes for her to sink downwards. A throaty moan escapes your lips and a softer moan comes from hers as she meets your body, ass flush to your upper thighs. "Fuck me" You mutter, and you mean it both in a literal and figurative way.

She takes it literally and leans forward, holding onto your shoulders as she raises her hips then slams them back down onto your body. The creaking sound that the bed makes, the slapping noise that fills your ears when your skin meets and the filthy squelch that comes from between your legs almost sends you over the edge, like all the way. "You fill me up.. so... fucking good" she bites her lip harder as she begins to get in a rhythm, bouncing on you, up and down.

You hold onto her waist, thumbs pressing into her abs as you squeezed tightly. "Oh, babe you're so fucking good at that" You praise her, a breathy groan leaving your mouth as you begin to feel the heat build in the pit of your stomach. Yunjin slows down a bit and grabs your hands, you allow her to take them off her waist as she intertwines your fingers. She pins them to the bed and leans over, using them for support as she picks up the pace.

She does it so she can feel the way your hands grip hers as a reaction to the way she clenches and rotates her hips. It feels so fucking good, so incredible, so mind numbing to be inside of her. Then not to mention the view, the most beautiful girl in the world, naked, looking at you like you're the only one that exists in her world. Perky tits bouncing and jiggling up and down with the way she's riding you. "I.. fucking.. love you" You choke the words out and she leans closer, a satisfied smile on her face.

Yunjin kisses your lips, not for too long, just as long as you can keep up with and she giggles just a bit, her breath hitching when she slams her hips down again. "I love you" She closes her eyes, then puts her head down into the crook of your neck. You know she's chasing another orgasm, but you have no clue how you're gonna hold back until then.

Now she's squeezing your hands harder than you're squeezing, maybe she's closer than you thought "Jen, baby i'm about to.." You can't even finish your sentence as she begins to bounce harder, faster on your body. "cum" You manage to say, but it comes out silent and you doubt she could hear anything over her own moans. 

"Not yet baby, just a little longer" She begs, her voice sounding so erotic as she does. It doesn't help in the slightest.

But you try your hardest to get through without cumming, your labored breaths heaving directly into her ears. "I can't.. i'm going to cum in this... fucking-" She cuts you off with a loud moan, one that goes directly into your ear and it lets you know that she's reached her peak before you. Yunjin keeps going though, riding you mindlessly as if her mind was disconnected from her body. She's cumming, babbling in your ear as everything goes blank and you can feel every quiver inside.

Your body begins to shake as you reach the edge "Don't stop, don't fucking" You grunt as your cock begins to pulse and throb the pleasure almost too much to bare as you begin to paint her walls white with cum. "Fuck" You groan, low and long as you keep shooting endless ropes, fucking it deeper inside her as you thrust your hips up to stuff and fill her as much as possible. She stops moving and at some point you're no longer cumming.

The two of you just lay there, a hot and sweaty mess and a tangle of limbs and skin. It takes a moment for you to squeeze her hands which were still in yours, signaling that you were going to slide from under her. So you do and she rolls over and sits up, you lean in to leave another peck on her lips. "You know, the bath tub is huge and it could probably fit the both of us" 

Yunjin smiles and gets off of the bed, she looks back at you then walks off towards the bathroom swaying her hips purposely in a way that made your heart throb. You get up and go after her, walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. It was then when you realized how cold the room was and you begin to shiver a bit. "Make it hot... like, super hot" You tell her as she goes to turn the water on.

You watch the steam rise from the tub where the hot water begins to pool and you allow Yunjin to get in first. Then you get in after her, sitting behind her with your legs spread. She lets her body rest against you her back to your chest and everything's warm again. You rest your chin on her shoulder "No matter what anyone says, no matter what happens... I'll never fall out of love with you" You wrap yours arms around her torso.

"How are you so reassuring?" She hums, closing her eyes as the water slowly rises, warming the both of you up even more.

"I'm just honest" You shrug, your voice soft in the way she likes.

"I love you" 

"I love you more" You move to kiss her cheek, then she turns her face some more so you can capture her lips. No matter if the angle is kind of awkward, it still feels so right, so comfortable.

-

The next morning feels like a dream because you wake up and Yunjin's head is on your chest. Your head turns over to the digital clock on the nightstand and you see that it's eleven in the morning. You rub small circles in her back and you just lay there. For the first time in a while you feel true peace, matching her slow breaths with yours as you stared into nothing. 

When there's no rush to leave, no rush to get up, you didn't even have to stay awake. It would make no difference if you just went back to sleep and stayed like that for the end of the day. You close your eyes again, to do just that when you feel Yunjin start to stir.

A low, raspy noise escapes her lips as she does "Babe" she calls you.

"Yeah?"

She takes a deep breath in, finally opening her eyes as she gets to look at the clock "What time does breakfast end?"

"I think like twelve" You start rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and you sit up when Yunjin rolls herself off of you. She stands up and goes over to the phone where theres a menu of all the different breakfast items they had for order. 

Yunjin gets so focused that she doesn't even realize that you got out of the bed until she feels your arms snaking around her waist. You kiss her neck "Do you know what you want?" You question her.

"Yeah, you?"

She chews on her bottom lip as she flips through the pages "What are you getting?"

"The typical pancakes with eggs and bacon, a western staple breakfast if you ask me" You shrug.

"You're so bland" Yunjin jokes.

"I might be bland, but I managed to get you to love me. You like bland" You tease.

"Maybe I do"

[alllgator-blood]

I call this one "found family but it goes horribly wrong in an irreparable way" :)

I've been doing a lot of cotl comics but I kinda lost my comic making endurance after not working on art since last september, so I made this to help me flex my art muscles. Apologies for the watermarks lmao they kinda kill the mood but I've already had people repost my art when I put it on reddit so...might as well get the credit if my stuff is gonna be reposted regardless. RAMBLE INCOMING!!

Thinking about how shamura was most likely the one to find + raise their adopted siblings and help them survive the mass deicide that happened thousands of years before....OUUGH. I have so many ideas for comics that take place when half the bishops were still lil kids. I have one in progress right now actually. But it just hurts when I remember how it all ends- they loved their family for so long and yet they credit their love as what caused it to fall apart!!! The lore of the bishops only sunk in when I was dealing with my own heavy sibling angst, and I was like wow....shamura supported the sibs so much they accidentally encouraged their brother into being a heretic, and couldn't close pandora's box in time to save him or the rest of the family. They blame themself for the past 1,000 years and seem to be totally okay with dying for what they did?? Like when they get sent to the shadow realm they tell you to "finish the job" instead of leaving them in purgatory. And despite being the bishop of war, they are the only bishop to not have a "desperate" phase where their attacks get more brutal. They're not desperate, they just want to get it over with. All their other siblings are dead by then anyway so it's not like they have anything to stick around for, even if they were healthy enough to win the battle. Plus I mean...narinder is the bishop of death so they probably just want to see him one last time. Owch

Don't get me wrong I love to hate narinder and his only role in my cult is the guy who cleans the outhouse, but I really like his dynamic with shamura vs. the other siblings. I kinda see him as the troubled kid that couldn't assimilate into the family and shamura took it upon themself to try and fix him. It's interesting thinking about how they're the only one he shows remorse for despite feeling the most betrayed by them. I don't think he 100% hates them, he's just been locked in gay baby jail for so long he's had nothing better to think about than "my sibling encouraged me to experiment with my godly duties, and then punished me for it!!". He's not wrong? But also is shamura that wrong either??? Idk it's complicated with no real answer and I like it a lot, I wish the game told us more about what the bishops were like before they got their shit rocked during the schism. I would've loved to see shamura before their brain was turned to mush by their tbi + 1,000 years of suffocating grief and crushing guilt :)

ANYWAY thanks for making it to the bottom of this rant, here is a sketch I did a while ago of shamura + baby leshy from a prequel au thing I don't have a name for yet:

[onlymingyus]

i want to write you a song (teaser)

pairing; lee jihoon (woozi) x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, fluff

summary; You have the best job in the world as Lee Jihoon's personal assistant but his secrets are starting to turn your world upside down.

content warnings; personal assistant!reader, ceo/boss!jihoon, single dad!jihoon, children, grandparents/parents, jihoon has a sibling, coworkers!soonyoung, mingyu, & wonwoo, soonyoung in a menace, eating/drinking, alcohol, jealousy, crying, self confidence/esteem issues, death of a family member (in the past).

smut warnings; unprotected sex, pulling out, cream pie, simp!jihoon, mild dom!jihoon, sub!reader, the dom/sub dynamics are very subtle, dumbification (very mild), innocence kink, lingerie kink, pet names, praise (like a lot -- he is a simp), body worship, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, crying (from pleasure and happiness), manhandling, masturbation, pillow princess!reader, i am sure there are more (let me know if its glaring) -- bonus section has its own warnings on patreon.

w/c; 27k and some change (3.2k extra words for patreon bonus) [1.6k this teaser]

a/n; thank you to @junkissed and @seokgyuu for helping me come up with a title for this! it's a 1D song, and I do not go here, but it's a very cute song and title! also thank you to my june for proofreading for me and always being the best in the fucking world. literally going through 30k words of my bullshit... the mvp! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy me simping over simp dlif jihoon! next month is spooky seasons so keep your eyes peeled for that one 💀!  

this fic will be released 9/15 to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

“Miss Y/N, will you make me s’getti?” 

You had gotten to Jihoon’s house in a sour mood, but quickly found that when you were around Haein, you couldn’t be upset. She was so different from the previous day. It was obvious that she was starting to feel better, and her personality was really starting to shine. She was like a little bright light in your dark evening. 

“‘Course, as long as you guys have the stuff for it.” Pursing your lips, you open the pantry doors and sigh at the amount of groceries available to you. Of course, Lee Jihoon would have a stocked kitchen. You don’t know why you even considered anything different. 

Pulling a few things from the pantry and then more from the fridge, you glance into the living room as Haein pulls a brush through her doll's hair and hums under her breath. You had found yourself smiling fondly at everything the girl had done, even when it was the smallest thing. She could show you that she could tie her shoe and you were praising her like a proud family member. “What’s your doll's name, Haein?” 

Smiling at you from the couch, Haein lifts the doll to show it off as she moves to her knees. “I used to call her Kimmie, but I like your name better. That okay?” Biting your lip as you push the hamburger meat around in the pan in front of you, you feel your heart tighten in your chest at the little girl's words. “Mmhm, that’s okay with me.” 

Your phone had gone off a few times in the night. From the time that you had left the office to the time that you had put a bowl of spaghetti in from Haein, you had been ignoring it. You didn’t need to check it to know it was probably Jihoon. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were here. His mother had been here when you had gotten here; she had said goodbye to Haein and you knew there were security cameras in Jihoon’s house. You just didn’t find yourself wanting to talk to him while he was on a date with some girl. It wasn’t until the tenth buzz from your phone on the kitchen counter as you put leftovers into a container, you let out an annoyed breath and turned the phone over to read your texts. 

Lee Jihoon: Thank you again for helping me out. I owe you big time

Lee Jihoon: Soonyoung said you were upset when you left. Is everything okay?

Lee Jihoon: Y/N? 

Lee Jihoon: Are you mad at me?

Lee Jihoon: Could we talk when I get home?

Lee Jihoon: How is Haein? Are you guys doing okay?

Lee Jihoon: I checked the camera. I hate doing that. Seems like you guys are having a good time

Lee Jihoon: Feels like you are ignoring my texts on purpose

Lee Jihoon: What did I do???

Lee Jihoon: We are going to talk. 

Shaking your head, you send a single text message back to Jihoon before slipping your phone into your pocket and making your way over to the couch and Haein. “What are we watching?” Giggling, Haein tells you about her Barbie movie and you listen even as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your stomach in knots, you sigh softly and offer the girl beside you a smile as she adjusts to sit against you, her head against your shoulder, before pulling your arm around her tightly. 

Y/N: Haein is doing great. No need to rush back. Enjoy your date, Mr. Lee. 

Lee Jihoon: Be home soon, Miss Y/L/N. 

You didn’t give your phone much more thought; instead, you focused on Haein as she shifted against you to lay in your lap. Your eyes are moving between her and the movie as your fingers brush her hair back from her face. You watch as her eyes slowly close and her breaths become steady and softer, sleep taking her attention from the movie. 

Sighing softly, you feel your chest tighten at the sight of the little girl asleep in your lap, but more so at the feeling it gives you. You enjoy being close to her. You like that she is happy and feels comfortable enough to sleep. Despite only knowing her for a short time, you find yourself getting attached to Haein. 

Shrugging his coat off, Jihoon furrows his brows tightly as he moves through the house towards the living room and the sound of the television. He was frustrated that you hadn’t been answering his messages, but that last message from you had told him more than enough about why you were acting the way you were. 

He knew how he felt about you, even if it was a little terrifying for him, but if you were going to sulk and avoid him thinking that he was on a date, clearly you felt something for him too. With a plan in mind—to address the problem head-on right away—Jihoon moves into the room, only to stop in his tracks at the sight in front of him. His plan goes right out the window when he sees your fingers lazily brushing through Haein’s hair as she sleeps in your lap. Now there was no way he could avoid how he felt about you, not when you were the picture of everything he wanted in his life right in front of his eyes. 

“Y/N…” Jihoon’s soft voice causes your brows to furrow as you sit up slightly, only to feel his fingers slide along your shoulders to keep you from moving to quickly and startling Haein. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Don’t wake her. She looks so peaceful.” Leaning over your shoulder, Jihoon smiles brightly as he carefully guides his fingers along the side of yours over Haein’s head with a sigh. “She looks happy.” 

Jihoon had never been this close to you before and with where he had just come from, you find yourself leaning your head away from his cheek to give him space before moving your hand from his daughter’s head. “Mm, I hope she is. I can let you take her so I can get out of the way.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon sighs as he turns his head towards you to meet your eyes. “You aren’t in the way, Y/N. Would you stop this? You’ve avoided my messages all evening. I want to talk about what’s going on, but I do want to get Haein in her room first.” Lifting his brows, Jihoon waits for you to nod before he stands back to his full height and moves around the couch to slide his arms under her, pulling her against his chest. 

Glancing over his shoulder as he takes a step towards the hall, Jihoon swallows hard, hearing you shift behind him. “Please don’t leave, okay? For me? Give me like five minutes to put my daughter in her bed and then I’ll be back.” You wanted to tell him no and leave, but the look on his face and the way he phrased his words made you settle back into the couch with another nod. 

Jihoon kept his promise and less than five minutes later, you watched a less put-together Lee Jihoon make his way back into the living room. Running his fingers through his hair, he then unbuttons his sleeves and pushes them up to his elbows before finally meeting your eyes allowing you to see how nervous he really is. 

“I’m pretty tired, Mr. Lee. I should be getting home soo—” 

“I wasn’t on a date, Y/N.”

It isn’t just Jihoon cutting you off that makes you stop, but also what he has to say. Tilting your head, you shift nervously on the couch as he sits down next to you, closer than you anticipate. “That’s what you wrote me. Your last text... To enjoy my date? I was out for a business dinner with Seokmin and his manager. I haven’t been on a date in over two years.” 

It was none of your business. He didn’t need to tell you this and you shouldn’t have even said anything. You feel guilt sitting on your shoulders as you look down at your hands and push your fingers into your palm. “Oh… Well, you don’t owe me any explanations.”

You were so devastatingly beautiful and frustrating at the same time. Scoffing, Jihoon shakes his head as his eyes stay fixed on your fingers as you nervously dig them into your palm. “Clearly I do, and I should have just explained it before when I asked you to stay with Haein tonight. There are a lot of things I need to explain to you, I think, based on how you are reacting and how Soonyoung said you left at work.” 

Now you feel like a fool. Embarrassment washes over you and you lift your head, meeting Jihoon’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m—that’s so… God. I am so embarrassed, Jihoon. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I acted like a child when I left work; I said stupid shit.” 

You watch a smirk pull at Jihoon’s lips before he glances down and nods. Obviously, Soonyoung had told him what had happened, perhaps in detail. “Made me realize that I’m maybe not alone in feeling something between us. If you can get that jealous over the idea of a date.” 

Heat rises along your neck and into your face as you look away from Jihoon at what his words imply. Pressing your lips together, you furrow your brows as your brain goes from misfiring to giving you approximately a hundred reasons to bolt for the door, including the fact that Jihoon is your boss. 

“Am I wrong? ‘Cause I like you, Y/N. I mean, fuck—I really like you.” Trying to hide your smile, you lift your hand, pushing at your lips, before Jihoon’s fingers wrap gently around your wrist, pulling your hand down to your lap as he whispers your name to get you to look at him. “Come on, talk to me.” 

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[ssahotchnerr]

Hey love, could you pretty please do an Aaron x reader where it’s there wedding day and she starts getting real bad anxiety about marrying him. Not because she doesn’t want to but because she feels like he is surrounded by so many amazing people who uplift him that she could never compare. Just in the mood for fluffy comfort Aaron 🥹

enough

cw; fem!reader, a LOT of angst but it's comforting??, heavy 5x9 references (i'm sobbing actually), anxiety descriptions, aaron cries 😭, comfort and a happy ending don't worry!!!! wc; 2.4k

"nervous jitters?"

"you could say that." you replied - while staring off into space, while bouncing your crossed leg, while kicking your slipper on and off your heel. your head moved downward as your fingers clutched onto the seat of the chair you were sat in, harshly enough for your knuckles to turn white.

jj pulled the curling wand away from your face an inch, "careful, try not to move."

"sorry."

yet another wave of guilt rippled through you, as this wasn't how you should feel on your wedding day.

last night, you were surrounded by the people you now consider family, celebrating a new chapter. or rather, a beginning. aaron's permanent grin was engraved in your mind; you've never seen him so carefree, happily conversing with his colleagues, gazing at you as if he'd won the lottery (to him, he had). you were positive there wasn't a second where his arms hadn't been wrapped around you.

before parting ways for the night, he had pulled you to the side, to a more secluded area. he gave you long, sweet, deep kisses, holding your body close to his, as you weren't going to see each other until the two of you officially, and finally, became one.

just as him, you had been on a similar high, more than ready for this next adventure, in pure disbelief that in less than twenty-four hours, you'd be a hotchner. so now, whatever this was, had quite literally come out of absolutely nowhere.

when you awoke this morning, rather than the excitement you had expected, you were greeted with an empty, terrifying pit in your stomach.

as the day carried on, pre-wedding activities in full motion, it followed, and the void within only grew and grew. it was gravely unsettling; you were more fidgety, on edge, you hadn't been your usual talkative self. and despite being surrounded by your newfound family - jj, penelope, and emily more specifically - you couldn't help but choose to remain alone in your thoughts.

jj studied your face through the mirror, before securing your hairpiece in place. "there." her hands found your shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. "sit tight, i'll be right back."

you nodded, blinking your eyes to prevent the budding tears from slipping - and to not ruin penelope's handiwork, mascara sure to stain your cheeks. she left, leaving you alone.

but as promised jj returned no more than five minutes later, only she remained at the doorway, her head peeking in. "someone's here to see you."

after giving you a consoling smile, as if she knew - profilers - she vanished, leaving door slightly ajar.

your hand had only just touched the knob when the door moved a centimeter back, slight pressure holding it still to refrain from opening fully.

"don't open it all the way."

"aaron?" at the sound of his voice, you fought the instant urge to sob. but the utmost amount of comfort filled you too. it took a second, but you found your voice, "you're not supposed to be here."

"well technically, i just can't see you."

"still." you insisted. your tone was flat, rather than being full of giddiness due to your future husband sneakily paying you a forbidden visit - like it should've. "they're going to be looking for you."

"then let them." aaron answered simply, not concerned about that in the slightest. "are you alright?"

you immediately fell silent, and aaron patiently waited a minute, but still - nothing. the extended period of quietness, scared him, given the day's event.

please, not cold feet.

and given the current circumstances, there was only so much he could do. aaron dropped his hand to his side, weaving through the small gap. "here, give me your hand."

your hand quickly found his, the promptness allowing aaron to breathe. the familiar weight felt like home; your hand always fitting perfectly within his. your hands always cold, his warm. yours soft, his rough.

his thumb drew circles on the back of your hand, an invitation to open up. "what's on your mind?"

you bit your lip in thought, taking a heavy enough breath aaron could hear it without straining his ears.

"honey?"

"first, i want to preface this that i do want to marry you. i don't want you thinking otherwise." your voice was firm, meaning every word.

"okay..." here was a brief hesitancy in his voice despite your promise; a tinge of worry, some question. however, he managed to keep his voice steady, for the most part. you, however, still recognized the waver of uncertainty.

"just," you released a breath, your voice small. "i envy you."

aaron was quiet for a moment, and when he did speak, the confusion was obvious in his voice. "you envy me?"

"you have," you took a breath, gripping onto his hand. "so many wonderful amazing people around you... i don't even know where to start. they've been with you, stuck with you, for far longer than i have. how do i compare to that? god, dave's practically paying for this whole thing. because of you, for you. no matter who you would've married, he would've done exactly the same. i'm not special."

"sweethear-"

"i want to be enough for you." tears pinched at your eyes, your hold on his hand lessening - which frighteningly felt like you were letting go completely. "you deserve," you took another breath, and this one rattled through you. "everything. and i'm afraid i never will be."

aaron only clutched onto your hand tighter, refusing to part. his eyes squeezed shut for a moment, taking a silent, deep breath. "are you wearing your dress yet?"

after all that, you weren't too sure of how he would respond, but you certainly hadn't expected that. "no? once-"

aaron released your hand. and after looking in both directions of the hall to be certain he was in the clear, he swiftly entered, the door clicking shut behind him.

"aaron." you stared at him, your eyes wide in alarm. you barely had the time to process him in his tuxedo, or have the thought to push him out. "you can't be-"

"enough?" aaron looked at you, baffled. exasperation, pain, and love all present in his eyes. "how can you say that?"

"i-"

"you... are everything. my everything." he moved to your left, pacing away for a moment, quickly internalizing a way to get it across solidly, so you wouldn't dare question otherwise again. he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "did i ever tell you, what haley told me before she died?"

you blinked in surprise, but shook your head. while you knew the story, offered reassurances after nightmares and the topic of haley had never been off limits, aaron had never gone into detail over... the final moments. you never pushed, never asked - if it was something he chose to keep to himself, to have that part of haley close to him and only him - of course you respected that. they were vulnerable, painful memories, not easy to relive.

he sobered, his posture and expression changing before you, alight with a ghost of the past. a tender, solemn fondness was in his tone as he recalled the line. "'love is the most important thing.'"

your eyes studied his face, silently urging him to continue.

