#not her saying this needs to remain professional but she just talked to him about having a gf

[starryhyuck]

pairing: challengers!johnjae x afab!reader

words: 3.5k+

summary: johnny suh and jeong jaehyun are determined to prove their worth to you in this year’s tennis competition. you all end up receiving more than you expected.

genre: smut

warnings: there is some mlm johnjae so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that, double penetration, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, talks of creampies, three way make out

thank you for 9.5k followers!!

“Your serve is fucking insane.”

You hum noncommittally, fingers tightening around your bottle to spray more water into your mouth. You wipe the sweat from your brow as Donghyuck continues to eye you with amazement.

“You do know that ball boys don’t usually get to talk to the players, right?” You comment, a little perturbed by how easy it is for the younger man to approach you.

His eyes continue to sparkle despite your demeaning remark. Unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck signed up to become the tennis team’s lackey just to be able to see you in action.

You were the crown jewel of the university’s tennis program, having been recruited from the early stages of your high school career. Much speculation occurred at your decision to go to college first instead of turning to a professional career. You insisted to your parents that your education was still important despite your only shining skill being the ability to hit a ball with a racket. You slaved away most of your hours on this court, practicing to become the next best tennis player South Korea has ever seen.

“I’m looking forward to your match on Saturday,” Donghyuck says, eagerly handing you another tennis ball when you outstretch your palm to him.

Your eyebrow quirks up at the mention. The Korea Open kicked off this weekend and the press was convinced you would gain another title under your belt. You normally don’t enjoy goading them on, but you have a good feeling about the tournament this year.

“Scatter, pea brain,” Suyeon hisses when she approaches you two, flicking Donghyuck’s ear. The boy grumbles before returning to his place near the wall. Once he’s out of earshot, Suyeon turns her attention back to you. She’s dressed in one of her tightest skirts, indicating she has plans set in motion for tonight. “Are you ready to go yet?”

You shake your head at her inquiry. “I’m not done. Go ahead without me.”

She whines pitifully, clutching your arm tightly. “I can’t! You know I get much more attention when I walk in with you.”

You sigh. Suyeon has been chattering nonstop to you about all of the players who have flown in for the games this week. Tonight was the first party hosted by your university to welcome them, and your roommate took that as a green light to snag one of the tennis players for herself.

“I still need to practice my backhand-“

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg? Because I’ll do it.”

To prevent Suyeon from embarrassing herself even further, you hoist her arm and tug her away. She rejoices when you zip up your racket and bid your goodbyes to the remaining staff on the court. You do your best to ignore Donghyuck’s cheerful holler after you.

When you ask Suyeon if you can simply wear your practice gear, she throws you a disgusted look and quickly tugs you back to your shared dorm to change. You allow her to play dress up as she wants, wrapping your figure into a body hugging dress from the back of your closet. As soon as she deems you decent enough for the party, she hauls you over to the university’s lounge, where tonight’s events will be taking place.

Your first thought when you enter the party is that you would much rather be on the court. Just as Suyeon predicted, every eye turns to you when you step inside.

Whispers of tennis prodigy echo around the room and you try your best not to roll your eyes. Suyeon, on the other hand, basks in your popularity and bats her eyes towards the players that begin to approach the both of you. You decide to dodge the awkward conversation, excusing yourself to grab a refreshment.

It’s in the midst of downing a lemonade when you feel a presence linger behind you.

You turn to see none other than Johnny Suh and Jeong Jaehyun, the winners of last year’s doubles title. You heard that Jaehyun had enrolled into the same university as you while Johnny opted to go professional.

Despite the distance, the two seem closer than ever. And tonight, they stare at you like you’re their last meal.

“Hi,” you greet with an eyebrow raised.

Johnny speaks first, saying your name with a devilish grin. “We were wondering if we would see you here.”

He starts to introduce himself and Jaehyun, but you hold out a hand to stop him.

“I know who you are. I watched you two crush it at last year’s match,” you say, humming while you refill your glass. Jaehyun’s eyebrow ticks up at the revelation while Johnny’s smirk widens. “I’m guessing you’re both back to defend your title?”

“That, and to prove we’re just as good in the singles,” Johnny answers. You swallow a laugh at his unwavering confidence.

“I see you practice on the court sometimes,” Jaehyun says, diverting the topic of conversation back to you. “You’re incredible — I’ve never seen a backhand like yours.”

You smile at him, thanking him for the compliment. Jaehyun was definitely the more timid one of the pair, while you could tell Johnny led most of their conversations.

You feel like you’re in the lion’s den, with Johnny ready to pounce and Jaehyun waiting for permission to do the same.

Luckily, Suyeon rushes over and becomes your unknowing savior. Her hand wraps around your upper arm and she whines pitifully in your ear.

“SOS! SOS!”

“What is it?” You ask, eyes still remaining on the two men in front of you. Johnny’s fingers are slowly tightening around his glass and you wonder if he has the strength to break it. Jaehyun holds his a little more delicately, but you can see him clenching his fist behind his back.

You imagine one of them tangling their hands through your hair while the other wraps his around your neck.

“I don’t know anything about tennis,” Suyeon sighs, bringing you out from your lewd fantasy. “Come and help me, please?”

You smile at the two players, setting your glass down on a nearby table.

“Apologies, boys. Duty calls.”

You feel the weight of their stare follow you as you walk over to help Suyeon battle tennis talk.

You ponder if they’re desperate enough to stay behind for you.

—

You receive your answer later in the night.

As soon as Suyeon is all set for a lovely evening with a pretty player named Yuju, you start to make your way to the exit. You’ve had enough social interaction for one event, but two figures lingering by the door makes you second guess that decision.

Jaehyun adjusts his posture when he catches sight of you while Johnny leans casually against the wall, trying to make it seem as if he’s not affected by your appearance.

“You’re still here,” you hum, folding your arms across your chest. Both pairs of eyes quickly dart down to the swell of your breasts before moving upwards, acting like they weren’t just checking you out.

“Party’s too fun,” Johnny bites, sarcasm flooding his tone.

“I’m sure,” you chuckle dryly.

“Is your friend all good to go?” Jaehyun asks, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he genuinely wants to know the answer.

You smile at him. “Yes, I was able to rescue her from the awful tennis small talk.”

Johnny kicks off from his position against the wall, approaching you with determination. Jaehyun eyes him carefully, and you realize from their body language that they have done this dance before. You think about how many other girls have fallen into their open trap.

“Well, maybe tennis talk isn’t all that bad. Especially in a quieter setting.”

Johnny reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his spare key set to one of the dorms the university is housing them in. He dangles them in front of your face, and you drink in his smug expression and Jaehyun’s anxious anticipation at your answer.

You tilt your head teasingly. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

Johnny shrugs. “Nothing wrong with a few tennis players strategizing before the match, right?”

Against your better judgment, you follow the two back to their dorm. You ignore the way Johnny’s fingers brush against the back of your thigh as he walks behind you and how Jaehyun’s hand continuously knocks into yours, pinky fingers brushing by each other. They clearly have set motives for the night and you would be lying if you said your mouth isn’t foaming at the idea of taking them both at once.

Jaehyun unlocks the door for you both, and Johnny keeps a steady hand on your lower back as he guides you in. As you expected, the university set them up in a double room, with separate twin beds pressed against each wall.

Before you can comment on the size of the room, a hand snakes around your middle, pulling you against Johnny’s backside. His fingers brush your hair to the side, pressing kisses against your exposed neck. Jaehyun has fallen to his knees in front of you, pushing up the fabric of your dress so he can catch a glimpse of your panties.

You make no moves to stop either of them, hands intertwining with Johnny’s as he continues his assault on your throat. You faintly register that you’ll have to cover up his marks before your match tomorrow, but Jaehyun nipping you at your thighs brings you out of your thoughts.

“So you’ve done this before?” You confirm while Johnny’s hands harshly squeeze your hips.

“Maybe,” Johnny hums teasingly, drawing out the last syllable. “But no one as pretty as you.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at his cheesy retort. You look down to see Jaehyun staring up at you, eyes filled with unbridled lust. You stroke his cheek gently and giggle.

“Are you waiting for permission?”

Johnny chuckles from behind you. “He’s waiting for you to sit on his face, sweet girl.”

Your eyebrow quirks up in surprise. Multiple exclamation marks pop up in your head but you’re not one to hesitate if someone is willingly offering to provide you an orgasm, so you bunch up your dress to your waist and hover over Jaehyun’s mouth. Johnny helps you in the process, pulling your underwear to the side and guiding your hips until Jaehyun’s tongue brushes against your folds. You gasp at the feeling and Jaehyun wastes no time diving into you, eagerly eating your cunt like his life depends on it.

Johnny’s hands have wandered to the straps of your dress, pulling it down and fondling your breasts. His fingers roll over your nipples, hardened and peaked from the intense foreplay.

He whispers in your ear, playing the devil on your shoulder. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Jae loves it when it’s sloppy like this, loves to feel his mouth being used.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, catching the implication in his tone that Johnny has been in your spot before. “He likes it better when you tug on his hair like this,” Johnny says as he guides your hand to Jaehyun’s head, allowing you to pull the strands. “It lets him know he’s doing a good job.”

Jaehyun’s lips swallow every drop of essence your pussy grants him. He seems to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, hands grabbing your ass and pulling you deeper onto him.

It’s not long before you’re completely riding Jaehyun’s face, desperately pushing yourself back and forth on his mouth in pursuit of your orgasm. You whimper when his tongue flicks over your clit, teasing the nub until you’re begging for him to make you cum.

“Please, please,” you whine, fingers tugging on his hair harshly. “Wanna cum, Jae, please.”

“Let the princess get what she wants,” Johnny says to Jaehyun. “Can’t have the tennis prodigy all wound up before her big match.”

Jaehyun follows Johnny’s orders, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking until your orgasm hits you. You cry and ride out your high until your thighs start shaking. Johnny’s arms hoist you up and before you know it, he’s throwing you onto one of the beds in your post-orgasm haze. You hear the clinking of belts and a hand wraps around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Sit up, pretty girl. Want to see my cock slide down your throat,” Jaehyun whispers to you. His mouth is still covered in the remnants of your orgasm, and he casually licks his lips to capture some of the taste.

Johnny slides in to your left as you sit up, feet dangling over the side of the twin bed. You pull your dress off, flinging it across the room. With Jaehyun on your right, you give him your attention first. Your hand trails down his stomach until you’re gently grasping his cock, pulling him from the confines of his briefs. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, long and pink with pre-cum gushing from the tip. You can’t believe he was this hard the entire time he ate you out.

Your head turns to Johnny, who is smirking down at you. His fingers are already wrapped around his base, pumping slowly while he watches you. He’s thicker than Jaehyun but equally as aroused. You replace his hand with yours, mimicking his previous motions.

You find a rhythm between the two, alternating between sucking one cock and stroking the other, and switching before one of them can complain about the lack of attention. Johnny’s hand possessively grips your hair while Jaehyun keeps a solid pinch at the nape of your neck, keeping you steady.

“What a nice picture this would make,” Johnny laughs sinisterly, observing as you lick him from his base to his tip. “Maybe we should commemorate this moment, Jae. They could put it up in the Hall of Fame.”

“What? Right over a plaque that says best cocksucker?” Jaehyun chuckles. “Add best pussy too while you’re at it. Never tasted a cunt so sweet.”

You ignore their degrading comments, too enraptured in taking their cocks down your throat as best as you can. Just the thought of having them both inside you is enough to make you clench your thighs, chasing friction as slick drips from your cunt.

“Hm, wonder what the little princess is thinking about,” Johnny murmurs. “Maybe what it would be like to take two cocks at once?”

You whimper around Jaehyun’s length, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Jaehyun clicks his tongue, giving two experimental thrusts that has you gagging.

“Selfish of her,” Jaehyun comments to Johnny. “Wants all the attention for herself, on and off the court.”

“Let’s not make her wait any longer then.”

You cough a little when Jaehyun pulls himself out of your mouth. Johnny tugs on your hair harshly until you’re facing him. He leans down to press his lips to yours, tongues fighting for dominance as he pushes you back down on the bed. You clutch the back of his neck, hungrily kissing him until you’re gasping for breath.

They adjust your body so Jaehyun lies underneath you, cock prodding at your waiting hole. Johnny hovers above you, spitting at your pussy and pushing two fingers into your waiting heat.

You mewl at the intrusion and Johnny grins. “Just as I predicted, Jae, still wet and ready for us.”

When he pulls his digits out, you release a croaky laugh.

“So which one of you plans on taking home the singles trophy tomorrow?”

You feel them eye each other at your question, both lining themselves up to sink into you.

“The best man will win,” Jaehyun mumbles in your ear, not sounding so confident in his answer.

You smile, sensing an open opportunity to encourage some harmless fun. You can already picture the two of them tomorrow — sweaty and desperate to prove themselves as the best. The thought of them being so competitive for the title causes more slick to gush from your pussy.

“How about this then — tonight, you both have to pull out. But tomorrow, whoever wins the title gets to cum deep inside me,” you drawl, watching as Johnny’s eyes cloud over and feeling Jaehyun’s hands tighten around your waist. “And I’ll wear your cum in my panties all day to show everyone who I belong to.”

The idea of them staking a claim on you drives them into a frenzy. You whine when they both push into your cunt, fighting for the tight space between their ridiculously large cocks. You collapse onto Jaehyun’s front, head falling against his shoulder.

“Slut,” Johnny growls at you. “That’s how it’s going to be, hm? Pretty princess wants cum dripping down her legs as she practices her backhand?”

Jaehyun groans in your ear. “Fuck, I want to see that so badly.”

Your mind is drawing a blank, heat filling your stomach as the both of them continue to press into you.

Jaehyun chuckles. “Maybe we didn’t think this through, John. Looks like her pussy can’t even fit the both of us.”

“Maybe you’re right, Jae.”

When they start to pull out, your head whips up with an unmatched fury.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“There she is,” Johnny smirks. “Princess wants us to break her pretty pussy, is that it?”

Your competitive nature flares up. “Trust me, I can take it.”

Johnny and Jaehyun exchange another round of looks and eyebrow raises. You feel utterly unprepared when Jaehyun plants his feet on the bed and Johnny situates his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs. They begin a furious pace, with Jaehyun roughly thrusting upwards and Johnny railing you until your head hits the wall.

You nearly scream, convinced that the neighboring dorms are going to file noise complaints by the end of the night.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss at the feeling of two cocks driving into you.

You feel completely full as they stretch you out. Johnny’s hand comes down to your clit to try and ease some of the pain. You crumble when the pain ebbs into waves of pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“There you go,” Jaehyun coos in your ear. “Just let us take care of you, baby.”

Two fingers slide into your mouth and you clutch Jaehyun’s wrist, gagging on his digits.

“Can’t wait to cum inside this tight cunt tomorrow,” Johnny grunts.

You hear Jaehyun scoff and give another harsh thrust, almost knocking you against the wall again. You blubber on his fingers but he doesn’t seem to mind the drool slipping down his wrist.

“What makes you think you’ll be the sure winner?” Jaehyun asks between throaty groans.

Johnny chuckles at the question. “Come on, Jae. You can’t be serious.”

“And if I was?”

Your orgasm hits you without warning and you cry, back arching and thighs shaking from the intense pleasure. You have to blink a few times before regaining your senses, and you’re surprised by what you find when you can finally see clearly.

Johnny’s lips are locked with Jaehyun’s, their tongues fighting for dominance in a messy kiss. They’re both still pounding into you albeit at a slower pace, suddenly enraptured by one another as Johnny’s hand moves from your clit to tangle into Jaehyun’s hair. The latter moans underneath you, removing his fingers from your mouth to lazily grab a handful of your breast as you remain sandwiched between them.

You didn’t think it was possible, but you grow more aroused at the sight. Filthy squelching sounds fill the room and your body starts to overheat from the constant stimulation.

Johnny’s eyes drift over to lock with yours, and he smirks into Jaehyun’s mouth at the sight of you. He pulls away from Jaehyun, who eagerly chases after him. Johnny cups your cheek and attaches his lips to yours, tugging Jaehyun along in the process. The three of you engage in one of the sloppiest make out sessions you’ve ever experienced, combined with a mixture of tongues and breathy gasps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jaehyun suddenly mumbles.

Johnny nods. “Me too. Let’s paint her body, shall we?”

You whine when they pull out of you, furiously stroking their cocks until they find release. You’re mesmerized at the sight of them climaxing, grunting harshly and coloring your stomach with ropes and ropes of their cum.

You collapse into a pile of bones and you feel them start to lick your neck, earnestly tasting the sweat dripping down from your face. You giggle at their unique form of aftercare.

“It seems like-“ you hiss when Johnny squeezes your breast again before continuing. “It seems like you two used up all of your energy. Do you think either one of you still has a chance tomorrow?”

Jaehyun laughs. “Don’t worry about us, baby.”

“Because we’re planning on cumming inside of this sweet cunt for the whole world to see, whether you like it or not,” Johnny finishes.

You swallow at their predatory gazes, shock traveling up your spine when you realize their cocks are already half-hard again.

You’re in big trouble.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

—Charity Girl—

Jackson Ellie x Fem! reader one-shot

Content: Slightly enemies to lovers, Ellie’s an asshole, AFAB reader, mentions of death and slightly graphic description, smut, nipple play, oral sex (r! receiving), making out, Ellie isn’t very cannon so if that peeves you don’t read this, mentions of weed, set in TLOU 2 universe, Joel is alive!!, this is unedited so lmk if there is any typos

Word Count: 5k

Description: You love Jackson, and you like helping people out. From farm chores to playing chess with the elderly, you’re liked around Jackson for being a charitable girl. You think everyone deserves some kindness. Everyone except Ellie, who can’t seem to find it in her to be nice to the one person who doesn’t deserve a harsh word.

