#or—not the news exactly. not the word I want | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dottowos · 2 days ago

Text

hoc non est experimentum!

synopsis: Dottore’s segments are tired of waiting to take you for themselves and have decided to finally take matters into their own hands (with some reluctant sharing).

includes: four dottore segments w/ fem! reader

notes: You get railed by four of Dottore’s segments at once, that’s it, that’s the fic. Established relationship, they fight over you a bit, reader uses they/them pronouns, gangbang (Sigma, Beta, Alpha, Delta - see segments guide), oral (reader giving), handjob, titfuck, vaginal sex, one (1) gentle pussy slap, rough and soft sex, praise, creampie, consensual drugging (aphrodisiac), brief mention of consensual somnophilia, bit of dirty talk(?), aftercare, cuddle pile with the segments at the end <3. Minors DNI.

For as research-driven as Dottore’s segments appeared to be, they had their own desires and downtime they wished for - mainly due to a certain someone they all thought of dearly. That person was none other than you, their beloved, whom they all shared.

To them, you boasted the utmost loveliness - soft lips that spilled the sweetest of words and praises, gentle touches and caresses that soothed them - and of course, your alluring body that they couldn’t keep their hands off. For a long time, the segments had settled with regular touches like simple cuddling, hand holding, and even some thigh squeezing here and there, but needless to say, they desired something a lot more… heated than mere soft touches. But much to their dismay, you were… painfully oblivious to their advances.

It was indeed a bit frustrating despite their advances being rather straightforward, but you always assumed they were being extra touchy and clingy. Well, all of them save for Omega had this problem - the segments cursed that lucky bastard when he wasn’t around, they wanted their face between your legs too.

… Which was why they were at their wits’ end and had collectively come up with a sure-fire plan to fuck you.

—

When four segments appeared in your room together unannounced, without any arguments following them, you already knew something was up. They weren’t often seen together, except whenever they happened to collaborate on projects, but you had heard of no such thing lately.

“Beloved, we have something we would like you to try for us,” Sigma began with an even wider smile than normal, something you always took note of.

“Well… if all four of you feel the need to come to ask me, it must be quite important,” you replied, very much interested in what could warrant such urgency, not to mention the varying expressions across the segments - Sigma’s eager smile, Beta holding off his impatience, Alpha hiding his nervousness by acting aloof, and Delta’s continued seriousness, although his eyes were boring into you.

“See,” Sigma hummed, producing a vial from his pocket, “We’ve recently created this new… liquid. Of course, we’re interested in observing the effects it has on someone.” Although you understood the intent, you were confused as to why he couldn’t just test it on someone else, but Beta answered your question before you could say anything.

“You’re the only test subject we can test such a drug on,” his fingers drummed against the nightstand quickly, as if he was aching to pour whatever that strange liquid was down your throat already. Still, this only left you with more questions.

“What kind of liquid is this exactly?”

“An aphrodisiac,” Delta said bluntly.

An aphrodisiac, you thought. Aphrodisiacs… ah yes, you read about those in books sometimes. Aphrodisiacs… used to stimulate sexual desire. Aphrodisiacs… used to have sex.

… Wait. To have sex?! Immediately, you started sputtering and backing up.

“A-Are you trying to say what I t-think you are?! And wait, are aphrodisiacs even real? I thought they were fake!”

“Finally, you got it through that thick skull of yours,” Alpha rolled his eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you were simply that dense or doing it on purpose. Seems as though it was the former.” Classic Alpha - his words always had some bark to them, although there was practically no bite as you always got your way.

“I mean…!! I just didn’t know all of you would be interested in me that kind of way-”

“Oh darling,” Sigma purred. “You’re too sweet for your own good. That won’t end well for you if you’re with us,” the segment slyly slid his hand down your thigh, making you gasp. You were already starting to have a tingly feeling between your legs, your mind racing with the possible scenarios they would put you in. Could you even survive taking four of them at once? Logically your mind said no, but your body was saying yes. Even if you couldn’t walk for a few days, it was a hell yes.

“Prime surely knows you’ve been fooling around with Omega, doesn’t he? Don’t I deserve some attention too?” Beta was the next to make his advance, hand tracing the collar of your neck, itching to sink his teeth into your skin. Your body immediately warmed at being called out for… ahem… certain acts with the older segment.

“He’s right. You were the one who said you’d give us all equal treatment. Or are you going back on your word now?” Delta added on gruffly, already knowing what your answer would be from when you very obviously squeezed your legs together.

“No, I would never…” You quickly rushed your words, heart racing from all of the segments so close to you, with not-so-pure intentions.

“At least try to relax,” it was Alpha who took some pity at your deer-in-headlights look. “The aphrodisiac should greatly increase your pleasure as well.” The other segments quickly peppered your exposed skin with kisses in an effort to make you comfortable as well.

“I’m okay, I was just… caught off-guard by this. But I want you all too… if you’ll have me,” you replied shyly, to which all of the men perked up. “Besides, I’m kind of interested to see if you actually managed to concoct a legitimate aphrodisiac.”

“Good… good. Willing test subjects are always the best to work with,” Sigma placed a kiss on your forehead before suddenly you were being maneuvered onto the middle of the bed. “Now before we test the aphrodisiac, let’s see that pretty body of yours.”

Before you could even utter a response, your clothes were being tugged off very quickly - but that was probably because there were four other people undressing you. In no time, you were nude save for your underwear, the cold air sweeping against you for a moment, but the segments’ warm bodies prevented you from shivering. All of them had their eyes trained on you - they had seen you nude before, having to attend to you sometimes, but it was obviously not in a situation like this, where you were laid bare and needy for them. Speaking of neediness…

Delta, whose chest was pressed into your back, pried your legs open despite your gasps and protests because you already knew your pussy was becoming an embarrassing, leaking sight. You whined as your damp underwear was on display for them all to stare at shamelessly, Alpha and Beta holding down one of your legs while Delta grabbed your arms, and Sigma let out a content sigh that was shared between all of them.

"So wet, and we've barely even touched you." Something clicked in the segment's mind as he held himself back from touching you just yet. "I think I know why. You're excited by the idea of being fucked by all of us at once, aren't you?"

“Of course they are,” Alpha scoffed. “They can never hold themselves back once they want something.”

“Give it to them already,” Beta demanded, who had already been palming and restraining himself, “before I fuck them right now.”

“Have some patience,” Alpha rolled his eyes. “We’ve barely just begun.” Normally Beta would have shot the segment an indignant look considering Alpha’s own lack of patience, but he was too needy for you to bother.

“If you’re out of breath just from this, I worry about how you’ll be able to take all of us,” Sigma teased. “But I know you will. You must be aching for our cocks, aren’t you, sweet thing? Burning for us to fill you up like the obedient toy you are?” Your throat had gone dry from how effortlessly filthy Sigma had become. Usually, his tone and words were always so sweet to you, but now he spewed such dirty things with that same gentle voice.

“Answer him,” Delta reached to give your breast a firm squeeze, which quickly elicited a response from you. Alpha and Beta quickly followed the older segment’s action, kneading the soft flesh with fascination.

“Y-Yes! I’ll be good!” You swiftly nodded your head to which Sigma chuckled.

“Good.” He then popped open the vial and gave it a little shake, watching the liquid swirl around. “Now open,” he grasped your chin and held the vial above your mouth, humming in satisfaction as you swallowed the aphrodisiac without a second thought (which, surprisingly tasted quite nice.) When a little bit dribbled down your chin, he quickly thumbed the excess and popped his finger in your mouth.

“Ah ah, now don’t you waste it. A lot of work went into this.” You could only blink at him, mouth ajar as you suddenly became very aware of the aching between your legs and your rising body temperature.

“It seems the aphrodisiac is already taking effect,” Alpha observed, tugging at your sensitive nipple. “Perhaps because you were already aroused?” Ever the scholar, he still questioned your reactions (or maybe it was a way to distract himself from the tightening in his pants.) But when he looked at Beta, the other segment was already slobbering on your breast, sharp teeth occasionally grazing your nipple to which you whimpered.

“You aren’t even trying to hide your true intentions…” Alpha sighed. After all, it wasn’t really an experiment (this time at least) but more so to satisfy the aching between their legs in the way they desired rather than resorting to their hands all the time. (There was a reason why they didn’t have a trusty clipboard…)

“Don’t act like you’re any better than us,” Beta scoffed, briefly taking a break from sucking on your tit. “You were more jealous of Prime than any of us.” Alpha only clicked his tongue in response before giving your other boob similar treatment as what Beta was doing. Delta, on the other hand, was busy kissing you and hardly giving you any time to breathe, making the other sensations all too powerful. You barely noticed his hiss when you unconsciously grinded your ass against his bulge.

Sigma watched your once cheery expression become half-lidded and lewd, before reaching for the band of your underwear. Even though your mind had gone elsewhere at his point, your breath still hitched at the feeling. Along with all the touching and the aphrodisiac, your underwear was so wet it was clinging to your cunt almost uncomfortably. Thankfully, the segment pulled it off and discarded it along with the rest of your clothing, haphazardly scattered on the floor. Instantly, the other segments paused whatever they were doing to gaze at your hole, entranced by your pretty pussy.

You let out a moan when Sigma’s finger gently rubbed your opening, before slipping a finger in which you squealed at. Throwing your head back, you nearly kicked him were it not for the other's firm grip on your thighs.

“An exquisite reaction,” Sigma praised. “So sensitive… I wonder, is it because of the aphrodisiac, or has Prime been neglecting you lately?” The segment cooed before curling his finger inside of you, making your back arch. At your adorable reactions, the other segments simply couldn’t wait either. It wasn’t long before you felt another two fingers push inside you - but it wasn’t Sigma this time. Delta had quietly watched your pussy gradually become wetter, having the perfect view from behind you, and now he wanted to hear all the squelching your hole would make around his fingers. However, it seemed that Sigma had something to say about sharing your cunt with the others.