"and while our relationship had it's hardships, she wanted jack to believe in it - love - and had me promise her that i'd show him."

"aaron..."

"he believes, because of you."

"i-"

"i believe," his eyes found yours, full of a sincereness you've never seen from him. "because of you."

you opened your mouth to speak again, but no words came out.

"haley was right." he chuckled softly, with a small shake of his head, "honestly, and while i understand why now, for a long time i was furious she made me promise that. because i wouldn't be able to keep my word. before that... day, i'd already given up. lost hope that i could find it again, that it was even possible, or whether i deserved it. haley and i were together for a long time, you know that. being with her was all i knew, what i was used to, and part of me thought maybe someday, we'd manage to work things out. and suddenly, she was gone. it was too late - i was too late. i failed her, and i'd continue to fail her."

"and then you came into my life, and turned my world around completely. never did i think i would love again, let alone get on one knee and ask someone to marry me. but here we are. here you are."

aaron took your face into his hands, as delicately as he possibly could - as if he feared he would break you.

"because of you, i kept my promise to haley. jack knows, he sees the love i have for you every day. and although he 'ew's' at the sight of us kissing here and there, he'll grow up understanding. he'll know the importance, as promised."

"and you saved me. you saved from a looming downward spiral. i saw it happen to gideon, it's happened to countless others within the bureau, and i could've been the next. i told someone once; it's consuming, this job will eat you up if you let it. but instead of letting it, instead of ruining my relationship with jack, you managed to pull me from that impending darkness i was headed toward."

tears were continuously trickling down your cheeks, utterly speechless.

"you're enough. god you're more than enough. and if that doesn't... i'll prove it to you everyday if i have to. if you'll let me." a broken exhale left his lips, choked up. "i promise."

still unable to find the words, and actions speaking louder, your fingers grabbed onto his tux, pulling his body to yours and wrapping your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest. in the back of your mind, you made a mental apology to penelope, and hoped you weren't soiling aaron's dress shirt too badly.

aaron's shoulders dropped at the contact, in relief. he pressed his lips to the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your shoulders and holding you close. next, he's the one who took a shaky breath.

"so, i'm the one who should be afraid."

"what?" your voice cracked, peering up at him, your chin on his torso.

"baggage." aaron sighed, tearing his eyes away from yours, his hands running along your back soothingly - or rather, to soothe himself. "i'm the widowed father. i'm the one who's never around. i'm the one who's scarred, in more ways than one. i don't want to limit you, to keep you from a life you've always imagined for yourself. like i did with haley."

"don't say that."

"every day, i wonder why i'm the one you chose to be with. wonder why you love me. i think that it's too good to be true, that i'll wake up. or someday, you will."

"aaron."

he sighed, tears sliding down his cheek.

"you are not scarred, aaron hotchner." you cupped his face and angled him so he was looking at you, wiping the droplets away with the pads of your thumb. "far from it. the life i imagine, is with you. this is it." you found it in you to let out a small laugh, refreshing after the morning you've had. "that's why i was so worried."

he also couldn't help but laugh gently through his tears. "you shouldn't be."

your hand slid to the back of his neck, winding your fingers through the nape of his hair. "you've, very unfairly, dealt with the unfathomable. the unimaginable. but that doesn't make you broken. i find it admirable actually, and it's one of the things i love about you. you're strong aaron. to go through something like that, and come out on the other side of it, both the tragedy and the recovery part of it. a lot of people wouldn't be able to do the same."

aaron looked at you, listening, his head tilting as he leaned into your touch.

"despite what you think, you're a good father. i adore you with jack. and with the horrors you see, every day, you still come home with a calm face. you never fail to give us your all - your sweet loving self. you're always present, even if you're physically aren't here. because you're out there making this world a safer place for so many others. for jack, for me. you really don't give yourself enough credit."

aaron remained silent, his gaze beginning to tear away from yours. but you stopped him, with a finger under his chin to direct his focus back to you.

"you may have scars, but they aren't you. they may contribute, but they aren't you."

"are you sure?" his voice fell to a whisper, eyes desperately searching yours, his own dampened.

you nodded earnestly, your bottom lip quivering a small amount. "i've never been more sure of anything. i promise."

and with that, aaron's lips found yours, kissing you even more deeply than he had the previous night. from the urgency that soon developed, it was clear just how needed this conversation was, on both ends. providing closure, clarity. the kiss sent a buzz right through you, instantaneously making up for the all the lost time you had spent brooding.

you forced yourself to pull away - only when air was needed, and to simply stop. you would've gladly kissed him longer, and aaron likewise, but the two of you were on a schedule.

his forehead fell against yours, a rather boyish, adorable smile on his face. "so, are we good?"

you nodded, your lips pulling into a smile as well, the giddiness you've been missing finally present. you reached up, gently blotting away any lingering tears of his. "we've always been."

"wedding still on?"

you rolled your eyes, gently smacking his chest and making him laugh. "duh."

"okay." he grinned, pecking your lips gently. "i better go. if someone catches me in here-"

"-you'll be in trouble."

"big trouble." he grinned, pulling your hands forward to bring you in for yet another kiss. "i love you. you never saw me."

you chased his lips - just one more. "never did."

aaron laughed, his brown eyes just sparkling. "i'll see you soon. you know where to find me, i'll be waiting."

[atlabeth]

dance until we're bones

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem reader

summary: you and hotch both confront a lifetime of things left unsaid when a case forces your past into the light.

a/n: so i started this. two years ago. got 1k in and left it, came back now for some reason, wrote like a freak until it was done. lol. this is quite heavy and different than most things i usually write and it is SO much longer than expected but im very proud of it 🫶 i didn't really pay attention to the canon timeline so just know that reader and hotch were in their early and late 20s in law school (90s) and early and late 30s in present day (early 2000s). title from i lied by lord huron and allison ponthier

wc: 17.2k

warning(s): a lot of angst. typical bau case stuff, murder (familicide), implied/referenced past child abuse, reader and hotch go at it basically the whole time, character death, kidnapping, slight mention of drugging, injuries, mentions of blood. i wouldn’t say a happy ending but a hopeful one

Hotch can barely stay awake. 

He got the call thirty minutes to 4 a.m, and if he hadn’t already been up, he would likely be in a much worse mood. He can only hope that the rest of the team has gotten used to rude awakenings at this point. 

It’s poor planning on his part—he already got out late due to extra paperwork, and once he got home, he found himself staring at the wall, and then staring at the ceiling. If he’s lucky, he’ll get to sleep on the jet. If things go the way they usually do, he won’t be out until their first night in a hotel. 

He started making calls to the team on his way to the office, but to no one’s surprise, he was the first one there. He had time to wash down a shitty office coffee and get started on a second one by the time everyone’s there. 

Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ all have coffees—JJ comes prepared with her own thermos, but Morgan and Prentiss fall victim to the BAU’s supply—Reid is fighting back yawns as he tries to fix a hastily made tie, Garcia is slightly less energetic than normal as she passes out files, and somehow Rossi looks the same as always. 

Hotch just hopes he’s put together enough to make the team feel better about being here at an ungodly hour. 

“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Garcia greets, setting down the last folder in front of Reid before taking her spot next to Hotch at the front. “As lovely as it is to see all of you this morning, I’m afraid that we’ve got a grisly one on our hands, hence the hour.” 

“Great,” Prentiss mutters. “How bad is it?” 

“Three married couples have been murdered in St. Louis, Missouri in the past two months, with the most recent one happening yesterday,” Hotch says, and Garcia grimaces as she clicks onto the pictures. “Mom and dad are killed, but the children are spared.”

“Awful lot of similarities between the parents,” Morgan says dryly as he flips through the folder. “Looks like our killer has some family issues.” 

Reid nods. “The unsub likely stalks these families once they see the similarities. I’m guessing he was abused as a child, seeing as they kill the parents but keep the children alive.”

“Probably has a grudge against his father,” Prentiss remarks. “They make it out the worst every time.”

“There’s no method to the torture,” Morgan says. “It looks like he’s just trying to make it hurt as much as possible.” 

“Our guy probably isn’t trained in anything, then,” Rossi says. 

Reid flips to another page in the file. “Serial killers like to see their victims suffer. If he’s not torturing the mom physically, then he’s likely making her watch.”

“He doesn’t kill children, though,” JJ notes. 

“Maybe he thinks he’s doing them a favor,” Reid says. 

“The unsub sees himself in the kids?” Morgan suggests. “He’s doing what he didn’t get the chance to do.” 

“Whatever it is, we have to keep a tight hold on this,” JJ says. “The press eats this stuff up, and the last thing we need is a terrified city making it harder to do our jobs.”

“Especially with families being killed,” Morgan murmurs. 

JJ sighs. “I’ll draft something on the jet and make some calls when we land.” 

Hotch nods and he closes his file. “Wheels up in thirty. I hope you’re all ready for a long day.” 

-

The jet is silent the entire way to Missouri, full of sleeping agents trying to delay the inevitable—save for JJ scribbling down notes on a legal pad for the first thirty minutes, but even she knocks out sooner rather than later. Thankfully, Hotch manages to fit an hour in himself, though it doesn’t do very much for him. He spends the rest of the time reading through the case file. 

The team settles in quickly at the city’s precinct, and Hotch takes charge as usual. The uniforms are just as tired as they are, but he makes it work. Soon enough, JJ is off to work with the local liaison to craft a narrative, Reid has situated himself in an empty conference room to get to work analyzing maps with Garcia, and Hotch and the rest go to check out the crime scene. 

It’s brutal—much too brutal for this early, but Hotch forces the emotions out of it and gets to work questioning the present officers. Morgan follows suit, with Prentiss and Rossi going to investigate the rest of the house. 

They don’t learn much from the officers that they don’t already know. This is the most recent crime scene—George and Marsha Springfield, undeserving of such a grisly fate. Their two kids, 8 and 9, were off visiting their grandparents in Nebraska when it happened, and though they avoided the same fate, they’re going to deal with a lifetime of guilt. 

It’s all Hotch can think about as he examines the first body. The six children left to deal with the carnage, about their past and future marred against their control. 

All he can think about is Jack, and the dreary fate that awaits him if his father falls in the field.  

Hotch swallows his doubt and his guilt all in one and forces every thought out of his mind. He has to be unshakable for the team, for what’s left of these families, for a city on the brink of hysterics. 

They’ll find whoever did this. That’s what gets him through it. 

They spent early morning at the crime scene, collecting evidence and gathering information from the officers and trying to make sense of the killer’s motive. Progress is slow, partially because of the hour, but they make enough that Hotch feels comfortable moving onto the next job.

Their four a.m. start time was too early to go knock on doors and get interviews, but now it’s a more normal 10 in the morning. After a quick stop back at the station to share information with Reid, Garcia, and JJ and down a few cups of coffee, they get right back on the road.  

Hotch and Prentiss take one van and Morgan and Rossi take the other, splitting up to get what they can from interviews. It’s difficult working with kids, especially with such recent trauma, so they hold off on it for now, allowing the local uniforms that have been with them for a bit longer to set things up before the BAU tries anything. 

First they go to a neighbor’s house, then an alleged eye witness. They don’t get much other than personality reads, but it at least gives them the beginnings of a profile. The third place they hit is their earliest idea of a suspect. 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss reads off the file one of the local officers had put together. “Thirty-nine, born and raised in St. Charles, Missouri. High school degree, but never got to college because he was in and out of jail.” 

“What has he been charged for?” 

“Booked a few times for public intoxication and convicted three times for assault. Once was for third-degree assault, Missouri’s version of aggravated assault,” she says. “He got out of jail a little less than a year ago, and it looks like he’s been living in St. Louis for some of that.”

“Assault and drinking is a far cry from serial killing, even aggravated,” Hotch says. “What makes him a suspect?”

“Both parents are dead,” she says. “And from the looks of it, it was not a happy home while they were around. He’s got a sister, so it fits the initial theory of trying to replicate his family.”

Hotch lets out a loose breath and nods. “We’ll start there. Try and get a story from this guy, build a profile, see if it matches the one Morgan and Rossi have made for their guy.”

“And hope we pin something down before more bodies show up,” Prentiss murmurs. 

They’re at their destination soon enough, and Hotch parks in an open spot on the other side of the road. His eyes dart around as they walk up to the front door, filing things away in the back of his mind. 

The house number and last name—1432, Hartford—on the mailbox plagued with rotting wood. What there is of a yard is poorly cut, and a small garden of wilted flowers has their own corner, victims of the winter weather. One car is parked slightly crooked in a small driveway—there’s no garage, so at least he’s probably home. Two potted plants sit on either side of the door, thankfully alive. 

“Remember,” Prentiss says as they come to a stop together, “be nice.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” he murmurs, and she huffs the slightest laugh. 

Hotch knocks on the door as Prentiss fishes around for her ID, and thankfully, they don’t wait long. The door cracks open after a few seconds to reveal a woman—certainly not their unsub, but something a whole lot more surprising. 

You.

Your brows furrow at the sight of him, and Hotch has to hold back his shock. 

You don’t live in St. Louis. And your last name certainly isn’t Hartford. 

“Aaron?” you ask in disbelief, and he doesn’t even have to look at Prentiss to know the questions he’s going to get later.

He says your name, able to control his surprise with only the slightest crease of his brows giving it away, then corrects himself just as quickly. “Miss Hartford. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, and this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We’re here with the FBI.” 

Your frown deepens as they show their IDs, and you actually take it from Hotch, skeptical eyes scanning over it for much too long. You glance back at him as you hand it back over. “What is the FBI doing here?” 

Emily clears her throat as she puts her credentials away. “We’re here investigating the latest murders in St. Louis. Can we come in?”

“The murders?” you ask with exasperation. “What— what murders? And what do I have to do with them?” 

Aaron notices the way your grip tightens on the door just the slightest bit, and a shred of sympathy strikes him before he speaks up.

“We’ll be able to explain everything if you let us in,” he says. 

You swallow thickly in your throat, your gaze darting back to Aaron before you finally nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

You move and Hotch and Prentiss walk inside, gesturing with a hand towards your living room as you shut and lock the door behind them. “Take a seat. Uh— do you guys need anything? Water, or coffee, or…” 

You trail off, and Prentiss shakes her head. “Thank you, but that’s not needed.” She takes a seat on the sofa, but Hotch can’t stop himself from looking around the house. 

It’s a small place, one story—likely rented, seeing how paintings sit on countertops and mantels rather than hanging on the wall. It has a certain charm to it, but something is off about it all. 

Two styles clash—decorative pillows at odds with a filled and painted-over hole in the wall, an attempt at neutral tones ruined by dark articles of clothing scattered around, one person’s mess barely being held back by another’s cleaning efforts. You lived with someone else. Likely Lucas Hartford, possibly their unsub. 

“Are you gonna sit down, Aaron?” you ask, snapping him out of his profiling haze. “Or do you want to look around some more?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat as he walks over and sits down in an open chair near Prentiss. “Just curious.” 

“That makes two of us,” you say, and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices that you don’t sit down yourself, and there’s still a coldness in your eyes. “You’re FBI now?” 

He nods. “I had a change of heart.” 

You huff a laugh. “Thought at least one of us would be a lawyer by now. I guess not.” 

Hotch frowns, but Prentiss takes over before he can continue on that particular thread. “Miss Hartford—”

You interrupt by saying your first name, and it spurns something strange in his chest. It’s been over a decade since he’s heard your voice. “You can skip the formalities.” 

Prentiss nods and repeats your name. “As you know, we’re investigating the murders that have been occuring in the St. Louis area.” 

“And you think I have something to do with it?” you ask, the accusatory edge to your voice not lost on him. 

“Not you,” Hotch says. “Do you know a Lucas Hartford?”

“He’s my brother,” you say, and your frown deepens. “You’re not saying—”

“No,” Prentiss interrupts, “we’re not saying anything. We’re just asking.”

And just like that, your entire stance, your visage, it all changes. Hotch can sense the walls slamming up around you, and he immediately realizes two things: 

Getting information out of you is going to be much harder than planned, and you’re not anywhere near the same person you used to be. 

Hotch doesn’t know what he expects, really. He graduated with the intent to prosecute for at least a decade—now, he’s with the BAU. It’s not fair to assume you’re that same girl he met in law school. 

“My brother is not a murderer,” you state clearly.

“And we aren’t accusing him or you of anything—” she starts. 

“Me?” you interrupt, and you let out a harsh laugh. “I’m a suspect too?”

“If you would allow Agent Prentiss to finish her sentences, you would be less upset,” Hotch says. 

You glower at him, but you stay silent. 

“We aren’t accusing either of you of anything,” Prentiss finishes. “We’re just trying to gather information with what little we know.” 

“I know my rights,” you say, unflinching gaze still meeting Hotch’s. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Prentiss looks at him as well, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “That’s unfortunate to hear, Miss Hartford.”

“You know my name, Aaron. Use it.”

He does, and the letters feel strange on his tongue after so long. “This is a serious matter. This isn’t an accusation—we’re in the early days of this case and we need all the information we can get.” 

“Ask away,” you say. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” 

“Lucas Hartford,” Prentiss starts. “He’s your brother?” 

You nod. “He lives with me.” 

He lives with me, not we live together. Makes him think that you pay for the place, he came knocking, and you didn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Why is that?” Hotch asks. 

You look at him, those scrutinizing eyes attempting to peer into his soul the same way they did all those years ago. But Hotch has changed since law school, and he’s much better at guarding his emotions. It seems you are, too. 

“He’s a student,” you finally say. “He goes to community college. I’m giving him a place to live while he gets his associate’s.”  

“Community college and living with his younger sister at 39?” Prentiss is trying to get information out of you, even if it isn’t in the kindest way. Your jaw clenches, and he knows her words have some effect. You’ve probably heard it more than once, the way things are going. 

“He’s getting his life back on track,” you say defensively. “I’m the only one left that can help him, so I am.” 

“What about your parents?” she asks. “Surely they’re a better option than this.” 

“Both dead,” you answer. “And no one else cares enough to help him. Are you here to do anything other than dig up my past?” 

Hotch feels Prentiss’s eyes on him, likely because it’s a step in the right direction for a really shitty reason, but he can’t look away from you. 

“Really?” 

He knows your parents are dead—it was in your brother’s profile, and by extension it applies to you—but it still hits him. 

He met your mother, had countless lunches and dinners with her. Helped her move out of her old house. Spent two Thanksgivings and a Christmas with her. 

And he didn’t even know when she died. 

You shrug and wrap your arms around yourself, and for the first time you look something other than defensive or standoffish. You look— well… sad. 

“Mom went a few years after you graduated,” you say, looking at Hotch. “Dad went last year.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Prentiss says. 

You nod your thanks, the notion a bit numb. 

“You never told me,” Hotch says with a slight frown.

“We haven’t talked in ten years,” you say. “Sorry that I didn’t know you still wanted updates.” 

Hotch tries to think of something to say in response, but Prentiss starts getting a call and she stands up. “Excuse me.” 

His jaw clenches for a moment as Prentiss ducks into a nearby bedroom, but he’s recovered by the time you look at him again. Your arms are crossed, but your expression is even. 

“I take it this was as much of a surprise for you as it is for me.” 

Hotch nods. “We came here looking for your brother.” 

“Does your team know about our history?” you ask simply.

“No.” 

“Do you want them to?” 

“…No.” 

You huff a laugh, your eyes narrowing a bit. “‘Course not. Probably counts as conflict of interest.” 

You wait another beat, then ask another question. “How’s Haley?”

“Good, last I heard,” he says, and then he hesitates. “We’re… divorced.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “This job isn’t easy for anyone.”

You look like you want to say more, but once again, Hotch is saved by Prentiss as she walks back in. Her phone is closed in her hand and she looks at him. “Morgan and Rossi have a lead. The chief wants everyone back at the precinct to go over everything we’ve found.” 

Hotch nods again and stands up. Prentiss takes her card out of her pocket and holds it out to you. 

“Thank you for your time, Miss Hartford. If you find out any information, or want to tell us anything else, please give me a call.” 

“Pass that along to your brother, too,” Hotch says. 

You reluctantly take the card, but you don’t look at it. “You can see yourselves out.” 

Prentiss nods. “Thank you again. Have a good day, and stay safe.” 

She leads the way, and Hotch follows after her. He fights the urge to look back before he shuts the door. 

Prentiss looks at him as they walk back to the car, and he can only imagine what is going through her mind. But eventually she just shrugs and pulls out her phone again. 

“Garcia?” Prentiss asks after she picks up. 

“You’ve reached the office of all that is holy.” Penelope’s voice comes out through the speaker, and Hotch can’t help the smallest twitch of his lips. “What’s up?” 

“Dig up everything you can find on Lucas Hartford,” Emily says, and her glance at Hotch does not go unnoticed. “And throw in his sister, too. He’s one of our only suspects, and we need to know if she’s in on it.” 

“On it,” Garcia says. “I’ll call you back when I’m done.” 

“You’re the best,” she says, and then she hangs up. They get back to the car, and it only takes Prentiss all of five seconds after they get in for her to start drilling him.

“Alright,” she says, buckling her seatbelt with a click before she sets her attention on him. “What was that back there? You two know each other?”

Hotch busies himself with his own seatbelt and starting the car, answering as casually as possible as the engine revs to life. “We were friends in law school.”

“Sure,” Prentiss nods. “The way you were around her, that’s not just ‘law school friend’ stuff.”

Hotch is once again reminded of how, sometimes, it was a downfall to constantly be around profilers. It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret. 

“It’s nothing,” he says as he pulls back onto the road. “We knew each other, we fell apart, we’re here now.”

Emily hums. “Is it too far to ask if you were together?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, maybe a bit too hasty. “It is.”

“Fine,” she says breezily, and she looks out the window. “But that tension was thick.” 

Hotch knows what she’s thinking. Hasn’t he been with Haley since high school, what kind of history did you and him have, were you together, would he be okay to work this case— 

He doesn’t really want to answer any of them. You were a part of his past he hadn’t expected to resurface any time soon—if Hotch is being honest, he didn’t know if he would ever see you again once he graduated. Not after the way he broke things off.  

You’ve changed a lot. So has he. 

And now your brother is a murder suspect, and you could be covering up for him. 

That’s the only thing that should be on his mind. 

-

“For the last time,” you huff as you storm down the stairs, “I don’t want to deal with this.” 