God, you hated Ellie Williams.

You didn't want to say you hated her. You were a friendly person and you tried to be respectful to everyone. You even tolerated Seth, who was one of Jackson's conservative-minded guys. You rightfully disliked him, but you still remained civil when it came to professional matters.

However, it was just so hard to remain that way with Ellie. You didn't even know how truly irritating she was just seeing her around town, glancing over at her before she left for patrols with usually Jesse, Dina, Tommy, or Joel. She seemed pretty likable, at least from what you had heard. She moved to Jackson a while ago, before you even arrived at the settlement. You had never really needed to talk or had any interest in becoming friends.

You were a kind girl, and everyone in Jackson knew that. You liked helping out even if patrols weren't your strong suit. You felt insecure in that category being a bit less into scavenging and the dangers that lurked outside the town, so you decided to at least make yourself a bit useful. You made it a habit to use your love of baking to bring cupcakes to the playground for all of the children to eat. Sometimes it made you a bit sad to think about how little they had growing up in a post-apocalyptic world, but that wasn't a thought you could dwell on. You also made sure to keep the few senior citizens company because most people just didn't have the time to spend with them. Not that you didn't understand that, but you didn't sign up for patrols voluntarily unless someone else was ill and needed you to cover for them, or Maria needed an extra person. But it was just heart warming to know you made an impact since many of the old folks in towns didn't have family to keep them company. You'd spend hours playing board games with them, baking those little pastries they all complimented, asking them about their days. You were an angel amongst Jackson.

You were also extremely known for helping with food related jobs, such as gardening and farming. It was rewarding, since even though currency was quite useless in the world nowadays, you had the income of being able to take home vegetables, milk, butter, and even eggs when the chickens were active.

You mostly got along with anyone, and you tried to be a humble person. You just wanted to make the most of what you had. However, Ellie was..well, she was something. You'd soon be learning that.

It was summer, and everything was going fine for you. The sunlight hit Jackson in the most divine way and birds were flying over the settlement. You finished up with collecting eggs from one of the henhouses, so you grabbed a few as payment and headed to the diner to drop off a few. Everything was relatively normal. You glanced over at the gate and noticed that Jesse and Ellie had just gotten back from a patrol. Jesse was laughing about something and Ellie looked amusingly irritated. You couldn't help but think to yourself about how she was a pretty girl. She always wore her hair in a low messy bun, bangs framing her freckled face. You always were curious about her, but you just wrote your thoughts off as simple appreciation for her.

After you distributed the eggs to the diner and the supply building, you headed home. It was a short walk since Jackson wasn't a majorly huge place. Your house was small since you moved there alone, but it still home. You opened the front door and stepped inside. You still smelled the candles you'd lit from the previous night when you had been watching movies on DVDs found outside of Jackson on your small television. It was always the same movies. 10 Things I hate about you, Forest Gump, Scream, the Blair Witch Project(which had scared you so badly you were afraid to go patrolling in the forest for 3 months straight; you pathetically begged Maria not to make you do patrols), and E.T. It was just a random assortment of movies you had found in an abandoned house in a town outside of Jackson, but entertainment was entertainment. Who were you to complain?

You opened your fridge and stored the eggs inside, and then spent the next few minutes internally debating what you could do with your free-time. You still had a few books on your shelf that were mainly unread, but you hated staying indoors and reading like a hermit. Well, it was a nice day. You shuffled over to your shelf and picked up a book you'd borrowed from Cat a while ago and never read: Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu. Apparently, it was a classic a few centuries ago. With the book in hand, you left your house to find the well-used bench outside of the Tipsy Bison. It was where you loved to just sit and socialize with people or read when you wanted to breathe in fresh air.

One thing about you was that you enjoyed nature. While you did hate patrols, the idea of having to fend for yourself being unappealing, you loved the beautiful parts of it. Some debated that the infection was a part of nature, and you knew that, too. But still, you preferred being in the safety of a settlement. You knew what it was like to spend time in the outside world and it wasn't pretty. You enjoyed inhaling the air, watching as people lived their lives. Mortality was so precious right now, and maybe that's why you tried so hard to get along with everyone. You thought everyone deserved kindness.

Still, this life you led was mundane and boring at times. You were slightly envious of the patrollers. People in the current world were often restless, and as much as you’d think Jackson’s residents would love a mundane life with safety, they craved the survival. Maybe it was from their own personal trauma, but you weren’t able get that same lapse in routine everyone else got. It made you crave something extra from life, always feeling as if something was missing. Life this way, spent working and your free-time devoted to simple things, felt too easy. It felt like a deal in which you didn’t know the conditions of, and you subconsciously believed every good thing in the world had a cost. This easy lifestyle had to have a price.

For the next 15 minutes, you began your reading on that small bench. That was, until you heard someone sit down next to you. You glanced over to see Ellie there, alone next to you without any of her companions. Not that she was incapable of being alone, of course, but Ellie was the type of person to be reserved to her select group. Not a social butterfly like you, but well liked in an ironic way. She was so effortlessly able to get people to like her while not caring about whether or not people liked her. You gave her a warm smile and quickly doggy-eared the page you were reading, closing the book and setting it down into your lap.

"Can I help you with something?" You asked, remaining polite. You knew you probably seemed short with her, but if you were being truthful, the girl made you a tad bit nervous. Really, she had a positive impression on your brain. Before you really got to know her, at least.

She shrugged, feigning indifference, and answered you in a voice that was slightly teasing, her voice lacking the type of friendly amusement you'd expect from her. "Just wanted to say hi. Why is it that you sit out here everyday? Do you not have anything else to do?"

You were a bit shocked by that reply to say the least. You didn't ever expect Ellie to be even slightly rude. However, you were trying to be friendly. You'd kill this with some kindness. "Well, it's a nice day. I like the fresh air, you know?" You answered, trying to not sound too defensive.

The girl simply gave you a look you couldn't identify. Slight disapproval, and something you couldn't read. "You like fresh air? I thought you hated being outside. You know, since you never volunteer to go outside the walls and contribute?"

Now, that started to peeve you. Ellie was gorgeous, but even your little crush on her that you didn't realize you even had would save her now. Still..you tried to be friendly. Kindness is a virtue, you reminded yourself. "Everyone has their preferences. I personally like helping with the animals and harvesting crops." Once again, you tried to not sound too defensive. Something about Ellie's demeanor, the way she was looking at you intently, it made you feel as if she was trying to tease you to get a reaction out of you.

"Well, suit yourself then. But people risk their lives for you. The least you could do is return the favor. That's all I had to say." And with that last comment, she just stood up and waved at you before walking off.

It was so hard not to catch up to her and ask her what her deal was, but that would cause more problems than it would solve for you. You sat on the bench, confused and frustrated.

The next few weeks, these little comments Ellie made to you continued. It was either some slight judgment about the book you were reading or that you spent too much time trying to look sweet that you were actually just useless. It was always with a tone that was so rude yet seemed teasing. You wondered if she meant any of it. You always tried to defend yourself, but you were starting to really despise Ellie. You considered talking to someone like Maria, Tommy, or Joel about it, but would they even believe you? Ellie was usually not so rude from the conversations you had overheard. She seemed like a normal girl. It was frustrating having nobody to tell this to. Your friends always laughed you off, saying that Ellie was probably just joking with you to be friendly and that you were misunderstanding her. Everyone in Jackson loved Ellie, and she seemed to get along with everyone just fine except for you. Still, you tried to be sweet. You would simply brush her off, pretend like she was just some old person who made subtle criticisms and not anything serious. It was just really starting to get to you, though. You wondered how long you could manage.

Turns out, you would have to manage a patrol with her. Someone did in fact become ill and had to turn down a patrol, so you volunteered. Only then did Maria seem to mention that your partner was Ellie. You wanted to beg to swap with someone else, but you didn't want to inconvenience anyone, so you accepted the fate. It was a foot patrol among the south trails. 8 hours of pure torture.

Foot patrols were entirely different matters than what usual patrols entail. For starters, usual patrols require horses and cover more distance. They’re less dangerous. Being on foot also requires you to trust your partner more, which you struggle to do with your current partner. You have to trust that they’ll cooperate with you and have your back if things get tough. However, foot patrols do not require patrollers to hit up the main buildings or hot spots. You only check into the small places around the area, such as the office downtown or the gun store a mile from the grocery store. You’re less likely to get ambushed by a horde of clickers that way.

The fact that it was a summer patrol instead of winter made it slightly better. You imagined what it’d be like if you and Ellie got trapped in a snowstorm and were locked into some grocery store together. Annoyingly enough, the idea of having to share body heat with her made your heart flutter more than you’d like to admit. Summer patrols meant you’d probably have to take a lot of rests so neither of you would overheat, however.v

The cork board outside of the supply station mocked you in a way with your name being beside Ellie’s. You truly began to wonder if you could handle being alone with the girl who subtly tormented you for weeks straight without finally snapping. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you snapped at her. Would she yell back, or maybe even report you to Maria? You just knew that your usual patience was wearing thin.

You went home and collapsed onto your bed, hoping that a good night’s sleep would somehow save you from the situation you’d be facing tomorrow. As if Ellie would suddenly leave you be if you got enough sleep—you were just truly desperate.

Night didn’t last forever, and you woke to the sight of light streaming through your curtains in small patches. You groaned and forced yourself to get out of bed. The alarm clock read “6 A.M.” Much too early to have to deal with Ellie Williams.

You took a quick shower just to freshen up and got ready for the day, messily tying your hair back and putting on a pair of tan cargo pants, a light button-up, and a pair of combat boots. Simple, but safe. You packed a bag with some emergency medical supplies including gauze, alcohol pads, and a bottle of ibuprofen. You knew that you'd be given a care package from the supply crew, but you liked to be safe.

You would always grab a shotgun and a pistol from the weaponry building. Most people would choose to take the rifles, but you found it easier to shoot a light pistol and shotguns were easier to aim with. You knew the more trained people, Ellie included, would bring knives or machetes to clear infected with. You didn't trust yourself to get so close to the infected, at least not without something like a gun. Extra ammo, and extra MREs. You always felt a bit more safe bringing just a few extra things in case of emergencies.

You remember when you arrived at Jackson, and you were assigned your very first patrol at 17. You spent hours before patrol preparing with extra equipment, and it soon became a habit to overthink the experience. Your partners would ask about it, maybe give you an odd look, but most people just got used to it after a while. Everyone assumed it was because of your life before Jackson, and they'd guessed right.

The children that were raised in Jackson were unfortunate to have even been born in such a dangerous world that can snatch away the people you care for most, but they at least grew up into safety. You were nomadic, moving from settlement to settlement, group to group, or even just setting up camp in the middle of a forest or abandoned city. It was a dangerous life, and it left you constantly losing sleep, waking up and wondering if your father who you traveled with would be able to protect you if something truly happened. If the two of you had the misfortune of stumbling upon a horde of infected or run into a slaver group. It was often that you'd sleep so lightly, even the sound of a mouse scurrying across an abandoned office floor would wake you. You were terrified with the thought of being eaten alive in your sleep or worse, bitten, and left to slowly lose your humanity.

The day your father was killed off wasn't much different than any other, and that resulted in your current state. Always being overprepared because maybe you could prevent sudden death. Just maybe if you brought one extra gauze strip, you'd somehow prevent past you from watching your father be torn apart from a clicker. Jackson was supposed to be a fresh start for you, so you always found yourself repeating the same phrase.

"Make the best of what you have, and don't dwell on what you've lost."

Sometimes you break your own rules, though.

It was around 6:45 when you arrived at the gates. The sun wasn't up yet, and that meant flashlights would probably be necessary. One downside to summer patrol was that the sun set late, but the sun rose late, too. You anticipated the hues of orange and pink that would paint the sky and give you light.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Ellie cleared her throat, signaling she was here and ready to go. You stole a glance at her and your heart fell into your stomach.

She looked messy and somehow so gorgeous that it hurt. She had a slightly masculine energy to her with a pair of brown leathers boots and boot-cut dark jeans that still found a way to hug her thighs so deliciously. She wore a short-sleeve t-shirt you'd seen on her before and her low bun had strands falling out of it, strands you secretly wanted to tuck behind her ears.

You scratched those thoughts out of your head when she opened her mouth.

"Are you conscious? We need to get moving." She had a slightly scolding tone that made you want to bite back with something just as condescending, but you held back.

Instead, you simply nodded, and Ellie probably could've sworn that you had veins popping out of your forehead. Who could've blamed you? Ellie was such an asshole to you.

Ellie's mind was an extremely complicated place. Her thoughts were quick, and she felt the need to always be on task. However, one difference between the two of you was that she got into trouble at times. It was quite inevitable though, especially when she was friends with Dina and Jesse.

Incidents like getting high off her ass on patrol, messing around with a squeaky toy and accidently attracting a group of walkers, losing her temper and pissing off a group of stragglers, or when her and Jesse abused the walkie-talkies.

She was naturally in need of routine breaks, and maybe that's why she teased you so much. She felt a little envious. You were this perfect girl, sweet as they come, who cared for the people in town who didn't usually have company. You didn't do patrols and you were still an incredibly hard worker in ways Ellie felt lacking, because there were so many people around town who kissed your ass for doing something as simple as milking the cows.

That wasn't all Ellie's thoughts about you were based around, though. Something about how boring your life was somehow appealed to her, and she hated herself for even thinking about you. She also shouldn't have been obsessing over a girl who was probably straight, like most girls in Jackson, of course. But something about you really made her want to break you and see you snap. Maybe that's why she spent so much time trying to get a reaction out of you. She knew she was being a dickhead to you, but she still just needed to see that snap. She'd finally be able to know that you were more than just some nice girl, then.

Truth was, Ellie was probably in love with you with the amount she thought about you. Insulting you was so easy, though. It was so easy to pretend that she didn't like you than to make an effort to impress you and be herself. She was scared of letting you know who she actually was because you may reject her forreal, and she couldn't handle that.

So it was best to pretend like she enjoyed being extremely condescending to you.

The first two hours of patrol was spent walking in close proximity on the trails south of the creek. You could practically smell the water, and you could feel the slight breeze that gave you some relief the extreme heat. Every now and then you'd take a sip of water and look around cautiously. Caution was something you couldn't live without, and Ellie seemed to take a notice to that. It was just your lucky day that she was in the mood to be an asshole to you again.

She'd make small remarks to you, sometimes questioning the way your hands trembled anxiously, or asking you why you didn't bring any good weapons. When it was lunch time, she laughed at the ridiculous amount of rations in your backpack. Slowly, you felt peeved. Why was Ellie such a bitch to you? You knew she didn't actually care about these things, yet she loved to point them out in the most grating voice she could muster up. After one particular comment that was something along the lines of "You know, it's embarrassing that someone else had to get sick for you do take a patrol shift" that finally made you snap.

You halted along the trail and turned to face her, a sudden irrational wave of anger flooding your system. "What the fuck is your problem?! Are you just mad because you hate me? Is that it? I don't understand what I did to deserve you constantly criticizing me!" You snapped, voice clear with anger. You stepped forward and you wanted to slap her across the face, hardly holding back from doing so. Ellie sensed this and maybe she felt a twinge of fear and something else you didn't even notice. This was odd seeing as she could easily kick your ass. Her back hit a large tree, her eyes widened as if she couldn't have possibly predicted this reaction. This only made you more irritated.

You stepped forward, your body close enough to hears that you could hear her inhale and exhale, and it was a shaky sound that you would've questioned if it weren't for your anger serving as a distraction. "Answer me, asshole! Why do you hate me so much?! Just fucking-" And you were cut off with a kiss.

Her hands desperately grasped at your face, pulling you closer as she kissed you. It wasn't the standard type of sweet kiss in which two people would brush up against each other's lips. She was practically devouring you with her need. At first, you couldn't process what was happening. Ellie was kissing you so hard you felt almost lightheaded. But for some reason, all of the anger you felt was flushed away as you began to kiss her back.

Ellie took some initiative and flipped you around so that you were backed up against the tree, the rough bark digging into your back. However, you couldn't focus on any discomfort present in your body. All you could feel was the numbing swell of your lips as Ellie's practically bruised yours. You felt her teeth bite on your bottom lip, and you let out a pathetic moan. Her hands were somehow everywhere, from your face to the sides of your body as if she was trying to pull the warmth from your body.

She tasted so fucking good, it was hard to stop. You could faintly taste copper from where she bit down onto your lip, but you could also taste her in such an intimate way, it was more emotional than it seemed. A mix of her toothpaste, and an Earthiness you'd imagined she'd contain. The two of you were lost in each other that patrol was all but forgotten.

You finally had to pull away to breathe, but she needed more. Her hands trailed across your chest, palming at your tits through your shirt. You tilted your head back against the tree, and she took the opportunity to leave hungry kisses on your pulse point, probably sucking hard enough on your skin to leave hickey's you'd lecture her about later. But for now, you didn't care.

It was all a blur, her pulling at your clothes and the both of you left naked against the tree not long after. She tugged at your hair while lapping at your tits, and this made you breathless. "Ellie, please.." You didn't even know what you were begging for.