“Only I get to fuck their pussy today.” This bold statement automatically had the other three turning on him.

“Excuse me? And how did you decide that? I am going to taste them too,” Beta immediately rebuked Sigma’s statement.

“I’m older than all of you. Why would I not get to fuck them first?”

“Older? On what basis?” Alpha grumbled. “Sure, you may be closer to Prime’s age, but technically speaking, I’ve been around longer than any of you.”

“Well, it was me who came up with the idea of an aphrodisiac in the first place. I should get to go first then,” Beta piped in.

“And you would not have known that if I did not happen to mention their reading collection to you,” Delta cut in as well.

… They were really fighting right now despite being three fingers deep inside your cunt. That was simply wonderful (but expected to be honest). Normally you’d find it amusing but you just really wanted to come already.

“Stop fighting. You can have your turn next time,” you whined, wriggling around in their embrace, trying to get some pleasure from their fingers.

“Oh? Already thinking about next time, are you?” Sigma chuckled before Beta squeezed your thigh.

“I told you that they wanted this. I bet [Name] has been thinking about this more than we thought,” Beta taunted you. “Dirty thing.”

“Regardless… I suppose I can let this one time pass,” Alpha huffed, (though he was actually pretty accustomed to being overshadowed by his older selves), and Delta grunted in agreement - although he was still going to finger fuck you.

Now that that little spat was over, the two segments began moving their fingers inside you again, not exactly in unison though. Sigma was going slowly while Delta was plunging his in and out of you. The sensation was making your head reel and you could hardly notice the other two segments were already unbuttoning their pants. Tears sprung to your eyes as you dug your nails hard into someone’s arm - you couldn’t focus on who - that was sure to leave marks.

Together, the differentiating paces successfully drove you crazy and you quickly came, juices running down their fingers. The sudden burst of pleasure, heightened by the aphrodisiac had you gasping and shaking, although there wasn’t much of that considering all four of them had a firm grip on you. You tried to catch your breath when a finger wiped the corner of your eye.

“Crying already? But hardly anything has happened yet,” Alpha observed.

“Leave them. It shows that the aphrodisiac is working. Not just one of your fantasies now, is it?” Delta teased you as he began to lay you on your back instead of his chest. You blinked as he rested your head on a pillow, wondering what was happening before you were suddenly very aware his cock was close to you, his underwear being the only barrier. Blinking again, you saw that the others were in a similar position, eager to come too.

“As much as I would like to play with you for a while longer, it seems like no one is willing to wait that long. Truly a shame,” Sigma sighed while discarding his pants as well. “But there’s always next time, right dear? Regardless, I trust you know what comes next.”

You tried to formulate a response but you found your throat had gone dry at the fact that this was really about to happen.

“Don’t get nervous on me now. I know full well you can take it,” Beta was the first to tug his cock out, delighting in how you inhaled at the sight.

“I- I… um- mmph!” Before you could say anything, Beta’s hand rested on top of your head, the tip of his cock briefly nuzzling your cheek, before he properly parted your lips and thrusted into your mouth roughly.

“I thought I said not to be so rough to them at first?” Sigma sighed at his fellow segment’s action, before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in. The sensation made you moan around Beta, in turn causing him to thrust again. Though he seemed impatient, the truth was he was still restraining himself - his pace would have been harsher if he didn’t feel a bit worried for you.

Refusing to wait around, Alpha and Delta grabbed your hands and wrapped them around their hardened cocks as well, a sign for you to start stroking them unless you wanted them to do it for you. You were quickly swept into their pace, both of your hands being occupied in no time. You clumsily stroked them, seeing as it was hard to focus while being fucked, but the two segments seemed as though they were more than enjoying it. Perhaps they’ve been pent up for too long.

Alpha had already begun biting his tongue to hide his needy pants, his previous calm and collected words quickly dissipating. If only you weren’t being fucked by three other people, you’d have teased him for his whininess. However, the segment also used that to his advantage, suddenly squeezing your breast and rubbing the head of his cock against your nipple. The sensation against your sensitive bump had your back arching and legs flailing, although they were securely hooked around Sigma’s shoulders.

You could already feel Alpha’s pre-cum leaking onto your chest - it was already impressive he hadn’t come yet, considering what Dottore was like back when he was a student, coming hard after some light arousal (and then getting tired, you had to ride his face to get yourself off.)

The segment eyed your breasts with fluttering eyes and a heaving chest, seemingly trying to consider what to do next in his hazy mind, before grabbing your other breast and squishing them together with haste. In no time, he bucked his hips closer, slipping his aching cock between the soft flesh. You were warm - even more so due to the aphrodisiac - and your tits enveloped his cock better than he could have ever dreamed of. Not bothering to retain his composure, Alpha continued to clumsily yet quickly fuck your boobs, squeezing and pulling at them at the same time. None of the others had bothered to comment on it, considering they were all more interested in fucking the other parts of your body.

Meanwhile, Delta’s large hand was wrapped around yours on his cock, moving it up and down for you, unsatisfied with your pace. It was fast enough that you were sure your arm was going to be aching for a day, but you were also sure that applied to your whole body in general.

Still, this was all so much to take in, having both your pussy and mouth fucked at the same time at a bruising pace had your eyes half-lidded and struggling to keep up with the segments, seemingly built with endless energy, but a particularly harsh thrust from Sigma had you nearly gagging on Beta’s cock, to which the segment tightened his grip on your head.

“I thought you said I was being too rough?” Beta clicked his tongue at Sigma’s hypocrisy, and the older one merely smiled.

“I simply want to make sure they’re awake to feel my cock properly. Don’t you feel the same?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’d be happy as long as they’re being fucked. You wouldn’t protest at all, would you? Letting yourself be used even when you’re not conscious?” Delta hissed, and Sigma let out a sigh as you helplessly tightened around his own cock, clearly enjoying the filthy words.

“Ah, now there’s a grand idea. Darling, I’d be happy to discuss the possibility of nighttime visits, if you like it so much. It would be lovely to see you wake up to being filled,” Sigma chuckled, and you couldn’t even respond to him since your mouth was full of Beta’s cock.

While the two older segments were busy teasing you, you could also feel that Alpha was close to coming. His pace had gone sloppy and he had lost his grip on your tits, instead just humping them pathetically. Beta was in a similar state, speeding up his thrusts in a way you knew he was about to come as well, and Delta was wordlessly getting as much pleasure as he could out of your abused hand. You could feel your own orgasm building up too, especially when Sigma moved to rub your clit. With a squeeze of your thighs, he relentlessly pumped himself inside you without stopping.

“Now,” he stated, “I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to come on my cock. Understand?” You blinked at him through pleading teary eyes, and he laughed. “Good. Perfect, my love.”

Only a few seconds after, Alpha was the first one to let go, coming all over your tits with a low hiss, quietened by biting his bleeding lip. It spurted all over your chest, running down the hill of your boobs onto your stomach, and the segment was left panting, lazily rubbing his softening cock against your soft skin. The liquid only served to make you more aroused, squeezing your legs around Sigma’s neck as a plea to let you come already. In response, as a way of saying ‘have patience,’ Sigma flicked his hand against your cunt, finger catching your clit, and the light pain with pleasure nearly had you choking again.

As if that was the trigger for Beta, he too suddenly pulled out of your mouth, and before you could question what he was doing, came on your face, globs of cum streaking down your cheek along with your tears, some dripping down your chin and landing on your chest. You hazily blinked at the white liquid coating your body, before some more was added.

Without wasting a second, Delta let go of your hand and popped his cock in your briefly empty mouth before your poor throat could even have a chance to recover. It only took one or two thrusts for him to empty himself inside your mouth, doing so with a groan of pleasure, keeping your head locked in place, and only pulling out once he was sure you had swallowed every bit of his cum. The last few minutes left you gasping and moaning, your noises now clear for all in the room to hear - including the cries that left your lips and the mashing of your hole.

“P-Please, I’m- ah, so, so, close-” Your words had lost coherent structure at this point, trying your best to convey what you really needed.

“I know. I can feel you,” Sigma dragged himself in and out of you, making sure you felt everything. “You’ve been so good to us. Of course you can come.” Along with his ramming, he quickly circled your clit, until finally, finally, you came hard, rolling your head back and an unrecognizable squeal tore from your throat. The feeling of you spasming around his cock had Sigma digging his hands into your soft thighs as he filled you to the brim, only pulling out after a few moments. Gently, he pushed his fingers near your sore pussy, humming as you made a soft noise of protest, just to make sure none of his cum escaped your oozing pussy.

As you lay there used and twitching, your cunt stuffed full of cum, and your face and chest painted with it, the segments took a moment to admire how pretty you looked like that. Beta stroked your head, as if apologizing for his fierce grip, although he made sure to gather up his cum and press it to your lips, smiling widely as you obediently parted his lips for him to suck on his fingers.

“Looks like the aphrodisiac isn’t as strong as we anticipated. What a pity.” Alpha had tried to recollect himself after that embarrassing display of neediness as if he wasn’t also tired from coming.

“Is it really? I’d say it was quite powerful. After all, they took all four of us with hardly any complaints. It served us both well.” Sigma chuckled as he gently lowered your legs from his shoulders onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your thigh as he did so.

“It still could use some tweaking, however,” Delta stated. “I believe it hasn’t nearly reached its potential.” The segment had moved away to begin drawing a bath to clean you up.

“Regardless, you did exceptionally well,” Beta praised you with his sharp-toothed grin, and you only let out a soft noise of affirmation as you were lifted up to be cleaned.