“Because you know that Mia is a lying bitch!” Cleo exclaims, following after you. “I’m sick of you stealing my clothes!”

“I’m not stealing your clothes,” Mia scoffs in your wake, just behind Cleo. “They’re too ugly for me to want anyways. I bet I wouldn’t even fit into them.”

“You are! And you’re stealing my fucking jewelry, too!” she yells. “All of my shit is going missing, and I know it’s not Little Miss Law School, so it’s got to be you!” 

Mia draws out a mirthless laugh. “You are not accusing me of this.” 

“I don’t have anyone else to accuse!” Cleo shouts. 

They both look at you, and Mia says your name. “You have to settle this before I kill her.”

“Oh, I’ll kill you first!” she hisses. “At least I’ll get all my stuff back!”

You clench your jaw as your nails dig into your palms, and you’re about to bite back when the doorbell rings. You don’t even try to hide your sigh of relief. 

“That’s Aaron,” you say as you grab your coat and your bag from the table. “I’m leaving. If you kill each other, don’t get blood on the furniture.”

You don’t give them a chance to say anything before you rush to the door, open it, and shut it behind you. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” you breathe. 

“What’s going on in there?” Aaron asks, amused. 

“My roommates are fighting again.” You roll your eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’re much more interesting.”

“You know this is a study date,” he says wryly, and you cut him off with a kiss. 

“Still a date,” you murmur against his lips. “And something seriously needed.”

Aaron chuckles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and the two of you walk to his car. “You’ve gotta get out of this house, honey.”

“I know,” you grumble. “But I can’t afford a place on my own.”

“Doesn’t have to be on your own,” he says as he opens the door for you. “It just has to be away from the girls that are making you miserable.”

“The lease ends at the end of the semester,” you sigh. “Just have to make it until then.”

“You know,” Aaron boxes you in against the car when you lean against the side of it, smiling softly at you, “I do live alone.”

“Oh yeah?” You ruffle his hair with your fingers and grin. “What are you proposing?”

He shrugs, letting his hands linger on your waist. “Just that you hate your roommates, and you don’t hate me. You could spend your time somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” you warn. “You keep saying things like that and we might not make it to the library.” 

“You keep saying things like that, and I might not mind,” Aaron muses. 

You grin as he leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, three times as your back hits the side of his car and you card your hands through his hair. Mia and Cleo are probably killing each other inside, but you don’t really care at this point. They’ve made your life hell for a semester and a half—they can bother each other for once. 

“Aaron,” you whisper against his lips, and he gets one more in between words, “I’ve got a test on Tuesday.”

“And today’s Sunday.” He nips at your neck and you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you lean your head back. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“You have one on Monday,” you remind him, and he sighs. You feel his hot breath against your neck. 

“Ruining our fun in the name of schoolwork,” he says. “No wonder all your professors love you.”

“Everyone loves me,” you correct. “Including you.”

You steal one more kiss before you open your door yourself and get in, and Aaron lets out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve got that right.”

He closes your door then gets in the other side, and you’re already rifling through the glove box full of cassettes. You pull out the mixtape you made for him for your six month anniversary and pop it into the player, and Aaron smiles as the first few notes of Stairway to Heaven come on. 

“You’re a threat to my grades, y’know.”

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan,” you say. “Distract you with kisses to make sure I’m a shoe-in for this fellowship.”

“A dastardly plan,” he says with mock austerity. 

“I’ve been told I have to be more of a shark,” you muse. “Consider this me taking down my competition.”

Aaron laughs, and you find yourself smiling just at the sound of it. You love the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, how they soften just so, how he acts like himself around you, and not some perfected or stoic image that he thinks he needs. 

Falling in love with Aaron Hotchner has been the easiest thing in the world. 

“Don’t let anyone know,” he says, and he reaches over to intertwine your fingers together. “But I’ll happily fall to you every time.”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone how whipped I am for you,” you tease.

“Looks like we’ve both got reputations to keep up.”

“Looks like it.”

You share a smile, yours just on the edge of a grin as you try to bite it back. You hold hands the rest of the way, just soaking in each other’s presence with songs from bands you introduced to each other floating through the air. 

(It is a goddamn struggle to get any work done at the library with that face across from you the whole time.)

- 

You had sky-high aspirations when you were younger. 

Ones that would make your teachers offer a smile and tell you to shoot a little lower, that would make your friends’ eyes widen, that your father would scoff at and your mother would humor you on just to get you to move past it. 

You didn’t listen. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer since you went on a class field trip to a courthouse in elementary school and saw all the attorneys hustling about, dressed to the nines, making last-minute deals outside the courtroom.  

They were just… so confident. So smart, so stoic, always knowing the answer to everything. The good ones had money, sure, but more importantly they had the power to change lives for the better. And as a kid that had to cover up bruises before the school day, nothing sounded more appealing. 

All you’ve ever wanted to do is help people. 

And as you sit in a cold, empty interrogation room, you can’t help but wonder where the hell you went wrong. 

You don’t want to be here, obviously. But you know the FBI won’t stop bugging you until you give them answers—you know Aaron Hotchner won’t stop bugging you. 

Because god— what are the odds? 

What are the fucking odds of your ex-boyfriend from a decade ago showing up at your door with a badge and an attempted case against your brother? 

It’s ridiculous, and it’s such bad luck that you think it could only happen to you. You’ve thought about Aaron Hotchner more than you’d like to admit over the years, especially when you found your old GW crewnecks, and the box of school supplies you used for a decade, and those photo albums from what should’ve been your golden years. 

It’s not like any of it matters, though. You only agreed to come in and talk because you want them off your back and you don’t want them poking around your house. You saw it in Aaron’s eyes—he was profiling you and your place the entire time. 

If the cops want to invade your privacy even further, they can get a goddamn warrant. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door opens, and you hold back a mirthless laugh, because of course it’s Aaron. He greets you with your name, and he has a file in his hands. You wonder if it’s on you or your brother. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come in and talk with us.”

“Well, you seem to think my brother is a murderer.” You cross your arms as you sit back. “I’m not really gonna let that stand.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a lawyer,” he says as he sits down across from you. 

“I don’t plan to be here for very long,” you respond tartly. “But don’t worry—that can always change. I know my rights.” 

“I’m the last person you need to tell that to.” Hotch sets the file down and looks right at you. Though he’s obviously older—more grizzled, more hardened; harsher, sharper lines that define his face; lips set in a taut, unflinching line—you still see that young man from law school. The passion, the care he puts into everything, the penchant for striped ties. 

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. 

“Your last name wasn’t Hartford when I met you,” he says. “Why is it now?” 

“Not one for small talk,” you remark. 

“I never have been.” 

“I remember.” You hold his gaze. “It’s my mom’s maiden name. I changed it to put some distance between me and everything else.” 

You can practically see the gears of his brain working, neural pathways branching off with every word you say to make sense of it and reason a thousand different meanings from it. Aaron’s always been like that, but it’s tenfold now. 

You suppose one has to be like that, to try and get anywhere with the types of criminals they face. 

“How long have you been living in St. Louis?”

“Seven years. I’ve had that house for three.” 

“Rent or own?”

“Rent,” you scoff. “I don’t make enough for a down payment, and I don’t want a place tying me down.”

“What inspired the move?”

“Close enough to home to be familiar, far enough to not be.” 

“And home is?” 

“St. Charles,” you say, and you purse your lips. “Shouldn’t you already know all this?” You nod at the file in front of him. “It’s either on me or my brother, and we share a lot of the same info.” 

“We prefer to get our information from the source,” he says. 

“Sources can lie.” 

Aaron doesn’t waver. “And we can charge you with obstruction if it harms our investigation.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, not entirely without heart. “Ask your questions, Aaron.” 

He opens the folder and slides the first picture over to you—your brother’s first mugshot, taken when he was only twenty-one. You still remember riding your bike to the station in the sweltering August heat to drop off his bail and pick him up. 

You had to catch the bus home together, you had to pay his fare, and his bail drained everything you’d been saving from your waitress job. But your dad refused to pay it, and you refused to be alone in that house any longer than you already had. 

You swallow the memory. It still tastes as sour as the day it happened. 

“Lucas Hartford is our main suspect,” he says. “He matches our initial profile—in and out of jail since his twenties, his parents are dead and he has an unstable home life, and he’s got a sister.”   

“None of those sound like questions,” you say. 

“Where is your brother?” he asks firmly. He’s given you a bit of leniency, but you can tell he’s getting tired of you. Some things never change, you think to yourself bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

“You don’t know,” he repeats. 

“I let him stay with me, and my only requirement is that he goes to his community college classes and stays out of jail,” you say. “He’s done both, so I stay out of his business.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t questioned it?”

“I called him the other day after you left,” you say. “He didn’t pick up, and I didn’t get a call back until the next night.” 

Aaron’s eyes sharpen. “What did you say to him?” 

“I called to see where he was,” you say evenly. “I think you all are wrong, but I wanted to make sure he was okay.” 

“You didn’t tell him—” 

“No,” you interrupt, “I didn’t tell him about your investigation. If I think you’re wrong, why would I need to let him know?” 

He still has that look in his eyes, and you know you’re getting on his nerves with the constant interrupting, the constant backtalk. But he probably deals with much, much worse. 

“Good,” he nods. “You could be putting lives in danger if you do—including yours.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “He won’t hurt me. He never has.” 

“Why do you let him stay with you?” Aaron asks. “You’re straight-edge, he’s a borderline alcoholic that’s been in and out of jail for years. You’ve got a law degree, he never made it past high school. You’ve got your life together, his is falling apart.” 

“That’s why I do it,” you say. “Our parents are dead. I’m all he has left, and he’s all I have left. I want him to get better, so I’m trying my best to help him get there. How can Luke put his life back together if he’s got no support?” 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in someone who hasn’t earned it.” 

“I’ve gotten good at that over the years,” you reply. 

Aaron stares at you, and you stare back. You let the moment linger. You hope it stings, even fleetingly. 

“And you’re wrong, by the way.” 

“About what?” he asks. Again, unshaken. 

“I don’t have a law degree,” you say. “I dropped out.” 

And for some reason, that is what gets him. He frowns, and you wonder what it means that this is the most unexpected thing he’s gotten out of you. 

“Why? You were only a year out. You had stellar grades.” 

“My mom got cancer,” you say. “Luke was serving his second stint, Dad fucked off to some corner of the country to drink himself to death a couple months before. I was the only one left to take care of her, and I couldn’t do that from DC.” 

“I had no idea.” This is the first time he looks taken aback since you’ve met him again. “And she’s—”

“Dead,” you supply without waiting for an answer. You know he already knows it, but it still seems to have some effect on him. “Went a couple months after I was meant to graduate.” 

“…I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. He’s just repeating what his agent said at your house, but it feels genuine, at least. 

“It’s been a decade,” you say. “I’m just sorry it was her instead of my dad.” 

Aaron’s brows knit together again, and less work goes into covering it up this time. “You seem to have something against your father.” 

You huff a mirthless laugh. “Excellent profiling.” 

“Child abuse is common for serial killers,” Aaron says. “We find it’s typically the root of their problems later in life, or plays a part in their MO.” 

You stare at him again. This isn’t just an interrogation with Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—it’s revealing parts of your past that you never told your ex-boyfriend Aaron. 

“Yeah,” you finally say. “Our dad beat us. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You know th—” 

Aaron cuts himself off before he can finish whatever he wants to say, and he lets out a short sigh with a nod. “It’s valuable information for the profile.” 

The room feels a lot colder all of a sudden. “Sure.” 

He still looks like he wants to say more, but he bites his tongue as he takes the picture back and closes the file. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Would you like anything? Water?”

You shake your head and remain silent. He takes the folder and stands up, and you watch him the entire way to the door. Just before he can open it, you find words escaping without you thinking. 

“Look, Aaron,” you blurt out. He pauses, and he turns to look at you. “I know this is your thing, and this is your investigation, but I’m telling you—my brother and I don’t play any part in it.” 

“The profile—” 

“I don’t care what your profile says,” you interrupt. “He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it.” 

“He’s rough around the edges, I know. In and out of jail isn’t good for anyone.” You hold onto the edge of the table as you continue rambling, needing something to do with your hands. “But he’s working to get better, and he is not the kind of person to do something like this. If you believe anything I say, believe that.” 

“I suppose we’ll find out,” he says evenly. 

He leaves the room, and your hands fall into your lap as your nails dig into your palms. You don’t mean to be desperate, but you feel it. You’ve been defending Lucas at every chance, but you’re terrified of being wrong. You’re terrified that Aaron might be right—that he might be behind all of this. 

For his sake—and your sake, honestly, because you think you deserve to be selfish when he’s all you have left—you hope you’re right. 

You have to be right. 

The room feels even colder. 

Your stare drifts to the one-way mirror, where you know his team is watching. You saw the way Agent Prentiss watched Aaron when they came to your house—he said he doesn’t want them to know, but you think they already do. 

You wonder the kind of things they’ve come up with about you and him. 

-

Morgan whistles when Hotch walks out of the interrogation room. 

“She does not like you.” 

“Did you gather anything else?” he asks placidly. He sets your brother’s file down so he can fix his tie. 

“Abusive dad, dead parents, criminal background,” he says. “Lucas is looking like a stronger suspect. Oh— and she really doesn’t like you.” 

“If you don’t want to go back to building a file on your suspect, move on,” Hotch demands. 

Morgan shrugs, clearly unfazed, but he keeps his mouth shut. Reid, meanwhile, is still staring through the glass at you. You haven’t exactly relaxed, but you’re not as tense as you were while talking to Hotch. You pick at a loose strand of thread on your sweater, and when you pull it out, you let it fall to the floor. 

“Her brother feels like a prime suspect,” Reid murmurs. “I feel like I could just figure it all out if I could talk to him.” 

“I told Penelope to keep an eye on him,” Prentiss contributes. “She’s tracking his cards, the car registered in his name, even called the person in charge of the AA meetings he goes to to keep an eye out—everything. We’ll know if she gets anything.”

“Serial killers want to see the damage they’ve done,” Reid says. “Things are falling apart here—the whole city is terrified. He’s gotta be in St. Louis still.” 

“You’re sure that he’s still in the running.” Hotch glances back at you, and he knows he has to at least ask, for your sake. He doesn’t want to put you through anything more than he has to—not after what you’ve told him. 

And Hotch knows your past is your business—he just can’t believe you never told him. 

He’s turned over your relationship in his head just as many times in these past few days as he did the months after he ended things. 

“I’m sure, sir,” Reid says. “I’ve read over both their files, and Lucas matches with our preliminary profile. His stressor could have been his father dying.”

Morgan frowns. “Explain.”

“Family annihilators typically go after their own family for a myriad of reasons,” he says. “Paranoia, to cover up their lies, to free themselves from what they see as oppression, sometimes just pure jealousy.”

“He’s killing the parents but leaving the children alive,” Hotch says. “Sounds like a liberator to me.”

“That’s what I think,” Reid nods. “If Lucas has been banking on killing his father for that attempt at freedom, and then lost the chance?” He shrugs. “That could be why he started going for other families.” 

“Other fathers to take his place,” Morgan realizes, and he nods again. 

“You should talk to her, Spence,” Prentiss says. “You’ve got a handle on the profile, and you’re pretty good at conveying info. She seems like a reasonable person—just can’t accept her brother doing something like this.” 

“It’s typical for someone to deny their family member’s involvement,” Reid says. “No one wants to think their sibling is a murderer.” 

“If you lay it all out for her like that, with facts and the profile, I think she’ll listen.” Prentiss looks at Hotch. “She’s too closed off with you.”

“That’s how she is,” Hotch claims.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, “but it’s much easier to hate you than it is to hate Reid.” 

Hotch glares at her, and Reid clears his throat to insert himself back into the conversation. 

“I’d be happy to talk to her,” he says. “I know what it’s like to be in this kind of position—I can put her at ease, sympathize with her.” 

They all look at Hotch, and he wants to say no. He wants to be the one to get this out of you—some part of him wants as much time with you as possible. But he decides to swallow his ego. 

“Fine.” He nods, and he hands the folder to Reid. “I trust you to handle it.” 

Reid nods too, far too many times, and he takes the file. “Thank you. Uh— sir. I appreciate your trust.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but it has no bite to it, and Reid walks inside. 

He says your name and sits down across from you. “I’m Spencer Reid. I know we’ve already said it, but thank you for talking to us. It may not seem like it, but it goes a long way towards figuring out this case.”

You nod. You already seem more at ease than you were with him, and it makes Hotch… 

Not jealous, because that would be insane. But it makes him upset that he doesn’t understand you the way he used to—that he doesn’t hold that key to you anymore. God, it feels like he doesn’t know you anymore. 

Hotch doesn’t get why a side of his brain still thinks this way about you. 

“They sent a new one in,” you say. 

“You looked like you needed a break from Hotch,” Reid says. “Don’t worry. We all do sometimes.”

You huff a slight laugh and your posture eases, your expression softens just so. Reid was right, as usual. 

“I can imagine.”

He starts talking to you about the case, laying out all the facts, and though you don’t look happy, you don’t cut him off like you cut Hotch off. 

“She’s pretty,” Morgan offers, glancing at Hotch. “And stubborn. I see why you like her.” 

“Shut up, Morgan,” Hotch mutters.

He chuckles and holds his hands up, and focuses back on the interrogation. 

The rest of it passes in silence, save for the occasional input from Prentiss or Morgan to elaborate on a point. You talk much more with Reid than you did with Hotch, and you don’t stare daggers at him the entire time. 

Time doesn’t always heal all wounds, he thinks. 

When Reid is finishing up inside with you, Morgan glances back at Hotch. “You think she’s part of this?”

He shakes his head. “No. She has no reason to kill, nothing to gain. She talks about her past too plainly—it hurt her, obviously, but it hasn’t taken over her life.”

“What about her brother?” Prentiss asks. 

“The more we learn, the more I suspect him,” Morgan says. 

She nods in agreement. “We just have to find him.”

Hotch isn’t sure yet. 

But for your sake, he hopes his gut feeling is wrong. 

-

Spring has finally sprung in DC, and you couldn’t be happier. 

It’s hard to feel down on your walks to class when the birds are singing and the sun is beaming down on you, when you see students sitting on blankets reading and talking and actually enjoying life for once. 

You’re two years into law school, and it feels like you’ve spent 90% of your time studying in either the library or your room. A bit of a sad existence, but it’s made better with Aaron. 

You’re laying down on a blanket—one you crocheted yourself in undergrad—resting your head on Aaron’s chest as he reads a book, the spring sun shining down on you. It feels like the first moment of relaxation either of you have had since classes started, and you chose to spend it together in the University Yard. 

You should probably be studying or doing some kind of homework, but you don’t care. It has been too damn long since you’ve gotten to just sit around and exist with Aaron, and you’ve got at least a couple days until your next quiz. That’s far enough away for you. 

It’s been a rough semester for both of you, between classes and endless homework, between your internship and your endless family issues—Luke is two years in, and his parole was denied, and your dad still insists on being the reason you stay on campus year-round. 

You don’t think you’re pushing it when you say Aaron’s support has been the only reason you’ve gotten through it, your grades—and your mental state—relatively unscathed. 

Aaron says your name, and you hum. 

“Are you listening?” he asks. 

“Of course,” you say. 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I don’t need my eyes to listen,” you say wryly. “What’s up?” 

You feel him tense for a moment, feel him adjust his position slightly. 

“I got a call from Haley,” he says carefully. 

Your eyes open and you frown. 

You know the name, but only in the way that you talked a bit about your past relationships while you were still getting to know each other. She was his high school girlfriend, and it was a big deal then, but they broke up before college because they both wanted different things.

It shouldn’t be a big deal now. But he’s treating it like one, and that makes you hesitate. 

“Yeah? What’d she want?”

“…She’s in DC for the weekend,” he says. “Some conference for school. She asked if we could grab a coffee or something and catch up.”

You finally sit up, his hands falling from where he’d been playing with your hair, and you look at him.

“Your high school girlfriend wants to catch up.”

“An old friend wants to catch up,” he corrects. “I haven’t really talked to her since we graduated high school.” 

“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Do you want to see her?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it would be nice.”

“Do you think she thinks it’ll be more than nice?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t even know how she got my landline. I think my mom might have given it to her.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “Your mom gave your ex-girlfriend your number?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of her getting it,” Aaron shrugs. “Like I said, I haven’t talked to her since graduation.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to think as you look at Aaron. 

You’ve met his mom a dozen times. You’re insistent that she doesn’t like you, despite Aaron’s assertions towards the opposite—it wouldn’t surprise you if she gave this girl his new number in an effort to push him in a new direction. 

But that train of thought feels a little crazy. You’re confident in your relationship with Aaron—you love him, and he loves you. God, he made an off-handed comment about marriage the other day. You’re not threatened by a girl from his past wanting to catch up. 

“Go for it,” you finally say. 

He frowns, like he was expecting the worst. “Really?” 

“I trust you, Aaron,” you say. “You say she’s just a friend, I believe it.” 

You lean forward to kiss him, your eyes fluttering shut, and it lasts much longer than it should. When you pull away, Aaron’s smiling softly at you. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“‘Course,” you say, tipping a shoulder. “I’m known to be rational from time to time.” 

He chuckles, and you smile as you lay back down on his chest. Soon after, you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. It feels more like a reminder than anything. 

You entangle your fingers together and press a kiss to the back of his hand. 

Sometimes you need reminders. 

“I love you too.” 

-

“Four more bodies,” Prentiss mutters. “God.” 

“You can say that again,” Morgan murmurs. 

Hotch is silent as he examines the father’s body. They’ve been so busy the past few days trying to nail down the profile, both on their unsub and geographically, that this happening again hadn’t been at the top of their list. There was a month between the first two, and two weeks between the second and third. 

No one expected this to happen so soon. 

The entire family was killed this time, and once again, the parents look similar to the other victims. It’s the work of their unsub, no doubt. 

Hotch and the team had already been at the precinct for an hour going over all the information they’d found when they got the call at 8 in the morning, the bodies discovered by the family’s maid when she arrived for work. 

An entire family, parents and children, senselessly slaughtered for one man’s deranged quest for liberation. 

Hotch has been in this business for a long time, seen things that most people only imagine in nightmares, and he still has to take a step back when children are involved. 

He sees Jack in every single one. He can’t help it. 

Hotch took Prentiss and Morgan with him to the crime scene—JJ has a kid, Rossi had a kid, and he just didn’t want Reid to see it. They’ll all be more valuable working together back there anyways, and it’s imperative that JJ controls the narrative before this can break to the press. 