She let out a soft noise and released the latch she had on one of your tits. “Fuck, I like this version of you so much better than the other one..” She said, her voice riddled with an obvious sense of need that made your thigh involuntarily clench. She moved upwards, her tongue meeting your collarbone and then up to your jaw. She kissed down the side of your neck, the heat of her mouth and the wetness of her tongue enveloping you. You tilted your head back, your breathing coming out in soft pants. You didn’t understand how you could hate her moments before and somehow be a mess for her now. You really wanted to hate how good it felt, but you really couldn’t even find an ounce of fight left in you to try and push her away. You didn’t want to push her away. 

Her hands moved to your tits, kneading them softly, pinching your nipples while she mouthed at the sensitive spot between your shoulder and neck. It felt like heaven the way her lips caressed your skin. 

She moved much too slowly down your body, kissing both of your stiff nipples before sliding her tongue down your navel. Her hands pulled at your waist and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly to meet her mouth as it moved against your thighs. She tried to tease you as best she could while being so horny as well, but soon she gave up on the idea altogether. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet..” Was the last thing she muttered before the heat of her mouth finally pressed up against your cunt making you clench around nothing. She parted your thighs gently and you struggled to stay standing against the tree. Your hands tangled into her hand to find purchase as her tongue lapped at your clit like you were dinner. Not like rations or canned soup you’d typically find lying around in an old grocery store, but a michelin star meal. You were far too expensive for her budget and she was taking advantage of the sample she got. She imagined what it’d be like to have you everyday, to be able to bring you please like this for hours on end. But she was too far gone to really dwell on the thought long before she was wrapping her soft lips around your clit and giving it a suck, making you tug on her roots and rocking your hips against her mouth, grinding your wet cunt against her mouth. She was so warm and you were soaking for her, and it was absolutely perfect.

Sometimes, you had overheard philosophical drunken conversions at the Tipsy Bison. People with flushed cheeks would talk of hatred. That was nothing new; hatred was always common in the world, even before the infection. But hearing someone talk about how hatred is just a negative type of love, now that part stuck with you. You could feel hatred for Ellie while she worked at your cunt, you told yourself. You repeated into your head that hate was unglorified love. Maybe it was desire, too. 

But you struggled to keep that notion in your head as her tongue swirled around you teasingly before not holding back one bit. And before you knew it, you were a goner. Your breaths grew shorter as your climax finally took over, your knees nearly buckling as you let out a loud cry against the release you were feeling. You were violently tugging at her auburn strands, making her moan in return, only sending more shocks through your body as you felt her send warm vibrations through your pussy. 

You nearly forgot how to speak. 

Eventually, you went limp against the tree, and she stood up to hold you close. Your breaths were ragged for a while and the two of you remained silent until she broke it with a soft sigh. 

“I am sorry for being a jerk..I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.” She whispered softly, her breath hitting your neck. 

Finally, you found your voice again, though it was unsteady and quiet. “I just didn’t understand..I still don’t. I thought you hated me.” 

She frowned at that and hugged your tightly, which showed to you that this moment was much more than sexual desire shared between the two of you. “No, I don’t hate you. I’m just an idiot, okay? I was jealous, and I sort of liked you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you ever.”

That made your heart beat just a little faster. “You…like me back?” You asked, needing her to say it just one more time. 

“Yes. I like you too. I swear, I think I’m in love with you the way I’m so obsessed with you. You were always taking up space in my mind..it was driving me insane.” She admitted, and it caused you to lean forward to plant a soft kiss on her lips. Both of your lips were still kiss-swollen and your body was shaking with the after-glow of your orgasm, but this kiss was much more gentle than the previous. It was soft and made you even more weak than her tongue did. Which was saying a lot.

She hugged you tightly, her hands finding purchase at your waist. You thought about getting dressed and going on with patrol, but none of it felt right now. The situation gave you that lapse in routine you needed, and you knew you were probably addicted to the feeling of Ellie’s presence now. Somehow, you couldn’t care less. That was a first.

[hhughes]

៹࣪ ៸៸ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 . . . ꒱꒱

in which Jack shows appreciation for all that you do, by doing you a favour.

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. jack hughes x athletic!trainer!reader. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. banter. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. just had this idea in my head and had to write it. who knows if I’ll do more with this pairing, maybe, maybe not. we’ll see. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Working in professional sports means you’re exposed to attractive people most of the time. They’re professional athletes , it’s their job to keep their bodies in shape , and over time you get used to it. A six foot , fit, cocky man is much less appealing when you're surrounded by them twenty-four-seven. It helps that you get to see them in their lowest of lows. Snoring on the plane when they haven’t brushed their teeth in over 24 hours , wearing the same T-Shirt and sweatpants on the plane on every roadie , or when they take it a step further ( bc they’re overachievers ) and puke in your backseat when you pick their drunk asses up from a night out. That’ll teach you to become friends with co-workers.

So it surprises you every now and then when you hear people freak out about how attractive they are , or how lucky you were to be in their presence as often as you are. People in this case being your dad’s friends’ daughter.

“I gotta get a job like yours if I get to stare at that the entire time,” Amanda says from her position next to you in the box , her eyes focussed on Jack who stood outside the door talking to one of the building staff members. you resist the urge to let out a sigh and only send her a polite smile. You hold yourself back from wanting to give her advice because she probably wouldn’t take it into consideration anyway. It was challenging to get your job as one of the team’s assistant athletic trainers , but getting the job wasn’t necessarily the hard part. It was keeping the job , continuously proving that you deserve it.

“Thanks again for getting us up here sweetheart,” your dad says, taking the spot next to you when Amanda occupies herself elsewhere, and squeezing you tightly into his side. Your parents were both lifelong devils fans and actually met at a game. So it was only fitting that they would celebrate their thirtieth anniversary at the same place they met.

“Pass my thanks on to Jack too would you?” your dad says , knowing it was because of him that they were up there but before you could reply a smooth voice cut in from behind.

“No need for that sir , the box was gonna sit empty tonight anyway. I’m glad it’s being put to good use,” Jack cuts in and both you and your dad turn to look at him. He was clad in his game day suit , one you’ve seen many times now but it still managed to make your mouth run dry a bit.

Sir? you mouth at Jack, lifting your eyebrow in a teasing gesture and if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve missed the slight lift in the corner of his lips, revealing his brief amusement before it fades away as he continues talking to your dad.

“You gonna get me a goal tonight? Break this little dry streak you're on” your dad jokingly asks as he shakes Jack’s hand and you gently nudge him.

“Dad,” you warn, knowing how hard Jack was on himself already about going pointless for a few games. You send Jack an apologetic glance but he just smiles in response. Usually it didn’t bother Jack when fans talked about his game. No one was more disappointed in him not performing than he was. And no one wanted to score more than he did.

But for some reason when someone close to you mentioned it, it struck a bit of a nerve. For some unknown reason Jack wanted nothing more than to play the best game of his career tonight and impress your dad. Maybe even impress you, but as he’s learned the last few months, that’s no easy task.

You’ve remained thoroughly unimpressed by just about anything and everything Jack Hughes has thrown your way. Which Jack isn’t afraid to admit, has hurt his ego quite a bit, but it’s also made him utterly fascinated by you.

“Should’ve worn my jersey. Give me a bit of extra luck,” Jack jokes and your dad lets out a slight laugh, patting the ‘C’ on his chest. Proudly wearing the devil’s Captain’s jersey.

“Well in that case you’ve got all the luck you need son. My wife is wearing your jersey — honey, come meet Jack! ” he yells at your mom and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment, sending Jack another apologetic smile, and your heart warms at the sweet, easy going grin he gives you, and then your mom in greeting.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him make that much of an effort to keep small talk going as he did with your parents for the next ten minutes. Even going as far as telling your dad that whatever they were gonna order at the bar tonight should go under his tab. You practically had to drag him away when game time was nearing and he had to go.

“We really need to go. I’ll see you guys after okay?” you say hugging your parents goodbye and following Jack out the door.

“Go get ‘em sweetheart,” your dad yells after you, as if you were the one about to play, and Jack laughs softly when you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re really excited to be here, as you can probably tell,” you say bashfully and Jack has the urge to stop in the middle of the hallway and just admire the blush of your cheeks. It’s not often that he gets to see you this laid-back, cheeks flushed, eyes practically lit up with happiness, foreshadows of your dimples, that he now knows comes from your mom, as you struggle to keep the smile off your face. Jack has always seen brief glimpses of this version of you, whenever they win a game, but it’s always there for a split second before you detach yourself and go into work mode.

And Jack is utterly obsessed with that version of you too. The one who doesn’t accept any shit from him or the guys. Who always seems to clean up everyone’s messes, on and off the ice, even if it’s not really in your job description. It’s not that Jack liked that version any less than this one, it’s just that his heart felt like it was going to explode because he’s the only one who has this little piece of you now. None of the other guys have seen you playfully roll your eyes at your dad’s jokes, or the fond smile you get on your face when your mom dotes on you. Only he has that.

“Don’t even worry about it. I wanted to meet them and I’m glad I did, they were awesome,” Jack says and you reach out and grab his bicep, bringing both of you to a standstill.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. You made their night. My dad’s never gonna shut up about this,” you say, squeezing his arm softly and Jack reaches for your other hand, glancing left and right and making sure no one else is around as he intertwines your fingers.

“We don’t show you enough appreciation around here for everything you do for us. For me. This was my way of doing that,” Jack says, squeezing your hand softly and his lungs malfunction temporarily as you step closer and press a feather light kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet when you wanna be, you know.” you say, moving away from him and Jack immediately misses having you close to him.

“Right back atcha,” he says, nudging you softly.

The two of you walk in silence in the direction of the locker room for a bit before he breaks it again and when you hear the words come out of his mouth, you desperately wish he didn’t.

“So the girl that was in the booth with your parents? She related to you?” he asks casually and you squint at him suspiciously as he refuses to meet your eye.

“No. She’s just my dad’s friend’s daughter. Family friend,” you explain and Jack nods.

“She single?” Jack asks and you immediately scoff, your feet coming to a halt at his question and he stops right along with you, sending you a questioning gaze.

“Are you serious right now?” you question, trying to keep the obvious hurt and disgust out of your tone. You lean back against the hallway wall, sending him a glare and Jack grin as he makes his way closer to you, his hands going to either side of your head as he leans his head so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“No, I'm not. I just think you’re hot as fuck when you’re mad, and I happen to know exactly how to push your buttons pretty girl,” Jack says, and your breath hitches as he presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

“But really though, is she single?” Jack asks with a shit eating grin and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you push him away lightly.

“Go you’re gonna be late and you’re gonna get me in trouble,” is the only response you give him

“Wouldn’t dream of it doc,” jack responds, shooting you a grin and giving you a wink as he makes his way towards the locker room.

“I’m not a doctor,” you yell the usual response after him, hoping it’ll stick one day.

[luveline]

how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket. 

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god." 

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself." 

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you. 

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal. 

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour. 

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's. 

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse. 

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile. 

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents." 

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers." 

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card." 

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille. 

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking." 

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing. 

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious. 

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically. 

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour. 

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that." 

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start." 

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe." 

[endless-ineffabilities]

Say Yes To Heaven

chapter 1 of the National Anthem series

President Aemond Targaryen x f!reporter reader

synopsis: a reporter finds herself entangled in an affair with Aemond Targaryen, the President of Westeros.

in this chapter: the President has a proposition for the reader, one which she finds almost impossible to refuse. Will she say yes to entering the enticing world that he so offers? Will she yes to him?

word count: 5.2k

themes/warnings: mild smut (18+), tension that can cut like a damn knife, language, mutual pining, use of power for the purposes of pursuing the reader (obviously, he IS the President)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

best to read the intro chapter before this one!

President Aemond Targaryen is in the second half of his tenure, and his presidency has already left an indelible mark on the political and historical landscape of Westeros.

From the start, Aemond's detractors were convinced he couldn’t do it. At just 28, they saw him as too young and too much a product of the Targaryen political dynasty. His election, they claimed, was less about his abilities and more about his family’s influence. Who’s to say he wasn’t just a puppet, with the real power lying in the hands of his powerful relatives? 

Now, two and a half years later, the country has seen what Aemond Targaryen can do. King’s Landing, once a cesspool of crime and poverty, has undergone a staggering transformation under his leadership. The capital’s streets now gleam with prosperity, lined with new businesses, cultural centres, and bustling markets. Even his detractors begrudgingly admit that his efficiency is something to marvel at. 

You’re aware of all this, of course. It’s part of the reason you were chosen to report on his presidency, giving the public a closer look at the enigmatic leader steering the nation. But lately, you can’t help but feel that your perspective on him has shifted, especially after that night in his private suite. 

Something lingers. You’ve started researching him more intensely, not because you have to, but because you want to. You pore over old interviews, articles, any scrap of information you can find. You’re supposed to be impartial, and you try to be. But you can’t deny that he fascinates you. 

Whatever it is, you’re determined to ignore it. You enjoy your work as a journalist, and you know you were extremely lucky to have landed a position at Highgarden News. Sure, you are still assigned to the team that reports on governmental affairs, but who’s to say that you can’t do your job from a distance? There is no need to get in deep into the thick of it all. The next time you see him, it can be as if that night in his suite at the Highgarden Hotel never happened. 

You are a professional. 

You know you are also a fool for thinking you can ever resist the attraction, but that does not matter.

Aemond, he asked you to call him, but that must only be reserved for his friends. Those close to him. As far as you’re concerned, you’re just a field reporter doing her job while he is the most powerful man in the country. He must remain President Aemond Targaryen to you. Mister President. 

Never mind that he calls you angel, and that it might be the most beautiful name anyone has ever given you. 

Angel – it had sounded like prayer on his lips. 

What must his wife call him behind closed doors? My dear? My love?

Sitting in the fluorescent-lit office of Highgarden News, the weight of your attraction feels overwhelming. Your eyes linger too long on articles about Aemond, replaying clips of his speeches, watching the way his mouth moves when he talks. It’s pathetic. You close all the tabs, scolding yourself for letting it get this far.

“Still obsessing over him, huh?”

Theon’s voice snaps you back to reality. He’s leaning over your cubicle wall, grinning ear to ear. 

Heat rises to your cheeks. “I’m not obsessing,” you mutter, though you can tell from the smirk on Theon’s face that he isn’t buying it.

“Sure,” he teases, nodding mockingly. “You’ve had tabs on Mister President open all morning. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

“I’m doing research. It’s my job, you know. Presidential affairs, national policy, all that fun stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Theon crosses his arms, his grin widening. “Because staring at his pictures is totally related to national policy.”

You throw a pen at him, laughing despite yourself. “I’m not staring at him! He’s the President of Westeros, and I’m just doing my job.”

Theon raises a brow and leans in, lowering his voice. “Come on, just admit it. You’ve got this crush on him. I won’t tell anyone. Well… not a lot of anyones, at least.”

“He’s married, Theon,” you groan. "That means I can’t be interested.”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s half the appeal,” Theon says, unfazed. “Forbidden fruit, baby. Besides, have you seen the guy? If he looked at me the way he looks at you, I won’t even think twice.”

You bury your face in your hands. The worst part is that he’s not entirely wrong. “Theon, please. I’m trying to work here.”

“You’re trying not to think about how good he probably looks out of that suit.” He winks at you, not missing a beat.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m your best friend, and it’s my job to remind you that you need to get laid.” He taps your desk, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Seriously, though. Be careful. I’ve seen the way he looks at you in those press conferences. That man is starved.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is pounding in your chest. If only he knew the truth of what happened that night. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” you lie, trying to sound casual.

Theon raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Whatever you say. By the way, Loras is looking for you.”

You freeze, the mention of your supervisor snapping you back into focus. “Loras? What for?”

Theon shrugs. “No idea. But he’s in his office, waiting for you. Sounds urgent.”

Your stomach flips. Anxiety builds up in your chest as you make your way down the hall to Loras’s office.

Please don’t let this be about Aemond.

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Loras is seated behind his desk when you walk in, flipping through a stack of papers. His sharp eyes flick up to meet yours as he gestures for you to sit.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a pretty major opportunity for you.”

You nod, trying to keep your nerves in check. “What’s the assignment?”

“As you know, President Targaryen’s re-election campaign is kicking off soon,” Loras begins, his tone brisk and no-nonsense. “It’s one of the biggest political stories of the year. We need someone embedded with his team – full access to the President, travelling with him, covering every move.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Oh no.

“And I want you to be that reporter,” Loras says, folding his hands as he looks at you expectantly. “You’re one of the few reporters we’ve got that are already pre-approved, and the best one for the task.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Loras leans back in his chair, his gaze sharp. “You’ve been covering his administration ever since he got elected. You know him better than anyone else here.”

You swallow hard, trying to process what he’s saying. “That’s… a lot of responsibility.”

“It is,” Loras agrees. “But it’s also the kind of assignment that can make a career. Think of the exposure, the access. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Your thoughts are spiralling. Travelling with Aemond? Watching him up close, day in and day out? You can barely keep it together after one night in his suite – how are you supposed to maintain professionalism while being that close to him for months?

“I don’t know if I’m the right person for this,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loras raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your hesitation. "Why not? You’ve handled plenty of high-pressure situations before."

“It’s just… surely someone else is better qualified. What about Theon? He did a great job at covering the Lannister scandal last year,” you say, searching for the right words. How do you explain that the mere sight of Aemond makes your pulse race?