—

The segments cleaned you up a few minutes after - you weren’t sure if your bathtub would fit all five of you but it did somehow. Surprisingly they were pretty cooperative, for the most part at least. Afterward, they changed your sheets and dressed you in some comfortable clothes.

“Here,” before you could react, some kind of syrup was being poured into your mouth. “For your throat,” Alpha said because a certain someone couldn’t hold back, although he didn’t say that part out loud. Sigma pulled your blankets up and tucked you in as well.

“What, are you all leaving?” You looked at them with sad eyes.

“We have been away from work for quite a while, love.” You pouted at his response as you tugged at his arm.

“You can’t do that. You have to stay at least until I fall asleep, all of you,” you stressed the ‘all’, reaching to grab Delta’s hand as well.

“[Name]-”

“Nope! I’m not listening!” You then pulled Alpha, who was the easiest to push around, into the bed with you.

And so, you now had the four segments cuddling with you, each of them touching your body in some way. Sigma and Delta were snuggled closely on each of your sides, but Alpha and Beta were left in the more uncomfortable positions, awkwardly laying on top of you and face cuddled into your chest. There were some grumbles from them but you quickly shushed them up. More importantly, you felt very warm and content with all of them holding you.

You had a feeling the four segments weren’t leaving you anytime soon, either.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore #il dottore #genshin dottore x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #dottore genshin #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #genshin #genshin impact x you #divider by cafekitsune

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seongwars · 3 days ago

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strangers by nature | vii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, feelings of despair

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a/n: if I cried writing this chapter, ya'll are going to cry too 😭

“This morning, we bring you breaking news about the arrest of a 48-year-old woman involved in a harrowing incident connected to one of the nation's most prominent families. The woman, identified as the former nanny of the Choi Group heiress, was apprehended late last night following her mistaken discharge from Utopia Mental Health Facility.

According to investigators, the woman, whose identity is being withheld due to privacy laws, had been institutionalized after multiple previous incidents involving obsessive behavior toward the heiress and an attempted kidnapping of another six-year-old girl earlier this year…”

You sat quietly at the long wooden table in the conference room, your gaze fixed on the polished floor beneath your feet. The low hum of the news droned on in the background, the anchors’ voices a static blur. Your bandaged arm rested on the table, the gash beneath the wrappings a painful reminder of how wrong everything had gone.

“What are we going to do!?” your mother paced around the room, her voice rising with every word. Your father sat silently at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. San and Jongho exchanged knowing looks, clearly expecting another one of her tirades.

“The press won’t stop hounding us!” she exclaimed, her voice nearly cracking. “They’re everywhere—outside this building, near our home—they’re relentless! I mean, we can’t even breathe without someone taking a picture or shouting questions!”

San leaned forward, his tone calm but firm.“Kira and the firm are already doing everything they can to handle the situation. The best thing we can do now is to have Y/N lay low while the investigation continues. We need to let the lawyers and PR team do their job.”

Your mother whirled around to face him, her frustration palpable. “Lay low? How exactly do you expect her to do that when her face is on every news channel right now?”

She grabbed this morning’s paper from the edge of the table and waved it in the air, the motion so aggressive it crinkled the front page. Your face stared back at you, frozen in a manufactured smile that you hated with every fiber of your being. It wasn’t you—it was the version of you your family wanted the world to see.

You looked down at your hands, your bandaged arm resting awkwardly on the table. The memory of the attack flashed in your mind, sharp and vivid, as though it had just happened. This wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted—this wasn’t the life you’d ever asked for. Yet here you were, front and center in a drama you had no control over, and it was tearing you apart from the inside out.

“We’re already managing the narrative,” Jongho interjected.

“The new cycle will shift, it always does. By this afternoon, Kim Namjoon’s official announcement for his political run will dominate headlines. It’s a matter of hours. Security at all your properties has also been significantly tightened, as you requested.”

Your mother’s laugh was bitter, almost hysterical. “How could security have been tightened when Y/N was still attacked in a public place!?” your mother shrieked, her voice growing shrill.

“You were supposed to keep an eye on her, and–”

That was it. You stood up so abruptly your chair scraped against the floor, catching everyone off guard.

“It was my fault,” you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger with every word.

“I asked Kira to let me go out with her because I didn’t want to be locked away in the penthouse anymore. I made that decision. This is my mess, my problem, and no one else’s. Pointing fingers won’t undo what happened, so can we stop pretending it will?”

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale, her mouth gaping like a fish gasping for air. She searched for a retort, an argument, anything to regain the upper hand, but you didn’t give her the chance. Without another word you stormed out of the room, ignoring the calls from your family in your wake.

You didn’t stop until you were in the corridor, far from their judgmental stares and suffocating expectations. Slowly, you slid down to the ground, your legs folding awkwardly beneath you. The tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared blankly at the ceiling. You hated crying, especially over this, over them. But it wasn’t just the argument with your mother or the media circus that broke you down.

It was the loneliness.

The crushing realization that no one in that room really saw you or understood what you were going through. To them, you were an asset, a liability, a problem to solve. Not a person.

Your fingers trembled as you fumbled for your phone. But the moment you turned it on, your breath caught in your throat. Maro’s face stared back at you from your lock screen, a photo you’d taken just weeks ago.

His tiny tongue hung from the side of his mouth, his fur slightly disheveled from spinning in circles on the couch, chasing his own tail. You’d taken the photo in the middle of laughing so hard you could barely hold your phone steady. You could almost hear the soft jingle of his collar as he burrowed into the cushions, glancing up every now and then to make sure you were watching.

But the laughter felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the crushing weight of grief. Your free hand moved to your bandaged arm and your fingers curled over the wound instinctively.

You sat hunched over in the waiting room of the emergency animal hospital with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second dragged on like an eternity, Every sound made you flinch, hoping it was someone coming to tell you he’d pulled through, that he’d be okay. But as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, your hope began to waver.

“Y/N!”

You looked up to see Yeosang rushing toward you after you had called him on the way to the clinic.

“They took him back to the operating room, but—but they wouldn’t let me go with him,” you whispered as he crouched down next to you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he squeezed your shoulder. “He’s a fighter. Maro’s tough, and he loves you. He’s not going to give up that easily, okay? And neither should you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without him,” you admitted.

“He’s the only one who’s ever been there for me. He’s a dog but through these last few months he never judged me, never made me feel like I wasn’t enough. He just… loved me.”

“I can’t lose him,” your voice cracked, and just like that, the dam broke. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, unguarded, as your body shook with uncontrollable sobs.

“He’s all I have, Yeosang.”

“I know,” Yeosang replied quietly. “I know, Y/N. And it’s not fair. But you can’t blame yourself. You did everything you could to protect him.”

His soft exhale filled the heavy silence that followed. Yeosang understood that no words could fix this. So, he simply stayed with you, letting your anguish fill the space, offering nothing but his quiet presence as you crumbled.

The sound of a door opening made you lift your head, your heart leaping into your throat. A vet in scrubs approached you, her expression solemn, and your stomach dropped. Her words were a blur, muffled by the roar in your ears, but you didn’t need to hear them to know.

The look in her eyes said everything.

You curled in on yourself, your sobs muffled now as you pressed your face against your knees, as if trying to hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.

You let the grief take over, let the tears fall freely, because no one was there to see. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, but when the tears finally slowed, leaving you drained and empty, you lifted your head and stared blankly ahead.

You were so tired. Tired of carrying everything alone, tired of being left behind. But no matter how much it hurt, you knew there was no one coming to share the weight. It was just you.

No one was coming. No one ever did.

It had always been just you.

⋆

Mingi sat in the garden, his small paws tucked neatly under him as he watched Hongjoong tend to his flowers. The garden was a vibrant burst of life and color. Golden marigolds lined the cobblestone pathways, nestled between the soft hues of blooming roses and sprigs of lavender. The gentle garden was otherworldly, which was appropriate considering where they are.

The afterlife was serene. Quiet. Too quiet, Mingi thought, though he’d never admit it. A part of him didn’t want to accept that this was how everything would end.

That this was it.

That he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make amends. That he wouldn’t get to see you smile again. He wouldn’t get to prove to you that he was worth forgiving, worth believing in, worth something at all.

He felt like he was suspended in a world that didn’t quite belong to him—a visitor overstaying his welcome.

Mingi sat atop a stack of books piled high with a cushion, his small, fluffy body perched precariously as his tail swayed lazily behind him. His ears twitched as he watched Hongjoong move around the cozy cottage.

“Comfortable up there?”

Mingi let out a soft huff. “I guess.”

The table was low enough for him to rest his paws on the edge, and he did so now, leaning forward as Hongjoong placed a small dish in front of him. Inside was a portion of scrambled eggs and bits of roasted sweet potato, the steam curling up in tendrils.

“I think these are dog friendly foods, but since you’re in the afterlife now, I guess anything goes.”

Mingi sniffed the dish suspiciously, then gave an approving wag of his tail before diving in, the mess from the food around his snout making Hongjoong laugh.

“It’s good, right?” he teased, watching as Mingi polished off every last bite.

Mingi responded with an enthusiastic wiggle of his behind, his entire body vibrating with happiness. Once the dish was licked clean, he flopped onto his side with a contented sigh, his paws stretching out dramatically.

The fullness from the meal brought a fleeting sense of comfort. For a moment, everything felt simple, like when he’d curl up beside you after a long day and your presence putting him at ease.

As his tail slowed and his breathing steadied, a hollow ache settled in his chest, heavier than the satisfaction of a good meal could counter. Mingi stared at the faint glow of the afterlife’s sky out the window.

He missed you.

The thought that he might never get to tell you how sorry he was, how much he regretted every cruel word, every moment of neglect, made his chest tighten painfully.