Again, Prentiss talks to the officers at the scene and Morgan helps him examine the bodies. After all, there are double the amount. 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Morgan says as he stands back up. “Our guy is killing surrogate parents to get back at his own, fine. Dad was tortured again, mom was killed with a bullet. But bringing the kids into it isn’t his thing.” 

He uses a gloved hand to gingerly lift the father’s arm away from his body so he can examine the underarm. “Look at this. He’s been stabbed at least ten times, and his arm’s nearly severed from his body.”

“And his neck,” Morgan mutters. “He’s half decapitated.” 

Hotch sets the arm back down. “The unsub always wants the father to suffer, but this is a new level.” He looks up at Morgan. “I don’t think he has a reason for killing the children. I think he’s getting sloppy—he’s getting overwhelmed by his anger.” 

“You think he’s devolving,” he says, catching on. 

“Something tells me we’re coming to the end of the line,” Hotch says. “Whatever he does next, he’s going out with a bang.” 

-

The mood in the precinct has fallen dramatically since the last hit. The uniforms aren’t happy that they’re working around the clock, the chief isn’t happy that the BAU hasn’t figured everything out yet, and the city isn’t happy that ten murders have been committed with what they think is no end in sight. 

JJ and Rossi have gone out to bring in the suspect that he and Morgan found together for the sake of covering their bases—they still haven’t been able to find Lucas, despite Reid calling you every day to check in and upping police presence around the city. 

The rest of the team sits around a conference table, over a dozen coffees between them, going over everything and racking their brains for information. 

“This just isn’t matching up,” Reid complains. “Lucas has just been at home for the first two, but for the third and the fourth he’s got alibis.” 

“What are they?” Hotch asks. 

“He was on the road all night when the third happened,” Reid says. 

“And how do we know?” Prentiss asks. 

“Garcia picked up his debit card being used a couple times from Des Moines back to St. Louis when the third set of murders happened,” Morgan contributes. “Must’ve been a road trip, because there are stops at a gas station, a restaurant, and a rest stop.” 

“The last one happened during an AA meeting he was supposed to attend,” Prentiss says. “I called the leader and she said he was there.”

“Do we have footage from any of those places?” Hotch asks. “We need to make sure.” 

Reid nods. “I asked her to check it all this morning, including the AA meeting. She must still be going through it—I can’t imagine it’s easy to get all that access.” 

“What about a second unsub?” Morgan suggests. 

Hotch shakes his head. “These are all meant to be personal for liberation—catharsis. Involving someone else would take away from the feeling.” 

“What about your suspect?” Prentiss asks, looking at Morgan. “Could he be the unsub?” 

“Patrick Fenton,” Morgan says, and he shrugs. “He fits it—dead parents, jail time, child of abuse. But he’s got two sisters, and his parents died when he was in his twenties from a car accident. I don’t see why he would start killing almost twenty years later.” 

“Maybe we’ll figure something out in questioning,” Reid says hopefully. 

Morgan’s phone suddenly goes off, and he hits the button to answer. “You’re on speaker, babygirl.” 

“I found the security footage from those three places, the ones that Lucas was at on his supposed road trip when the third family was hit,” Garcia says, voice slightly tinny through the phone.  

“And?” Hotch asks. 

“I was getting there,” she says. “Lucas wasn’t there. He wasn’t on any of the footage—his sister was.” 

Hotch frowns. You? 

“You’re sure?” he asks. 

“I’m always sure,” Garcia responds. “And I don’t know if Spencer is there, but he also wasn’t there at the AA meeting—I combed through the whole meeting, and he didn’t show up at any point. Just another guy that looked like him.” 

“And you’re sure about that, too?” Hotch asks again. 

“What is with this questioning of my abilities?” she asks, offended. “Yes. I’ve stared at so many pictures of Lucas Hartford over these past few days that I’ve got him burned into my brain.” 

“Thanks, babygirl,” Morgan says. “We’ll call back if we need anything.” 

“And you’re always welcome in this house of miracles,” she muses. Morgan chuckles before he hangs up. 

“Lucas gave her his card,” Reid realizes. “It’s an easy alibi, but it falls apart when you look into it even a little bit.” 

“Probably seemed solid to him at the time,” Morgan says. “He doesn’t seem like a detail oriented guy.” 

Prentiss frowns. “That means he’s back on the chopping block. We can put him at the scene of every murder.” 

Hotch leans over the table and grabs Lucas’s file, and he pulls out the page compiling his family. “His father died a year ago from liver failure. Hartford got out of jail nine months ago after a six year stint.” 

“If he’s been plotting some elaborate murder of his father for years, just to get out of jail and find out he drank himself to death?” Morgan shakes his head. “He’d snap. It doesn’t feel like justice.” 

“He thinks he’s saving the kids of these parents that he kills,” Reid says. “He sees himself in them—he can’t look past his own childhood, and he assumes those kids must want their parents dead too.” 

“He’s trying to get back at his dad,” Prentiss says. “We know that.” 

“But that’s not his main goal,” Reid insists. “If his dad died when he was a kid, the abuse would have stopped. His mom wouldn’t be the battered wife anymore, and he wouldn’t be the battered kid.” 

“His goal has always been protection,” Hotch realizes. “Yes, he’s getting his revenge by killing his father over and over, but ultimately, he’s trying to save himself.” 

“But he didn’t anticipate the kids being home this time,” Prentiss says. “He had to kill them too.” 

“If he‘s seeing himself in these children, recreating what he never got to do, then that means that he effectively died in this scenario,” Reid says. 

“He didn’t get what he wanted,” Morgan says. “That’s gonna take a toll on him.”

“He’s coming to the end of the line,” Prentiss nods. 

Hotch’s brain is working overtime as they work information off of each other. They’re so damn close—they just need the last piece of the puzzle. If they find Lucas’s next victim, they find him. 

“His next crime will probably be his last before he goes out himself,” Reid says. 

“You think it’ll be a murder-suicide?” Morgan asks. 

“It’s common with family annihilators,” Reid says. “Hell, it’s common with anyone who sees no future beyond their murders. It’s their way out.” 

And then the answer hits Hotch like a ton of bricks. Reid is still rambling next to him. 

“If his dad was still alive, I’d say he would be the target. But the only one left—”

“—is his sister,” Hotch grits out, and he’s dashing out of the conference room before anyone can stop him. 

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, and he turns to Prentiss with wild eyes. “Where the hell is he going?” 

“The last victim,” she says as she starts following him. “The one person he never managed to save.” 

“Goddammit,” Morgan curses, and he grabs his phone from the table, dialing Garcia as fast as she can while he runs. Reid is close behind him.  

“What’s up, sugar?” she asks. “Got anymore leads?” 

He laughs dryly. “We’ve got a big one, babygirl. Lucas has finally reached the end of the road — he’s going for his sister. I need you to call JJ and Rossi and—” 

“Send them the Hartford address and fill them in on everything?” she interrupted, and he could hear her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Already on it.” 

“What would I do without you?” he asks. 

“Be half the man and twice as sad,” she says. “I’ve got to call JJ. Be safe, my love.” 

“Always,” he responds, and he hangs up. 

Hotch distantly registers Prentiss stopping by the chief to alert him of what’s going on, because he’s in the fog of a rampage. He’s in the driver’s seat before he knows it, starting the car, and he sees Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid running out after him. 

Prentiss takes shotgun and Morgan and Reid file into the back, and they’ve all got Kevlar vests in their hands. He didn’t really think of that through his haze. 

“We’ve got an extra one for you,” Reid says, reading his mind. 

“Thank you. I— I know what you’re all thinking—” Hotch starts, but Prentiss shakes her head.

“Just drive.” Her lips set themselves in a taut line. “We’ve got a murder to stop.”  

And he does. 

-

You sit on the curb, surrounded on either side by a box of your things. Packing up everything made you realize how little you had at his place. You thought you’d integrated yourself into his life fully, but it really just took an afternoon while he was in a lecture to disappear. 

Summer has fully turned to winter, and you’re as morose as the weather. This side of town looks so depressing without the warmer months to pick it up—the sidewalks are lined with dead trees, the grass is shriveled up and yellowing, and you feel like you’re living in grayscale. 

A shiver runs through you, the weather only partly to blame. 

Amy is supposed to pick you up, but as usual, she’s running late. You don’t know if it’s a personal issue or DC traffic has just struck again, but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’re stuck here, and your bad luck seems intent on making it worse, because you watch a familiar car pull around the corner. 

It parks a distance away—there’s no space in front of the complex, and he always complained that they didn’t do assigned spots—and you have to hold back a scornful scoff. 

Of course you have to deal with this now. 

Aaron picks up his pace when he gets out of the car, surprise—and what you think is shame—painted on his face. He says your name when he slows down. 

“You’re already packed.” 

You shrug. “I’m nothing if not efficient.” 

“I could’ve helped you with all this,” Aaron says, frowning. 

“Why do you think it’s done already?” you ask. 

His throat bobs and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let me save you the pain of chivalry,” you say. “I’ve got a friend coming to pick me up. I’ve already found a place. I called your property manager the other day and argued my way out of the lease, but I still paid my next month. You’re welcome.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says. 

“You know what they say about a clean break,” you intone.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron tries again. To his credit, he looks like he means it. Against his credit, it’s about the fiftieth time you’ve heard it from him in the past two weeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you get that coffee,” you say with a grim smile, “should I?” 

His lips pull into a taut line. “I didn’t cheat on you.” 

“I know,” you say. It’s the one thing you do believe. “I just don’t think you ever fell out of love with her.” 

Mercifully, you see Amy’s car pulling up in the distance. She’s your only friend with an SUV, so at least your boxes will fit. 

“My ride’s here,” you say as you stand up, and you pick up one of your boxes. Amy throws on her hazards and she gets out to open her trunk. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she breathes. “Traffic was awful, and Jake has been so annoying—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a slight smile as you put your box in the back. “You’re already doing me a huge favor.”  

“I want us to still be friends,” Aaron calls. When you turn back, he has your other box in his hands, his expression shamelessly desperate. Amy glares daggers at him. 

“Why?” you ask innocently. “So I can go without talking to you for ten years, ask you for a coffee when I’m in town, and then get you to leave Haley?” 

“That’s not what happened,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

You take the box from him and smile thinly. 

“Have a good rest of your life, Aaron. I hope it doesn’t involve me ever again.”

-

You let out a noise of frustration as you struggle to get the key into the lock, gritting your teeth as you try to fit it in. It’s always been finicky, but you just don’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. Thankfully, just when you start getting annoyed, you get it open. 

You get a few steps in before your eyebrows rise, the sight of your brother at the kitchen table a surprise. He’s got his head in his hands, and your surprise turns to concern.

“Lucas,” you say with a slight smile, shutting the door behind you, “I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight.”

His attention shoots to you immediately as he says your name, and he looks slightly out of it. “I was wondering when you were gonna get back.”

“Stole the words right out of my mouth,” you say wryly, and you ruffle his hair with your free hand as you walk past him. He swats your hand away in brotherly protest, and you snort. “This place has been quiet without you. Well— except for the cops. They were pretty loud.” 

“They haven’t been back, have they?” 

You look back at him and notice his leg is bobbing up and down insanely fast, and he keeps scratching at the soft wood of your table with his nail. 

Your smile fades. “Don’t tell me you’ve been drinking.”

“Of course I haven’t,” he insists, but you turn on the kitchen light, then move closer to peer into his eyes against his protests. 

“At least you’re not high,” you murmur, taking one last look before you pull away. “And stop ruining the table. I need it to last for the next ten years.” 

He huffs, and you can practically hear him roll his eyes, but he stops. 

“Did you go to class today?”

“You don’t have to act like Mom,” Lucas says, crossing his arms again with another huff. 

“And you don’t have to act like a child.” You roll your eyes as you set your tote bag on the countertop and begin unpacking the groceries you bought. “I’m asking you about your day—that’s definitely not acting like Mom.”

“Yes,” he mocks. “I went to class.”

“Good.” You glance back at him. “I’m proud of you, Luke. You’ve been making progress.” 

His smile is a bit thin, but he nods. “Thanks. How was work?”

You scoff and shake your head as you put a couple things in the pantry. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, Marie’s going to get me fired someday if she keeps her bullshit up.”

“She’s still on it?” Luke asks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. 

“Don’t act like you know what I’m talking about,” you say. “Just agree with me.” 

“I agree with you,” he says. 

“That’s it,” you muse. 

Your eyes fall back on your bag, and you’re reminded of what you meant to do next time your brother showed up. 

“Oh—” You go back over to the kitchen table for your bag and pull out your wallet. You slide a debit card out and hold it out to your brother. “Thanks for letting me use it while I was up in Des Moines. I finally got my bank to get rid of the freeze on my card.” 

“…Of course,” he says, and he takes it back. “Glad I could help.” 

“I’ll pay you back, obviously,” you say as you get back to your groceries. “I just have to wait to get paid again.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “And uh— you never answered me. Did the cops come by again?” 

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “You have nothing to worry about, Luke. I think they finally realized they were barking up the wrong tree.”

“…Good,” he says. “I can tell they’ve stressing you out.”

“Like that looks any different than my normal state,” you say wryly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You recall the shock you felt when you opened the door to Aaron, and how nervous you were on the drive to the precinct. It’s almost been a decade, and yet he still has an effect on you that he has no right to. 

“You remember that guy I dated when I was still in law school? Aaron Hotchner?”

“I think? I was in jail, so.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know I told you about him when I visited you while we were together.” 

“I remember you telling me how he broke your heart,” Luke says. 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“Then what are you saying?” 

“That he’s with the FBI now. The BAU,” you enunciate, and you huff. “He’s one of the guys on this case, coincidence that it is. They came here—they even brought me in for an interview.”

He frowns. “What’d you say?”

“The truth.” You pull your cutting board and a knife out of a drawer and get to work washing your vegetables. “That I didn’t know anything, and neither of us are involved in either way.” You shake your head with a sigh. “They must believe it, because they haven’t come back.” 

“What have they said about me?” he asks. 

“I’m not supposed to say.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re innocent, but I could get charged with obstruction, and I really don’t feel like dealing with that…” 

You trail off into a sigh as you finish washing the peppers and set them on a towel. “I hope they find whoever’s doing it, though. It is freaking me out that there’s a murderer out there.” 

You pick up your knife and start cutting them up—they’re not the freshest, but it’s all Kroger had after work—and you glance back at Luke. “You really shouldn’t be going out so often with this going on, y’know. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m careful.” 

“I doubt that,” you say wryly. “Still, though. I worry about you.” 

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” he asks. “I’m your older brother.” 

“I worry about everything,” you say. “It’s my thing.” 

You hear him huff a laugh and you smile a bit to yourself. You get through your first pepper before you remember what’s been nagging at you your whole ride home. 

“Oh— can you get the TV?” you ask. “Channel 8, I think. Marcy is getting interviewed for something with her nonprofit, and I told her I’d record it for her.”

Lucas doesn’t respond, though you hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “I think they have a fundraiser coming up or something…” you trail off and shake your head as you scrape the cut peppers onto a plate. “God. I need to start paying attention in the break room.”

Another few seconds pass, and you don’t hear the television switch on. You huff and turn your head slightly. “Luke, I’m making dinner tonight. This is the least you could do.” 

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a murmur, but you can tell he’s much closer than he was before. 

You don’t even get the chance to turn around before something crashes against your head and your vision goes dark. You feel yourself fall to the ground, and your head hits the floor hard. 

Then, there’s nothing. 

-

Hotch has been breaking every speeding law there is. 

The station isn’t too far from your house, but it’s still too far. All he can see is your body, crippled and lifeless just like every other victim they’ve had to look at. 

It should never have gotten to this point. Lucas has been a suspect for the first day, but they looked to other suspects, got caught up in statements from neighbors and the kids of the victims. 

If Hotch just found him and booked him on the first day, this wouldn’t be happening. Your life wouldn’t be in danger. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

“I seriously think we’re looking at a murder-suicide if this gets to play out,” Reid speaks up from the backseat. “This is his way of ending this for both of them—the ultimate protection of his sister.”

“No one can hurt her if she’s dead,” Morgan mutters. 

“Hotch,” Prentiss starts, treading carefully, “are you sure you’re okay to lead this?”

“Yes,” he says, though he wants to say what kind of question is that?

You were together a lifetime ago in law school, yes, and he might still have feelings for you that he didn’t even realize were there, yes—but he’s an agent and a professional before all of that. 

It doesn’t matter that you have history. It doesn’t matter that you likely hate him. 

It doesn’t matter that he thought he was going to marry you one day, and then was watching you drive out of his life after he got back with his high school girlfriend another day.  

Aaron Hotchner is not going to let you die. It’s as simple as that. 

Hotch’s phone rings and he picks it up and flips it open immediately. “Talk to me, Garcia.”

“JJ and Rossi are on their way,” she says. “Are you headed to their place?” 

“Yes,” he says, and he puts it on speaker. “I’ve got Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid with me still.” 

“Do you think there’s anywhere else he could be?” Morgan asks. “If he’s going to kill her, he might not want to do it in this house.” 

“Already a step ahead of you, my love,” she says, and he can hear mouse clicks through the phone. “They grew up in a house in St. Charles—it’s abandoned, from the looks of it, some place on the outskirts. Never got another buyer after the past owners moved out. I’m sending the address to Emily right now.”

Prentiss gets a buzz on her phone and she nods in confirmation after flipping it open. Hotch immediately switches lanes and makes a U-turn, his jaw clenching. 

“Tell me how to get there, Prentiss,” he says. “He’s there.”

“You need to get on I-70,” she says, and then her brow furrows. “How do you know?”

“He’s killed everyone else in their homes because he sees it as the source of it all. His sister’s rented place isn’t personal enough.” Hotch shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t he want to go back to theirs to end it all?”

“Hotch.” Penelope’s voice rings out in the car, and he doesn’t even realize he forgot to hang up. 

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says, and he rushes to turn it off speaker and press it to his ear. “I… I know how important this is to you.”

Hotch’s throat bobs and his eyes burn with the beginnings of tears. He blinks them away—he can’t be weak now. He can’t let his team see him be weak now. “Dare I ask how?”

“I found an article about GW’s mock trial team,” she says. “Kind of went down a rabbit hole from there.”

Somehow, he huffs the slightest laugh. It feels like a lifetime ago—it honestly is, at this point. Before he saw carnage and gore on a daily basis and tried to solve it, when he thought the DA’s office was the endpoint, when he came home to your smiling face every night. 

And now… 

Hotch’s spine somehow stiffens, and he knows the other three in the car are watching him. He can’t decide whether he cares or not. 

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“No problem,” she says, and he can almost hear her blink in the pause. “Uh— for what, exactly?” 

For the memory, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not right now, so he tries his best to snap out of it. 

“Keep a watch on the patrol cars,” he says instead. “Update JJ and Rossi on our plan, but tell them to stay on their path. I’m sure I’m right, but we need to cover our bases.” 

“Of course, sir.” He hears her fingers flying across the keys. “I’ve got yours and the squad cars’ locations up—I’ll call them now.” 

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Good luck, Hotch,” Garcia says softly. 

Hotch hangs up before he gets too emotional. Penelope has a way of bringing that side out of him. 

“We’ll get him,” Prentiss assures. She’s been watching him this whole time, he can feel it—she’s been attuned far too keenly on this entire part of the case involving you and him. “And we’ll save her.” 

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and for once, Hotch can’t find the words. 

-

It feels like your head is slowly being cranked in a vice when you eventually wake up, a dull but insistent pain. Your arm stings too, but you don’t know why. 

You blink a few times as you try to figure out where you are, a low groan slipping out as you fully come back into consciousness, and you move to rub the grogginess out of your eyes. 

Your arms don’t move. You try again, panic spiking your heart for a moment, and that’s when you realize you’re in a chair—tied to a chair, your wrists bound together behind you and your ankles bound to the chair legs. 

Now the panic fully sets in. There’s a murderer in St. Louis, but you don’t fit the victimology from what you’ve seen, but does any of that fucking matter when you’re stuck in something out of a horror movie?

Lucas was the only one there with you. So either he’s in the same situation, or he—

“You’re finally awake,” a voice murmurs. When he comes into view and sits down across from you, your heart stops. 

For a moment, all you can do is stare at your brother with wide eyes. You see the gun in his hand through your peripherals, but you don’t look away from his gaze. 

“I was worried I was too rough,” he says softly. “But you’ve always been resilient.” 

“Lucas,” you breathe. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s finally going to be over,” he says, ignoring your panic. “We’ve been hurting our whole lives because of that bastard of a father, and I can finally make it all stop.” 

Your brother is fucking crazy. He’s fucking crazy, and he’s going to kill you.

You’ve spent two weeks telling Aaron he was crazy and your brother was innocent, and now he’s going to be proven right when he finds your dead body. 

You try to tamp down on your panic. You don’t have a law degree, sure, and you never officially practiced, but you’ve been a good speaker, a persuasive one, all your life. 

And if there’s ever been a fucking time to be persuasive, it’s now. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you whisper. “We— we can talk if you want to talk.” You tug at your ankle restraints. “This is unnecessary.” 

He shakes his head. “I know you. You’d run.” 

“Come on.” You manage as much of a smile as you can. “I’ve always been there for you, Luke. Why would this be any different?” 

“…You’ve always been too nice,” he says, and he sets the gun down on his leg. At least he doesn’t have his finger on the trigger. “Anyone rational would’ve kicked me to the curb when I asked you for help.” 

“You’re my brother,” you whisper. “I— I love you, Lucas. I’d never do that to you.” 

“Family’s supposed to be everything, right?” He shakes his head. “You were the only one of us that understood that. You were there to pick me up every time my sentence was up.” 

“I’ve always believed in you,” you say. 

He huffs a monotone laugh as he stares at the ground. “You’re definitely the only one.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true.” 

“Mom didn’t care enough to stop anything,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “And Dad wished I was dead every goddamn day. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but he definitely tried.” 

You can’t defend your parents. Your dad’s a piece of shit, and your mom didn’t stop anything he did—but you could never find it in yourself to fully hate her because he hurt her too, with more than just bruises. 

“I’ve dreamt of killing our dad every day for twenty years,” Lucas says. “And that old bastard had to fuck me over one last time and die while I was in jail.”

You remember when you got the news. You were next of kin—your mother was dead, and your brother was incarcerated—so you got the call from the hospital. You deliberated for hours before you bought a plane ticket to Montana—apparently that was where he fucked off to drink himself to death—and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt more numb than when you were sitting in some lawyer’s office, listening to him drone on about his will and how his estate would be divided. 