“That was gossip fodder. The President’s affairs are a completely different territory than what you’re going to cover here. This is serious news. A definitive political profile if you do it well, and I know you will.” Loras watches you for a moment, then leans forward, his voice lowering. “And I’ll be honest with you. The President specifically asked for you to cover the campaign.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“He requested you by name,” Loras says, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t care. But if the President wants you on this assignment, I suggest you take it. For your sake – and for the sake of the agency.”

He asked for me? The words send a thrill through you, even as you try to tamp it down. 

“I’ll think about it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Don’t take too long,” Loras says. “The campaign starts next week. I need your answer as soon as possible.”

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Hours later, you sit alone at your kitchen table, the contract in front of you. The paper feels heavy, like it’s mocking you. The more you think about it, the more your resolve weakens. This is an opportunity like no other. The benefits are staggering – the access, the prestige, the career-defining stories you could write. But then there’s him.

You know you should sign it and get it over with, but something inside you hesitates. A voice, small but insistent, telling you this is a bad idea. That if you do this, you’ll fall deeper into the pull of him, into something you can’t control.

But then your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see a message that sends your heart into overdrive.

Dinner tomorrow. 8 PM. I’ll have someone pick you up. - Aemond

You swallow hard, a mix of surprise and dread washing over you. How does he even have my number? But then again, he’s the President – of course he has access to everything. This isn’t a question; it’s a command, and he knows exactly how to get you. He must sense your wavering resolve.

Your fingers tremble as you type out a reply.

- Why? What for?

His response is immediate. I just want to discuss something with you, angel.

- The assignment. Did you really ask for me?

Yes. I did.

You hesitate, your mind racing through the implications.

- I’m considering it.

Allow me to convince you. Come see me tomorrow.

- Nothing can happen between us.

Understood. 

But I can’t pretend that I’m not curious about what could.

- You know what they say about curiosity.

So, what do you say? You take a moment, biting your lip, the playful banter igniting something inside you.

- Fine, I can agree to dinner. But we’ll keep it completely professional.

Deal. Looking forward to it, angel.

Good night.

- Good night to you too, Mister President.

Don’t test me, angel.

A shiver runs down your spine the moment you read those words. His response feels like both a promise and a threat – the kind that ignites something deep inside you. The kind that sends images flashing through your mind, unbidden, making your legs clench together despite your hesitation.

The three little dots disappear as you lock your phone and drop it onto the cushion beside you, as if cutting off the connection to Aemond will somehow help you regain control over your own thoughts.

Tomorrow, you swear to use every ounce of willpower you have to keep things professional. You just hope it’s enough.

A fool, indeed.

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The next night, you're standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your blouse for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s appropriate – a crisp white blouse tucked into a knee-length skirt, modest enough for any work setting, but there’s something about the way you’ve put it together tonight. The way the blouse hugs your figure just right, the slight sheen of the fabric catching the light, the way the skirt fits snugly at your waist.

It’s nothing special, you tell yourself. Perfect for the occasion, suited for the upscale location you’ll likely be heading to. But deep down, you know better. You want to look good for him. And that very thought makes your stomach twist.

You adjust your hair one more time, glancing at the clock. It's almost time. You can handle this, you remind yourself. It’s just dinner. Just a business conversation. You’ve done this a hundred times before.

But you’ve never done this with him. And no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the anticipation buzzing through your veins is impossible to shake.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. You smooth your skirt one more time and walk over, taking a deep breath before opening it.

You’re greeted by the sight of two familiar faces: the same two members of Aemond’s security detail who escorted you to his penthouse that night.

They’re as imposing as you remember – tall, sharp in their tailored suits, one blonde and one brunette, with eyes that give nothing away. The only difference tonight is the extravagant bouquet of flowers in the hands of one of them.

The flowers are breathtaking, an arrangement of deep red roses intertwined with white lilies that feel far too intimate for something as innocent as dinner. But then again, they could very well be a reflection of Aemond’s intentions.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the blonde says, his voice low and composed. “These are for you. From the President.”

Your heart skips a beat. Of course they are. You swallow, glancing at the flowers as if they could explain everything.

The fragrance wafts up to you, rich and intoxicating. You can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning of the night’s games. Your fingers tremble slightly as you take the bouquet, its weight heavy in your arms, both literally and metaphorically.

“For me?” you murmur, as if the answer isn’t obvious. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the man confirms. “The car is ready when you are.”

You leave the flowers on the kitchen counter, stealing one last glance at them before closing the door to your apartment. They feel like a message – a reminder of who you’re dealing with tonight. Aemond Targaryen does not do things subtly.

Soon enough, you’re sitting in the back of a sleek black car, your hands nervously twisting in your lap. The city lights blur past the window, but all you can think about is the man waiting for you inside the restaurant.

After a few moments of silence, curiosity nudges at you. “I suppose you both already know who I am,” you say lightly, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “Probably more than I’d wish for you to know. So, would you care to tell me your names?”

The man in the passenger seat – the blonde – turns slightly, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m Steve, ma’am,” he says, his tone friendly and warm, a stark contrast to the serious atmosphere.

“James,” the other one says from behind the wheel, his voice low and gruff, eyes fixed on the road ahead. There’s a certain sternness about him, like he’s perpetually on duty.

“Steve and James,” you repeat, letting the names settle into your mind, humanising them. You glance at Steve. “So, James doesn't talk much?”

Steve chuckles, casting a quick glance at his partner. “That's just how he is,” he says. “You’ll get used to him. We all have.”

James doesn’t react, his focus still entirely on driving. You smirk softly to yourself, feeling some of the tension in the car ease with Steve’s casual demeanour. 

But the thought of their boss – the boss of the entire damn country, one could say – lingers heavy in the back of your mind.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The car pulls up to the restaurant, a lavish affair located on the grounds of an exclusive country club just outside the city. As you step out, you recognize the place instantly – The Old Valyria, a restaurant housed in a grand, ornate building that looks more like a palace than a dining establishment. The stone facade is intricately carved, its old-world charm unmistakable.

You’d covered an event here earlier in the year, reporting on one of the prestigious galas held by the Highgarden elite. But tonight, even as a familiar face in the city, you feel like an outsider in this world. The guests you spot entering and leaving are dressed in the finest attire, their movements confident, as if they were born into this luxury.

But then you see him.

Aemond stands just outside the grand entrance, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, but what catches you off guard is how casual it seems on him, especially with the black shirt underneath, its top buttons undone. It’s a departure from the rigid, formal image you’re used to seeing in the media. His silver hair is tousled, looser tonight, giving him a youthful, almost rebellious edge.

Your breath catches in your throat as he spots you and strides forward with purpose. His presence, as always, commands attention, but tonight you notice something softer in his expression. 

He reaches for you the moment you’re close enough, his fingers brushing over yours before lifting your hand to his lips. The kiss on the back of your hand is slow, deliberate. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time, and you can’t control the heat that flushes through your body. 

“That gesture doesn’t seem very professional,” you manage, your voice a bit shakier than you intended.

Aemond smirks, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. He straightens but doesn’t let go of your hand right away. “Sometimes certain gestures are worth bending the rules for, angel.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. He’s already playing with boundaries, the charming bastard, making it harder for you to maintain your resolve. And you haven’t even made it to the table yet.

“Shall we?” he says smoothly, gesturing toward the entrance.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The restaurant is even more breathtaking from within. Crystal chandeliers hang from a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, and the soft glow of candlelight reflects off the polished marble floors. 

You’re guided to a secluded table near the back, tucked away from prying eyes. Aemond holds your seat out for you, and you thank him, smoothing your skirt as you settle in and try to compose yourself. 

He sits across from you, his gaze never leaving yours. He appears at ease, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, a sense that he’s in control of every detail – of the night, of the atmosphere. Of you. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“It was kind of hard to refuse the President,” you reply, trying to sound casual.

He chuckles softly. “Be that as it may, you could have, and yet here you are.”

The waiter appears, setting down wine glasses and pouring a deep, red vintage. You take a sip, hoping it’ll steady your nerves. Aemond watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze glinting with something that you desperately wish to ignore. 

“I know you’ve been thinking about that night,” Aemond says, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

You almost choke on your wine. Leave it to him to cut to the chase. “I�� I don’t –” you stammer, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he continues, leaning forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “It’s not something I think I can ever forget, angel.”

Your throat feels dry, and you struggle to keep your composure. “It was a mistake.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes. “A mistake?” He leans back, swirling the wine in his glass. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I came here because you said you have something you want to discuss, sir,” you say, more firmly this time. “My supervisor informed me that – ”

“Sir.” Aemond clicks his tongue, the word dripping with distaste as his expression shifts into something darker. His brow furrows briefly, and you think you’ve hit a nerve, but then his lips twitch into a smirk, his amusement unmistakable.

His posture is relaxed yet deliberate, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have to admit, I was about to protest. To tell you I never want you to call me something so impersonal as that.” His smirk widens, and there’s a spark of playful danger in his gaze. “But then… a scenario came to mind.”

“What scenario?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

His smile turns devilish as he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his fingers lacing together. “One where you do call me sir,” he says, his voice dropping lower, more intimate now. “But not in the way you just did. Not with that sharp, cold professionalism. No…” He lets the sentence hang in the air for a moment, drawing it out, savouring it. “In a different setting. One where it’s… earned.”

Your heart stutters, your breath catching as the meaning behind his words sinks in. Heat blooms in your cheeks, and you quickly break eye contact, staring down at the table as you try to collect yourself. 

“That’s… not what I meant,” you say, your voice unsteady, trying to bring the conversation back to safer ground. But it’s too late.

Aemond doesn’t seem fazed by your attempt to regain control. If anything, the flicker of a grin on his lips tells you he’s pleased with how easily you’ve been disarmed.

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “You’re here for a discussion.”

“I’m here for the assignment,” you manage to say. “To discuss my role. Professionally.”

His smirk fades into something more thoughtful, though the tension between you continues to coil tighter with every second that passes. “Is that how you really want to play this?”

“It’s the only way to play this,” you reply.

“Oh, is it?” Aemond’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “You always have a choice. You could walk out of here right now, tell your supervisor you’ve changed your mind, that you’re not up for the assignment.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “But you won’t.”

You swallow hard, his words hitting you squarely. He’s right, isn’t he?

“You need this job,” Aemond continues, his voice smooth as silk. “But I think it’s more than that. I think you want to be here. In my orbit.”

Of course he’s right, but admitting that would be walking into a trap. One that you might not be able to escape. 

“You’re wrong,” you say quietly, though the words sound weak, even to your own ears.

“Angel… I don’t think I am.”

For a moment, everything hangs in the balance, the tension thrumming in the air. It would be so easy to let go. To give in to whatever this is. But you can’t. Not yet.

You sit up straighter, forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “As I mentioned, I came here for the assignment,” you say, more firmly this time, regaining some of your composure. “So, if there’s something you need to discuss, let’s talk about that.”

Aemond watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, searching for something. Then, finally, he sits back, exhaling softly as if deciding to play along – for now.

“Very well,” he says, his tone shifting back to something more neutral, though you can tell he’s not finished with you yet. “We’ll have dinner, and then discuss.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The dinner goes better than you expected. Aemond is calm, composed, and – surprisingly – reigning himself in. He makes casual conversation, steering the discussion toward neutral topics. Politics, the upcoming campaign, even light-hearted comments about the restaurant. Every word is measured, delivered with that cool confidence you know so well.

But no matter how carefully he plays it, the tension simmers just beneath the surface, a constant pulse between you. Every glance he steals in your direction, every time his hand brushes yours as he reaches for his glass, it sends a jolt through your body. You feel it, deep in your core, the magnetic energy that makes it impossible to stay unaffected. Like the way his eyes linger on your lips when you smile… it’s all so subtle, but dripping with intention.

By the time dessert arrives, your heart is racing, and you’re almost grateful when the dinner ends. Because while Aemond has kept it together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The ride back is a different story.

You sit on one side of the sleek, leather seat, your body tense, trying to create as much distance between you and Aemond as possible. He’s stoic, seemingly focused on something else entirely, his eyes fixed on the window as the city lights flash by. But the air inside the car is practically electric.

It’s only when you glance forward that you notice the screen divider has been put up. Steve, or maybe James – you’re not sure who did it – must have done it without you noticing. The realisation sinks in, laden with meaning. What did they think would happen? What did they expect?

Your pulse quickens. You cross your legs, a nervous habit, but when you do, your skirt rides up just a little too high, exposing more of your thigh than you intended.

That’s when you notice Aemond’s gaze shift. His eyes, dark and intense, flick down to your leg. The moment hangs in the air, thick and heavy. His face, calm and controlled just a second ago, hardens with something primal. And that look – it’s all it takes to flick a switch inside you.

In a flash, he’s on you.

The restraint he held so carefully through dinner shatters. His hands are on you, gripping your thighs, pulling you toward him, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry, desperate, ravaging. You let out a gasp, but it’s swallowed by the intensity of his kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a raw urgency that leaves you breathless.

You meet him in the middle of the seat, your bodies colliding with a heat you’ve tried so hard to ignore. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your now untucked blouse, searching, gripping, pulling you closer. The feel of him against you, the strength in his hands, the way he kisses you like he’s starving – it sends a rush of warmth straight through your core.

Your head spins, your breath coming in shallow gasps between kisses as you manage to push back, if only for a second. “We can’t,” you whisper, your voice shaky, weak. But you’re not pulling away. Your hands are still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his.

“Fuck, I know, angel,” Aemond growls, his mouth moving to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “But I want you…” His words trail off, full of frustration.

You should stop this. Every logical part of your mind screams at you to pull away, to remember who he is, who you are. This can’t happen. Not with him. Not like this. But the other part of you – the part that’s burning, aching for him – doesn’t care. That part wants him more than anything.

His lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower. His hand pushes your skirt higher, his fingers grazing your bare skin. You kiss him back, your hands sliding down his chest, gripping his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Between kisses, you manage to pull back, your lips barely an inch from his. “We can't do this... sir,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the word sir meant to ground you, to remind yourself that he’s your superior, that this is wrong. But even as you say it, the way your body reacts to him betrays the word’s other meaning.

It shifts something inside him. You see it. His eyes darken, his breathing quickens, and for a moment, it’s like a switch has been flipped.

Aemond growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating between your bodies as his hand grips your thigh even harder, pulling you flush against him. “Say that again,” he murmurs, his voice rough, his lips brushing against your jaw as he speaks. “Call me that again.”

Your breath hitches, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire coursing through you. “Sir,” you whisper, and the way his body responds – the way his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs – it’s overwhelming.

He kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip. He moves his hand higher, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing the heat pooling between your legs, and you let out a gasp, your body trembling against him.

“This is wrong,” you whisper, but your legs clench around his hand, trapping it within, pressed against the material of your panties.

“We can’t… sir,” you repeat, but the word sir falls from your lips like a plea, and it’s the final straw.

“Fuck,” he growls, his mouth hot against your neck, his words slurred with need. “You keep saying that we can’t, but I don’t think you mean it.”

He’s right. You don’t.

But just as his fingers nudge the material of your panties to the side, his thumb teasing your clit, the car slows, the outside lights shifting. Reality crashes back in – suddenly, you’re aware of the sound of the tires on gravel, of the car pulling up to the curb. You blink, the haze of heat between you shattering as the car stops.

“We’re here,” you whisper, breathless, your body still pressed against his.

For a moment, Aemond’s hand freezes on your thigh, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls away just slightly. He looks at you, his gaze still dark, filled with that same intensity, but there’s a flicker of something else now. Frustration.

You take a deep, shaky breath and pull yourself back, your lips swollen, your body still burning. “This can’t happen again,” you say, your voice unsteady, though you don’t even believe your own words.

Aemond doesn’t respond at first. His eyes stay locked on yours, and for a second, you wonder if he’s going to drag you back into him, consequences be damned. But then, slowly, torturously, his hand slides higher again, fingers curling under the waistband of your panties.

Your breath catches in your throat, the world narrowing to the sensation of his touch. Then, with steady precision, he pulls the delicate fabric down, his fingertips grazing over the slick, sensitive lips of your cunt. The touch sends a shockwave through your body, a shiver of need that leaves you breathless.

Aemond slips your panties off in one smooth motion, and with a smirk that’s maddening, tucks them into the pocket of his trousers, his eyes never leaving yours. The gesture is possessive, unhinged, filled with a promise that you know you can’t outrun.

“See you soon,” he murmurs, his voice low. His lips curl into that same wicked smirk, but this time it’s softer, almost reverent as he adds, "Angel."

The word hangs in the air as you step out of the car.

You’re his angel, and there is no turning back now. 

Series only taglist (comment to be added) - @aemond-lover98 @pinkpeachbloom @whencokewascasual @salinaiacono6 @mycheersricochet @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @chattylurker

General HotD taglists (refer here)

Vhagar taglist 1 - @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @joyismm @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @darylandbethfanforever9 @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk @anukulee (continued...)

Some notes in the margins...

Well... that sure escalated quickly. How could you have ever resisted? Good luck keeping it professional on the campaign trail, angel. 😇

Some new characters are introduced: Loras and Theon. Steve and James (*wink*). Soon we'll meet the Vice President, the campaign manager. etc. etc.... the wife (!!!)