Hongjoong moved among the flowers, humming a tune under his breath as he trimmed roses and pulled at weeds. Mingi’s eyes drifted to a bouquet of marigolds lying nearby, vibrant their bold orange and yellow petals standing out against the green backdrop.

His ears perked up as he stared at the flowers, a memory of you flickering to life in his mind. He remembered the day you brought home a similar bouquet, cradling it in your arms. You’d smiled softly with a distant look in your eyes, and then you disappeared again, taking the flowers with you. He realized now that those marigolds were for Hongjoong’s grave.

“Can you see what happens in the human world?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, as if the question didn’t surprise him in the slightest. His hands stilled over a rose bush, as he turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at Mingi.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, his gaze drifting upward, as if he could see past the skies and into another realm entirely. “It’s different for everyone. Some people can see glimpses, others nothing at all. It depends on what they hold on to when they’re here.”

“What about you?”

“I made peace with the fact that I was going to pass. Maybe a flicker here or there, but it’s never clear.”

Mingi’s paws shifted against the dirt, unease settling in his chest. That meant Hongjoong might have seen the way he treated you. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to know how much he hurt you in ways he could never take back.

“Do you hate me? For how I treated Y/N?”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. His expression remained unreadable, but Mingi could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Of course, Hongjoong hated the way Mingi had treated you. The way he dismissed you, how he walked away when you needed him most, leaving you to fend for yourself in ways you never should have had to. He hated the thought of you standing there, waiting for someone who never looked back.

And yet, Hongjoong also pitied Mingi. Because for all of his mistakes, for all of his cruelty and neglect, Mingi had been hurting too. As the saying goes, hurt people, hurt people.

“No, Mingi. I don’t hate you.”

Mingi’s ears twitched slightly waiting for the rest of his response.

“More than anything, I just wanted you to know what it’s like to love someone and be helpless to stop their suffering. Because that’s how I felt whenever I had the opportunity to glimpse into the human world.”

Hongjoong’s fingers trailed along the edge of a wilting petal, plucking it free and letting it drift to the ground. “But…” he murmured, his gaze flickering back to Mingi.

“What matters now is what you do with the time you have left.”

Hongjoong’s smile turned wistful. He didn’t push for a response. Instead he gave Mingi the space to lean into his own thoughts. Mingi closed his eyes, his ears drooping as the weight of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

“I…” Mingi started, but his voice wavered. He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to the ground as though afraid to meet Hongjoong’s eyes.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to tell her how sorry I am. I just wanted to be good for her. To show her that I can be better. That I want to be better.”

He turned to Hongjoong, the desperation tinged in his voice. "I want her to see me as someone she can trust. Not someone who always messes things up or leaves her behind." Mingi blinked back tears as he met Hongjoong’s gaze.

“I miss her. I want to see her, but this time as myself.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply right away. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting lazily toward the sky, where soft, golden light filtered through the clouds.

“I don’t think it's over for you yet.”

Mingi’s ears flicked slightly, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I? There’s nothing left for me to do. Nothing I can do."

He let out a quiet hum, neither confirming nor denying Mingi’s words. Instead, he stood, brushing stray petals from his sleeves before turning toward the small stone path leading away from the garden.

“It’s getting late, what do you want to have for dinner?”

You sat curled up on the couch in the suite, your chin resting atop your knees as you stared at Mingi’s body. Your fingers traced mindless patterns against the fabric of Maro’s collar. Sleep had been a stranger these past three days. The collar was a lifeline in your trembling hands, keeping you grounded as the weight of everything around you crushed you—the incessant calls from reporters, your family’s worried texts, the suffocating guilt.

The attack had turned your life into a circus. All you wanted was to disappear.

This room, though sterile and suffused with antiseptic air, was the only refuge you had left. Here, in the stillness of your husband’s hospital suite, you didn’t have to pretend to be okay.

“What do you think dogs do in heaven?”

Your gaze dropped to your hospital slippers, the thin fabric worn down from countless restless nights pacing the suite. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head and set aside the collar.

This was your reality now: sneaking away from the penthouse just to sit beside your comatose husband, pouring your heart out to someone who, if and when he woke up, would probably scoff and dismiss you for wasting your time on him.

“I heard they all go to heaven,” you continued, as your voice grew quieter. “At least…that’s what the movie says.”

A lump formed in your throat, making it harder to breathe, harder to swallow the ache.

“I think they get to run forever.”

You stared down at your hands, your fingers curling into the sleeves of your sweater.

“And…”

Your voice wavered slightly as you struggled to find the words.

“And there’s an endless amount of treats.”

The first tear slipped down your cheek, warm and unbidden, as if your body couldn’t contain the sorrow any longer. It was the smallest thing, but in that single tear, it felt like the world was coming apart. Your shoulders shook with a quiet sob, your chest tightening as you inhaled sharply. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stop the flood, but it only made it worse.

“J-Just big o-open fields where it’s s-sunny all the time.”

And maybe it was silly, this imagining of dogs in heaven, free and happy, without the pain or heartbreak that followed you here.

“God, I just feel so alone, Mingi. I had the worst fucking week of my life,” you cried into the emptiness, your hands trembling as you clutched your chest, hoping you could physically hold yourself together.

“If I hadn’t begged Kira to let me go to that stupid store with her, this wouldn’t have happened. None of it.”

The words came out like a confession, one you hadn’t been brave enough to say aloud until now.

“It’s all my fault. Everyone leaves me and it’s m-my fault!”

Your sobs filled the room, echoing back at you like a cruel reminder that no one was there to answer. No one was there to tell you that you were wrong, that it wasn’t your fault, that the universe didn’t conspire against you with every loss. But the silence gave no comfort.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

Unseen, Wooyoung sat perched on his bench in the courtroom, watching over you with a weary expression. His chin rested on the back of his hand, fingers idly tapping against his jaw as he observed the way your body trembled from the weight of grief.

He had seen countless souls in despair, had judged and guided those lost between life and death. But you, your suffering was different.

It was the kind of sorrow that settled into a person’s bones, an ache that would not fade with time. And as much as Wooyoung pretended he had grown numb to such things, this…this he could not ignore.

His thoughts drifted to the one soul tied to yours, the one whose fate he had carefully molded with his own hands. A certain puppy who was at the center of your suffering, both the cause of it in his human form and, ironically, the brightest light in your life now.

If Wooyoung had to guess, Mingi had made you happier than you had been in your entire life. It was a miracle, really, considering who he had been before all of this. But for all of his faults, he had taken to his new form with an earnestness Wooyoung hadn’t expected. He had tried.

The judge had watched him bumble his way through this second chance, a puppy who didn’t quite know what to do with himself. It had been amusing at first: the way Mingi stumbled over his own paws, the way he wagged his tail a little too eagerly, desperate for your affection.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

He had seen the way Mingi softened, the way he clung to you like you were his home. The way he curled against your side as if he could take away your pain and carry it for you.

“Song Mingi, you idiot!” Wooyoung sighed, ready to pull his hair out.

This wasn’t supposed to be the way things ended. Mingi’s final task was to make you truly happy, to undo the damage he had done. It was the last step before he could return to his human form. But no, he had to play the hero and sacrifice himself to protect you.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated to admit it, but there was something admirable about it. For all his faults, for all the pain he had caused you, Mingi had finally learned how to love you the way you deserved. He had given up everything—his second chance, his future—just to make sure you were safe.

Now you were left behind, drowning in the weight of his sacrifice and Wooyoung couldn’t bear to see how miserable you were.

With a flick of his wrist, the air around him trembled, the very foundation of his courtroom bending to his will. The air split with a sharp crack, and in the blink of an eye, the room dispersed into smoke, replaced by the glow of the fireplace.

“Alright, Song Mingi,” he muttered, propping his feet on the dining table. “It’s time to go home.”

⋆

“You’re late.”

Mingi blinked, his vision still adjusting as he lifted a paw to rub at his eyes, as if that would somehow make sense of what he was seeing.

“W-Wooyoung!?”

The judge sat comfortably at the dinner table, tapping his fingers lazily against the polished wood. His presence alone was jarring and Wooyoung never just showed up. If he was here, it meant something.

“It’s rude to keep guests waiting,” Wooyoung huffed, tilting his head in exaggerated disappointment. “I’ve been sitting here for ages.”

“You didn’t have a reservation,” Hongjoong deadpanned, unimpressed as he set his basket of gardening tools onto the counter. Unlike Mingi, he wasn’t startled by the unexpected visit. Instead he hummed a tune and busied himself around the cottage, grabbing ingredients for dinner.

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung whined.

“Can it wait until after dinner?” he replied. He set a pot of water on the stove, as if the all powerful judge of the afterlife wasn’t currently lounging at their dining table.

“Fine!” he groaned, kicking his feet up onto the chair beside him.

His gaze flickered to Mingi again, and suddenly, his expression shifted.

“Oh my god.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I forgot how small you are!”

Mingi flinched. “What?”

“No wonder Y/N was so smitten with you,” he cooed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re so cute!”

Mingi’s eyes went wide with horror. “No, wait—”

He didn’t stand a chance. Wooyoung lunged, faster than Mingi could react, scooping him up in one swift motion. Mingi let out an undignified yelp as he was lifted clean off the ground as his little legs flailed uselessly in the air.

He spun Mingi around in his arms, cradling him like the most precious thing in the world. Hongjoong, unbothered, continued chopping vegetables in the background, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board the only indication that he was even listening.

“I can see why all those women refused to leave you alone,” Wooyoung mused, studying Mingi as if seeing him for the first time.

Mingi let out a strangled noise of protest. “Put me down!”

Wooyoung ignored him, instead stroking the fur between his ears with a contemplative hum. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Mingi froze, sensing the shift in Wooyoung’s tone. It wasn’t teasing anymore. There was something thoughtful—almost wistful—beneath his words.