“So you killed all of those people?” you asked. “Because you didn’t get to kill our dad first?” 

“I was saving those kids!” Luke yells, and you shrink in on yourself. “Saving them before their parents could fuck them up like ours did to us!” 

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeat. “You’re just letting Dad win. Proving every shitty thing he said about you.” 

“And that’s the zinger, isn’t it? Luke laughs and shakes his head. “He was right. We’re a whole family of fuck-ups. An alcoholic abuser, a battered wife, a nonstop jailbird, and you…” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You should be out there prosecuting people like me.”

“He ruined us,” Luke murmurs. “And I’m finally going to fix it.” 

All you can do is stare at your brother, wide and teary eyed. You can’t find the words, but you don’t have to. 

Police sirens begin to filter through the air as they get closer, and Luke huffs. “Of course.” He eyes you. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say weakly. 

When he leaves to peer out the front door, you take a second to look at your surroundings. It takes a second because they’re so decrepit, but you could never forget. 

Luke brought you back to your childhood home—the place in St. Charles, rotten down to its bones. It’s abandoned by now, but the atmosphere is nothing less than oppressive. There’s a reason you graduated high school a year early, why you never came back once you got to college—except with Aaron, to help your mom move her things out. 

You refuse to die here. Even if you have to claw your way back through the gates of Hell inch by inch—you will not die here. 

You hear footsteps, and when Lucas comes back in, he has a crazed glint in his eye. He shakes his head as his finger returns back to the trigger, and you can’t help but flinch. He won’t. Not now. 

“Looks like your friends the FBI are here,” he drawls. “You said you didn’t tell them anything.” 

“I didn’t,” you insist. “They’re profilers—they figure things out.” 

He shakes his head. “They don’t realize that I have to do this.” Luke kneels down in front of you and takes your chin in an iron grip. “This is the only way to end our pain.” 

He lets go of you then stands up, moving behind you—you want to protest, but you don’t get the chance. He presses his gun to your temple and then the door is broken down. Four agents rush in, guns at the ready. Aaron leads them, and he’s got fire blazing in his eyes.

“FBI,” he barks. “Hands up.”

Lucas doesn’t seem fazed, his breathing staying the same. You stare right at Aaron, unfiltered fear in your eyes, and you feel torn bare. He’s going to watch your brother put a bullet in your head. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says smoothly. “This is a family matter.” 

“Put the gun down, Lucas,” Aaron says. 

“You know my name,” he says. “I know yours too, Aaron Hotchner. My sister told me you were with the feds. She also told me you broke her heart.”

“Put the gun down,” he repeats. 

“I don’t think I will,” Luke says. “You see, I don’t go around just kidnapping people for fun. I have a purpose here.” He tilts his head to the side. “But you know that, don’t you? You’re all profilers.” 

“You’ve been targeting families that look like your own,” he says. “You think that killing them will end the pain inside you, and protect those kids in a way that you never got.” 

“I don’t think it,” he bites, “I know it. If my dad had been shot thirty years ago, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“This isn’t going to bring you peace,” Aaron says. “Your sister has been the only person to stay by your side through every part of your life. Do you really want to lose that?” 

“Trust me,” Luke says. “I’m not losing her.” 

He flicks the safety off and you flinch. He’s going to kill you. 

“Put the gun down,” another agent warns. 

“If you all don’t leave right now, I’ll shoot her.” Your whole body stiffens as he presses the gun harder into the side of your head, your breathing going off kilter. “Except you, Aaron Hotchner. You can stay.”

“We’re not doing that,” the woman says. Agent Prentiss, you think. 

“Really?” Luke chuckles. “You think you hold the cards here?” 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says. “Go.” 

Agent Prentiss frowns, and the other two men look different levels of puzzled. They obviously doubt the decision, but they don’t doubt Aaron, because one by one, they leave. 

“Wow,” Luke muses. “They really trust you.” 

“Because I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Aaron says. “Deep down, you know you’re not protecting her. Not by hurting her.” 

“I’m not hurting her,” he says. “She’s always been the one to keep me safe over the years—I’m finally paying the favor back. I’m finally taking her pain away.”

“You were abused as children. Both of you.” Aaron looks at your brother. “Your sister always tried to protect you, but it never worked. It just made it worse for her, and it made you feel worthless. You’re her older brother. You’re the one that was supposed to protect her.”

“My sister said you’re profilers,” he says, and though his tone is lazy, you know your brother. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. “Is that what you’re doing right now? Profiling me?” 

“You would never be good enough for your father, and your mother would never do anything to stop it,” Aaron continues. “All you had was your sister, and even that wasn’t good enough—you hurt her just as much as your dad did. At least your dad didn’t think he was a good person.” 

Luke growls, and he puts a hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “Shut up.” 

“Your sister has told me you can be more than this,” he says. “And I think she’s right. You’re better than this—better than living between the margins and jail.” 

“I’ve had a hole in my chest since I was born,” Luke mutters. “And I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s just grown and grown and grown. This— this aching pit of pain, and he caused it. You’ve got it too— I know it.” 

“I— I do,” you say. And you’re not lying. You’ve had a pit of despair in you for as long as you can remember. The only difference is that you’ve fought every goddamn day of your life to keep it from consuming you. “And it hurts, Luke. Trust me, I know. It took me so long to even be able to deal with it, but I know how to. I can help you—we can both walk out of here.” 

“No,” he whispers. “No—we can’t.”  

“Yes, we can,” you plead. “I love you, Luke. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life helping you if that’s what it takes to get rid of that hole.” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him. Aaron never takes his eyes away from you. 

“I’ve never been able to protect her,” Luke murmurs. “Not from our dad, not from the world, not even from you, Aaron Hotchner.” He presses the gun harder than ever into your head, like he wants to bury the metal in your skull along with the bullet. “But that all ends now.” 

You screw your eyes shut. You don’t want to see Aaron’s face when your brother kills you. 

And then it happens so quickly you barely process it. 

There’s two gunshots, almost at the same time. You scream, first because of the gunshots, then because of the sudden roaring pain in your side. There’s a thud next to you, your eyes shoot open, and you see your brother’s lifeless body fall to the ground. 

You scream again—you can’t even control it, it just rips out of you at the sight of the hole in his head and the blood pooling beneath it—and Aaron drops his gun to rush forward. The rest of his team thunders in after him, all in guns and bulletproof vests, and they’re talking, but you can’t focus on a single goddamn thing because your brother’s dead body is right next to you. 

Aaron pulls out a pocket knife and begins to cut through your restraints, and the instant he finishes you collapse. He catches you without a second thought, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. 

Torrential sobs wrack your entire body as you bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, every part of you shaking as the reality of it all hits with full force. 

Your brother is a serial killer. He killed ten people, he tried to kill you. And now he’s dead. 

The only part you had left of your family—gone, just like that, with four other families ruined in his wake. 

Aaron’s soft voice in your ear is the only thing bringing you back from the edge of hyperventilation, his own hold on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs and he shrugs off his windbreaker to wrap it around your arms. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“He’s gone,” you choke out, voice muffled as you speak into his chest. “He’s gone, and he tried to—”

A fresh round of emotions hit you, unable to get the words out, and you fully break down in Aaron’s arms. 

“I know.”

Aaron’s fingers linger on your side and you feel some dull pain, but you feel his breath still for a moment. 

“You were shot,” he says with your name. “We have to get you to a hospital.” 

You don’t even feel it. God, you don’t feel anything. There’s a distant ringing in your ears, an insistent pain in your skull, and you finally realize Aaron is right when you pull away and see the blood on his fingers. 

But black spots start to fill your vision. You may not feel it, but your body holds the score. The pain intensifies in your side as your adrenaline starts to slow down, and you collapse against Aaron. 

“Get an EMT in here!” he yells, keeping an arm wrapped around you. “We’ve got a GSW— she’s losing blood fast!” 

You can feel Aaron’s rapid heartbeat, can feel his steady arms as he keeps you propped up. You feel the warmth of his body, feel the warmth draining out of yours. 

“Aaron,” you whisper, your strength fading. You don’t think he hears you.

He helps you up and you’re suddenly hoisted onto a stretcher, and he’s beside you as the EMTs run you out of your childhood home. The night is a blurry canvas of red and blue lights, and your eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete. 

“Aaron,” you try again, and you have enough left in you to grasp his cheek. “Thank you.” 

And as the world goes black around you for the second time, you see his lips form your name. 

It’s not a bad thing, you think before darkness overtakes you, for Aaron Hotchner to be the last thing you see before you die. 

-

You wake up in the hospital alone.  

You don’t know what you expect. You have few acquaintances, fewer friends, and the last part of your family is dead after he tried to kill you. 

The real surprise is that you wake up at all. 

Lucas is dead. 

He tried to kill you. You thought he succeeded. 

You let out a slow, even breath, accompanied only by the sounds of beeping machines. It still doesn’t exactly feel real. 

You’ve spent the last two weeks defending your brother against every accusation, and you ended it in the hospital—well and truly alone for the first time in your life. 

You look at the television. Some muted soccer game is playing, and you’re thankful. You were worried that you and your brother would be the topic of the day. 

Who are you kidding? You’re going to be the topic of the year. He killed ten people. He tried to kill you, and you think he nearly did. He shot you, after all. 

You let your head fall back against the pillow. All of your limbs feel insurmountably heavy, your side aches like hell, and you’ve got the worst headache of your life. 

And you can’t stop playing it all over in your mind. 

He was going to kill you. 

Your own brother, your flesh and blood, the only person you had left, tried to kill you and would have killed you had it not been for the BAU. 

Had it not been for Aaron Hotchner. 

The door opens and someone walks through, your eyes following the movement, and when he sees it, he pauses. And so do you—apparently the devil appears even when you think of him. 

“You’re awake,” Aaron says after a moment. It’s the third time he’s sounded surprised since you’ve met him again. Seeing you, finding out your mom is dead, seeing you. 

But there’s relief there, too.

He has a coffee in his hand and his tie is undone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his forearms. It makes you realize his suit jacket has been slung over the back of the chair near your bedside. 

“How long have you been here?” you ask, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

Aaron closes the door and sets his coffee on the table before he answers you. “Three days.” 

“And how long have I been here?” 

“Three days,” he says. “You suffered head trauma, they discovered drugs in your system, and… you were shot. You had to go into emergency surgery.” 

You frown, and he answers before you can ask any of them. “…Your brother. After he knocked you out, he used something to… keep you out. And after I shot him, he still got one off—thankfully, as he was falling. The bullet hit you in the side instead of the head.”

“How bad was it?” you ask. 

Aaron glances away. “You died on the table. They managed to bring you back, but…” 

“I guess Luke did succeed,” you say absentmindedly. Aaron doesn’t laugh, and you glance away too. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes.” 

He shakes his head. “If anyone’s allowed to joke about this, it’s you.” 

Your lips twitch for a moment, but then you look back at him as he takes a seat at your bedside again. He looks— god, he just looks tired. Tired and ragged and downtrod, and you can’t imagine you look much better.  

“You were out for two days after,” he explains. “This is the first time you’ve woken up.”

“Why are you here, Aaron?” you ask quietly. “Why have you been here?” 

Aaron frowns. “Where else would I be?”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up, and you feel the telltale pinpricks of tears. You blink them away before they can start. 

“My brother was a serial killer, Aaron.” Your hands clench into fists as you stare at the wall. “He killed ten people while he was living with me and I— and I didn’t even fucking notice.” Your gaze moves back to him. “I went against all of you because I thought I knew him, and look where it got me.” 

“It’s not a crime to want to see the best in people,” he says. “Especially your family.” 

“It’s a crime to fucking murder people,” you huff, and it’s only slightly unhinged. “I— I thought I knew him, and I didn’t. And if I did, maybe none of these people would’ve had to die.”

“Don’t blame this on yourself,” Aaron demands. “Lucas was lost. Mentally ill. He was on a path for revenge, for his deranged idea of protection—nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him.” 

You shake your head. “It might be easy for you to say that, Aaron, but I— I can’t. He’s my brother. I gave him a place to live, I gave him easy access to families— god, I fought with you all for two weeks about his innocence, all while he was planning his next fucking murder!” 

“It is not your fault,” he repeats, slower and enunciating the words. “He was the only member left of your family, and you loved him. You were just stubborn, and that’s nothing new.” 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You’ve had these walls up for so long, especially this past week, and now that everything’s come to a head and you’re in the hospital and your fucking brother is dead, the floodgates have opened. “I have to plan a funeral because I’m the only one left to plan one, but— but does he even deserve one? He’s a serial killer, and he tried to kill me for god’s sake, but he’s my brother and even though he’s gone he’s still all I have left and—” 

You break off as you suck in a huge breath of air, the notion shaky as you clench your hands into fists to keep the rest of your body from doing the same. 

“And I just don’t know what to do,” you repeat, barely a whisper. 

You meet Aaron’s eyes, almost desperately. You feel like you’ll shatter into a million different pieces if you even breathe wrong and he might be the only solid thing in your life. 

“Whatever you do,” he says, “you don’t have to do it alone. Not if you don’t want to.” 

“Aaron,” you start shakily, but he continues. 

“I know what you think, and that’s not what I’m suggesting.” Aaron pauses for a moment, and it’s obvious how carefully he’s crafting his words. “I’ve… always regretted how we left things. And I regret losing touch with you. This isn’t the way I would’ve liked to meet you again. But I’m thankful I have.”

He pulls a card out of his shirt pocket and holds it out to you. You realize it’s his business card, and it’s got his number. 

“I’m sorry for the formality,” he says dryly, “but I don’t exactly go around prepared to give out my number for purposes other than work.” 

You take it without giving yourself the chance to think about it. You run your finger around the sharp edge of the cardstock, pressing the pad of your thumb against the corner. 

“Years ago, you wished me a good life, and that you didn’t want to be involved in it,” he says, still treading carefully. You can’t believe he remembers the last thing you said to him. “But— but a lot has changed since then, and I hope that has as well.” 

“I’d like you to be a part of my life again,” Aaron finally says, “if you want to be a part of mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Two and a half years of law school flash behind your eyes—coffee shop dates and endless hours spent studying at the library. Movie nights cuddled on his couch, hauling boxes out of your house at an ungodly hour to get away from your roommates. An unhealthy amount of all-nighters immediately followed by going out to celebrate a miracle of an A on an exam. Getting through every soul-sucking part of earning a J.D. together, falling apart before either of you could make it to the other side, and somehow…

Somehow, you’ve ended up on a completely different side together. 

“My life isn’t going to be easy,” you say faintly. “Especially… moving through this.” 

“My life isn’t easy either,” he says. “I’m divorced with a kid and I try to solve murders every day.” 

“It’s not a contest.” An attempt at a joke, but it falls flat for you. Aaron’s lips still quirk at the edges the slightest bit. 

“Getting through this certainly won’t be easy,” he agrees. “But I have more experience than most in these sorts of things. So if you ever need anything, call. Please.” 

“I imagine you’re pretty busy,” you murmur. “Unit chief and all.” 

Aaron shrugs. “I make time for the things I care about.” 

Thankfully, you don’t have to figure out how to respond to that, because there’s a knock on the door, and a nurse walks in after you call a come in.

“It’s good to finally see you awake, sweetheart,” the nurse says with a smile. It warms you from the inside out. 

“It’s nice to be awake,” you say. Her smile widens and she moves over to the computer in the side of the room—to add some things before she makes her checkup, you assume. 

“I’ll give you some time alone,” Aaron says.

Before he can stand up, you grab his hand. It’s fully on instinct, and he looks just as surprised as you feel.  

“Don’t go,” you plead, and it’s almost a whisper. “I— just— please.” 

Aaron stares at you for a moment, that shock glinting in his eyes before it transforms into something a lot warmer. He nods and sits down. 

“Okay.” 

And he stays. 

This time, he stays.

[bunnliix]

Somebody I used to Know

I wrote this a couple weeks ago when I was feeling angsty, so this is not a reflection of my mood today, since I got Stray Kids tickets! But, have some angst with this fic because this fic hurts/

Pairing: Chan x reader Summary: You realize the distance between you and Chan, and think about your friendship with the idol. wc: 2.6k Genre: Angst Warnings: Angst (it's really angsty y'all), hurt/no comfort, reader being sad, crying, anxiety, reader having a really rough time here, panicking on the side of Felix and Chan, yelling I think, this is just really sad and we got no happy ending. Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society Beta'd by the lovely @palindrome969

It had taken you a while to realize just how distant you and Chris had become. You had been friends with him for years, even before he had left for Seoul to pursue being an idol. Despite the long distance between the two of you, your friendship had remained strong, both of you finding time to maintain it and spend time with each other.

Now, you had realized that more and more time passed between the times you would talk with him. It made sense, Chan had gotten busier as time had passed, Stray Kids shooting up in popularity. But it had really been in the last year that he had messaged you less and less. You had to message him first most of the time nowadays, and even then, the likelihood of getting a response quickly, or at all, wasn’t great. You felt like you found out more about what he was up to via social media, than from Christopher himself. You were used to hearing every little thing that happened, both for himself personally, and for his group. You didn’t quite know when that stopped, but it had, and that feeling and realization hurt. You had been one of his closest friends for years, and now you felt that he was an acquaintance, almost a stranger to you.

And now here you sit, in a hotel in Seoul, having planned a trip to see him and the others. Felix had helped you plan this trip, seeing as you hadn’t gotten a chance to see Chan in a couple years now, due to busy social and work lives. You were grateful to the other Aussie, but now as you sat here to unanswered texts from either man, you felt that maybe this trip had been stupid. You figured Felix would make sure that there was time for you two to meet, but you guessed he forgot, even as close as two days ago, when you checked in for the final time before flying here. 

You laid back on the bed, when your phone buzzed and when you pulled it up to your face, you saw it was a message from Chris.

‘Sorry, I can’t talk now. Can we talk later?’

You sighed, feeling tears well in your eyes as you responded, ‘That’s fine. Talk to you later Chris.’

You wallowed in your sadness for a while, losing track of time while you let yourself drown in the silence of the hotel room. You didn’t know what to do now. Felix still hadn’t answered you, and it’s not like you had ever gotten any of the other’s numbers. Sure, you could go to JYPE and try to see him there, but you didn’t think your chances of even getting in would be good. That left you with a trip to Seoul where you now had nothing to do.

After another hour of laying there, you decided to get up, decided to go and explore the city. Because why not? You should at least use your time here wisely, and despite being friends, you had never travelled to or explored Seoul before.

You decided to wander, letting yourself be guided wherever your feet took you, finding yourself walking down side streets filled with little shops and buying whatever caught your eye. You spent the majority of the daytime that remained like this, just finding the little family run shops and cheering yourself up by buying things that made you happy. 

When you returned to the hotel later that evening, having had dinner and carrying multiple bags, you also found yourself getting a message from Felix.

‘Sorry! I was busy today, the group had rehearsals for our concerts in a couple days. Also, there will be a ticket for you, for the concert in two days. You’ll also have backstage access after the concert ends.’ The message said, along with the location of the concert.

Well, you guessed this will be your chance to see Chris then, even if it was just at a concert. You moved to drop your bags on the table in the room, moving to figure out a suitable outfit for a concert. You found more than a couple options, leaving them laid out to ask Felix his thoughts on them later, figuring the idol might have some opinions.

(linebreak)

You looked up at the arena hosting the concert, finding yourself among thousands of your friend’s fans, and somehow seeing the pickets of him and those dressed up like him only made you feel sadder, not happier. You had been effectively ignored by Chris, the man not having messaged you. And that shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did make standing here today even harder. You no longer felt like a friend, you felt like one of their fans. And no hatred to their fans, they’re wonderful people, but you hated being reduced to coming to a concert for a chance to even see him, let alone talk to him. 

You found a staff member, and asked them for directions to where Felix had told you to go, to retrieve your ticket and anything else you needed. You were quickly directed to where you needed to go, finding one of their managers and after proving you were who you said you were, you were then ushered to the line up with the rest of those who had won the battle for floor tickets. You didn’t really care if you were at the front, and found yourself towards the middle of the line. Though this didn’t stay that way for long, finding yourself pulled by a staff member to your rightful place, at least as far as the number on your wristband told you.

Because you had arrived late, and maybe to the displeasure of those around you, you didn’t have to wait too long before you were let into the stadium. You found yourself right against the barrier, despite your wish not to be that close. But here you were, and within a half an hour, the group your friend led was walking out onto the stage for soundcheck.

You watched as they waved at all of their fans, and you guessed you were now included in that category, and you noticed that Felix saw you, smiling and waving at you, which you returned, though you knew your smile was strained. You could see how the blonde wished he could say hello, but this was not the time nor the place, and he was quickly swept back into the group to start the soundcheck rehearsal for the fans. You watched as they performed song after song, and interacted with their fans in between.

Somehow Chris never walked by your side of the stage, though almost every other member had. You instead watched him as he interacted with the crowd of fans, saw the genuine smile on his face as he did, remembering a time when you got those smiles too. You felt tears well in your eyes, and you quickly tried to blink them away, and just as you wished hadn’t happened, Felix walked by and saw the tears in your eyes before you could hide them. You know he saw them, his eyebrows furrowing in concern and worry, but before he could do anything, he was grabbed by Hyunjin, who dragged him away.

You just stared at the stage for the rest of the soundcheck, which thankfully only lasted for another fifteen minutes. You didn’t quite know what to feel anymore, all of your feelings hitting you at once. You moved towards the back of the area you were at, letting others take your spot at the barricade. You didn’t want to be up close anymore, you fear you would sob if you were there the entire time. And being at the back allowed you to stay away from the view of either Aussie idol when it came time for the actual show to start.

(linebreak)

“Y/n’s here tonight,” Felix said, as he sat down next to Chan.

“What? She’s here?” Chan said, confused. How was she here at the concert, let alone in South Korea? He didn’t know she was supposed to be here, and she should have told him that she was here.

Felix nodded, “Yeah, she’s out in the crowd. She looked like she was going to cry at one point,” he said, both to himself and to Chan, a bit confused at Chan’s reactions. Felix had told the older Aussie that his friend was coming to Korea to see him. How could he have forgotten? He remembered it clear as day, he told the older man while he had been in the studio with 3racha.

“Oh,” Chan said, not sure what to say. He didn’t really know what to do with that. Maybe she was just emotional to finally be able to see him performing? To his knowledge, she had never gotten the chance to see him or the group as a whole perform live.