Let me know how you're faring! It's only just begun 🤍

[femsolid]

There's a huge misogynist where I work. Always condescending, never takes responsibility for his mistakes, vulgar, belittling and making crude remarks about women's appearance. I seem to be the only one who doesn't take it. So naturally we had some tense exchanges, through wich I remained professional and he didn't. I reported it to my manager and I was told "that's just how he is, he's kidding" no he's not, I said, he's being cruel and sexist. Then I tell HR during a meeting about harassment, they write what I say and read it back to me, like we do at the police station, and one of them reads : "he makes sarcastic comments" and I'm like "what? I never said "sarcastic"? I said he makes humiliating and cruel remarks, infantalizing and belittling my work" "I think you said sarcastic" "No I said SEXIST, that's the S word I used." Then I talked about it to a close collegue and friend of mine and she responded with "im not taking sides as I've had no issue with him, you both need to work on your relationship or it's gonna end badly for you both". Us both? Then two other female colleagues, one of which presents herself as the great defender against harassment at work, a headstrong woman supposedly.

- oh he's not bad, not really, that's just how he is, he's joking

- no he's not, he's obnoxious and sexist

- there's much worse people here you should be weary of, he's not bad

- so because he's not the worst I'm supposed to let it fly? He is bad. He said women your age were past the expiration date btw. That's okay with you?

- Really? No that's wrong

- He made Mary cry by commenting on her appearance

- Well, you know, Mary, she's not exemplary either, she has...

- Irrelevant! I don't care what Mary has done, that doesn't make his behaviour okay. Emeline from IT made a post on Teams to help us solve a technical issue. He caught her at lunch and said in front of everyone she was playing the beauty queen with her profile picture on Teams and that she only made the post to get men's attention. That's fine with you?

- No but...

Then a coach went to talk to him and came back with "he's not bad, he said you two were fine now" "we're not fine, just because I stay professional doesn't mean we're fine" "you both need to work on your-" "what do I have to change exactly? I've stayed the same. He's vile. You don't have to agree with me. I'm not gonna change my opinion." And I turned back towards my computer.

The same company that forces us to take an E-learning class about harassment and sexism at work. Give me a break. I expect men to defend their class but this doormat mentality in women is awful.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer. 

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room. 

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.” 

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night. 

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?” 

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!” 

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses. 

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass. 

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck. 

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips. 

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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[kneelingshadowsalome]

How would konig react if reader left? like maybe without a trace n just disappeared cause she couldn’t anymore?

Hehehe... No one escapes König.

TW/CW: Can we just all agree that toxic!König is a trigger warning on its own from now on? I mean, it's the regular: stalking, harassing, sexism, potential killing(s)... also light angst (featherlight if you compare to the "cheating on König" answer.)

I mean, sure, he would be upset if he found out reader is trying to get away from him. He's not stupid. König knows he's built different (in more ways than one) and knows he will never be the man reader deserves. Still, he is fixed on the idea that they belong together. They are carved from the same tree. She is the moon to his sun, the light to his darkness. Wherever she goes, he goes. It should be the other way around, but if the woman of his dreams plays hard to get... Sure, he'll entertain her.

If someone approaches reader, König gets very territorial. Those poor souls get threats, maybe even some stabbing – this really depends on the situation. But if reader tries to detach or leave the relationship, he would observe this change in behavior with curious anxiety.

If drastic measures are taken and she tries to escape or make a disappearing act, König would simply do everything he can to find her. And let me tell you: this man can and will outwit anyone who doesn't share his background and training. So unless reader gets some actual, skilled, professional help from outside, she doesn't have much of a chance.

And when König eventually finds her, he would try to talk her back. Just persuade, persuade, persuade. Apologize if and when he has done something wrong. Shower her with attention and compliments and gifts. Beg, even – on his knees like a lovelorn knight. If reader says it's over and she doesn't want to continue the relationship, it would break his heart. But that would only last for a day or two. He knows who he belongs to and most of all, who belongs to him, so he would form a plan. König wouldn't get too discouraged.

He would simply draw his shoulders back and stay around. For years, if need be. After all, he already won her heart – he will do so again. He promised he would never let her go.

He would check up on her, be very suave and gentlemanly about it. Reader can always talk to him if she needs someone to turn to. They can at least remain friends, right?

If she answers his calls, he would at some point come over. Uninvited, yes, but just to pay a brief visit... See if she needs something. He is always willing to help should reader need something. A bookshelf needs to be assembled? He's on it! Reader needs a ride somewhere? He's already on his way. Whatever it is, he can do it. (He will show her how useful he is, verdammt noch mal.)

If reader tries to see others... uh-oh. König would start by threatening the possible candidates. No one would stay around for long to oppose this man. If they did, well, death sentence for them! Or at least a new hole somewhere. While he sort of knows that what he's doing is wrong, he also can't stand the idea of someone laying eyes, let alone a finger on her. He can't stand the thought of spending the rest of his life without her, because if she were to find someone new, someone better, he would watch that shit from afar and slowly break to pieces. And that's just not an option.

One slip of a comfort fuck, and she wouldn't get him out of her house. He would view it as a sign that you're back together again no matter what you tell him. Also, did I say comfort fuck? I meant mad, pent-up pounding that lasts the whole night. The sheets would be in shreds, reader would be covered in sweat and cum and tears and bite marks made in the heat of passion and frustration. The cuddles that follow nearly leave her bruised. König has missed her SO much 💞

So, the cocktail would be: hunting her down, harassing, stalking and "helping" her, bullying her dates... Our king would even resort to simping 🥺.

But König would only say he's in love. He will simply never find another you ❤️. (And you're not allowed to find anyone else either.)

He would view it romantic in a way: reader forces him to woo her all over again! As we already know, hunter/prey dynamics only give him a thrill. She must like the setting too. Why else would she do something like this? "Women and their games…" That would be his thought, accompanied with a shrug.

[happiest-hotch]

OMG please write about married!Hotch x reader going to a club tearing it up on the dance floor for a BAU night out, and an older Jack happens to be there maybe with his girlfriend and he’s mortified seeing his parents really getting down?

i would dance all over this man

Nights out with the BAU have never gotten less fun. Even as team members changed and through the years you and Aaron were away from the team, first in WITSEC then just to take a break. The plan formulated during your months together in hiding had been to wait until Jack was at college before going back to work

Hanging out at the regular bar was a sign nothing had changed in a decade.

After finishing probably the roughest case you've experienced since you rejoined the team, a team night out was needed, so you happily join Penelope in her mission to drag everyone out.

These days, Aaron doesn't need much convincing. He's more casual after WITSEC, and letting loose a little around the team isn't the worst thing in the world. It probably helps that he's not the boss anymore, and your unit chief also isn't opposed to letting her hair down.

He's only a few drinks in when you're able to convince him to come and dance. Maybe there's some using how much he loves you, but he doesn't protest.

It's hot and sweaty on the dance floor, and you're in a less-than-professional amount of clothing, dancing up on your husband like you're 24.

Aaron keeps his hands firmly on your hips, swaying to the music with you, but what's most sinful is his lips against your neck, very visible to everyone else, and the hard-on in his pants which thankfully remains unnoticed by anyone who's not pressed as hard against him as you are.

Penelope leans over to speak to you, or yell, thanks to how loud the bass is. "He's going to pull a muscle if he keeps dancing like that!" She jokes.

You giggle as you let him spin you around so you're face to face. It's gotten much more heated, and there's no doubt you're grinding provocatively against each other.

You hold his strong forearms, leaning up to whisper something downright filthy in his ear, but he talks first. "Jack."

You chuckle, grimacing. "That's not my idea of dirty talk."

"No." He shakes his head before nodding across the room. "Jack's here."

You pull away from your husband quickly, following his glance across the room before you catch his son. "What's Jack doing here?" You ask in shock. It's definitely a compromising position to be caught in with his dad.

"I don't know," Aaron says, taking hold of your hand and pulling you away from the dance floor and towards his son.

You briefly wonder if it's more or less awkward to acknowledge that he's seen you all over each other. Ignoring it might mean you can possibly look Jack in the eyes again at some point in the next ten years.

There's a girl next to him and you guess it's who he had said he was bringing home to meet you and Aaron during summer vacation. Her dress is probably not what she was expecting to be wearing during a round of meet-the-parents.

"That was awful." Jack deadpans, exactly like his father. "Seriously, I'm not sure how I'm going to burn that out of my memory."

"What are you doing here?" Aaron asks, ignoring the comments that you're struggling not to laugh at.

"Thought you guys were still on a case," Jack explains. "I didn't think I'd catch you dry-humping in a club."

You let out a chuckle while Aaron shakes his head. "Don't say that." He scolds weakly.

"I am so sorry you had to meet them like this." Jack turns to the girl next to him and says.

You offer out your hand to shake hers. "I'm Y/n, and I promise we're not always like this."

Aaron shakes her hand as well, introducing himself. "Yeah, usually our son has far better manners and introduces us to people."

"Usually, my parents aren't engaging in foreplay in the club." Jack teases you both.

You know how to get him back, and you click your tongue. "You don't know that."

It makes both boys' eyes widen while Jack's girlfriend laughs slightly, and the tension is loosened.

"Should we not mention this tomorrow?" She offers, speaking more confidently now that she can read the situation as humorous.

"Deal." You agree for both you and Aaron. "We should go."

"Home to sleep." Jack finishes the sentence for you, raising his eyebrows like a parent would do to their child, rather than the other way around.

Aaron does something you don't expect, frowning. "No promises."

[mari-lair]

Let's talk about after-school chapter 28!

I had assumed this interaction was what made Teru, our king of pettiness, go "You know what? I think I won't exorcise your evil spirit problem. Perish."

But?? Akane already had stiff shoulders at the start of their talk?? And Akane waited until it was near the end of their student council time to brag about his 'date' with Aoi.

Meaning Teru just let Akane carry the embodiment of stress and hatred on his back during their entire student council time??

I can't fathom why? This was not an 'I trust Akane to handle it' case, not when Teru was the one who enchanted his glasses so he know better than anyone how vulnerable to supernatural Akane becomes with it, and telling myself Teru needed to wait for the supernatural to feed on Akane to grow when this guy is a pro exorcist also feels like an excuse.

Maybeeee Teru was morbidly curious as to how Akane would fight the feeling?

Speculations on the insane decision to let Akane be haunted aside, their conversation is a trainwreck, shout out to how Teru instinct upon hearing Akane got a date is that his buddy is hallucinating.

I get his skepticism tho, pre-severance Akane you are... A lot.

"I love the part of her that invites me to go shopping" Akane, my dear, you need help. I know you're being honest but please find a less awkward way to be a lovesick fool. (---> I say, knowing full well he'll need to go through a traumatic feelies talkies section in Death's house first)

"cya!" is just cute to me. Look at this smug ill-informed dumbass.

"Hey, the flowers behind aoi are different this time," I think in surprise, even tho realistically Akane must associate Aoi with the entire garden at this point.

And here comes the professional thrid well, the prince himself! His mere presence means Teru actually fell for Akane calling the shopping trip a date though, he gives Akane too much credit.

Teru knowing Akane well enough to translate his stammers of a pathetic creature into "Why are you here?" is beautiful, bro is better at his side gig (pester akane) than his main job (be an exorcist) today.

Aoi's "I know a liar when I see one. let's indulge him anyways" she truly is a kind soul.

Speaking of said liar, I love that Teru doesn't have a basket or shopping cart.

He isn't even trying to pretend he had plans to go shopping, what a guy.

Aoi getting excited over dirt and fertilizer, my girl <3

Shout out to Akane for being happy that Aoi is happy and to Teru for finally figuring out that he doesn't need to sabotage anything cause there is nothing to sabotage.

Teru: *speak*

Akane: and away goes my joy and whimsy.

Love Teru trying to bond with Aoi right after the realization this is a hangout. He wastes no time.

Aoi telling Teru the truth is sweet, I'm glad they are getting closer. Also happy to see Teru remains shameless.

Aoi gave him the driest look possible and Teru still put carrots on her basket. He even said "buy it" SO HE WOULD HAVE MADE HER PAY FOR THE CARROTS.

YES AOI REPRIMAND HIS ASS!

She really treats him like a dog! Is incredible. From her 'grrr' to the way she points a finger at him, it gives me "bad dog! Drop it!" energy.

Fascinated by the way Teru blushes. He seems to be more hung up on being called 'bad' than anything, but he definitively liked being reprimanded, he is still blushing when he walks instead of displaying the dejection of the convenience store.

He doesn't even give up on his quest to make her buy veggies.

Teru, you're doing horrible sweety, keep pestering her and you two will be inseparable in no time <3

Love how Akane snapped out of the curse's first attempt to make him spiral by refusing to be on the same level as Hanako.

He is so arrogant "What am i a loser? A pathetic toilet loser? Nah nah, I am better than that." like damn, okay bro.

I can't believe he pushed back against a curse by the sheer power of self-confidence and determination though, he is built differently. 90% of the characters in this manga cannot relate.

Love how Teru probably didn't suggest a single flower for Aoi to buy, trying to test if he could sneak even one vegetable into her basket, so his closeness to Aoi just made Akane's petunia suggestion look that much more thoughtful in comparison (she does look very happy to be given an actual flower).

Rest in peace Teru you suck at sabotaging.

(Or he would suck if that was the goal! He stuck around for this entire hangout despite how rare his free time is. He got his ice cream, he even walked Aoi home, he just want to hang out. Same vibe as when he went "Oh aoi come with me to the festival, Akane will be there")

I find Teru's zoned-out face so cute.

There is no speech bubble to Terukane's first panel here, but i am 95% sure Teru was the one who asked to be notified about Aoi's gardening progress considering the '...' contrasting Akane's enthusiasm. Love that for him, yes talk to Aoi, get close to this closed off girl.

And Akane didn't like that iuguyguygyui

Teru can always just take off his glasses like Akane never fights that. Good for you.

I am still not over Teru just letting him carry this curse.

But now I really doubt he did it specifically to torture Akane, cause Teru likes helping Akane as much as he enjoys annoying him.

I wonder if he is proud of Akane for not acting on any of the negative feelings he was being fed, cause Teru looks genuinely happy here! It's a far cry from his usual 'bullying you relax me' or 'i am petty' kind of smiles.

...I may be biased but I am throwing my "Teru didn't exorcise the monster for this long to have an excuse to be hanging out with the Aois while tecnically doing his job." idea here. We do get a heavy confirmation he could have done something before and wanted to third wheel after all.

Teru wants to turn this couple into a tricycle so bad. What a guy.

"I hope I didn't act weird" That's an insane thing to think considering how you act near Aoi on the daily bro, you're lucky she is too down bad to mind your madman tendencies.

Peak weirdo to weirdo pining hell.

Speaking of which, she sent him a message to show off the planted flowers! She went out of her way to make sure he saw it, Akane never asked her to update him.

LOOK AT THEEEEEEEEEEM

"Thanks for taking me out today!" says the one who invited him. And 'taking me out'? to the hardware store? I swear I wouldn't even be surprised if she mentally referred to their hang-out as a date too. I love you Aoi.

"As long as Ao-chan had fun, I am happy" l know and I love you.

ps: Their height difference still sparks joy. The smallest girl in the block, the tallest boy in the group, and the perfect middle ground.

[xolandonorris]

DID I CROSS THE LINE? — CARLOS SAINZ/CHARLES LECLERC

MASTERLIST

summary: charles is dating carlos’ ex-girlfriend, causing him to feel guilty despite knowing she truly does love him

The roar of the Formula One engines grew louder as Charles Leclerc tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. His focus remained unwavering, eyes darting between the track and the rearview mirror. The scent of burning rubber filled the cockpit, mingling with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. It was another typical race weekend, but his thoughts drifted to the unexpected turn his life had taken off the track.

In the bustling paddock, the tension between Charles and his once-close friend Carlos Sainz was palpable. The two drivers had been a dynamic duo, pushing each other to new heights in their racing careers. But the friendship had taken a sharp turn when Carlos's ex-girlfriend, the stunning YN LN, had found comfort in Charles's arms. It was a line that Charles knew he shouldn't have crossed, yet he couldn't deny the connection he felt with her.

The paparazzi had caught wind of the new couple and were eager to snap photos of them together. The flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd grew louder as YN, an accomplished actress, made her way through the sea of people towards Charles. Her smile was forced, her eyes glancing over her shoulder, searching for the familiar face of her ex. Carlos, who was signing autographs nearby, noticed and his jaw tightened. The sight of them together stung, a stark reminder of what he had lost.

In the post-race press conference, a journalist, sensing the tension, decided to stir the pot. "Charles, how do you feel about dating Carlos's ex? Does it affect your friendship and your on-track rivalry?" The room grew still as the microphone was shoved in front of him. He took a deep breath, trying to compose his thoughts. "Carlos and I are professionals. What happens off the track stays there. As for YN, she's a wonderful person, and we're happy together. That's all I have to say on the matter." His voice remained steady, but the guilt gnawed at him.

Carlos's eyes bore into him from across the room, the weight of his gaze like a heavy burden. The truth was, their breakup had been amicable. YN had wanted the fairy tale, the house, the kids. But Carlos had been clear, his career was his priority. He needed more time. It was a conversation they had had many times, each time ending in the same place. "I'm not ready to settle down," he'd say, his eyes on the horizon, dreams of checkered flags dancing in his vision. YN, tired of waiting, had made the painful decision to move on.

The night of the breakup, she had called Charles, her voice trembling with sobs. He had rushed to her side, a knight in shining armor, ready to mend her shattered heart. They had talked for hours, shared laughs, and slowly, the cracks began to fill. Before they knew it, they had found solace in each other's arms. It was a moment of comfort that had evolved into something more, and by July, they were inseparable.

Now, in the quiet of his hotel room, Charles studied his reflection in the mirror. "Did I cross the line?" He whispered to himself. The question echoed, taunting him like the ghost of his friendship with Carlos. He knew he had been the one to hold her when she was at her lowest, but was that enough to justify his actions?