“I sent you there to right your wrongs,” Wooyoung said softly. “That was the deal. But instead, you sacrificed yourself like an idiot. Do you know how miserable that made her?”

Wooyoung sighed, shifting Mingi so that they were eye to eye. “You should see how sad Y/N is, I can’t stand seeing her cry anymore.”

Mingi’s ears flattened as he processed Wooyoung’s words. That didn’t make sense, did it? He had spent so much of his life pushing you away, saying the wrong things, hurting you without even meaning to. Even in the end, he had only caused you more pain by leaving.

Mingi swallowed hard, ears flicking. “But… I always made her cry.” His voice was small. “How could I have made her happy?”

Wooyoung huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You really are hopeless,” he muttered. “She was happy because you were there, dummy. Because you stuck around. Because, for the first time, you weren’t just someone passing through her life. You stayed.”

Had he really made you happy just by being there? By choosing to stay by your side, even when he thought he didn’t deserve to?

“You didn’t just make her smile a few times. You made her feel safe. You made her laugh. You made her happy without even realizing it. And you did it without asking for anything in return. I guess that's what dogs do.”

Wooyoung reached out, flicking him lightly on the nose. “And that’s why you’re going back.”

“Eh?”

“That’s right!” Wooyoung declared triumphantly, placing him on the ground. He grinned, straightening up and placing his hands on his hips.

“Even if you are an idiot who charged in without thinking, what you did was the purest act of love you could’ve shown. You held up your end of the bargain so… a deal’s a deal.”

“I’m…I’m going back?”

Mingi’s tail wagged furiously, his entire body practically vibrating with excitement. He was going back. Back to you. He could see you again, hear your voice, feel your touch. He could fix things and make things right. He wouldn’t waste this second chance.

“Eat first,” Hongjoong interrupted, scooping up a bowl of stew for the puppy.

“You won’t get far on an empty stomach.”

Mingi let out a tiny huff, his tail flicking in mild protest, but the rich aroma of the stew was too tempting to resist. He sniffed hesitantly before lapping at the bowl. The warmth of the broth spread through him instantly, soothing in a way he hadn't realized he needed. His stomach grumbled again, this time in appreciation, and he begrudgingly continued eating.

Between bites, his gaze flickered up to Hongjoong. Something about him seemed… different. His expression was just as calm and composed as ever, but there was a certain wistfulness in his eyes.

Mingi’s little tail wagged as he padded closer, tilting his head. “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong blinked, seemingly caught off guard for just a second before his lips curved into a small smile. Mingi peered up at him, and noticed the longing in his eyes. Not for something lost, but for something he once cherished.

Hongjoong reached out, ruffling Mingi’s fur with a gentle touch. “Even if things get difficult,” he murmured reassuringly, “I know everything will work out in the end.”

His hand lingered for just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“You just have to fight.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the alarm blaring from your phone. The shrill tone cut through the silence of the hospital room, a jarring contrast to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself upright, disoriented for a moment before remembering you had set it for 8 AM, the time you usually fed Maro.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing the sleep from your face. You hadn’t meant to doze off here again, but exhaustion clung to you. You needed to go home. There were things to do. You needed to eat, too—had you even eaten since yesterday? Probably not.

“Y/N…”

Your mind moved sluggishly through a mental checklist. Feed Maro. No, he’s not here anymore. Answer texts. Call Kira. Had you remembered to bring a change of clothes? You should grab something on the way home. Maybe coffee, too.

“...Y/N.”

For a second, you thought you were hallucinating. There was no way—no way—you heard your name. Maybe you were just overtired, running on empty. Maybe it was your mind playing cruel tricks on you.

You shrugged, shoving your belongings into your overnight bag, preoccupied with gathering the blankets you’d let slip to the floor in your sleep.

A strange sensation washed over Mingi as his eyes fluttered open. His body felt heavier and his senses, once heightened, dulled. In the distance, he heard the faint chime of an alarm, followed by the soft shuffling of your footsteps. The sound was muted, like a memory being replayed from another life, but it was real.

"Be good, okay?" Wooyoung's voice was light, but there was a tightness to it, as if he was holding something back. His hands moved with gentle care, adjusting the small bandana around Mingi’s neck.

"I don’t want to see you for another 70 years!"

Beside him, Hongjoong let out a soft chuckle, crouching down to run his fingers behind his ears. "Take care of Y/N," he murmured.

"But most importantly, take care of yourself, okay? Give yourself some grace.”

“I will,” Mingi replied, determination settling into his voice. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to express his gratitude, but time was already pulling him away as the gate for the human world was beginning to close.

The path before him stretched endlessly, lined with delicate white flowers that glowed under the light of the afterlife. With each step, he could feel the ground beneath his paws become less solid, as though he were walking on the edge of a dream. His body tingled, his heartbeat echoing in a different rhythm now, one that matched the pull of reality waiting for him beyond this place.

As the world around him dimmed, as his senses faded into something familiar, one thing remained unchanged—

You.

Your presence.

And the moment he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was you.

Not the flowers piled up in the corner of the suite. Not the wires draped across his chest or the monitors keeping him alive. Not the light of morning spilling through the window, chasing away the shadows of the night before.

Just you.

“Y/N.”

Still, you didn’t hear him.

Mingi watched as you flitted around the room, smoothing down your wrinkled clothes, sighing at the thought of stepping outside this room and facing reality again as you grabbed your bag.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name was sharper and more insistent and you knew for sure you weren’t imagining it.

You froze.

Your breath caught as something inside you, some instinct, screamed at you to turn around. Slowly, hesitantly, your head snapped toward the hospital bed.

Mingi was watching you.

His eyes were tired and heavy with exhaustion, but they were focused. Determined. His brows drew together, as if mustering every ounce of strength he had left just to make you look at him.

Your bag slid from your shoulder and hit the ground as your legs struggled to keep up. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as your chest constricted with a surge of emotions you thought you had long buried.

Relief, disbelief, and something unnamed swelled within you as you staggered forward with tears in your eyes.

Mingi’s fingers twitched again. A little stronger this time, shaking as they lifted just an inch from the bed. For a moment, they faltered, wavering midair. Then, slowly, they stretched toward you.

Reaching.

Wanting.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out, letting your hand hover over his for a moment before finally brushing against his cold skin. His hand stilled beneath yours and his fingers curled weakly as you closed yours around them.

Mingi’s eyes softened, and for a second, you thought he might try to speak, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came. His fingers squeezed yours weakly in response, and despite his weakened state, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes held yours and were filled with something that made your heart ache in the best way.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

Because this time, Mingi had reached for you first.

<< vi | viii >>

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@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

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#song mingi #cromernet #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #arranged marriage au #ateez #mingi x you #ateez fic #mingi angst #ateez angst #enemies to lovers #strangers to lovers

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kiwriteswords · 2 days ago

Note

congrats on your 2k 🎉

for missing scene Monday, could we get bearded Hotch's new gf he met on his secret assignment in Pakistan?? I'll leave it to you if you want to extend it back to the US and the BAU team!!

Just begging for anything with bearded Hotch and yes this was inspired by your 2k celebration gif choices ❤️ love ya!

Let It Be [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||Main Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 8k|| AN: Thank you so much for sending this request so early for day one! I was able to get a head start on this last week, and I really love how it turned out!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, canon-divergent, beard!hotch, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, banter, Hotch in Pakistan, non!BAU reader, kinda left tbc?

Summary: Hotch meets you on assignment in Pakistan, and you're exactly what he was looking for...someone who's just there without pushing.

The sun was relentless, bearing down on the barren expanse surrounding the base. Sweat collected under your tactical gear, but you barely noticed. It was the kind of heat that stripped away all distractions, leaving you focused on the mission ahead--or at least trying to be.

You adjusted the strap of your duffel bag and glanced around the bustling camp. This wasn’t your first special operations assignment, but the tension in the air felt different here. Heavier.

It could have just been you dragging the weight of unresolved emotions halfway across the world, or it could have been the stakes of the mission--a dangerous operation involving an international terrorist cell that required precision, discretion, and teamwork between agencies not known for always getting along.

“Agent Y/L/N?”

The voice was deep, cutting through the camp noise. You turned and found yourself face to face with a tall man, his sharp features etched into a permanent state of seriousness. His gaze was steady, and his presence commanded attention without effort.

“That’s me,” you replied, clipped but polite.

He stepped closer, extending a hand. “Aaron Hotchner, unit chief for the BAU.”

The name was familiar. You had read the reports and heard the stories--his work on high-profile cases, his leadership, and his reputation for being unflinchingly methodical. You shook his hand, noting the firm grip and how it matched the intensity in his dark eyes.

“Special Agent Y/L/N, CIA Directorate of Operations,” you said, introducing yourself with the same straightforward efficiency. “Behavioral analyst and covert operations specialist.”

His brow shifted slightly, just enough for you to notice. He nodded, acknowledging your credentials with a quiet respect.

“Briefing starts in five,” he said, his tone all business. Then he turned and walked away, leaving you with the distinct impression that there was more to him than the stoic exterior he projected. You had worked with people like him before--people who carried their burdens in silence--but something about the weight in his eyes made you wonder if he had brought his own ghosts to this mission, much like you had.

….

The first few days were a blur of briefings, strategy sessions, and late nights poring over intel. You didn’t interact much with Hotch beyond the occasional exchange of information, but you caught yourself noticing him. The way he carried himself--calm and composed, but with an edge of tension that never seemed to leave him. You recognized it because you felt it, too.

As you reviewed reports in the command tent one night, he walked in, filling the space. He set a folder on the table and glanced at you.