Before Felix could say anything more, their manager stuck his head into the green room, interrupting anything the blonde was going to say, “Guys, five minutes till show time, let’s go.”

Felix lost any chance of saying anything further, as the group of eight men walked out to start their concert.

The start of the actual concert came very quickly, and you watched as they all came out, their energy insanely high, and even as your emotions swirled within you, and the realizations of what your choices were, you felt yourself be absorbed into that energy as well.

You were merely an observer within the thousands of fans, feeling like you were on the outside of it all. You watched every interaction Chan had with fans, and though you knew it wasn’t the same, you realized that his happiness here was more than you had ever received in recent times. He seemed lively, happy, enjoying life, and as the concert continued, you realized that you no longer had a place in his life.

You realized that no amount of effort you could put into this friendship would make it work. Chan had stopped putting the effort in, and maybe it was time for you to do the same. Taking one long look at your friend on stage, seeing him looking over towards you, though you doubt he even saw you, you saw him smiling and happy, and that was the best way you could think to remember him. You only ever wanted him to be happy, and maybe his happiness didn’t include you anymore. 

Feeling a tear trail down your cheek, you turned and started walking away from the floor, and walking away from your shot at talking to Christopher. You knew that you could have taken the chance to talk to Chris and figure all of this out, but would it really do anything with how much the friendship had died already? 

You silently walked out of the stadium, a clear contrast to all the happy and excited fans who filled the stadium. You had located one of their managers, who had been alerted to your presence, by their recognition of you, and returned the lanyard that would have granted you backstage access. You told them, when asked, that you weren’t feeling well, and that you were returning to your hotel.

It took a while to get back to your hotel room, and instead of changing, you just crawled into the bed and laid there, zoning out and staring up at the ceiling as tears fell down your cheeks. You didn’t know how long you laid there, until your phone started buzzing like crazy, and you found that both Felix and Chan were messaging you. You numbly read through their messages, and as you took a couple deep breaths, you created a group chat for the three of you. 

You first thanked Felix for doing his best to get you and Chan the opportunity to meet up again and hang out. Because you were thankful. He had been helping you do this, as well as informing Chan about it, all while being busy himself. You even thanked him for the concert ticket, and that you were grateful to see them live, just once. As you kept typing, messages from the two came flooding in, each one more concerned than the last. When Felix stopped typing, you think he must have come to one of two conclusions, either you were ending the friendship, or doing something worse than that.

‘Christopher, I will always cherish our memories together, the decade long friendship that we shared. But I think we’re on different paths now, I think fate has said that our journey ends here. So with a heavy heart, I wish you all the best, and I’ll always love you, even though we won’t get to talk anymore. Goodbye Chris.’’

You left the group chat after that, not seeing any of the responses from either idol, and while it took you a moment to push yourself to do it, you deleted both of their numbers. Setting your phone down and ignoring the buzzing, you pulled your laptop out, deciding to cut your trip short, and rebooking your flight to leave midday tomorrow. You knew that as much as you’d like to stay here longer, if you wanted to avoid contact with your now ex-friend, it would be better to leave.

You then moved to pack up your things, not that you had many to begin with, as well as laying out your comfiest outfit for the morning, and packing away the outfit you had on currently. But not before taking one last selfie in it, so you could look back on this day, as sad as it would be.

You had arrived at the airport a couple hours early, having checked out of your hotel room early, knowing Felix had known what hotel you were in, and hoping to avoid that interaction. Thankfully the check-in process was quick, seeing as you were there much earlier than others would be, and it was just under 30 minutes before you were making your way over to security. You were in line waiting to enter security when you heard someone call out your name. You turned your head to find Chan, a hat and mask on, but neither hid his eyes, his eyes that were red and bloodshot as he stared right at you.

“Please! Talk to me!” Chan begged you, standing on the other side of the barrier that separated the two of you.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to muster up the words to respond to him. You knew this was the coward’s way out, but you just turned around and moved into security all while he kept calling out to you, his cries getting more desperate.

You went through security, knowing that he was still on the other side hoping that you’d turn around and come back out. But you couldn’t.

Instead, once you passed through security, you opened up your phone to send him one more text.

‘I’m sorry it had to end like this, Chris. I’m truly sorry. I’m a coward who can’t muster up the words to explain why, but this is better for both of us. I won’t have to worry if you really still want to be friends or if I still have a place in your life, and you can forget about me and continue making your fans happy.’

You knew you could absolutely be the villain in this story, and you were okay being that. No matter what, you couldn’t hurt him. Chris was too good for you to ever do that. You turned your notifications off as you put your phone in your pocket, heading to your gate, and leaving this all behind.

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It’s winter break and silly season 2024/25 which means drama (and officially the end of the series). Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, fluff WC: 4.1k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two || Three

With the final three races of the season a triple header you hadn’t been home in weeks. You had missed your own space and knowing where everything was unlike the hotel rooms you had spent almost a month living out of. What you hadn’t missed was the pile of mail to sort out. Three stacks were neatly comprised on the kitchen table: one each for Lando, Charles and you. A quick skim through them found most were the usual culprits - bills, fan mail and junk - but two stood out. 

A thick brown envelope had a return address for Oxfordshire, England and you tore it open with a squeal. “I got it!”

Your shouts had Lando and Charles dropping the suitcases in the bedroom and even Autumn looked up from where she was playing with her toys in the living room. “Guess who’s back on the grid, baby!”

Your feet were lifted off the floor as you were bear hugged from the front and back, kisses peppering your cheeks that ached from the wide smile. 

“Congratulations, love.”

“Knew you would do it, amour.”

You couldn’t keep still as you reread the welcome letter and the others picked through their mail. 

“Huh,” Lando huffed as he opened an envelope similar to one you also received. “That’s weird.”

“It’s not another pair of panties, is it?” you asked, the item making an unfortunately common appearance in their mail.

“No, it’s from the Vegas Chapel.”

You tore open your envelope too and skimmed over the letter that confirmed the marriage to Lando had been successfully submitted to the State of Nevada, and accepted. “Wait, that’s not right. Who submitted it?”

Charles rushed through his pile searching for the same envelope but there was nothing for him. His brows furrowed and he grabbed the two letters, holding them side by side to see for himself. “What about me?”

A lump formed in your throat and you curled your arms around him. “We’ll figure it out, baby, it’s got to be a mistake.”

It wasn’t a mistake. 

Well, it wasn’t a clerical mistake but the human kind, where the minister's assistant had missed the conversation about the marriage not being legal. She had submitted the paperwork with the rest of the chapel weddings and since yours and Lando’s document was on top it was processed first. The other two were rejected.

You were legally married to Lando, for better or for worse.

–

“We should get ready,” you murmured, not really feeling in the partying mood but Max had returned from the FIA awards and wanted to celebrate his championship win. 

In the week since getting the letter, things hadn’t been the same. Charles was withdrawn, Lando was full of remorse, and you were left trying to figure out a way to reunite your family. Even Autumn was picking up on the tension in the house and was fussier than usual. 

“You can tell Max I am sick,” Charles muttered from the couch he sank into, clutching a cushion to his chest so he could rest his chin on it. 

“You’re not sick.”

“I feel sick.”

“We all feel sick,” Lando added before curling a finger your way and you followed him down the hall to the office. He had spent most of the day locked in the room, talking with lawyers about the best option. It was too late to annul the marriage, he found, and neither of you really wanted to go through the paperwork for a divorce - but if it saved the relationship with Charles then that is what you would do. 

“Steph can draw up the documents,” he said after closing the door and dropping into his computer chair. “We just need to go through our assets and figure out whose is whose.”

“Even though we aren’t actually breaking up?”

“Yeah.” The one word held so much defeat and Lando scratched at his head before tugging the curly strands. “I fucked up, love, I should have just kept my mouth shut and none of this would have happened.” 

You followed his eyes to the picture frames that were still stacked in the corner of his desk. It would have been rubbing salt in the wound for Charles if they had been hung as planned in the bedroom. Taking a seat on Lando’s lap, you brushed his hair back into place and kissed the frown away from his forehead. 

“What if there is a way to show Charles that he is as much a part of this family, without a divorce?” The marriage so far had been kept quiet but a divorce would become public, something you would rather avoid given your seat signing hadn’t yet been announced. 

Lando perked up with hope and you took a deep breath. “How do you feel about changing your name?”

–

Winter break hadn’t got off to the best start but you were trying to remedy that with the two documents laid out on the kitchen table. 

“Charles, can you come here please?” 

Lando fidgeted with his necklace as footsteps padded down the hall. Charles had locked himself away in the gym and his grey shirt was damp with sweat as he looked between the two of you waiting for him.

“Family meeting, sit,” you ordered. You had taken Autumn over to Max’s so there would be no interruptions and she had enough bottles of milk to last the day if needed. “Christmas is coming and I am not having anything ruin this for Autumn’s sake.”

With less than a week to go, the house had nothing to show. There were no decorations hung and the Christmas tree was still in a box in the storage closet. You couldn’t even bear to think about going to the ski resort with everyone and having to put on a brave face. 

“We are going to fix this today,” Lando said with a serious tone.

Charles scoffed, clearly not believing him, but he dropped into the seat at the head of the table and looked down at the papers and pens. “What’s this then?”

“Your choice.” You pointed to the left, and a much thicker stack. “This one is for a divorce. Everything would hopefully go back to the way it was before, but since it will need to be filed in the US it will be publicly accessible. Nothing we can’t handle with a PR team statement, if that’s what you want.”

Charles fingers the pages but didn’t try to read them before turning his attention to the smaller document. “What’s this?”

“A promise,” Lando said, taking Charles hand and trying not to cry when it went limp in his. “You’re my husband, no matter what a stupid piece of paper says, and we are a family. I know how you are feeling, I remember when you two accidentally went public and I thought I was being left behind. But you didn’t, and I won’t ever either. I belong to you.”

“Me too,” you said, taking his other hand. “And we want to show that we are in this together until the very end by changing our last names to Leclerc, if you’ll have us?”

The question hung suspended in the apartment and the only sound came from the clock hanging in the kitchen. The seconds ticked by as Charles quietly contemplated the options in front of him. What he wanted wasn’t a possibility, no matter how hard he wished it was, but he knew he couldn’t continue the way he had been, keeping you both at an arm's length. He could see the bags under your eyes from the restless nights and hated the toll this had taken on everyone. 

Charles tried to remember those three short weeks of bliss, the intimate secret that only the three of you knew about, and he sighed as he realised he hadn’t kept his promise. Rising from the table he grabbed the thick stack of papers and walked away, the office door closing behind him.

“Well, shit,” Lando muttered. “I always imagined being married longer than Kim Kardashian.”

“I know, but it’s his choice and we have to respect that,” you agreed, hanging your head in your hands. “I suppose I should ring James and give him the heads up.”

You couldn’t muster up the energy to make the call though, you just sat there in silence with Lando. Twice he opened his mouth to say something but the words fell short and the minutes continued to abandon the day as if they wanted it to be over just as quickly.

Strange whirring sounds came from the office and Charles dipped across the hall to the storage closet, then into the bedroom before hard banging echoed through the house. Each bang sent a jolt down your spine and your eyes began to burn at the thought of Charles being so angry he had to break things. You looked and Lando and he looked at you, a little shake of head saying, ‘Leave him be’.

Finally, it all went silent and Charles sauntered his way back into the room and dumped an armful of paper shavings into the table along with a hammer. The mountain of shredded paper spread across the wood and some fell into your lap, the barely-legible name of the attorney spelled out on each strip.

“That was a stupid idea,” Charles muttered as he fell back into his chair and scrambled through the rubbish to find the application forms for official name changes. “You’re not getting a fucking divorce.”

“Uh, okay…” Lando said with a frown, his eyes darting to the hammer and then to the hall. “Should I ask what’s broken or are we just ignoring that?”

“I didn’t break anything,” Charles said, clicking the pens and holding one out to you and Lando. “I hung our marriage certificates up where they were meant to be. Now, are you serious about this?”

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” you said as you took the pen. “Are you?”

“You’re mine, and the whole world is going to know it.”

–

Christmas Eve 2024

The long table was in a state of chaos as parents tried to wrangle the older children and the grandparents watched on with amusement, remembering the days when that was them. You shared a smile with your husbands and knew that next year you would be a part of that chaos but for now you were happy to watch on while Autumn played with a plastic spoon in her high chair.

It had become a tradition to open one present before the meal and a small box sat beside the glass of wine you were indulging in, a group present for the three of you. A larger box was just out of Autumn’s reach and Penelope’s was tempting the young girl with a Christmas cracker balanced on top.

“Who wants to go first?” Adam asked, a chorus of ‘me’s’ ringing out from all the kids old enough to understand.

You leaned in to whisper to Charles and Lando, slyly glancing along the line of adults. “$500 says Kelly’s pregnant.”

Lando looked at Max and Kelly who were busy chatting to Daniil and his eyes widened. “Holy shit, you might be right.”

Charles was just confused. “What is going on?”

You watched Kelly take another sip of her drink before Max refilled it, with water. “See, that is not a gin and tonic.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Charles laughed, shaking his head.

“And they invited Daniil.”

“Exactly, that would be more awkward, no?”

You huffed at fault in the logic until you snapped your fingers excitedly. “Except they want P here for the announcement and it was his year to have her for Christmas. Jesus, I am in the wrong line of work, I should be Sherlock.”

Charles picked up your glass and sniffed the wine. “I think it is you who needs water, amour.”

“Does that mean you are up for the bet?”

“I don’t need the money, but I will enjoy taking it from you,” he teased.

Adam quickly gave up trying to have any organisation and let the kids tear into their presents. Luka and Lio were the first to get through the wrapping paper and immediately wanted to play with the racecars. Mila squealed at the unicorn helmet she got to match the bike she had asked Santa for while Athena hadn’t even attempted to open hers as she was distracted by the cheese and cracker board. It was Penelope who sat in silence as she stared at the shirt she unwrapped.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Kelly asked with a knowing grin and you slapped Charles’ leg under the table.

P held up the shirt and started to bounce in her seat, a wide smile splitting her face. “I’m going to be a big sister!”

“I can also take the $500 in the form of sexual favours,” you whispered.

“Happily, but later,” he said before standing up and congratulating Max and Kelly.

“I’m surprised she could keep the secret,” Max said to Charles, his head nodding in your direction as you sank lower into the seat.

“Hmm, is that right?”

“She kind of figured it out a few days ago when she caught Kelly spooning marmite out of the jar with celery sticks. Cravings, mate, they are a strange fucking surprise.”

Charles laughed in agreement and clapped Max on the shoulder. “Speaking of surprises, we have one of our own too. Don’t worry, it’s not another baby this time.” He returned to his seat beside you and waited a few minutes for everyone to congratulate the two. Finally when the room calmed a bit he picked up his glass and tapped it with a spoon to get the adults attention. 

“I just wanted to thank everyone for being here and spending another Christmas with us,” Charles began, his finger tracing the lip of his glass he still held. “Every year the table keeps growing larger and, Max, you finally get to be the reason for an extra chair next year, so big thumbs up for taking that responsibility. My wife thanks you,” he chuckled along with Lando before reaching for the small box on the table, opening it to reveal the wedding bands you had chosen.

“You know, three years ago I would have never imagined being this happy without winning a championship, but I have learned that even if I do get to raise that trophy myself one day it is more important having loved ones to share the experience with.” Charles took the first of two identical rings. Your husband’s rings were relatively simple but it was all they needed - like the necklaces they wore, it was made of three bands woven together. “I can’t wait to experience it all with you,” he said as he slipped the ring on Lando’s finger before picking up yours. Similar to theirs, yours was woven with three bands but yours had a dazzling emerald and sapphire inset to represent them. “Every moment, good and bad, as long as it’s with you.”

You reached for his ring, the last one in the box and placed it on his finger with a smile.

“You’re meant to ask the question first, then give them the rings,” Lorenzo teased as Pascale nudged him to shush.

“That would be a proposal,” Lando laughed, curling an arm around Charles' waist and pulling you in too. “We are actually celebrating what comes next.”

“Wait, what?” Max gaped. “Marriage? You guys are married?”

“So, not quite, it’s, uh, actually a funny story,” you said with a grin. Now that everything had smoothed over you could finally laugh about the situation and the rest of the table found it equally amusing once they forgave you for not telling them. “I should probably update the FIA with my new name. How confusing is it going to be for Crofty to have three Leclerc’s on the grid?”

“Two,” Max corrected, but you just winked. His eyes widened and he stood up, walking around the table to grab your shoulders. “You got a seat?” You nodded and he squeezed the air out of your lungs with a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, zusje.”

“Season hasn’t even started,” you reminded him. “There’s still a lot of work to be done but the testing looks promising for next year.”

“I know you’ll do great. It’ll be nice to have a little competition again,” he teased Lando and Charles, despite the final results being closer than they had been for a few years.

“The only competition we have to worry about is out on the slopes. I’m not pregnant this year so I will be out there at dawn ready to kick your ass, Verstappen.”

Max smirked at the challenge and raised his glass to tap yours. “You’re on, Leclerc.”

–

Epilogue

The same faces welcomed you back to the grid but the colours they wore had changed. Lewis was at Ferrari and Carlos was at Red Bull, but the most surprising change was Alex who had gone to Mercedes. Albon was meant to be your teammate but he had chosen not to renew his contract and rather than bring in a rookie to start from scratch they renewed Logan for his third year.

The American driver stared at the roof for the team meeting before the first race of the season and you tapped his cap. “You don’t need to worry,” you chuckled. “It’s just a boob.”

The man was born and bred a polite southern boy and still couldn’t bring himself to even look in your direction while you pumped the excess milk out. After finding out the hard way during testing, you knew you had to get at least a bottle out or there would be leaking in your racesuit before you passed the chequered flag. Starting in P6 there were high hopes that you would score some good points and you didn’t want to go to the media pit with two wet patches on your chest.

“I’m not worried, just giving you some privacy,” he said quietly.

“You’re good at that,” you said as you swapped the pump to the other breast. “I don’t think I properly thanked you for not telling anyone I was pregnant.”

He frowned and almost looked your way before turning his attention to the computer screen of data. “It wasn’t my place to say.”

“That doesn’t stop some people, so thank you.”

“No problem.”

“We are having dinner after the race, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

“Isn’t it your family?”

The flow into the bottle had slowed to a drop so you turned the machine off and packed it away with the bottle, covering your chest back up at the same time. “We can have eye contact now,” you teased. “It’s a long way here, most of our family couldn’t make it so it’s really just a bunch of orphans congregating in our suite. You can bring your girlfriend too, or boyfriend - we don’t judge.”

“Definitely girlfriend,” he admitted before shyly scuffing his shoes on the concrete floor. “How did you know?”

“You’re very private, I figured you’re either in a quiet relationship or a serial killer. I’m really happy it wasn’t the latter.”

Logan loosened up with a laugh and began to relax as he joked, “Innocent until proven guilty.”

The rest of the briefing went quickly and strategies were made for the current weather readings. The mildly warm temperatures at the tail end of an Australian summer were promising from the data and you knew it would come down managing tyre degradation with all the right hand turns. Albert Park was a fun circuit but as Alex learned last season, one mistake and the race could be over in an instant.

“I’m just going to check on Autumn,” you said to James as you walked out of the garage after the driver parade.

The team principal checked his watch and gave a nod. “15 minutes.”

You knew those minutes would fly by so you jogged down the pit lane to Mercedes where Susie was watching over your daughter, when she could get her away from Toto. But it appeared you were the last one to arrive as Lando and Charles took turns having some last minute cuddles.

“I hope you have one left for me, my love,” you cooed as you stole her from Charles. “Mwah, mummy loves you.”

You handed her back and swung the bag off your shoulder. “There’s plenty of milk in here if she runs out, and some yoghurt too.

“Relax, mama, we will be fine,” Susie assured you. “Focus on the race.”

As if to remind you, the bell for the grid opening rang out and you knew it was time to head back. “Okay, focus,” you told yourself before kissing Autumn’s cheek again and inhaling her baby scent. “Love you.”

Lando tugged at your sleeve and you reluctantly let him pull you away or you wouldn’t have had the strength to. “Come on, love, time to go.”

“I know, it’s just…hard.”

“Always is,” Charles admitted, kissing your temple. “See you out there, Spitfire.”

—

Testing was nothing compared to the strain the race put on your body, but it was like riding a bicycle, once you got into the groove you couldn’t even feel it. Your sole focus was on the car ahead and the carbon fibre rear wing that belonged to Lando. Though the Williams didn’t have the down force to compete with a McLaren or Ferrari in the corners, it somehow had great straight line speed. That straight line speed mixed with a classic Ferrari strategy and a slow pit stop by Mercedes had you defending the third position you suddenly found yourself in. It would have been a different story if Carlos hadn’t’ve had a turn one incident with Lewis, but you would take all the luck you could get.

“Wow, what a welcome back,” Naomi cheered as you stepped onto the interview mat and you looked back at your car parked in the third spot.

“It doesn’t even feel like I left,” you admitted with a laugh.

Lando had already done his interview and stepped over to the barriers where Susie’s silver Mercedes uniform stood out in a sea of dark blue Williams mechanics, Autumn squirming to be put down when she spotted her daddy.

Naomi followed your eyes to your husband and she smiled. “But there have been a few changes since we were last standing here.”

“Some things never change though.” You jutted a thumb at your brother who was busy kissing Kelly and P who cheered with the rest of Red Bull for his win. “I was kind of hoping for a repeat of last year since Charles was right on my ass - I mean tail.”

“Three Leclerc’s on the podium would surely have been a historical moment and I apologise to our viewers for that little whoopsie.”

Not wanting to risk another swear word on live tv, the interview ended and you raced over to Lando and Autumn, enveloping them both in a hug. “Wish Charles was here,” you murmured to his chest.

“Me too,” he said, kissing your sweaty forehead. “Ready to go pop some champagne, baby?”

“Also-fucking-lutely.” You kissed Autumn and thanked Susie for watching her as you made your way to the cooldown room. “Remind me to pump and dump later because I am chugging that bottle.”

“You deserve it,” Max said as he entered the room and took Lando’s seat since he had stolen the middle one. “I had to double check you parked in the right spot.”

“Lando’s the one who does that,” you pointed out. “But honestly, it was like the stars aligned, I don’t know how it happened. I mean, testing was good, but everything just fell perfectly into place.”

Lando smiled proudly and took your hand, resting on his thigh while you watched the highlights on the tv.