The relationship with YN had been a whirlwind, a blur of love and passion that had swept them both off their feet. But every touch, every whispered secret, every shared smile was haunted by the shadow of their past. He knew that YN loved him, she had said it countless times, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was just a rebound, a Band-Aid on a wound that hadn't fully healed.

On the track, their rivalry had intensified, each race a silent battleground for their bruised egos. The camaraderie they had once shared was replaced by a tense silence that spoke louder than words. The pit crew noticed the shift, the team management whispered about it in hushed tones, but no one dared to address the elephant in the room.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice session, Charles found himself unable to shake off the weight of his conscience. He decided to confront Carlos, hoping to clear the air and perhaps salvage what was left of their friendship. He knocked on the door to Carlos's hotel suite, his heart racing like an engine at full throttle.

Carlos opened the door, his expression unreadable. He stepped aside, allowing Charles to enter. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, and the air was thick with unspoken words. They sat down on the couch, the space between them as vast as the distance between the starting line and the finish.

"Look, Carlos," Charles began, his voice strained, "I know this isn't ideal. But I want you to know, I never meant to hurt you. It just happened." He paused, searching for the right words to express his regret without sounding insincere. "YN needed someone, and I was there for her. I didn't plan for it to turn into this."

Carlos stared at the floor, his jaw clenched tight. "I get it," he said, his voice low and measured. "But you were my best friend, my confidant. And now, every time I see you together, it's like you're flaunting it in my face." He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. "I can't ignore the fact that you're with her."

The silence that followed was as deafening as the roar of the engines they were accustomed to. Each man grappled with his own feelings of betrayal and guilt. "I'm sorry, Carlos," Charles finally murmured. "I truly am. But I've fallen in love with her, and I can't just turn it off."

Carlos looked up, his eyes brimming with a mix of anger and pain. "Love doesn't just happen overnight, Charles," he said, his voice cracking. "You were there when she needed you, I get that. But what about our friendship? Did that mean nothing to you?"

Charles swallowed hard, the lump in his throat feeling like a brick. "It meant everything," he replied solemnly. "But love... it doesn't come with a manual, you know? It just happens." He paused, his gaze shifting to the floor, avoiding the accusation in Carlos's eyes. "I didn't intend for this to come between us."

Carlos let out a bitter laugh. "Too late for that, isn't it?" He stood up, pacing the room. "You know what the worst part is?" He stopped, turning to face Charles. "It's that every time she laughs at your jokes, every time she looks at you like you hung the moon, I can't help but wonder if she ever looked at me that way."

The room grew colder, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. "I know it's not fair," Charles admitted, "but I can't change the way I feel."

Carlos' pacing grew more agitated, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "And what about how I feel?" he snapped. "What about the friendship we had?"

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's messed up, Carlos. But I didn't set out to hurt you."

"But you did," Carlos said, his voice raw. "And now you expect me to just accept it?"

"I'm not asking you to," Charles replied, his voice heavy with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I'm aware of the situation. And that I'm sorry."

Carlos leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving Charles. "Sorry isn't enough, man," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "You didn't just date my ex. You dated the woman I introduced you to, the woman I talked about for months. How can I trust you after that?"

The words hung in the air, sharp as shattered glass. Charles felt the sting, his heart racing as he searched for a way to respond. He knew that nothing he said could undo the damage, but he had to try. "I understand," he began slowly. "But sometimes things happen, and people change. I didn't plan for this, and I never meant for it to come between us."

Carlos' gaze was unyielding. "Maybe not," he conceded, "but it did. And now, every time we're on the track together, every time we're in the same room, it's all I can think about. You're not just my rival on the circuit anymore, you're the guy who stole my girl."

The accusation hit Charles like a blow to the chest. He had never seen Carlos so vulnerable, so broken. The reality of the situation crashed down on him, and he realized that their friendship might never be the same. "I didn't steal her, Carlos," he said, his voice a mix of sadness and frustration. "We both know she didn't belong to anyone."

Carlos' eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might lash out. Instead, he took a deep breath and composed himself. "Maybe not," he said, his voice tight. "But you should have had more respect for what we had. For what she and I had."

"I did," Charles protested. "I still do. But love doesn't come with rules or boundaries. It's not something you can control."

Carlos' eyes searched his, looking for any hint of dishonesty. After a long moment, he nodded. "Maybe not," he conceded, the anger slowly dissipating. "But you could have talked to me about it. You could have given me a heads up, instead of letting me find out through the grapevine."

"I know," Charles said, his voice thick with regret. "I was afraid of losing you. I didn't know how to tell you."

Carlos rubbed his temples, the exhaustion of the day's practice etched on his face. "Well, now you know," he said, his voice a mix of resignation and anger. "You can't just expect us to go back to the way things were, not after this."

"I know," Charles said softly. "But I'm here, and I'm willing to work on it. We're still teammates, we still have a job to do."

Carlos sighed heavily. "Yeah, we do," he agreed. "But it's not going to be easy."

"I know," Charles nodded solemnly. "But we're professional drivers, we deal with pressure all the time. We can handle this."

Carlos looked at him skeptically. "Can we, though?" He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving Charles. "Or is this going to turn into a circus every time we're together?"

"I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't," Charles promised, his voice earnest. "We're both adults, and we can't let our personal lives affect our performance."

"But it already has," Carlos pointed out. "Our relationship has changed, and there's no going back."

"I know," Charles said, his voice heavy with understanding. "But we can't let it ruin our season, our careers."

Carlos nodded slowly, the tension in the room loosening slightly. "Okay," he said, "but you need to know that this isn't going to be easy for me. Every time I see you two together, it's going to be a reminder."

"I understand," Charles said, his eyes never leaving Carlos’. "I'll do my best to respect that."

The two men sat in silence for a while, the tension in the room slowly dissipating like the smoke from an extinguished flame. They both knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, both on and off the track. But as professional athletes, they had been taught to channel their emotions into their performance, to push through the pain and come out stronger on the other side.

The following day, as they suited up for the next race, the air between them remained thick with unspoken words. They acknowledged each other with curt nods, the once warm camaraderie replaced by a chilly formality. The team watched them warily, aware that the dynamics had shifted.

The race was tense, each pass on the track a silent battle of wills. The rivalry that had once fueled their competitive spirits now had a personal edge, each man pushing harder to prove his worth. The cars screamed around the circuit, the smell of burning rubber a constant reminder of the fiery situation they had found themselves in.

As the laps ticked by, it was clear that both drivers were holding back, neither willing to take the risk of an on-track clash. The team's strategists watched nervously from the pit wall, their headsets crackling with tension. They knew that the situation between their two star drivers was delicate, and they couldn't afford any distractions in the final stretch of the season.

After the race, the usual post-race banter was replaced by a cold silence as they stepped out of their cars. The podium was a minefield of forced smiles and awkward glances. The cameras clicked away, capturing the strained dynamic for the world to see. The media was eager to pounce on the drama, but both men remained tight-lipped, focusing on their respective finishes rather than their personal lives.

The weeks turned into months, and the season rolled on. The tension between Carlos and Charles remained a constant, a silent storm that rumbled just beneath the surface. They were civil to each other, but the ease of their former friendship was gone, replaced by a formality that was as stifling as it was necessary. YN, caught in the middle, tried to navigate the choppy waters, but the weight of the situation was taking its toll on her.

During a particularly intense training session, the tension finally boiled over. As they sped around the track, neck and neck, their rivalry spilled over into something more personal. A risky move by Charles sent Carlos's car spinning out, narrowly avoiding a catastrophic accident. The track fell silent, save for the screech of tires and the collective gasp of the onlooking team. The two drivers pulled over, climbing out of their vehicles, the air between them charged with anger.

"What the hell was that?" Carlos shouted, storming over to Charles.

"It was just a mistake, Carlos," Charles replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

"A mistake?" Carlos's eyes narrowed. "Or was it something more?" He took a step closer, the heat of his anger palpable. "You've had it out for me since you started dating her."

"That's not true," Charles protested, holding up his hands. "This isn't about YN. This is racing."

"Is it?" Carlos spat back. "Or is it about you trying to prove you're better than me in every aspect of life?"

Their team manager, sensing the impending explosion, rushed over to intervene. "Guys, guys," he said, his voice firm but calm. "This isn't the time or the place."

Charles took a deep breath, his hands balled into fists. "You're right," he said, his voice tight. "But we need to talk about this."

"Talk?" Carlos's voice was incredulous. "We've been talking for months, and where has it gotten us?"

"We haven't really talked," Charles corrected, his eyes never leaving Carlos’. "We've been avoiding it. But maybe it's time we faced this head-on."

Carlos stared at him, the anger in his eyes slowly morphing into something resembling resentment. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's talk."

They made their way back to the garage, the weight of their conversation following them like a dark cloud. As they approached, they saw YN waiting for them, her eyes wide with concern. She had watched the incident unfold on the TV screens scattered around the paddock. Her heart had been in her throat as she saw the cars spin out, and the tension between them was as palpable as the humidity in the air.

"Guys, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"We're fine," Charles assured her, though the tension was still thick as they entered the garage. Fred, the team manager, ushered them into a private office, closing the door firmly behind them.

"This needs to stop," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. "You two are tearing the team apart, and it's affecting everyone. We can't have this kind of drama going into the final races of the season."

Fred’s words hung in the air as Carlos and Charles stared at each other across the small table. The walls of the office were adorned with trophies and team photos, a stark reminder of the camaraderie that once existed between them. They took their seats, the leather squeaking under their racing suits, and took a moment to collect their thoughts.

"I never meant for it to come to this," Charles began, his eyes earnest. "I respect you, Carlos. You're one of the best drivers out there, and I've learned so much from you."

"But apparently not enough to respect my relationship," Carlos retorted, the bitterness still present in his tone.

YN looked from one to the other, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "This isn't just about me," she said softly. "It's about what you two had, what you still have. A friendship that was strong enough to survive anything, until..." She trailed off, her voice breaking.

Carlos's gaze softened as he took in her distress. "We'll figure it out," he assured her, though the doubt was clear in his eyes.

"We have to," Charles added, his voice firm. "We can't let this ruin what we've built."

Fred nodded, his expression stern. "You're both right. This isn't just about you two anymore. It's about the team, the fans, and the championship. We can't afford any more distractions."

Carlos leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. "So what do we do?"

"We focus on the championship," Charles said, his eyes never leaving Carlos's. "We put our personal feelings aside and work together as teammates."

"And what about after?" Carlos asked, the bitterness not entirely gone from his voice.

"After?" Charles echoed, the question hanging in the air like the scent of gasoline and burnt rubber that permeated the garage.

Fred cleared his throat. "One race at a time," he said, his voice firm. "We've got a job to do, and we need to do it together. That's what being a team is all about."

They both nodded in agreement, the gravity of the situation setting in. The rest of the season was crucial, and their personal issues could not overshadow their shared goal. The air in the office was thick with unspoken words, but the understanding was clear: they would have to find a way to coexist for the sake of their careers.

Fred stepped out, giving them the space to continue their conversation in private. The door clicked shut, leaving the echo of their racing hearts and the distant hum of the team bustling outside the walls. YN looked from Carlos to Charles, her eyes pleading for a resolution that would mend the fissure in their friendship.

"Look," Charles said, his voice measured and calm. "I know I screwed up. I should've talked to you before things went this far with YN. But I didn't, and I can't change that now."

Carlos' jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. He knew Charles was right. The silence grew heavy, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, reminding them of the time they had wasted on anger and misunderstanding.

"I get it," Carlos finally said, his voice a little less strained. "But you have to understand, it's not just about the past. It's about trust. And that's something that takes time to rebuild."

"I know," Charles agreed. "And I'm willing to give it time. To earn it back." He reached out his hand, a gesture of peace and reconciliation.

Carlos studied it for a moment before taking it firmly in his own. "Okay," he said, his voice gruff. "For now, let's focus on the championship. We'll deal with the rest after the season."

They shook hands, the gesture feeling foreign and forced. The friendship they had once shared was now a battlefield of unspoken words and bruised egos. As they left the office, the team looked at them with a mix of relief and apprehension. They knew the peace was fragile, but for now, it was enough to keep the engine of their professional partnership running.

The final races of the season were a whirlwind of speed and strategy, each victory and defeat a reflection of their personal turmoil. Yet, on the track, they pushed aside their issues, working together to secure points for the team. The rivalry was still there, but it had been overshadowed by something deeper, something that went beyond the competition of who could go faster and who could win more races.

As the final race approached, the tension was palpable. The championship was within their grasp, but so was the reality that their friendship might never fully recover. They had agreed to put their personal feelings aside for the sake of the team, but the scars remained, raw and unhealed.

In the days leading up to the grand finale, they were forced to face each other in interviews, in team meetings, and on the track. Each interaction was a dance of diplomacy, a tightrope walk of professionalism. They were like two fighters in the final round, each waiting for the other to slip up, revealing the pain beneath the surface.

The final race was a nail-biter. The stands were a blur of colors and noise, the air electric with excitement and anticipation. The crowd didn't know the full story, but they could feel the tension between the two drivers. The race was a strategic chess match, each move calculated to outwit the other. As the laps counted down, the gap between them grew smaller, the tension grew tauter.

The final lap approached, and Carlos made a bold move, trying to overtake Charles. The cars danced together, a dance of speed and power. The crowd held its breath as they saw the cars touch, sparks flying. But instead of anger, there was a silent understanding between them. They both knew the stakes were high, not just for the championship, but for their friendship.

With one last push, Carlos managed to edge ahead, crossing the finish line with a lead so narrow it was almost invisible. The cheers of the crowd engulfed the circuit, but the two drivers remained focused on the bigger prize: their friendship. They slowed down, both cars coming to a halt just after the finish line.

The moment was frozen in time as they sat in their cockpits, eyes locked, both knowing the gravity of the situation. Then, almost simultaneously, they unbuckled their harnesses and climbed out of their cars. They met in the middle of the track, the roar of the engines replaced by the sound of their own hearts beating.

Without a word, Carlos walked over to Charles and offered his hand. Charles took it, and they share a firm handshake, a silent acknowledgment of the respect they had for each other as competitors and the understanding that their friendship was worth fighting for. The camaraderie they once shared was a ghost of what it had been, but in that moment, it flickered back to life.

The podium ceremony was a mix of jubilation and tension. The flashes of cameras and the spray of champagne couldn't hide the unspoken words between them. Yet, they managed to keep their composure, the weight of their friendship hanging in the balance as they took their positions.

As Carlos raised the trophy, his eyes found YN in the crowd. She was watching, a proud smile on her face, and for a brief moment, the pain of the past seemed to recede. He knew that she was happy for him, and that was enough.

When they finally stepped down from the podium, the sound of their names echoing through the circuit, YN rushed towards them. She didn't bother with the formalities, didn't stop to consider the cameras or the media frenzy surrounding them. She threw her arms around both of them, her eyes shining with love and relief.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered in Charles's ear, and he felt a weight lift from his chest.

"Thank you," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Carlos'

The three of them stood there, an awkward trio at the center of the world's gaze, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the engines that had brought them together and pushed them apart.

"You both need to get ready for the press," a team official reminded them, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, they released their embrace, the tension still visible in their stances. The press conference was a minefield of questions about their relationship and the impact on the team dynamics. They each took their seats, the podium a stark reminder of their unspoken feud.

"First of all, congratulations to both of you on a hard-fought season," the first journalist began. "Can you comment on the rumors surrounding your friendship and how it affected your performance on the track?"

Carlos took a deep breath, his grip on the podium tightening. "Our rivalry is on the track," he said firmly. "Our friendship is personal. We've had our differences, but we're professionals. We've managed to keep it from affecting our performance."

Charles nodded in agreement, his gaze flickering to YN, who gave him an encouraging smile. "What Carlos said," he added. "We're here to race, and that's what we've done."

The press conference continued, with questions veering between the professional and the personal. The tension between the two drivers was a palpable undercurrent, but they remained composed, sticking to their agreed-upon narrative. The season had taken a toll, but they had come through it together, if not entirely unscathed, then at least with the appearance of unity.

As the final question was asked, Fred gave them a subtle nod, signaling it was time to wrap up. They stood, the weight of their podium finishes heavy on their shoulders, and made their way through the throng of journalists and photographers, back to the sanctity of the paddock. The adrenaline from the race was wearing off, replaced by a sense of exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue.

And then, as fate would have it, Carlos's path crossed with YN's. She was waiting for Charles, her eyes searching the crowd for her partner. The moment their eyes met, the air grew thick with the unspoken words that had been building for months. YN looked at him, her expression a mix of sadness and hope. He knew she had been caught in the middle, and he felt a pang of regret for the pain he had caused her.

"Hey," Carlos said, his voice low.

YN's eyes searched his, looking for a hint of the warmth that used to be there. "Hi," she replied, her voice tentative.

"I know things are complicated," Carlos began, his voice sincere. "But I want you to know that I'm happy for you."

YN's eyes widened in surprise, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"And I'm sorry," Carlos continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know I haven't made it easy for you."

YN took a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "It's okay," she said, her voice a little shaky. "We all make mistakes."

The air was tense as Carlos nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. It was a small step, but it felt like a monumental leap in the right direction. The weight of the past was still there, but perhaps, just perhaps, it was starting to shift.

As the season came to a close, the trio found themselves at a crossroads. The championship had been won, but the cost was high. The friendship that had once been the bedrock of their lives together was now a delicate, fractured thing, held together by the thinnest of threads.