“You’ve been here for hours,” he said, not a question but an observation.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on the documents in front of you. “So have you.”

“I’m used to it,” he replied, his tone neutral.

“So am I.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, he pulled out a chair and sat across from you, his gaze steady.

“It’s easier to keep busy,” he said quietly as if he was sharing a truth he rarely voiced.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. There was something there--something raw and unspoken. You wanted to ask what he was running from, but you didn’t. You weren’t ready to share your own truths, so you didn’t ask for his.

….

The nights were the hardest. The quiet gave your mind too much room to wander, dredging up memories you’d rather forget. One evening, you found yourself outside, staring at the vast expanse of desert under a blanket of stars. You didn’t expect company, but the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.

It was Hotch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing beside you.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

For a while, you just stood there, the silence between you feeling strangely comfortable.

“I read your file,” he said eventually, his tone careful.

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Did you now?”

“You’ve handled some difficult assignments. Made a name for yourself.”

There was no arrogance in his words; it was just observation.

“Guess you could say I have a knack for throwing myself into the fire,” you replied. Something flashed across his face like he was going to respond with something, but he didn’t.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but his presence was steady, almost calming.

“Why are you really here?” you asked, breaking the quiet. Nobody in their right mind would have volunteered for this unless they either A) had nobody to go home to at night, or B) were trying to forget about something else. You could tell by the small photo Hotch carried around of, presumably, his son it wasn’t option A.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low, almost reluctant. “Because it’s easier than being back home.”

You nodded, understanding more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. Same.”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “What are you running from?”

You hesitated, the question hitting too close to home. “A mistake. One I don’t want to repeat.”

He didn’t press for details, and you were grateful. Instead, he said, “Sometimes running is the only way to keep moving.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if you agreed.

……

As the mission dragged on, the weight of it started to press down on both of you. You began to notice how Hotch avoided certain topics, not that personal topics frequently came up. You noticed how his eyes darkened when the name "Prentiss" came up from the communication specialist on the special ops team.

You didn’t ask--he didn’t offer--but the pieces slowly started to come together. You had to be living under a rock in this field not to have heard about the major loss the BAU took this past year.

One night, after another tense meeting, you found yourselves in the makeshift kitchen, both reaching for the last cup of coffee.

“You take it,” you said, stepping back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I insist. I’ve had worse days.”

Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of understanding. “I doubt that.”

You smirked, the slightest crack in your guarded exterior. “Careful, Hotchner. That almost sounded like empathy.”

His lips twitched--the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. “Don’t get used to it.”

….

A sudden sandstorm sent the entire team scrambling for cover. The wind howled outside the command tent, shaking the canvas walls as you huddled with Hotch and two other agents.

“Typical,” you muttered, brushing sand off your gear. “Mission’s hard enough without Mother Nature making it worse.”

Hotch sat across from you, his expression unreadable as he tightened the straps on his vest. He was scruffier than he was when you first arrived. It wasn’t a bad look, but you brushed down that thought.

“You’ve been through worse,” he said matter-of-factly, not a question but a statement.

You let out a short laugh. “Don’t give me too much credit, Hotchner. I’m not invincible.”

“No one is,” he replied, his tone softer than you expected. “But you’re resilient. I can see that.”

The compliment, if you could call it that, caught you off guard. You didn’t reply, unsure how to. Instead, you focused on the storm outside, the roar of the wind drowning out everything else.

But later, when the storm passed, and you stepped out into the eerily quiet desert, you found yourself glancing at Hotch. He met your gaze for a moment, and something unspoken passed between you--a mutual respect, a shared understanding.

….

It was late, and the compound was finally quiet. You were seated at a makeshift table, cleaning your sidearm, when Hotch approached with two cups of coffee.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said as he set one down in front of you.

“I doubt that,” he replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

You took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste. “God, this is terrible.”

“It’s coffee,” he said with a small shrug as if that explained everything.

You glanced at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Do you ever lighten up, Hotchner?”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “On occasion.”

“Define ‘occasion.’”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the weapon in your hands. “When it’s earned,” he said finally.

It was a cryptic response, but it made you smile anyway. “Well, I’ll consider this progress.”

He sat with you in silence, but it was comfortable. The company was more needed than either of you realized.

….

The day had been relentless, the kind that left your muscles aching and your mind frayed at the edges. You had lost count of how many hours you’d been awake--thirty, maybe forty. Every bone in your body screamed for rest, but the tension from the mission had settled into your chest, making sleep impossible.

You found yourself outside the command tent, slumping onto an old crate with a half-empty water bottle in your hand. The distant hum of generators buzzed like a white noise machine, masking the desert’s eerie quiet.

Hotch appeared a few minutes later, wordlessly lowering himself onto the crate beside you. His presence, steady as always, should have been comforting, but tonight it only made the lump in your throat harder to ignore.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You told yourself you liked the silence, but the truth was, it gave your thoughts too much room to spiral. Your chest felt tight, and despite the coolness of the night, your face burned with exhaustion-fueled frustration.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

Hotch turned his head toward you, his face unreadable but his attention sharp. “Why do you say that?”

You let out a shaky breath, staring out into the endless darkness of the desert. “Because I’m running. I didn’t know what else to do.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own admission. “I thought putting space between me and...everything would help, but maybe it just makes it worse.”

The words sat heavy in the air, and you instantly regretted saying them. You felt exposed, as though admitting it aloud would make it all the more real. Your hands fidgeted with the bottle, and you kept your gaze fixed ahead, unwilling to meet his.

You thought about the way your life had pretty much unraveled around you back at home. If it wasn’t for work, you’re not sure you’d still be standing on your two feet. Here you could be the strong, independent person you aspired to be. At home, you were heartbroken without an end in sight.

The silence stretched long enough that you thought he wouldn’t respond. But then, in that low, even voice of his, he said, “It doesn’t make it worse. It just makes it...quieter. And sometimes quiet is all you can handle.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his tone. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, distant and heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked softly, the rawness in your voice betraying how fragile you felt.

He nodded, barely perceptible, his gaze never leaving the horizon. “I thought being here might help me make sense of things. But some things…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “Some things don’t have answers.”

There was something about the way he said it--not defensive, not self-pitying, just honest. It broke through the dam inside you, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you might cry.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat tightening. The weight of his answer settled between you, tangible and heavy, yet somehow reassuring.

For the first time, the silence felt like a shared space rather than an empty one. You didn’t push for more. You couldn’t, not with your emotions already threatening to overflow. But as the desert night pressed in around you, you realized you didn’t need to.

Whatever walls you both had built were starting to crumble, and neither of you seemed inclined to stop it.

…..

The air in the abandoned warehouse was stifling, thick with the smell of rust and dust. You moved carefully, your weapon drawn and your eyes scanning every shadow. Hotch was just behind you, silent but steady, his presence grounding you in the tense atmosphere.

The intel had been solid: a potential threat against the local embassy was being planned here, and your team had been tasked with gathering evidence. But now, as you crept deeper into the maze of crates and machinery, something felt off. The place was too quiet.

A faint creak made you freeze. You glanced back at Hotch, and he gave a subtle nod, his dark eyes sharp with focus. He gestured for you to take the left while he veered right. You obeyed without question, trusting his instincts as much as your own.

You edged around a stack of crates, your pulse quickening. The sound came again--a faint shuffle, followed by a whisper of movement. You tightened your grip on your weapon, adrenaline flooding your system.

Then everything exploded at once.

A figure lunged from the shadows, slamming into you with enough force to knock you off balance. Your weapon clattered to the floor as you struggled against the assailant, their grip bruising as they tried to pin you down.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Hotch’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline.

You twisted, freeing one arm, and drove your elbow into the attacker’s side. They grunted, loosening their grip just enough for you to push them off. But before you could retrieve your weapon, another figure appeared, this one heading straight for Hotch.

“Behind you!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet.

Hotch spun just in time, deflecting the attacker’s blow and delivering a calculated strike that sent them stumbling. But the odds were quickly stacking against you--more figures emerged from the shadows, their movements coordinated and purposeful.

“Fall back!” Hotch ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

You grabbed your weapon and fell into step beside him as the two of you retreated toward the exit. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you, growing louder with each passing second.

“We’re not going to make it out clean,” you said, your voice tight as you scanned for cover.

Hotch’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have to. We just need to slow them down.”

He pointed to a stack of crates near the exit, and you understood immediately. You fired a few shots, not aiming to hit but to force your pursuers to take cover. Then, together, you pushed the nearest crate, toppling it over and creating a barricade that bought you a few precious seconds.

“Go!” Hotch barked, motioning for you to move ahead.

“No way,” you snapped, falling into position beside him. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

His gaze flicked to you, something unspoken passing between you. It wasn’t the time for arguments, so he didn’t push it.

The two of you moved as one, covering each other as you navigated the narrow corridors toward the exit. Your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn’t let it distract you. Hotch’s steady presence was all you focused on, his calm precision a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

Finally, you burst into the open air, the sounds of shouting and gunfire fading behind you. You didn’t stop running until you reached the safety of the extraction point, where reinforcements were waiting.

You doubled over, hands on your knees as you caught your breath. Hotch was beside you, his breathing heavy but controlled.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, straightening up. “Yeah. You?”

“I’ve been worse,” he replied, a faint flicker of dry humor in his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “That’s one way to bond, I guess.”

Hotch glanced at you, and for the first time since the mission began, you saw something close to a smile on his face. It was brief, but it was real.

“Good work out there,” he said simply.

“Right back at you,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

In that moment, you realized just how much you trusted him--not just as a colleague, but as someone who had your back, no matter what. And from the way he looked at you, you had the feeling he felt the same.

….

The day had been unusually quiet. The base hummed with its usual activity, but the weight in the air seemed heavier that day. You had noticed it the moment you walked into the briefing room. Hotch had been there, as he always was, but there was something off.