As the Dutch anthem played you watched the crowd below the stage, your keen eyes finding Autumn on Toto’s shoulders where he stood with your principal and you were certain you saw him wince as she pulled his hair. Finally the last anthem finished and you grabbed the jeroboam bottle, giving it a swirl to really make it fizzy before bringing it down on the stage.

Bubbles tickled your skin as the fountain rained down and you turned it on Lando and Max before tipping it back and savouring the taste after almost a year without it. Floating on the high, you took a seat on the podium and watched the last of the confetti fall to the ground. Sensing the celebration was over, Max joined you, tapping his bottle to yours.

“Told them I’d come back and win in a Williams.”

“You didn’t win, zusje,” Max corrected, lifting the medal that hung around his neck for emphasis.

“Yet,” you grinned, taking another long drink before wiping the excess from your lips. “But it’s only round one.”

[buccini555]

𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

₊˚ ໑ 𝟎.𝟏 : 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

₊˚ ໑ : You found out you were pregnant, but were afraid to tell them, but they ended up finding out

₊˚ ໑ : H e a d c a n o n s !

₊˚ ໑ : 𝑭𝒕. Izana Kurokawa, Hanma Shuji, Kisaki Tetta, Taiju Shiba and Inui Seishu

tw: pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, daddy issues, mention of abandonment, angst, fluff, sensitive topics and I think that's all?

𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

Izana definitely wouldn't take long to find out, at first he didn't even want to accept that fact, but little by little the idea entered his mind.

"Isn't there anything you wanted to tell me? Don't lie to me, I'll just ask once." He questioned while caressing his face, Izana was never as affectionate as she was being at that very moment, even so, you just looked away and shook your head, denying the fact that you were hiding something.

"... You don't need to be afraid to tell me, I already know everything, you shouldn't underestimate me, you know that." In a calm and subtle tone of voice, he began to speak again, giving you a small, still awkward hug.

"I'm sorry for hiding this from you Izana..." You said, still fearing for Izana's reaction, even though he seemed so calm, his mood changed every second.

"I promise I'll be the father I never had the chance to have, thank you for giving me the greatest gift I could ever receive." Izana hugged you with even more desire, but being completely careful, he said in a few words, not being able to contain himself from giving a subtle smile despite still being insecure about the unexpected news.

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐣𝐢

He would notice your change in behavior almost immediately, Hanma despite not seeming to care much, pays attention to each of your customs and ways, Hanma suspected your pregnancy as soon as you started to feel sick.

"What the fuck is happening to you? Did you eat somethin-" Hanma looked at you, still without completing his speech, he seemed to have come to his senses at that very moment, anyway, it wouldn't take long for him to find out.

"Baby... Are you pregnant? Fuck..." His tone of voice changed instantly, the taller one seemed distressed by such a thought, as soon as you found the courage, you just nodded.

"It's okay, don't cry, do you really think I'm going to leave you and my son? I would think so too, but I won't." Unexpectedly, Hanma gave you a hug, he was clearly a little nervous, but he tried to be as cool as possible.

"...I know I'll never be the right guy for you, but thank you for giving me a family." He said, still hugging you, completely losing his tough guy attitude.

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐓𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚

Kisaki realized it even before you showed any symptoms, he was always attentive to each of your behaviors and knew your body like no one else.

"Are you really going to keep lying to me and say you're not hiding something?" Kisaki questioned you in a completely threatening tone, making you afraid of your reaction, knowing that there was no point in lying, you just told the truth.

He was completely silent for a brief moment, trying to hide the sea in his eyes.

"... I'm sorry... I don't know how to react to such news." Kisaki gave you a light hug, stroking your hair gently and giving you great relief.

"I hope I don't fail as a father either, I sincerely hope to be the best father to our baby, I'm sorry if I can't be enough!" It was the last thing Kisaki managed to say before he started crying like you had never seen him before.

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐣𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚

It would take Taiju a while to notice, but once he noticed the changes in your behavior, he was sure to discover the fact that you were pregnant.

"Lying to me?" He questioned, holding your arm less tightly than he usually did and looking you straight into your eyes with a reproachful look.

"N-no." You responded in a brief speech, fearing for the taller man's reaction at that moment, knowing that he would not stop being aggressive towards you even though you were pregnant.

"I believe that having a child would be one of the greatest blessings I could receive, one day I will be a great father, I'm sure of it!" Taiju said shortly afterwards, pausing his speech.

When you finally felt relief upon hearing Taiju speak, without expecting it you just heard him say the cruelest thing he could.

"I will be a good father, but not now! Get rid of this mistake, you better obey me." That was all he said before leaving.

𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐮

Inupi was always extremely careful with you, noticing the change in his behavior made him fully aware of your pregnancy, but everything was confirmed the day he saw you feel really bad.

"I-I know it's not something I should ask in such an invasive way, but, are you pregnant?" The taller one asked, holding his hand while you remained lying on top of your bed, as lying was never a good option, you just told the truth.

"I'm sorry..." shaking your head in affirmation, you replied, noticing the complete silence on Inui's part.

"Y-you should have told me before, I... I don't think I've ever felt so happy in my entire life!" Seishu definitely didn't show feelings easily, but he really tried hard, making you feel relieved at his reaction.

"Don't make your mother sick, we have to take care of her together." He said, resting his head on your belly and giving you small caresses.

"I'm sure that you, me and our baby will be happy together, I will do my best for us, our little family." Still with a smile, he said again.

[eu-nicola]

worse than silence

summary: Rafe and you maintain a secret relationship, but one day JJ discovers the truth and things get complicated

warnings: angst maybe

word counter: 3537

author's note: english is not my first language

tag: @tracymbcm

It was on nights like these that everything seemed easier and at the same time unbearably difficult. You were sitting on a cliff, hugging your legs as you looked out at the horizon. You had arrived early, as always. Rafe had told you he would come, but you knew that lately his promises were as fragile as glass.

The sound of staggering footsteps behind you brought you out of your thoughts. You turned your head and there he was, with his shirt wrinkled, his eyes sunken and an air of exhaustion that broke your soul.

“You arrived,” you said softly, although the lump in your throat threatened to betray you.

Rafe dropped down next to you, not looking at you. He ran his hands through his hair and exhaled loudly. He smelled of alcohol, of a lost night, of smoke and chaos. Your heart contracted. You had lost count of how many times you had witnessed that version of him: broken, self-destructive, and yet still trying to maintain an emotional distance that hurt you more than any words.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this,” he murmured at last, his voice cracking. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You stared at him intently, searching his eyes for something, anything to tell you there was still hope. But all you found was a haunting emptiness.

“I’m here because I love you, Rafe. Because I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this.”

He laughed bitterly, but the laughter faded quickly, leaving him only the weight of guilt.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“I don’t care, Rafe. I want to help you, but you have to let me in. You have to stop pushing me away.”

For a moment, his eyes seemed to soften. But like a blink, the hardness returned.

“You don’t understand, you’ll never understand. This… this isn’t fixed with love or pretty words. It’s bigger than that, bigger than us.”

You felt torn apart. He wanted you to leave him, but every fiber of your being refused. He wanted to protect you, but he didn’t realize that the distance hurt more than any hell he could drag you into.

The silence stretched on until he stood up abruptly, his hands shaking.

“This is a mistake,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he began to walk away.

“Is that all?” you yelled at him, standing up with your heart racing. “Are you going to keep running away? From me? From yourself?”

Rafe stopped, but didn’t turn around. He just shook his head before disappearing into the darkness. The cold of the night embraced you as tears fell freely down your face.

The next day, the tension in the air was palpable. JJ was in a bad mood, as he usually was lately. You had tried to avoid him since you got home that morning, but you knew you couldn't hide forever.

You were in the kitchen when you heard him walk in, slamming his backpack down on the table with force.

“Where were you last night?” he asked immediately, not even bothering to soften his tone.

“None of your business, JJ,” you replied, trying to remain calm as you washed the dishes. But you knew your brother wasn’t one to let things go.

“Oh no? Because I happened to see something very interesting last night,” he said, moving dangerously closer. “I saw you with him.”

The plate you were holding nearly dropped. You froze, unable to come up with an answer.

“How long? How long have you been seeing that piece of trash?” he snapped, his voice filled with disbelief and fury.

“JJ, it’s not what you think…” you tried to explain, but he cut you off immediately.

“It’s not what I think?!” he yelled, slamming the table. “Rafe Cameron.” How could you? After everything he’s done to us, after everything he’s done to this family!

“It’s not that simple!” you shouted back, feeling rage mix with despair. “You don’t understand what he’s going through. I… I love him, JJ.”

That confession seemed to hit him harder than anything else. He stood still, as if the words had paralyzed him.

“You love him?” you whispered, incredulous. “Do you really think someone like him can change? That he won’t break you like he’s done to everyone else?”

“He’s trying…” but your voice cracked. Not even you were sure of that at the moment.

JJ shook his head, his eyes filled with disappointment.

“I thought we could trust each other. But this… this is a betrayal. I can’t believe you lied to me all this time.”

You felt like the ground beneath your feet had fallen apart. You wanted to reach out to him, to explain, to beg him to understand. But JJ took a step back, his gaze colder than ever. 

“I hope it’s worth it,” he said before walking out of the house, leaving you alone in devastating silence. 

Guilt and anguish clung to you like an unbearable weight. For the first time, you wondered if you could really go through with all of this. Rafe was falling apart, and now, you were losing your brother, too. 

The next few days were a silent hell. You tried to talk to JJ more times than you could count, but every time you reached out, he ignored you completely. It was like you had ceased to exist for him. The first time you tried to stop him, you were faced with a wall of ice.

“JJ, please, just listen to me,” you said, blocking his way at the door.

He didn’t even look at you. With a sharp movement, he pushed you aside and walked out without saying a word. That gesture, cold and distant, hurt more than you had imagined.

And it wasn’t just JJ. The worst came when the rest of the group found out.

One afternoon, you were at the beach bar where everyone used to meet. You had arrived hoping that, at least there, you could find a way to repair what had been broken. However, when you entered, you felt the air become heavy. Kiara, Pope, and John B were sitting around a table, talking in low voices. Upon seeing you, the conversations immediately ceased, and their gazes were fixed on you with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.

“Really?” Kiara was the first to speak, her tone full of reproach. “Rafe? How could you?”

You felt trapped, like you were being judged with no chance to defend yourself.

“Kie, you don’t understand…” you tried to explain, but Pope interrupted you.

“What’s there to understand?” he said bitterly. “That guy has done everything to ruin us. He’s beaten us, tried to bring us down more times than I can count. And you…? Are you with him?”

John B didn’t say anything at first, but the tension in his jaw was evident. Finally, he spoke, his voice calmer but no less laden with disappointment.

“We knew you were hiding something. But this…” he shook his head. “I never thought you’d betray us like this.”

The word “betrayal” hit like a punch. You felt tears forming in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of them.

“It’s not what they think,” you said, even though you knew your words rang hollow. “Rafe… he’s not perfect, I know.” But he’s going through something, and I… I just want to help him.

Kiara laughed humorlessly, crossing her arms.

“Help him? Do you really think you can save someone like him? Rafe doesn’t need your help. What he needs is to stop butting into our lives.”

“This is between Rafe and me,” you replied, trying to remain calm. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with us?” Pope raised his voice, clearly frustrated. “It has everything to do with us. He’s hurt us time and time again, and you… you chose to be on his side.”

The silence that followed was overwhelming. You felt like everything you’d built with them was crumbling at that moment. You tried to look at JJ, searching for a trace of understanding, but he was standing in the corner, arms crossed and staring at the floor, not even deigning to look at you.

“JJ…” you said softly, almost pleading.

But he turned and walked out of the place without saying a word. It was like every step he took took a piece of your heart with him.

That night, the loneliness was unbearable. You locked yourself in your room, feeling small, broken. Guilt and anguish consumed you, and the silence grew heavier with each passing minute. You had lost your brother, your friends. And even though you loved Rafe, you couldn’t ignore that being with him was costing you everything.

Hours later, you received a text. It was from Rafe.

“I’m sorry. I know this is my fault.”

You stared at the text for several minutes, not knowing what to answer. Was it his fault? Or was it yours for letting yourself get dragged here? You had no answers, only a void that seemed to grow with each second.

Finally, you turned off your phone and sank into bed. The tears you had held back all day began to fall silently. You didn't know how much more you could take.

Your friends had been your refuge, your family, but now, with them away, you felt like a foreigner in your own world. Every time you locked eyes with JJ or the others, you felt the weight of their judgment. You tried to ignore it, to focus on the only thing that kept you afloat: Rafe. However, even he seemed more distant, as if the current of his own demons was dragging him further away from you.

It had been days since you last saw him, and desperation was beginning to settle in your chest. Finally, when you couldn't take it anymore, you made the decision to look for him at his house. You knew it was a risk, that if they saw you there it would only make things worse with your friends, but you didn't care. You needed to see him. You needed to know that you weren't completely alone.

When you arrived, the Cameron mansion was completely silent. You knocked loudly on the door, hoping someone would answer, but there was no answer. So, you made your way to the side of the house, where you knew you could climb up to his window. It was something you had done before, on those nights where the world seemed to belong only to the two of you.

You peeked over the edge and saw him. Rafe was sitting on the floor of his room, his back against the bed, a half-empty bottle in one hand and his gaze lost on the wall. His messy hair fell over his forehead, and his expression was that of someone who had been fighting his own thoughts and losing the battle.

“Rafe…” you whispered, stepping in carefully.

He looked up slowly, his eyes red and filled with a pain you recognized all too well. For a moment, he seemed relieved to see you, but that glint quickly faded.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice hoarse and heavy with exhaustion.

“I couldn’t be alone,” you admitted, moving closer to him. You sat down next to him, trying to ignore the smell of alcohol and the feeling that something was falling apart between you.

Rafe let out a bitter laugh.

“Alone? I thought I was the reason you were left without anyone.”

His words were a dart straight to your heart, but you didn’t back down.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I’m alone as long as I have you.”

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t understand what you were saying.

“You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t want this, want me. I’m a mess. I’m screwed. Don’t you see that?”

“I see it, Rafe. But I also know that you can get out of this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“What if I don’t want to get out?” His voice cracked, his eyes searching yours desperately. “What if this is the only thing I know how to do?”

Your heart broke a little more.

“Then I’ll stay with you until you want me. But don’t push me away, please.”

Rafe let his head fall back against the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. For a moment, silence was the only thing between you, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“Sometimes I think it would be better if I let myself sink completely. If I just… disappeared.”

The rawness of his words took your breath away. You gripped his hand tightly, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” he replied, his eyes filling with tears. “Look what I’m doing to you. You’re losing everything because of me.”

You shook your head, clinging to him as if by doing so you could keep him from falling apart completely.

“Rafe, I chose this. I chose you. I know it’s hard, but you have to believe me when I say that I don’t care what anyone else thinks. All I want is for us to be together.”

“And that’s the problem,” he whispered, looking away. “Being with me is only going to destroy you.”

You tried to respond, but he let go of your hand and staggered to his feet. He walked over to the window, looking outside as if searching for a way out that didn’t exist.

“Maybe it’s best that this ends here,” he finally said, his voice laced with heartbreaking sadness.

You stood up quickly, your chest tight with fear.

“What? You mean…?”

Rafe turned to you, his eyes filled with pain.

“I can’t keep doing this. I love you, but I can’t drag you down with me anymore.”

“Rafe, no…” your voice cracked as you moved closer to him, your hands shaking. “You can’t do this. You can’t push me away.”

He closed his eyes, fighting the emotions that consumed him.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” he finally said, and those words were like a dagger.

Tears began to fall freely down your face. You tried to cling to him once more, but this time, Rafe backed away.

“Please go away,” he whispered, not looking at you.

The weight of his words fell on you like a stone. You couldn't believe what was happening, you didn't want to accept it. But the determination in his voice left you with no options.

Heartbroken, you took a step back. Every fiber of your being wanted to stay, to fight, but you knew he was in too dark a place for you to reach him at that moment.

Finally, you turned and walked out the same window you had entered through, feeling like you were leaving a part of yourself behind. When you hit the ground, a cold breeze greeted you, as if the world knew you had lost something irreplaceable.

As you walked back home, the pain and despair fully set in. You had lost so much, and now, even Rafe seemed out of your reach.

The days that followed were an endless emptiness. Loneliness was a weight you felt even in the air, in every corner of the house, in every silence that stretched like a lingering shadow. You woke up every morning with a knot in your chest, the kind of weight that reminded you, even before you opened your eyes, that you were alone.

Your brother, he made no effort to hide his contempt. Every time you crossed paths with him, his cold gaze was a reminder that, to him, you had betrayed everything that it meant to be family. You tried several times to get closer, to talk to him, but your attempts always met with a wall of silence or curt responses.

“JJ, please, we can’t go on like this,” you begged one night, finding him in the kitchen as he poured a glass of water.

He didn’t even deign to look at you.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Nothing? After all?” Your voice trembled, the weight of his indifference tearing at you.

Finally, JJ turned to you, his gaze filled with a mix of anger and pain.

“After all, you chose Rafe. That says it all.”

The glass in his hand shook slightly before he set it down on the counter with a thud. He walked away without waiting for an answer, leaving you alone in the darkness.

Your friends were no more understanding, either. Every time you saw them around the island, their gazes avoided yours, as if you were someone they no longer recognized. You had lost their trust, and it seemed like there was no way to get it back.

You tried to approach Kiara one afternoon. She was on the beach with John B and Pope, laughing at something one of them had said. Seeing you, the smiles faded, and the atmosphere instantly tensed.

“Kie, can we talk?” you asked cautiously, keeping your distance.

She crossed her arms and looked at you coldly.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Please, just a minute…”

Kiara sighed, her expression hardening.

“For what? For you to tell me that all of this is worth it because you “love Rafe”? I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s not like that…” you tried to explain, but she cut you off.

“Yes, it is. You chose him, knowing everything he’s done to us. How do you expect us to trust you after that?”

The words hit hard, and although you wanted to defend yourself, you knew it was pointless. You had let them down, and there was no apology that could fix it at that moment.

You turned and walked away, feeling the tears burn in your eyes as their voices faded behind you. Every step you took through the sand seemed to sink you deeper into a pit of despair.

Rafe didn't make things any easier either. Even though you knew he loved you, his actions didn't match his feelings. After that night at his house, he had been the one who started to put more distance between you. His messages became scarce, and the times you did manage to see him, he seemed like a man torn between his desire to have you close and his conviction that it was better for you to walk away.

One afternoon, you found him on the beach, sitting alone on a rock, staring at the horizon. You slowly approached, afraid he would reject you again. Sensing your presence, Rafe turned his head. For a moment, his eyes softened at the sight of you, but he soon hardened his expression again.

“I told you that you shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, though there was no real conviction in his words.

You sat down beside him without asking permission, your heart pounding.

“I can’t keep ignoring you, Rafe. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care about you.”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“It’s not fair to you. All of this… it’s not what you deserve.”

“Let me decide that,” you replied firmly, trying to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to be without you, even if it means carrying all of this weight.”

Rafe finally looked at you, and in his eyes you saw a sea of ​​emotions: love, guilt, and a desperation that mirrored your own.

“I’m ruining you,” he whispered, as if he was finally admitting his worst fear.

You shook your head, your shaking hands searching for him.

“No, Rafe. It ruins me more to be without you.”

He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. For a moment, it looked like he was going to give in, that he was going to let you stay. But then, in a broken voice, he murmured,

“I can’t do this to you.”

He abruptly stood up and began to walk away, leaving you alone once again. You stood there, watching his figure disappear into the distance, the sound of the sea mixing with the sobs you could no longer hold back.

The nights grew longer, and the pain became a constant. You lay awake for hours, wondering if things could have been different, if there was any way to get your brother, your friends, and Rafe back. But every time you closed your eyes, the only answer you found was the weight of loneliness that continued to grow inside you.

[twiishaa]

sanji x reader ; wc 1.4k warnings again i shat this out at 3am and there are parts i’m not too happy with but i think it’s okay as a whole <3 tiny tiny bit of angst if you squint?? fem!reader <3 here’s my masterlist!

it had only been a few weeks since you joined the straw hats’ crew. to leave your home and everything you’ve known behind to pursue a life on the sea, on the run from the world government on a whim was a big decision, but you didn’t regret it. being part of such a lively crew made it worth it, you guys were like a family already.

but they didn’t need to know you did it partly because the blond cook of theirs was kinda…

anyways. that can stay between you and me <3

it was the middle of the night, and you finally sat up after hours of not being able to sleep. maybe it was the humidity on the ship, or maybe it was the small, lingering homesick feeling you had. you drowsily made your way to the deck, the slightly salty wind waking you up a little. now that you were out of your room, it was homesickness that was keeping you awake. you hadn’t felt homesick these past weeks, why were you feeling it now? this had been everything you were dreaming of—adventure, fun, and friends you knew you’d go to the end of the grand line for, even though you’d only known them a quarter of the time they’d known each other.

oh.

was homesickness that feeling you felt sometimes, when everyone was laughing together?

you cast your mind back to the time you’d feel sad at home. your mum would be able to sense your mood from rooms away and bake you blueberry muffins. after eating them, you’d forget about your worries and give your mum a cheery smile, whether covered in blueberry juice and crumbs or not. and so, you made your way to the kitchen, hoping that baking some blueberry muffins now would cure your loneliness, despite the ungodly hour.

hopefully sanji won’t mind... 

remembering the recipe from some corner in the back of your mind was proving to be a much more difficult task than you anticipated, paired with the unfamiliarity of the ship’s kitchen. to be honest, you were having fun! it was like a game, which drawer will the wooden spoon be in? not long after, the batter was complete and distributed into their muffin cases. it was a miracle you found everything; however, that didn’t mask the moderately large mess that had built up over the course of baking the muffins. fond memories of your mum walking through the door to find you covered in flour and your lips stained with blueberry juice flooded back to you; you felt at home again, even if you weren’t physically. not long after you cleaned the counter and put the muffins in the oven, the comforting smell of fresh muffins filled the kitchen, and you took a step back to admire your work. your spirits were definitely lifted. maybe blueberry muffins are the solution to most problems.

meanwhile, in sanji’s room (room??? quarter????? wherever he’s sleeping, please just roll with it), he was awakened by the light scent of… blueberry muffins? he rolled over to check the time. nobody could be possibly be baking something at such a time… maybe he was still dreaming. nonetheless, he groggily got up just to confirm his suspicion—to make sure that no one had broke onto the ship… and decided to bake blueberry muffins… or something.

as sanji approached the kitchen, he noticed the lights were on, and a figure standing right in front of the oven.

oh?

now he was concerned. the figure was… a girl?

what? this is one strange dream… he thought to himself.

when he could finally distinguish that it was, in fact, a girl, and that it was you, of all people, he was just confused. he leaned against the doorframe, observing how you were looking at the oven like you were watching over a child. from this angle, he could make out that you were making blueberry muffins.