The off-season was a blur of press tours and sponsor appearances. They were forced to spend time together, to smile for the cameras, to play the part of the united team. But the cracks were there, visible to anyone who knew where to look. The jovial banter had been replaced by strained politeness, the easy camaraderie by a tension that stretched tight as a bowstring.

During a promotional event in Monaco, they found themselves sharing a stage with YN, who had been invited as a special guest. The atmosphere was electric, the air thick with the scent of the sea and the anticipation of what might happen next. As they talked about the season, the highs and lows, their eyes kept darting to her, the unspoken tension a tangible force field between them.

"And what about the rumors about your love life?" a journalist asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

YN's gaze shifted from Charles to Carlos, and she took a deep breath before speaking. "Our relationship is private, but I will say this: We're all adults here. We've moved on, and we're focusing on our careers."

Her words were like a balm on the tension, though it was clear the wound was far from healed. They finished the event with the grace of seasoned professionals, but as soon as the lights dimmed and the stage cleared, the tension between the two drivers was palpable.

YN and Charles slipped away from the bustling crowd, the cobblestone streets of Monaco whispering their secrets as they walked hand in hand. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. "I love you," she said, her grip tightening.

Charles felt the weight of her words, the sincerity in her voice. He knew she meant it, but the guilt of their shared past with Carlos was a specter that hovered between them. He squeezed her hands back, his heart aching with the knowledge that their happiness was built on the ruins of his friendship. "I love you too," he responded, his voice thick with emotion.

As they strolled along the Monaco harbor, the yachts bobbing gently in the moonlit waters, YN took a moment to look at him, really look at him. "I just want you to know that," she repeated, her eyes searching his. "No matter what happens, I choose you. And I know you feel guilty, but it's not your fault that Carlos and I didn't work out."

Charles nodded, trying to hold onto her words like a lifeline. "I know you do," he murmured, his eyes reflecting the myriad of emotions swirling inside him. "But I can't help but wonder if things would be different if I hadn't..." He trailed off, not wanting to voice the thought that had been haunting him for months.

YN stopped walking and turned to face him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. "You didn't cause our breakup, Charles. We had issues long before you came into the picture. And I'm happy now. We're happy."

Her words resonated within him, but the doubt remained, a persistent whisper in his ear. They continued walking, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the deserted streets. The moon cast a soft glow over the yachts, their reflection dancing on the calm waters.

"I know," Charles said, his voice barely above a murmur. "But I can't help but feel like I've taken something from him that I had no right to."

YN's gaze softened. "You didn't take anything, Charles. We found each other, and we fell in love. That's not a crime."

"But the way it happened," he said, his voice laced with guilt. "It feels like I stole something precious from him."

YN searched his eyes, understanding the depth of his feelings. "Sometimes, things just don't work out," she said gently. "We can't control who we fall in love with."

Charles knew YN was right. He didnt need her to remind him she loved him but deep down he could still see Carlos in the back of his mind.

[onyourmarkks]

Hi really love Mingyu's silent treatment!! And saw that your requests are open as well and was wondering if you can do one mingyu as a dom mafia boss and yn as his bratty spoiled wife ,and he loves his wife so much but sometimes he gets pissed off because of how brat she can gets like this time he already said her that he's in a very important meeting but she keeps calling him again and again, which pisses him off , and no one tries to mess with mingyu when he's mad , and now it's clearly time for punishment 😏 (bondage hehe)

hslppp u would not believe me when i say i started this and i accidentally deleted it 😞😞 but my first request!! yayyy

enjoy!!!

Everyone knew mingyu spoiled you, Mingyu rotted you to the core so bad that you were absolutely bratty, the word ‘no’ sent you into a spiral, but mingyu made you this way, anything you wanted he made sure you got it without second guessing, and that meant even his attention, he gave it to you undivided, and you eventually became entitled to it.

Mingyu was at his office today, leading a big meeting. He invited you to come, although it wasn’t interesting to you, you decided you could be supportive.

mingyu stood in the conference room speaking, there was a bunch of people in there listening to him talk about business, you were outside of the meeting room since it was way too boring to be in there, you eventually got tired of it and popped your head in the room, “mingyu?” you called out, mingyus head snapped towards you, “y/n. i’m busy, five minutes okay?” he said trying to remain as professional as possible, “mingyu but i wanna leave now” you whined, this was your mistake.

mingyu gave you a look, one that ensured you knew you were in trouble, he gritted his teeth as he spoke “y/n… my office, go.” you would usually press further, but you can tell he was angry, so you just sighed loudly and closed the door and walked to his office.

it was about twenty minutes later till mingyu walked into his office, over those 20 minutes you pondered of what mingyu would say, when you looked at mingyu you could tell he was fuming, his attention turned towards you “what was that?” he asked you taking off his suit jacket.

“what was what?” you responded smiling at him, “you interrupting me during my meeting” he said getting loud, you didn’t see what you did was wrong, you just wanted him to finish up quickly, why was he so upset? “okay…?” you trailed off, rolling your eyes, “why couldn’t you just end the meeting when i called you?” you huffed while looking at your freshly manicured nails, mingyu was shocked, “you can’t always get what you want, y/n” he said in a frustrated tone, “yes i can” you nodded agreeing with your own statement, mingyu was furious, pissed.

“take your clothes off…now” he said leaning against his desk, as you sat in the brown couch across from the desk, “why?” you decided to question him, he strides over to you and grabs your jaw tightly mushing your cheeks, “do what you’re fucking told” he spits and shoves your face away, you took your dress off

you were completely naked while mingyu was fully clothed, there was a very visible dynamic. mingyu harshly pulled you over to his desk, and sat you on it, he kissed you roughly, his hands kneading your plush thighs, his kiss was so dominating you couldn’t even fight him back, he pulled away and grabbed your jaw mushing your cheeks again, “this isn’t a reward, it’s a punishment. good girls get rewards, bad girls get tied up” he says as he pulls off his tie, and flips you onto your stomach, he pulls your hands behind your back and ties them “gyu...” you say softly, knowing being soft gets you out of anything with mingyu.

“not today princess, you need a lesson” he says as he is eye level with your cunt, spread on the edge of his desk, he inserts one finger, pumping it in and out of your sopping hole, you were squirming and begging him to untie your hands, you started moaning once you realized he wasn’t budging.

he was using your body as a play toy, tugging, rubbing, spitting, wherever he liked, he currently flipped you on your back, your legs were spread, face flush, lips red from chewing on them, mingyu kissed your neck, his hands coming up to grope your breast, and fondle your nipples inbetween his index and thumb, you arched your back off the desk, lost in the stimulation he was giving you, “minnnn” you whine out aching to touch him.

he pulled you off the desk and sat in his chair, unbuckling his belt, once his cock was out of his pants he looked at you standing there “use that mouth for something good, won’t you?” he said smiling showing his canine teeth, you dropped down to your knees, feeling the harsh floor on your skin, “can i use my hands min?” you ask him looking up at him with puppy eyes, “no” he said balling your hair up into his fist.

you spit a little on his tip causing him to hiss, using the tip of your tongue to spread it around, you bobbed your head up and down doing your best to pleasure him, but it wasn’t often you did this because mingyu never made you do work when you and him were intimate, this means he really was set on teaching you a lesson, his huge cock hit the back of your throat making you gag, mingyu pulled you off from your hair, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his bright red tip, your face was so fucked out mascara dripping, your lip gloss smudged and evident on the base of mingyu’s cock, “you tired?” he asked with fake sympathy, your eyes were doe like, “mhm” you nodded pouting, mingyu pouted back “too bad..” he responded and lightly patted your cheek.

he lifted you up and laid you stomach down on the desk, “gonna fuck you until you learn some manners, okay? no cumming until i allow it, or i’ll keep fucking you until you learn to listen, got it?” he said wetting his fingers and rubbing it over your soaking cunt making sure you’re ready, “yes..” you said as your cheek was pressed against the cold desk.

mingyu rubbed his cock head against your folds gathering up all of your wetness, it made you jolt from the sensation. he entered you slowly, hissing at the tightness and you wince at the stretch, he starts moving and thrusting into you were making obscene noises “mingyu…” you said breathlessly using the hands tied behind your back to grip and push at his white button up “min… too much… gonna cum” you whined out pushing back on his cock to heighten your pleasure “don’t cum unless you want to get punished y/n” he said gripping your hair.

you did your best to hold onto your orgasm per mingyu’s threats, he kept relentlessly thrusting into you, “baby… please let me cum… i’m sorry i’ll be a good girl, i’ll be good i promise mingyu” you start pathetically begging as it became too much, mingyu flipped you over on the desk to be on your back, you sat up slightly to look at him with teary eyes, he inserts himself back into you and continues to thrust, “what gonna cry? wanna cum so bad?” he says kissing your cheek that has tears rolling down, you nod frantically, “i’m sorry min i’ll be good” you say in a whiny tone, mingyu hated seeing you cry, “promise? no more bratty behavior?” he asks and you nod leaning up to hungrily kiss him “yes yes” you moan bucking up to reach his thrusts, nails scratching into the desk.

“fine, cum” he says as he continues to thrust and rub your clit with his thumb, you feel the tightness in your stomach, it eventually snaps and you cum as you feel mingyu shoot his hot load into you, but it was so intense you actually squirted, soaking mingyu’s shirt, he looked down in surprise, you laid on the desk, absolutely spent trying to catch your breath. “im sorry im so sorry” you mumble incoherently, mingyu smiles fondly at you and kisses all over your face “silly baby.. let’s get you cleaned up” he says sliding out of you making you wince. he pulls up your limp body to hold it against his as he untied the tie, once your hands were free they immediately went to mingyu’s waist to hold onto him “my shirt is wet baby..” he says softly rubbing your naked back.

your mind was else where, all you wanted right now was to lay with mingyu and maybe sleep.

——-

first request 🙂‍↔️

this took me about two-three days since i lost the first draft, but give me feed back plzzz 🙏

and send a request!! i love doing them bc sometimes my brain doesn’t create scenarios and i get stuck 😭😭

anyways goodnight ☺️ love u smooch

and sorry for any typos or like any weird words i finished this at 2 am helpppp

[yoitsjay]

Hi!! I saw you were wanting some writing requests 👀 Talk Too Much by COIN is such a Tech song for me and maybe fem!reader gets shut up by Tech kissing her instead of the other way around for once since he’s usually the one adorably info dumping.

I can finally spew out my hyper fixation and get it off my chest? You bless me.

Talk x3

Pairings: Tech x f! Reader

Summary: your info dumping your most recent hyperfixation on Tech, and all he can think about is the way your lips move and how badly he wants to kiss them... so he does.

Warnings: fluff, kisses.

Word count: 858

“Did you know there are approximately 140,000 types of mushrooms spread over the whole galaxy? and mushrooms aren't plants or animals, they are their own species. And it includes yeast, mildew and rust-”

“Fungi are genetically closer to humans than they are plants, which is good and bad- mushrooms could adapt to our body temperature and we could become some freaky mushroom zombies-”

-

The bad batch wasn't too sure how long you had been rambling for, all Hunter did was ask you what you were researching and now- maybe hours later- you were still talking about mushrooms which was what you were studying.

You were a scientific researcher for the republic and often needed to travel a lot, which is where you met the bad batch. They traveled a lot too so you ended up joining them and helping them with the more technical stuff, which brought you and a certain bad batcher close together.

But currently Tech was not on the Marauder to listen to your rants rather than the others, he was getting rations and other medical supplies with Wrecker. Lucky Wrecker… you would have gone with him if you weren’t fixated on your work, though now it was completely discarded as you just continued blabbering on.

Hunter sat in front of you, trying to remain professional as he tried to listen to at least some things you were saying, though Crosshair managed to slip away and run to his bunk, where he used the emergency code and called Tech, who picked up right away.

“What happened? you used the emergency channel, is Y/n okay?” Tech asked immediately, not even knowing who was the one calling him. “Relax Tech, we need you back here, Y/n wont stop talking.” Crosshair grumbled, and Tech was silent for a few moments, though Wrecker was muttering something in the background.

“She is ranting about mushrooms again?” Tech asked, and Crosshair deadpanned. “Again? how much does she do this to you?” Crosshair asked, hearing his brother's light chuckle. “A lot, though she listens to my information dumps in return.” He stated, then sighed. “We are retrieving the last of the supplies, then we will be on our way. Just pretend to listen, she will not notice.” Tech explained and then hung up the call.

Crosshair groaned, you were going to be the death of him and Hunter.

-

It only took a half hour for Tech and Wrecker to get back, and when they entered the ship you were still engrossed in conversation with Crosshair and Hunter, though Cross was slumped over with his head in his hands, and Hunter just looked stressed as he listened to you. Wrecker took the supplies to the supply closet on the Marauder, and Tech made his way over to you, tapping Hunter’s and Crosshair's shoulder, and they almost immediately got up and went to either sleep, or do something else entirely.

Though when you noticed they had left, and that Tech was sitting there instead, you had practically beamed. “Hi Tech? Where did Hunter and Cross go? i was just telling them about how any type of fungi allow trees to communicate with each other, and that-”

Tech leaned forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. A soft gasp was the only thing that left said lips as you tensed up for a moment, then relaxed into the man in front of him. Just as he went to pull away you leaned forward, sliding one of your hands into his hair, the other grasping his thigh as you chased the first kiss, and went in for the second.

Crosshair and Hunter sighed in relief from a distance, Crosshair flicked his toothpick between his teeth then tossed it onto the ground. “That’s one way to shut her up.” He muttered, getting nudged by Hunter. “She gets excited, I'm sure she'd listen to you rant on about sniper specifics.” Hunter huffed, walking into the bunk rooms as Crosshair rolled his eyes, then followed suit.

You pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes, staring into Tech’s eyes before you smiled. “Sorry.” you muttered, having now realized that you were definitely talking the other boys to death with mushroom facts. Tech chuckled lightly. “It's okay, serad, they understand you get excited… they did grow up with me after all.” Tech joked a bit, which made you smile.

“When are you going to finish these studies?” He asked, and you hummed, grabbing your datapad as you tapped it a few times, then hummed again. “I should be finished in a few days, then I move on to something I've been really excited for. But I have to get this done before I lose interest and don't finish at all.” You chuckled, Tech hummed in agreement. “Well, I will help you.” He stated, moving to sit beside you now at the terminal you were at.

You smiled at him, and leaned against his shoulder before pulling him into another, gentle kiss, which he was more than happy to reciprocate.

“Let’s get to work then, these mushrooms won’t fact check themselves!”

➺

Tech tag:

Tbb:

@only-my-unexistent-fiances

All:

@moomoog017

[frostgears]

port leave

the slap rings loud in the half-empty food court. your face smarts, your eyes water, and your handler's other hand, the one holding her cone of frozen yogurt, doesn't even bobble.

"if your audio didn't pick up 'no', pretty thing," she continues, "then maybe we need to get it serviced. it'll be a shame about the rest of your port leave."

you sense movement and then see: the large bearded man at the next table over. he steps between your seats, interposing.

"miss, are you all right? i just saw her hit you. do you need me to call the cops?"

your handler sighs a sigh born of professional weariness. she puts her yogurt on the table.

"sir, you need to step back. step back slowly."

"the hell i will! you just slapped her! right in front of me!"

"sir. seriously. put your hands down. step back. it is not a 'her' like you think you know. ignore the cute little skirt; it is not a person, it is a weapon system…"

she's talking to him the way she talks to you.

"…you've probably never seen one out of its armor, i get it, i'm not in uniform either, it's my day off. but sometimes these things get confused about the difference between cran-apple juice, avgas, and blood, and they need a reminder of where they are…"

sing-song, reassuring.

"…i'm just going to reach for my service ID here. all above board. again, please don't make any sudden movements…"

"you're sick, lady," the man growls, as he pulls something from his pocket.

you don't wait to find out what. by his next blink, your teeth are at his throat.

"shit! stand down!" your handler shouts. "position 4!"

by your own next blink, you are kneeling at her feet.

there's a large blob on the floor, but it's irrelevant. you have eyes only for your handler.

if you were wearing wings, you'd fan them a little bit. she likes that.

you remain in position 4, hanging on your handler's every word. there's a glow of heat kindling between your legs.

"just a cell phone," she mutters. "hell, sir, i told you, no sudden movements. keep this pressed to your neck, it's clean, just bought it, she didn't get deep."

"somebody," she yells at the gathering crowd, "go get mall security or something. this man needs first aid, and we don't want to risk moving him."

you do not move or signal. you are not somebody. you will hold position 4 until given other orders. you remain in position 4 until all the explanations are done, all the mess is cleaned up. there are stares. you're used to them.

then your handler gazes down at you. your eyes lock to hers.

"you need to listen, pretty thing, when i tell you we're not going back to base yet…"

the heat between your legs grows.

"…now i've got to get another scarf. and i still want to swing by that place with the cute bags… the rest of your leave is cancelled, obviously. maybe shouldn't have even tried. but when we're back at base, i'm for sure gonna need to blow off some steam."

her expression flicks from tired to sharp, hungry. it's all you can do not to squirm, until, finally, she says,

"at ease." □

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: mentions of being tortured, your partner is killed because of it, your coworkers blaming you for their death, migraines, deaf in one ear, feeling less than by hotch, fluff at the end

Request by anon: Read the request here!

Summary: You're a new transfer to the team without Hotch knowing about it You needed to escape harassment and tragedy from your other job, so Strauss places you as the new techy girl alongside Penelope. Everyone welcomes you with open arms but Hotch, and it's starting to affect your physical health.