His usual sharp focus felt dulled, his replies curt even for his standards. He spent more time staring at his tablet than actually reading it, and the lines etched into his face seemed deeper somehow.

You weren’t a profiler, but you didn’t need to be to know something was wrong.

Now, hours later, you found him alone in the makeshift command tent, the harsh glow of a desk lamp illuminating the strain on his features. He was seated, elbows on the table and his hands clasped in front of him, staring at a map as if willing it to make sense.

“You’re still at it?” you asked gently, stepping inside.

His head lifted slightly, but he didn’t look at you. “There’s a lot to prepare for.”

“There always is,” you replied, pulling up a chair across from him. “But it’s late. You should take a break.”

“I can’t afford to.”

The edge in his voice wasn’t aimed at you, but it still made you hesitate. You considered leaving him to his work, but something kept you there.

“Hotch,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tense quiet. “What’s going on?”

He finally looked up, his dark eyes shadowed by something heavy. For a moment, you thought he might tell you, but then his expression hardened, his walls slamming back into place.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, his tone measured but distant.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second. But you also knew better than to push.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “You’re allowed to have off days, you know. Even you.”

His lips twitched, almost a humorless smile. “I don’t have the time for that.”

“You’re human,” you countered, your tone steady but not pressing. “It’s not a luxury. It’s just...life.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze dropping back to the table. But his hands, usually so still, were fidgeting now--his fingers twisting the edge of the map absentmindedly.

You let the silence settle between you, giving him space. After a few minutes, you stood and moved toward the coffee pot in the corner of the tent. You poured two cups, setting one down in front of him without a word before returning to your seat.

Hotch stared at the cup for a moment before picking it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

“It’s fine,” he said abruptly, almost as if he was telling it to himself, though his tone betrayed him. “I just--” He stopped, shaking his head as if to dismiss whatever he’d been about to say.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “We all have those days.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “This one feels heavier.”

You didn’t know what he was carrying--something about him always felt impenetrable, as though he kept the world at arm’s length. But you didn’t need to know the specifics to recognize the weight he was under.

“You’re allowed to let it feel heavy,” you said after a moment, watching his reaction carefully.

Hotch’s hand tightened around the coffee cup, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face before his walls went back up. “I shouldn’t let it distract me,” he muttered.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table. “Maybe letting yourself feel it for five minutes wouldn’t be a distraction. Maybe it’d just be human.”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw shifted as though he was grinding his teeth. His silence didn’t bother you--it was enough to just sit there, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

After a while, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not digging,” he said, finally looking at you. His gaze softened just enough to make your chest ache. “For just...being here.”

You offered a small smile, reaching across the table and resting your hand lightly over his. It wasn’t much, but the way his shoulders relaxed told you it was enough.

“I’ve got your back,” you said simply. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”

Hotch nodded, his grip tightening briefly on the cup before setting it down. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in the room felt lighter somehow.

The two of you sat there in silence, the night pressing in around you. And while the weight of whatever he was carrying didn’t disappear, you could tell it didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

…

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, reflecting off the shallow, winding river that cut through the barren terrain. You adjusted your gear, sweat dripping down your temple as you followed Hotch’s lead. The mission had gone sideways--nothing catastrophic, but the extraction point was now miles further than planned, and the only route was straight through the rocky riverbed.

“Watch your step,” Hotch warned as he leaped from one jagged boulder to another. His movements were precise, practiced, but you could tell the exhaustion of the day was catching up with him.

“I was planning to fall flat on my face,” you replied, the edge of sarcasm in your voice lighthearted enough to soften the tension.

His lips twitched, that almost-smile you’d grown accustomed to. “Let’s avoid that.”

The river wasn’t deep, but the current was deceptively strong. The rocks were uneven; some were slick with moss, and others were barely stable. The whole setup was a sprained ankle--or worse--waiting to happen.

You made it halfway across before your boot slipped on a loose stone, your footing completely giving out beneath you. You stumbled, and the weight of your gear made it impossible to regain your balance.

Before you could hit the water, a substantial hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you upright. The force of it brought you chest-to-chest with Hotch, his grip firm and steady.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and close, his breath warm against your temple.

“Yeah,” you managed, your own breath catching as you looked up at him. His face was inches from yours, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you.

His dark eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering in them--concern, maybe, or something deeper. He didn’t let go right away, his hand lingering on your arm as though he needed to make sure you were truly steady.

“I told you to watch your step,” he said finally, his tone softer than usual. His words did not match the gentleness in his tone.

“And I told you I was planning to fall,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a wry smile.

His lips twitched again, but this time, it felt closer to a real smile. His hand slipped away reluctantly, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he stepped back.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice all business again, though you caught the slight shift in his expression--something unguarded, fleeting, but unmistakably there.

…

The day’s trek had left you both bone-weary, but the setting sun brought with it a chill that seeped into your skin. The fire crackled low between you as you sat on overturned crates, the glow casting flickering shadows over the rocky outcrop that served as your makeshift camp for the night.

You had stripped down to your undershirt, your jacket drying on a nearby rock after the river crossing. Hotch sat across from you, rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his neck, his usual stoicism slightly cracked by the day’s exhaustion.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” you commented, watching him massage the tension from his muscles.

“So will you,” he replied, his eyes flicking to your bruised forearm from the earlier stumble.

“I bounce back quickly,” you said lightly. “You, on the other hand, might want to consider a hot bath.”

His lips quirked, and he shook his head. “I’ll add that to the list of luxuries I’m missing out on.”

“Right after edible food,” you added, holding up the protein bar you’d been gnawing on. “This is basically punishment.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, and it made your chest tighten unexpectedly. You leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the fire and the rare ease of the moment settle over you.

“You’re not always so serious, are you?” you asked, half-teasing but genuinely curious.

Hotch glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “Depends on the company.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the lines of exhaustion and something deeper--something you couldn’t quite name but felt pulled toward.

“Well,” you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you before he nodded slightly. “You should.”

The fire had long since burned down to embers, but neither of you had moved. The quiet was comfortable now, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

“You’re different,” Hotch said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. His tone was thoughtful, not heavy, but it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t expect.

“Different how?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t push,” he said simply. “Most people do. They want something, even if they don’t say it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “Maybe I just know what it’s like to need space.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze dropping to the glowing embers. “It’s rare,” he said quietly. “And...appreciated.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realized with a startling clarity that you didn’t want this moment to end. The mission, the chaos, the fleeting moments of quiet connection--they’d all built to this, and you weren’t ready to let it go.

You didn’t say anything, but you shifted closer, just enough that your knee brushed against his. He didn’t move away, and the warmth of his presence felt like an anchor in the cool desert night.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. But when he finally looked at you, the guarded distance in his eyes had softened, replaced by something you couldn’t name but felt deeply.

“Get some rest,” he said eventually, his voice low but gentle. “Tomorrow will come too soon.”

You nodded, standing and brushing the dust from your pants. But as you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at him. “Good night, Hotch.”

“Good night,” he replied, his gaze following you as you walked away.

And for the first time since this mission began, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time--something you weren’t sure you could name but couldn’t deny was there.

…..

The air in the base felt heavier than usual. The usual hum of activity buzzed in the background, but your focus was locked on the figure in front of you--Aaron Hotchner, standing by the transport vehicle, his duffel slung over his shoulder. A stark contrast to how he had shown up so long ago. Now, slimmer and with a face full of facial hair.

You hadn’t expected the mission to end like this--not with him leaving before it was over. The news had come down hours ago: he had been called back stateside. No explanation, no warning. Just orders.

“Something urgent?” you asked, keeping your tone steady even as you struggled to meet his eyes.

He nodded, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight, a tell you’d come to recognize. “I have to return to Quantico. The team needs me.”

Of course, they do, you thought. You had known from the beginning that this wasn’t his world. His world was back home, leading the BAU, carrying burdens most people couldn’t fathom. Still, the abruptness of his departure left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You stepped closer, your arms crossed, not out of defiance but to keep yourself grounded. “We’ll manage here,” you said, the words feeling both true and hollow.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you, his dark eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “You will,” he said, his voice low. “You’re good at this.”

A faint, humorless laugh escaped you. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It was,” he replied, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips before it disappeared.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. You weren’t naive. Whatever had brought him here was bigger than the mission, bigger than you. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch him leave.

“Will you be back?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Hotch hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t know.”

The honesty in his answer hit harder than you expected.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and nodded. “Well, in case you don’t…you know, good luck, Hotch.”

He studied you for a moment, as if committing your face to memory. Then, to your surprise, he stepped closer. His hand reached out, resting lightly on your arm.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. “For what?”

“For being here. For making this easier,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You searched his eyes, the words catching in your throat. Instead of speaking, you reached up and squeezed his hand where it rested on your arm, the small gesture saying more than words could.

His hand lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his professional mask sliding into place once more.

“They’re waiting for me,” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Go. They need you more than we do.”

He hesitated again, his eyes flicking to yours one last time. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely audible.

And then he turned and climbed into the vehicle. You stood there, watching as it pulled away, the ache in your chest growing heavier with each passing second.

When the dust finally settled, and the vehicle disappeared from sight, you let out a shaky breath, the reality of his absence sinking in.

You hadn’t expected this assignment to change anything. But now, as you stood alone under the relentless desert sun, you realized just how much it had--and how much he had.

You weren’t sure how you’d get over missing him the way you felt the minute he left your side.

…

The harsh glow of the tent's fluorescent light was a poor substitute for the sun. You rubbed your temples, trying to chase away the dull ache that had settled behind your eyes after hours of pouring over intel. The mission dragged on, one step forward and two steps back, and you were beginning to feel the weight of it pressing down on you.