“what do we have here, hm? why are you up so late, [name]?”

you screamed in response, then swiftly covered your mouth as you remembered the time.

sanji chuckled. “hello to you too,” his look still conveyed sheer confusion, but he was somewhat enjoying it now.

you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and that your secret crush, of sorts, was talking to you.

the fact that it was the middle of the night as you were baking muffins in his kitchen without asking him was irrelevant. sanji was talking to you!

you laughed nervously. “I just woke up in the middle of the night and I… really wanted blueberry muffins… so I decided to bake some…” he looked at you, evidently quite amused.

“sorry if I messed up your kitchen! or if you don’t like people using it or something.. I should have asked you before…” you trailed off timidly.

sanji laughed again, before moving to lean on the counter beside you. “It’s fine, honestly! besides, I didn’t know you bake, how come you’ve never said anything about it?”

lies.

usually, sanji was very particular with who touches the equipment in the kitchen, but he could let it slide for a pretty girl like you, or so he thought.

what you didn’t know is that your little crush was mutual—sanji had his eye on you,

not in a stalker-ish way, no!

—ever since he saw you when the crew stayed on your island. since then, he gradually started to become less and less flirty as he used to around nami and nico robin, even if you didn’t notice. he really only had eyes for you, following you around the ship as best as he could without looking like a weirdo. it was bad, he was down bad for you. by some power of the gods, you hadn’t noticed yet. everyone had noticed—even zoro, who took the opportunity to tease him every second he got; sanji was so down bad that he didn’t mind being teased about it. he did become aware of your lingering stares from time to time, but for the sake of his sanity, he just pretended he didn’t see anything and looked away, because if your eyes met you would see how flustered he actually was.

“oh, no, I don’t bake often! my mum taught me this recipe and I make it when I feel… lonely , or I don’t know, I think I just missed the taste of them.” you replied. sanji’s expression turned into one of worry. was there something wrong?

“no, no! it’s not you guys, I just… it’s my first time being away for so long, it’s just different to anything ive done before, and I just want comfort in something that I know… I probably make no sense right now..” you quickly added.

sanji shook his head. “no, I get it. doing something different is scary, and I think you’re really brave, [name].” he gave you a reassuring smile.

you blushed a little, but sanji caught sight of it and his eyes widened a little, before laughing. that little interaction was enough to confirm there was something between the two of you, but maybe the middle of the night wasn’t the best time to confront it…

beeeeeep!

the two of you were interrupted by the timer going off, indicating that the muffins were done. by now, the scent of blueberry muffins was overflowing in the kitchen, causing the two of you to laugh. as you went to take them out of the oven, sanji stopped you abruptly.

“let me do it; I wouldn’t want you to get burnt,” he took the gloves from you and took the muffins out, placing them on the counter.

damn. they looked better than you thought they would.

while the muffins were cooling, you and sanji continued your conversation from earlier, but now there was something in the air other than the smell of blueberry muffins. all of sanji’s responses had a warmer tone to them, maybe because he knew that you felt the same way, or maybe because he learnt something about you today that the rest of the crew didn’t know, he was someone special to you. the night passed quickly and soon you could see the sun rising, signalling that it was probably a good time to get at least some sleep before the entire crew awoke.

sanji could feel the effect of the sleep he lost that night and he was visibly tired in the morning, as were you; but he didn’t mind losing sleep over you if it meant one day he could be your boyfriend. <3

notes i love sanji so much <33 this was inspired by when i made blueberry muffins for my mom 😽 should i do a 100 followers event pls lmk and also send in any reqs you want love you !!

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter

chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.

word count: 7.4k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one.

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.

"I need some sleep It can't go on like this I tried counting sheep But there's one I always miss"

“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.” 

Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.   

“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?” 

“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment.  The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time. 

As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea. 

“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.

“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter. 

You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling  how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.  

You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this. 

“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious. 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence. 

“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely. 

Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against  the counter on the opposite side of him.  

The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories. 

After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job,  but I do miss it.” 

“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture. 

You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”

“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant. 

“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?” 

Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits,  I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”

“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.” 

Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”

“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”  

He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.” 

“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet. 

“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”

You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it. 

“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”  

You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him. 

“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.

He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture. 

“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator. 

The atmosphere  hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach. 

“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.

Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off. 

You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.

Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you. 

You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette. 

You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.  

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago  from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.

The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you. 

“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.” 

Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another  smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.

You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders. 

The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes. 

You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose. 

“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative. 

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up. 

The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. 

You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.  

With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing. 

With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here. 

You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned. 

Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink. 

You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

· · · · ·

Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together  for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot  and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.

He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult. 

“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays  a hint of eagerness.   

“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.  

“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.  

He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now. 

And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff. 

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on. 

Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.   

“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels. 

“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman. 

“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest. 

“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter. 

“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.

The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.” 

“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration. 

“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.” 

Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed… 

“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”

“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman. 

“He doesn’t look dead.”

“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod. 

“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”

“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request. 

“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest. 

“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.         

“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively. 

Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.      

Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant. 

“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office. 

 “Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.

“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused. 

“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains. 

Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”

“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .

“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.   

“Suspended license.” 

“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out. 

Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business. 

Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!” 

“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”

He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.   

“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening.  “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here. 

“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.  

“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.  

“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased. 

“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.

“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains. 

The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”  

Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.  

“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.   

“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.   

“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie

The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”  

“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes. 

“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore 

“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .

“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.   

“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.    

A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head. 

“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.  

“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat. 

“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!” 

“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving. 

Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well. 

“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.   

“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step. 

“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion. 

“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses. 

“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.    

“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”

“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”

“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.

“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”

This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”  

“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance. 

“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”

“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head. 

Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.

He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…

Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low.  His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.  

“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.  

“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”

“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef  is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.   

Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.    

“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling. 

“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.   

“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.  

As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over. 

He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.  

· · · · ·     

You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But  as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing. 

Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it. 

“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of  last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night. 

You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.  

You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know,  and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.   

But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come. 

“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-” 

“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone. 

“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”

You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through. 

“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”

Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”

You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry

“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.” 

You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.” 

You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow. 

“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.

“You’d do that?” 

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out. 

“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you. 

Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.  

As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.

The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 27th

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1. Hiii, i have a request for the next ITMF: please recommend some lengthy canon divergence fics in which lan xichen gets told off for believing JGY over LWJ. Like the fact that he believed someone from another sect (especially the Jin) over his own brother is called out.

Ofcourse wangxian pairing with a happy ending for them.

Extra plus if it's not jiang cheng friendly or not jgy friendly.

Thank you 🙏

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ) if they don't mind a WIP

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ) its not the Main Focus, but LX issues gets adressed

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) link in #8 there's an epic scene where lxc calls himself (and the more toxic Lan rules) out, and dedicates himself to being a more proactive sect leader, set after canon.

Arrayed by FirefliesNLightningBugs (M, 5k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, LSZ found by LXC, LSZ keeps his memories, alive JYL & JZX, canon temporary character death, WIP) shows lxc slowly realizing that he did this and that was stupid from his pov, set post 1st siege of bm.

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2. Hello! IMTF fics that deal with self-discovery. Whether it be coming to terms with being queer or gender stuff or kink. Just grappling with identities and the social tumult that comes along with navigating them, purity culture, cisheteronormativity, etc. Just smth along those lines.

Thank you!!

KILF (Knits I’d Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm (E, 168k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, sex worker WWX, Fashionista LWJ, in this house we support sex workers, Fluff and Smut, they're horny and in love, mental health, therapy is good actually, Domestic Bliss, tender kink, Fiber Arts, autistic LWJ, neurodivergent WWX, switch rights, Nonbinary NHS, a soupçon of gender, get in losers we're introspecting about queerness, Genderfluid Character, Gender Exploration, perhaps slightly more than a soupçon of gender, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, But They're Working Through It, aggressive mutual caretaking)

reports of my heterosexuality may have been exaggerated by sysrae (E, 8k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, getting together, straight boy LWJ, disaster gay WWX, heteronormativity, hockey player WWX, little angst)

Pride and Prejudice by sami (T, 3k, WangXian, Pride, Parades, Cats)

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, wangxian, modern w magic, college/university au, fake/pretend relationship, single parent WWX, homophobia, light angst w/ happy ending, idiots to lovers, fluff)

without your new eyes by anaphoricae (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Didn’t Know They Were Dating, Sexuality Discovery, Self-Discovery, Literal Sleeping Together, (there is so much sleeping in this fic), mentions of WWX/others and LWJ/others, Drunk LWJ, Teacher LWJ, WWX is a… throws dart… computer scientist, No Angst, Jealous WWX, Flirty WWX, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, WWX’s Love Language is Physical Touch, [Podfic] without your new eyes by anaphoricae by LadyEn)

this body is a gift for you by loosingletters (T, 1k, MXY & WWX, Trans Female WWX, Trans MXY, Canon Divergence, Gender Identity, Self-Discovery, Gender Roles)

The Sculptor by Eleanor_Fenyx (M, 27k, wangxian, LQY/WQ, LWJ & WQ, SL/XXC, modern, lavender marriage, period typical attituted and terminology, mute SL, queer themes, queer families, slow burn, getting together, intimacy, artist WWX, professor LWJ) autumn flower by ScarlettStorm (E, 78k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic vague north american setting, transwoman wwx, transwoman lwj, Gender Experimentation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gender Dysphoria, followed by gender euphoria, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, switch rights) Its trans fem lan zhan descovering herself and how to let herself be true to herself, and wei ying (also transfem) was a big part of cracking her egg. It's still ongoing and it's really good!

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3. ITMF fics that explore wwx’s cultivation - canon dynamics, preferably not cql compliant please!

🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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4. Hello! And thank you so much for all you do!! I’m in the mood for a fic set in canon universe where wangxian start a friends with benefits kind of thing, where they start having sex without discussing their feelings.

Always Light My Way by cqlorphan (E, 27k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits, to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, Jealous WWX, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, angsty sex, Versatile | Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Service Top LWJ, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, Oblivious LWJ, archer WWX, Smart WWX, Porn with Feelings, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Cultivation)

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5. ITMF a fic similar to hyperballad by azuresummer please!

🔒 姻緣 | this marriage was always predestinedby saccharinings (E, 43k, wangxian, Cheating, Infidelity, not between wangxian, WWX is married and LWJ persuades him to cheat on his husband with him, Dark LWJ, A/B/O, Feminizing Language, Exhibitionism, Size Difference, WagnXian Have a Breeding Kink, Stomach Bulge, Possessive LWJ, Manipulation, WWX Wears Lingerie, Rape/Non-con Elements, for one part, Hair-pulling Kink, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Mirror Sex, Vibrators, Phone Sex, Rimming, Edgeplay, slight choking kink, Light Bondage, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, LJY’s Big Fat Crush on Milfxian, Pregnant WWX, WangXian Endgame, Spanish Translation) maybe. It has some common elements but ah no murder I think. A Wen does get screwed over.

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6. Hey its for the ITMF.

"A harmony between qin and se" by alaceron is one of my all-time favourites. It'd be great if you could recommend some wangxian fics with household intrigue and scheming. Lwj being a simp as a bonus is even better!! (doesn't matter if wwx is a male or female)

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7. ITMF fics where WWX and LWJ end up accidentally married. Or ones where they end up married because of political/economic reasons. Canon era fics are preferred but will accept modern era if it’s the “we got married for tax benefits but i’m actually in love with you” kind of trope. Mpreg only if it’s really good please.

a long time coming by syriala (G, 2k, WangXian, Getting Together, Pining, Accidental Marriage, except it's not so accidental, Supportive LXC, Fluff)

30 Days of Secret Marriage at Cloud Recesses by starandrea (T, 43k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Accidental Marriage, Coming Out, Falling In Love, supportive family, Fluff, Happy Ending, the whole story is happy)

🔒 the world passes by but for me there is only you by beeswaxing (E, 82k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it of sorts, golden core reveal, accidental marriage, love confessions, horny teenagers, pining, fluff, everybody lives, first time)

play your love songs all night long by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (E, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, One Big Happy Family, Sharing a Bed, (platonically for 13 years), Therapy, in the grand tradition of the untamed most of this is flashback, Pegging, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Romantic Comedy, Misunderstandings)

Only Fools Rush In by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 27k, WangXian, Modern, Woke Up Married, alcohol use but no sex happens while drunk, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, what happens in Vegas etc etc)

What If….. Jiang Cheng Understood? by ToxicAngel13 (M, 66k, WIP, WangXian, Ribbons, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WangXian Get Married in the Cold Springs Cave, Protective JC, Confused WWX, Angry LWJ, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, YZY Bashing, POV JFM, Not JFM Friendly, Hurt/Comfort, Protective NHS)

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition,Kid Fic, explicit in much much later chapters, green card marriage (but not really), pining for your own husband, endless pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Nothing else bad or traumatic happens to the baby, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer) LWJ is in love when they effectively get married for tax purposes, and WWX gets there, and of course there's lots of pining for your husband

🔒 Two Weddings and a Family Reunion by scifigeek14 (T, 36k, wangxian, canon divergence, shotgun wedding, politics, everyone lives au, fix-it, feelings realization, family feels, marriage proposal, marriage of convenience)

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8. Hello! I am new to the fandom, I just finished watching the drama and I want more!!! I have been recced to your blog for fic suggestions? May I please have suggestions for canon compliant stories that are mostly light hearted (no heavy angst please)? I really enjoyed the mood in the first part of the show when all the characters were energetic and goofy teens, so perhaps some fics set then? I want more of the world, clans, costumes, etc. World building is maybe the right word? Thank you so much!

It’s Only Time by etymologyplayground (T, 8k, WangXian, Epistolary, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, It’s About The Yearning., Getting Together, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Humor) this one is tagged as Post-Canon Canon Compliant so I hope it's okay

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)

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9. ITMF: No JGY redemption. Like, he has many choices or someone give him another path to take but he still choose the unforgivable one. I dont want it from JGY's POV. I want it to focus on WWX story like in canon i guess? Thanks!

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10. For itmf, I'm craving some angst with a happy ending fics! Established relationship wangxian where they fight and/or break up and both of them are hurting a lot, but they make up and get back together. Thank you!

🔒 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, Modern Cultivation, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Case Fic, LWJ’s canonically big dick, sort of a ‘thirsting for your co-worker ex’ vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

estuaries by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 34k, wangixan, modern, breakup/makeup, pining while fucking, single dad WWX, angst w/ happy ending)

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 108k, wangxian, modern, angst w/ happy ending, romance, persuasion au, separations, pining, miscommunication, depression, self-harm, reconciliation, smut)

💖 love wakes me by dea_liberty (E, 46k, wangxian, modern, angst w happy ending, childhood sweethearts, misunderstanding, famous LWJ, coffee shop owner WWX, found families, grand romantic gestures)

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11. (This part added to fic finder, fic might be decay by antebunny)

Also, if you know any fics with similar plot (like Wei Ying being forced to cleanse from RE for "his own good" and getting hurt instead), i would appreciate the recommendations! Thank you 🍁 @shellennium

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12. I am hoping someone has fanfic with

A. Wei Wuxian becoming miserable after marrying into the Lan sect, a bit of lxc/lqr bashing but with them eventually realizing they were wrong, also if Wei Wuxian tries to commit suicide it would be better

B. Fanfics in which wwx doesn't want to have children but is forced because he is lwj's husband

C. Wwx having a parental figure for the first time, I don't want it to be the Jiang parents but anyone else is fine

Also, no jyl or long lwj bashing, please

12A)

Practical Considerations by teawater, the_anthropologist (E, 97k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Spouses to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Scheming, Lán Elders are assholes, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, eventually BAMF LXC, learning to make decisions, Learning Self-worth, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet Wangxian, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, JC is a big asshole, he improves somewhat but it’s open-ended, WWX learns to stand up for himself, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, POV wwx, POV LWJ, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Teacher wwx, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WWX Protection Squad, Feelings Realization, WWX protector of the twin jades, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Protective LQR, Demonic Cultivator WWX, WWX is Loved, Married WangXian, Genius WWX, Everybody Lives)

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

12C)

safe here with me by xcourtney_chaoticx (G, 3k, WangXian, Family Feels, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Goes to Gusu, Fluff, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Food Issues, Endgame WangXian)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

藍色的花，紅色的蘭 {Lan se de hua, hongse de lan} by Admiranda, AshayaTReldai (M, 45k, WIP, WangXian, Orphan WWX, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, wwx raised in the lan clan, softer lqr, Good Uncle LQR, Good lan clan, Good Older Sibling LXC)

🔒 crying like a fire in the sun by Reverie (cl410) (T, 10k, WangXian, SongXiao, BSSR/LY, Runaway WWX, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Die, rogue cultivator WWX, Angst, Post Cloud Recesses, Not YZY Friendly, Happy Ending, BSSR is WWX’s grandmother instead of grandmaster)

Crimson leaves by barisan (T, 4k, WangXian, WWX & OFC(s), WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Rogue Cultivator WWX, WWX gets lesbian grandmothers, WWX learns about his parents, WWX is a Wen, (Through his lesbian granny but still), Getting Together, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Pre-Canon, Genius WWX)

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WN & WWX, WWX is a Wen, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming)

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13. Hii, so I'm looking for fics kinda enemies to lovers but not exactly 😅 like one of them is reluctant to get together at first? Or at least it looks like it, like in All The Roads or The earthquake in the room, both the I highly recommend btw. Thanks a lot @akutamichan

baby let’s take the long way home by plonk (Not rated, 10k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Abortion, Mpreg, With A Twist, Enemies to Lovers)

🔒 no certainty of doors between us by betts (T, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Roommates, Crack Treated Seriously, Drunken Confessions, Idiots in Love, dubiously consensual spooning, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing Clothes, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, wwx’s casual intimacy meets lwj’s touch starvation, wwx doesn’t know they’re enemies, lwj doesn’t know they’re dating)

varied my velocities by fantasiavii (E, 58k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ballerina LWJ, Football/Soccer player WWX, Enemies to Lovers, Top WWX/Bottom LWJ, Dom WWX, Angst with a happy ending, Internalized homophobia)

🔒 The Second Jade of Lan’s late but incendiary sexual awakening by KizuKatana (E, 41k, wangxian, First Time, LWJ’s Horny Grip, LWJ does not know what hit him, and yet somehow he still realizes it before WWX, canon wangxian dynamics, college AU, LWJ starts off annoyed at WWX, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

Documented Fact by Scrippio (T, 7k, WangXian, LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Modern with Magic, College/University, Professors, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Fluff, OYZZ POV, Humor) which features married Wangxian but everyone believes they're enemies.

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14. This account is a treasure!!! What I’m looking for are the post WWX resurrection fics that address Wangxian age gap. Can be fun, kinky, healing, basically anything. @feanarotherindion

Help, My Dad Is Fucking Someone My Age!! by sweetlolixo (T, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Humor, Crack, Fluff, Romance)

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15. I recently read fic While covered in mud by merthurlin. And I really love badass Huaisang who takes matters into his own hands earlier in the story. Is there any more fic where Huaisang went into Burial Mounds like that? Or just awesome badass scary Huaisang in general. I have huge need to read some badass Huaisang who will get recognized for his mastery too.

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, NHS needs a new hobby, And apparently that’s spoiling his Wei-Xiong, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh)

💖 demons run when a good man goes to warby Miranda_Aurelia (T, 20k, wangxian, LWJ & NHS, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, angst w happy ending, NHS & LWJ friendship, not JGY friendly, dark LWJ, revenge, (presumed) major character death, not LXC friendly)

The Lost Cause by KouriArashi (T, 18k, JGY & NHS, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Murder Bros, NHS is a boss bitch, JGY is a hot mess, Everybody Lives, except the people who suck, (lookin at you JGS and JZN))

The Threads of Fate by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 78k, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Good Uncle LQR, Protective LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Pining LWJ, WWX in WWX's Body, JC & WWX Reconciliation, is it reconciliation if WWX doesn't know they were estranged?, Oblivious WWX, WWX Deserves Better, WWX Deserves Happiness, Siblings JC & WWX, Supportive JYL, Protective NHS, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comic Book Science) If the requester doesn't mind a WIP, the frequently updating The Threads of Fate is another good one that features a brilliant Nie Huaisang.

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16. itmf for fics where lan wangji is very forward? in terms of flirting or expressing his adoration/ attraction for wei wuxian

can be canon or au or even modern au!

(just no side jc/wq please)

🔒Tangible by apathyinreverie (T, 2k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Humor, Possessive LWJ, First Kiss, Getting Together, the library scene)

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian)

dream of a funeral; hear of a marriage by defractum (nyargles) (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff and Humor)

loveliness by orphan_account (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Pining, Teen Romance, Getting Together)

body and soul by TooSel (E, 41k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Marriage Proposal, Everyone Lives AU, Cultivation Sect Politics, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU, Adoption, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

❤️ Standing Engagement by x_los (M, 18k, wangxian, misunderstandings, accidental engagement, sunshot campaign, golden core reveal, accidental relationship, WQ lives, everyone lives au, Mojo’s post)

Give Me One Good Honest Kiss by thunderwear (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, horny LWJ agenda, LXC is suffering in LQR’s name, [PODFIC] Give Me One Good Honest Kiss by thunderwear)

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17. ITMF where WWX agree to come to gusu in exchange of wen remnants protection. I want WWX accept the lan condirion to lock him up. I want him to live lifelessly/aphatic/just living because he is nit dead yet. Or maybe like in Always walked a very thin line by tucuxi.

Bonus if LWJ/LXC/LQR managed to make WWX scream at them and tell them whats wrong with him in anger. Thanks

The Forsaken Jade Statue by SaiaiSaiko (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian, Curse Breaking, Curses, WWX Goes to Gusu, Dark Gusu Lan Sect Imprisonment, Seclusion as Imprisonment, YLLZ WWX, Older LWJ, Older LXC, Cursed LWJ, petrification, Hopeful Ending) Wei Wuxian in 'Seclusion' for the Wen's protection and stumbling over Lan Wangji cursed to be a statue

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***