Square Filled: guilty conscience for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

This is it. This is the first day of your new career, new life, and hopefully with a new family to call your own. The last one didn’t end up so well for you. You’re hoping to start something new with all new people and a brand-new attitude. You walk into work with your purse slung over your shoulder and enter the bullpen. There are so many people busting their asses, moving about the large area, and doing work at their computers. A black man walks past you with coffee in his hand, and you quickly stop him.

“Hi, where can I find Agent Hotchner?”

“Up the stairs. His office is right in front of it.”

“Thank you,” you smile and walk past him.

Agent Hotchner is sitting in his office looking over one of the files Spencer sent over to him when you knock on the door.

“Come in.” You knock again when you don’t hear anything. “Come in.”

This time you do. Hotch is floored by your beauty when you walk in but he remains stoic. He doesn't want to give away just how beautiful he thinks you are.

“Hi. My name is Y/N. I am here about the technical analyst position available.”

“There is no position available. I’m sorry, you must have the wrong department.”

“You’re Agent Hotchner with the BAU, correct? I was sent here to start with Penelope Garcia.”

“Who sent you?”

“I’m sorry?” you ask when you didn’t hear him speak. You move your right ear closer to him so you can hear better. “Can you repeat that?”

“Who sent you?” he asks more sternly.

“Cheif Strauss.”

Hotch doesn’t say a word and picks up his desk phone to call the Chief. She never told him she would be sending anyone over, and he never requested for a new person to join the team.

“Hello, Agent Hotchner.”

“Chief Strauss. I have Agent Y/N here saying she’s going to be working with our technical analyst. Am I hearing this correctly?”

“Yes, I sent her over there to be transferred.”

“Without talking to me about it?”

“I don’t feel like I have to tell you everything I do. She will be joining your team. I assume you’re perfectly capable of training her?”

“Yes ma’am.” Hotch hangs up and looks at you with a sigh. “The team and I are meeting right now to go over a case. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

You bite your lower lip nervously. You hate coming across as dumb but you really can’t hear what he’s saying when he speaks in a low tone or mumbles.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I said you can join us. We’re about to be briefed.”

He gets up and walks out of his office with a hard look on his face. He hates himself for thinking you’re so beautiful when he’s going to be your boss. Dating you or even thinking about dating you is inappropriate, so he’ll try to keep this as professional as possible. You haven’t even started your first day and you’re already off to a bad start. Still, you chalk this up to a rough start and follow him into the briefing room where the rest of the team is at.

“Team, this is Agent Y/N. She will be starting today as a technical analyst that will be working side-by-side with Garica. Y/N, these are Agents Prentiss, Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.”

“What’s your name again?” you ask the blonde and sit next to her.

“Penelope Garcia. You’ll have so much fun working with me. I like to keep it cool in the office,” she smiles.

You can tell you’re gonna get along with her easily.

“Let’s begin,” Hotch says and looks at JJ.

JJ places crime scene pictures on the screen for everyone to see. Some are of a crushed vehicle and others are of victims who have been crushed by a vehicle. Penelope gasps and looks away so she can keep some decency while you look on in curiosity.

“An unsub that kills with his car? I haven’t seen that before,” Emily says.

“Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon which is why they need our help. There have been two victims in the last twelve days. The first victim is Maria Delgado, twenty-three. She was hit on a morning jog. The second victim is Shannon Makely, forty-three. She was stranded on the side of the road when her car broke down.”

“What makes the locals think that they were connected?” you ask, trying to be part of the conversation.

“For one thing, they were both backed over after the initial impact. This wasn’t an accident. Plus, they matched treads in both scenes. They were large wheels for all terrain. Their wounds also indicated a raised bumper, so they’re thinking a large SUV to a truck. When we land, I want a list of everyone who owns a vehicle for all-terrain.”

“What?” you ask and look at his lips to read what he’s saying.

He shoots you an annoyed look which makes you sink into your chair in embarrassment. 

“Garcia, get me the list.”

“Sure,” she nods and looks at you.

“Do they know the make or model?” Derek asks, moving the conversation along.

“No. The tires are made for multiple kinds of vehicles.”

“Were there any witnesses to either incident?”

“No, both victims were attacked in secluded areas.”

“Two tons of metal make a hell of a weapon,” Derek says.

“Serial killers have been known to become rather attached to their vehicles. Bittaker and Norris even gave theirs a nickname. Murder Mac,” Spencer explains.

“Bittaker and Norris were sexual sadists. There's no sign of torture here. This sounds like thrill kills for easy targets randomly selected. We need to think about if they’re not random. We need to see if there is a connection between the two victims.”

“With this type of impact, the vehicle shouldn't be hard to pick out of a lineup. There should be significant front-end damage.”

“Somehow I don't think it's gonna be that easy,” Rossi shrugs.

“Well, I think it's safe to assume our unsub is male,” Emily states. “A big car is phallic like he’s overcompensating for something. Maybe he’s impotent. If the unsub sees himself as physically defective, the car not only gives him the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield.”

“Maybe a way to avoid physical contact?” Hotch asks.

“Now we’re going in a different direction. Power, control, and female victims equal up to a rape profile.”

“Rape and thrill kills are two very different profiles. What does victimology tell us?”

“Nothing, yet. Shannon Makely was a white, married, commodities trader. Maria Delgado was a Hispanic grad student and a competitive tri-athlete.”

“So far, gender's our only link. Hopefully, the crime scenes will tell us more. Garcia, Y/N, I want you with us on this one. Y/N, do you have a go-bag?”

“No.”

Hotch sighs in annoyance but Penelope saves the day.

“Come on, I’ll show you where I keep my go bag.”

You don’t mean to be a pain in the ass especially on your first day, but you’re really trying to fit in here. You used to be an active agent that was really good out in the field. You passed every test with flying colors and were up for a promotion within your field.

Until one day when you and your partner went undercover.

You two were captured by a well-known drug lord who was known for torture and gang violence. He knew one of you was FBI but didn’t know exactly which one. He tortured both of you until one of you confessed, but it’s not like you two were going to give the other one up. If only you had told him you were the FBI agent then he wouldn't have killed your partner. Your partner died because of you, and when your team busted in to try and save you two, the explosion from the blast they used shot your hearing so bad you became deaf in your left ear. If you get stressed too much then you start to get migraines and Strauss knows this.

Seeing Hotch behave this way starts a small headache you know won’t go away if he continues. You would have recovered and stayed with your original team if they didn’t harass you every day and blamed you for your partner’s death. Strauss knew it was a problem when you came into her office crying because of them.

You hope this team isn’t going to be like your last otherwise, you’ll have to find a new line of work.

“Are you sure I should come along?”

“You’ll do great,” Penelope encourages.

You and Penelope meet everyone on the plane. They discuss the case some more but you only listen this time. You want to see how each person is just by observing instead of butting in and trying to be like one of them. Plus, you’re not a profiler so you’ll leave this one to the team.

Your only focus is the computers and the technical world. When you were recovering from your accident, you taught yourself how to code and hack since you were bedridden for months. You got to the point where you impressed Strauss with your skills which is why she put you on this team. They don’t necessarily need you but this is the only team she can put you on without having to fire you altogether.

When the plane landed, you and Pen elope set up shop in the police station surrounded by laptops. One of the crime scenes happened near a security camera which is what Penelope is working on. You’re getting that list for Hotch of everyone who owns an all-terrain vehicle and cross-referencing if they still live in the state or not. This is what you like to do post-kidnapping. This gives you a different kind of comfort than being out on the field.

“Garcia, anything?” Derek asks.

“Not yet, sugar. Give me a few more minutes.”

“Y/N, I have a list of suspects PD already has in mind. Cross-reference those who are already on your list,” Hotch orders.

“I’m ready when you are.”

Hotch starts listing off names from your left side so it’s kind of hard to hear him. You don’t want to make a scene and ask him to move so you try your best to put in the right name. Hotch watches as you type in the names and sees you’re typing in the wrong names.

“No, I didn’t say Millie Bael, I said Lily Ball. Are you not listening to me?”

You’re trying really hard not to cry right now and your head hurts so much. Derek sees the look of despair and pain on your face and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hotch, take it easy. It’s her first day.”

“Sorry, Lily Ball,” you mutter and type in the name.

After twenty minutes of almost wanting to cry, you narrow down your list to ten suspects. Penelope didn’t find good coverage on the security footage so she is looking into half of the men on the list while you get the other half.

“Look into the history of each suspect. I don’t want any stone unturned, understand?” You’re staring at Hotch’s mouth to read what he’s saying. Ever since becoming deaf, you’ve gotten good at reading lips. “Do you understand?” 

You jump at the sudden change in tone.

“Yes, sir. I will look into the history of each ma and cross-reference them with accidents they might have been in.”

“That’s not at all what I said. I don’t even know why you’re on this team. We never had an issue with having just one technical analyst.”

Tears brim the surface of your eyes but you won’t let them fall. It’s only the first day. I’ll get better. Hotch walks away with a scoff and a shake of his head, and you fall onto your chair with a sigh.

“I don’t know why he’s being so hard on you. He’s never like this,” Spencer says.

Emily, Derek, and Rossi are out right now leaving you, Spencer, Penelope, and JJ alone in the conference room.

“I don’t mean to be this way. I was never like this.” You explain your past to them--the drug lord, getting kidnapped, tortured, injured, and harassed every single day. “I needed out of that job. I was so excited to be put here but Hotch is only reminding me of my coworkers. Hopefully, he’ll ease up on me.”

He didn’t.

For the rest of the case, Hotch continued to be hard on you even when the team defended you. Every little thing you did Hotch criticized, even if what you did was completely right. He always had something to say about something, and by the end of the case, your headache is at an all-time high.

While on the plane ride home, you tried to get some sleep. The migraine plus the stress Hotch is putting on you is enough to send your mind into a nightmare. A nightmare about what you could have done differently to save your partner. Hotch sits in his chair and watches you without anyone noticing him. He knows he’s been hard on you but he hates anyone new coming in and ruining the dynamic between the teammates that are already here.

You gasp awake and scare everyone from the sudden noise, and Hotch’s eyes narrow.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Y/N. When we land, you and I need to have a conversation with Chief Strauss about your future here.”

“I’m sorry,” you say as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Hotch,” JJ says to defend you. However, you’re already getting out of your seat and going into the bathroom to have some time alone to yourself. “Why are you being so hard on her?”

“Have you not been with her the entire time? She always asks me to repeat myself and she can’t follow instructions.”

“She was in an accident. She used to be a really good agent. I looked her up,” Spencer says.

“Her former team blamed her for the death of her partner, and she became deaf in her left ear after being tortured for information,” JJ finishes.

Now Hotch feels like shit. His face doesn’t give away how he’s feeling but deep down, he’s feeling like the worse piece of shit ever. He tries to talk to you when the plane lands but you escaped to grab your things to get the hell out of there. You’re almost at the elevator when Hotch stands in your way.

“Sir?”

“I want to apologize for how I’ve been treating you. I’ve been completely unfair to you without understanding who you are as a person and as an agent. I’ve always been reserved with new people on this team which is something I know I need to work on.”

“I don’t mean to do this on purpose. I’m assuming JJ and Spencer told you what happened to me?”

“Yes. If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll work on making you part of this team as if you started here on day one.”

“That’ll take months, I’m afraid, but apology accepted,” you smile.

Yup, you’re going to be the death of him. Your smile is too damn beautiful not to see in his office every day, and he’s gonna do everything he can to keep it there.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[pannman]

Could I request something where Valentino says he'll pay for ftm readers' testosterone and surgeries (top and bottom) if he signs a contract saying he'll work for him after everything heals.

I haven't done a Valentino fic in a while

The Offer

Tw: brief mentions of gender dysphoria and body dysphoria, swearing, Valentino being Valentino

Willing to do a part 2 later with more yandere themes if you guys like this one

Hell wasn't exactly a place filled with great health care insurance. There weren't many decent jobs. You were desperate for a job that would help pay for your transition. You knew you weren't the most qualified to work as in IT support at Voxtech. The most experience you had was some customer service experience working in fast food. And you were sure the competition would be stiff. But you knew a good first impression can do wonders

So with your best business casual clothes (that you could afford), a polished up resume, and a dozen practice sessions behind you, you arrived early for your interview

Just as you thought, you were NOT the only one interested in this position. You sat and waited, carefully thinking about your answers to potential questions

You were the last one interviewed. You were expecting Vox to be at the interview. You weren’t sure why. You just thought he'd be present. Instead it was two people in upper management who worked for him instead

"Hello, there Mr. Y/N, you are our last interview for tonight." The man who's sinner form looked similar to an eel of some kind shook your hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you" you replied trying to hold back yourself from talking too much. You were nervous and desperate and it made you want to ramble or try too hard. But you needed to remain appearing calm and professional

The older woman who had a frog like appearance looked rather bored and tired as she didn't say anything yet. The man decided to begin with the first question. "So what made you interested in this position?" He asked. You told him that you liked Voxtech and the innovations associated with it and that you were excited at the opportunity to be a part of it. This was true but it wasn't the real reason which you chose to keep private for now

The woman finally spoke. "You and everyone other applicant here" she spoke in an unamused tone. You knew it was a basic answer but you didn't feel comfortable exposing your identity at that time and it was the only other answer that had some truth to it

The man continued "do you have any technological experience?" You were dreading this question but still you answered as best you could. "No, I worked in customer service before though IT is a new field for me, but I'm very eager to learn" you said with a smile. You kept your posture straight and tried to keep your body relaxed. You wanted to project confidence

"Apparently not eager enough to learn before coming here" the woman commented rolling her eyes. You were beginning to worry. She clearly didn't like you or was in a bad mood from interviewing all day. Hopefully you could get her on your side and it wouldn't hurt your chances

The man gave the woman an uncomfortable glance. Before returning to his questions. "So, what could say would set you apart from our other applicants?" He asked. You thought about what you would say to this question. "Well, I'm really good at making connections, I work well with people and I am good at teamwork. I'm willing work hard to earn my place here" you said hoping it would be enough

The woman gave an annoyed chuckle. The man gathered his papers. "Thank you for coming in. We'll give you a call if we are interested." He said as he led you out. "Don't quit your day job just yet" you heard the woman say just you exited

You were pretty sure you did not get the job even before you had left the building. You headed down the hall and realized you had to use the restroom. You stopped to talk to the secretary and asked where the bathroom was

She pointed in the general direction without glancing up from her phone. Great! Another cheerful, delightful person...

You went down the hallway to the right. You didn't see a bathroom. You turned left hoping it was the right direction and soon you could hear someone yelling. You turned left still not seeing a bathroom so you continued further. You headed to turn right at the end of the hall when you collided with someone. Someone quite tall.

"Who the fuck isn't watching where they are-" the tall moth sinner paused when saw you. You recognized him immediately as the one the vees. Valentino.

"Well... my apologies, I shouldn't been storming out in a blind rage." His demeanor changed and a razor sharp smile spread across his face. He lowered an arm to help you up. You took it. Not exactly wanting to piss him off after he was about to bite your head off. Or something worse. "Tell me, what brings a such muy gaupo man to my part of the building?"

How lost were you? You stammered a bit. He made you nervous. You weren't sure if it was his angry outburst earlier or the fact that he towered over you but something about him seemed.... dangerous. I mean he was an overlord. He was dangerous

"I-i... I had an interview for a position at Voxtech." You finally managed to say. You felt his hand on your back guiding you (almost straight up pushing you) along with him as he walked and talked. He asked you how the interview went

"Good..." Your fake confidence was failing you now as you were incredibly nervous and uncomfortable in his presence. "Oh, poor bambino, was it that bad?" He asked in a tone of worry that was if he'd known you longer than 5 minutes

You decided that lying to him wasn't working. "I don't really have any experience for the job. And don't think one of the interviewers liked me much" you admitted. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you looked up to see him grinning down at you. He had barely touched you yet it felt like he was being touchy. You shrunk in his gaze. "Why do you want a job cooped up in some office anyway?" He asked. You thought about your answer to his question. You sighed. "I liked the benefits. The pay is good, so is the health insurance...." You trailed off

He seemed to read you like a book. "Money and health insurance. You got an illness or something?" He didn't seem to actually think you had an illness. He was probing you. And you didn't know how to think properly right now. "Its... for testosterone... and surgery..." You weren't sure if he was going to know what you were talking about. "So, you trying to get the right parts hmm?" Oh, he did know

"Well, you know..." he continued "my porn stars get superior health coverage. If you work for me you could get the same package. And one day have your own... package" he said the last part in a tone that sounded lustful and you didn't really think this was a good idea. But, you had tried everything. This was your first job offer that actually had good benefits. Interview after interview. Let down after let down. Maybe this was all you could get. Maybe this was the best you'll ever be...

"Ok... it-it sounds like a good option I guess" you stuttered. His eyes lit up like something predatory had awakened inside them. "Great! I'll draw up the paperwork. Follow me" he didn't trudge ahead instead once again guiding you along with him this time with a firm grip on your side as if he was worried you'd take off. And you definitely had considered it

He led you to his studio. People were on set everywhere. You were no stranger to sex but even this was getting you quite flustered. He led you into his office and pulled out a contract from the drawer under his desk

You don't know why you did it. You didn't see any other way. You wanted to finally feel right in your body. To like who you see in the mirror. And even though every instinct was telling you not to, you signed it...

Valentino watched you and flashed a dangerous grin "good boy. I just can't wait to get started..."