The faint crackle of the comm system startled you, drawing your attention to the communications officer stationed at the other end of the tent. His head tilted, listening intently before he turned and called out, “Y/L/N, secure line for you. Priority channel.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. Secure lines weren’t uncommon, but they were usually pre-arranged. Rising from your chair, you crossed the tent, curiosity buzzing in the back of your mind.

When you picked up the headset, the officer handed you a notepad with a string of verification codes scrawled across it. “Verify the code,” he instructed.

You input the code into the secure terminal, and after a moment, the line cleared. “This is Y/L/N,” you said cautiously.

There was a beat of silence, then a familiar voice. “It’s Hotch.”

Back in Quantico, Hotch leaned back in his chair, his fingers gripping the phone tighter than necessary. The bullpen below his office was dim and quiet--most of the team had left for the night, but the stillness did little to ease the weight pressing on him.

The fallout from the Ian Doyle case was still reverberating through the BAU. Emily’s return had blindsided the team, and though he had tried to justify the deception, the cracks in their trust were impossible to ignore. Strauss’s scrutiny had sharpened, and his every decision seemed to be under a magnifying glass.

He hadn’t called to talk about any of that. He couldn’t.

But the familiar tension in his chest--the suffocating combination of guilt, stress, and isolation--had driven him to dial the secure line. He wasn’t even sure you’d pick up, but when your voice filtered through the line, steady and sure, it was like a knot in his chest loosened.

You straightened instinctively, surprise rippling through you. “Hotch,” you repeated, unable to keep the astonishment from your tone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not…no,” you assured him, leaning against the edge of the table. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough for you to sense the weight behind it. “I just wanted to check-in. See how things are going on your end.”

You frowned slightly, his words not matching the tension you could hear in his voice. “Things are...as expected. Slow, frustrating, and complicated. But manageable.”

“Good,” he said, the word clipped, almost distracted.

You weren’t a profiler, but the exhaustion in his tone was unmistakable. He sounded like a man carrying too many burdens, with no room to set them down.

“You sound tired,” you said gently, knowing better than to pry.

He let out a soft exhale, the kind that felt heavier than it should. “It’s been a long few weeks,” he admitted, though his words felt like an understatement.

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, your voice cutting through the static in his mind. He could still see the look on Morgan’s face when Emily had walked into the room, the betrayal simmering under the surface. He could hear the edge in Strauss’s tone as she grilled him about his decision to keep the team in the dark.

But here, with you, there was no judgment. No interrogation.

“You’re taking care of yourself, right?” you asked, keeping your tone light but genuine.

A soft scoff met your ears. “I’m trying,” he replied, the words carrying a note of dry humor.

You smiled faintly, leaning back against the table. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

His silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy. You knew he wasn’t the type to reach out without a reason, but you also knew he wouldn’t say more than he wanted to. And you weren’t going to push.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For picking up,” he said simply. “For not asking.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the honesty in his tone. “Of course,” you replied softly. “You don’t have to explain anything, Hotch. You know that.”

For a fleeting moment, Hotch considered telling you. About Emily. About the team’s trust--or lack of it. But the words felt too heavy…too complicated to put into the space between you. He didn’t want to drag you into the mess, especially not when you had your own mission to worry about.

And yet, knowing you were there, steady and unwavering, brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the faint hum of the secure line filling the silence. Despite the distance between you, the connection felt tangible--grounding.

“I should let you get back to work,” he said finally, although his voice sounded reluctant.

“Yeah,” you agreed, even though you didn’t want the call to end. “But Hotch...don’t wait so long to call next time, okay?”

There was a pause, then a quiet, almost imperceptible, “Okay.”

And then the line disconnected, leaving you standing there with the headset in hand and a heaviness in your chest you hadn’t felt in weeks.

Across the ocean, Hotch set the phone down, his hand lingering on the receiver. For the first time in days, the storm inside him felt a little less suffocating. And though he couldn’t explain why, he knew that calling you had been the right choice.

….

Throughout the remainder of your mission in Pakistan, Hotch’s calls came sporadically, never announced, and always brief. Each time the secure line connected, his voice carried a steadiness that seemed to ease the tension that surrounded you. The conversations were simple--updates on the mission, quiet exchanges about the weather, or mutual remarks about the relentless grind of your respective work.

Yet, beneath the surface, those calls meant more.

They weren’t about the words exchanged but the connection that had grown between you. Somehow, through the static of secure lines and the distance of continents, you felt you knew him intimately.

Not in the way of shared stories or confessions, but in the quiet understanding of someone who had seen the same kind of pain.

Hotch never spoke about what weighed on him, and you never pressed. He didn’t need to. The heaviness in his tone, the pauses that lingered too long--they told you everything you needed to know. And you, in turn, found comfort in the silence he offered, in the unspoken acknowledgment of your own burdens.

It was a strange closeness, one that felt both fragile and unbreakable. You knew so much about each other, and yet nothing at all. He never asked about what had driven you to this mission, and you never asked about the strain you could hear in his voice. Yet, you understood each other in a way that words couldn’t capture.

In those stolen moments on the phone, it didn’t matter that the world outside was relentless. It didn’t matter that neither of you could put your pain into words. What mattered was that, for a few fleeting minutes, you weren’t alone. And somehow, that was enough.

It was those moments that patched up the pain in your chest, almost making you forget about the heartbreak you left at home. The failed relationships, the loneliness…you wondered how it would continue on--or if it would continue on once you were back home. You hoped.

…..

The bullpen at the BAU was its usual hive of activity, with agents moving between desks, typing up reports, and chatting quietly between tasks. But today, there was an undercurrent of curiosity rippling through the team--one that centered on Hotch.

Seated at her desk, Garcia spun her chair toward Morgan, a playful smirk on her lips. “Alright, Derek, spill. What’s with the boss man and those secretive phone calls he’s been making?”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I know anything, Baby Girl?”

Garcia raised a skeptical brow, gesturing dramatically toward Hotch’s office. “Because every time he steps in there and picks up that phone, he looks...different. Like, not his usual stressed-out-because-the-world-is-burning look. It’s something else.”

JJ, passing by with a file, paused to join the conversation. “You’re not wrong,” she said thoughtfully. “I noticed it, too. He’s been...quieter lately. More introspective. Not that Hotch is ever exactly chatty, but it’s different.”

Rossi appeared from behind them, holding his ever-present coffee mug. “And you’re all assuming that a few phone calls mean he’s seeing someone?” His tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity behind it.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing,” Morgan replied with a shrug. “The man deserves a little happiness. Maybe he finally found someone who gets him.”

Reid, seated nearby with his tablet, looked up. “It could be related to the fallout from the Doyle case. He might be reaching out to someone for professional advice or support.”

Garcia shook her head dramatically. “Oh, boy-wonder, that’s far too clinical. This is Hotch we’re talking about. If he’s calling someone regularly, it’s personal.”

JJ frowned slightly, leaning against her desk. “Whoever it is, I just hope they’re good for him. After everything with Haley, and now the strain with the team...he needs someone who can be there for him.”

Rossi took a sip of his coffee, his gaze flicking toward Hotch’s closed office door. “Maybe it’s not about what they say. Sometimes, it’s just about having someone who listens. God knows that man doesn’t let anyone in easily.”

The group fell into a contemplative silence, their gazes drifting toward the office where Hotch was currently on a call. Inside, his expression was characteristically composed, but the slight relaxation of his shoulders and the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed something softer.

Morgan broke the silence first, smirking. “Well, whoever this mystery caller is, they’ve got our fearless leader smiling. I say we let him have this one.”

Garcia gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “Smiling? You saw him smile? Oh, this is bigger than I thought.”

JJ and Rossi exchanged amused glances, and even Reid couldn’t suppress a small smile at Garcia’s theatrics. But beneath the playful banter, the team shared a collective hope--that whoever was on the other end of those calls was helping their stoic leader carry at least some of the weight on his shoulders.

….

Hotch sat in his office, the low hum of activity in the bullpen barely reaching his ears. His personal phone buzzed on the desk beside him, an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. He frowned, picking it up cautiously. It wasn’t often he got calls from unlisted numbers on this line.

“Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, his tone brisk.

“Well, that’s formal. Do you always answer like you’re being interrogated?”

His breath caught, the familiar voice pulling a genuine, if fleeting, smile to his face. “Agent Y/L/N. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you teased. “Just because I’m not in Pakistan doesn’t mean I’ve vanished. I still exist, contrary to popular belief.”

“Good to know,” he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I heard you finished the mission. Back stateside?”

“For now,” you said, your tone carrying the same measured ease he remembered. “It’s just a pit stop, though. The CIA doesn’t let its covert operatives sit idle for too long.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, the faintest trace of humor in his voice. “How’s it feel to be back?”

“Strange,” you admitted. “Like I’m not entirely here, you know? You get that, don’t you?”

He did. More than he cared to admit.

“I do,” he said simply, his voice low.

“And you?” you asked, your voice softening. “How’s the BAU treating you?”

He hesitated, the weight of recent weeks pressing heavily on his chest. The fallout from the Doyle case, Emily’s return, the team’s shaken trust--it all simmered just beneath the surface. But he wasn’t ready to unpack that. Not now.

“Still busy,” he said instead, his voice even. “But you know how it is. Work doesn’t stop.”

“I do,” you replied, a knowing edge to your tone. “Sounds like you’re carrying more than just case files, though.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly on the phone. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

“You always say that,” you said, a note of fond exasperation in your voice. “I’m starting to think it’s your catchphrase.”

“I don’t have catchphrases,” he replied, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles.

“Sure you don’t,” you shot back. “Next, you’ll tell me you don’t ever crack a smile.”

“That’s a rare occurrence,” he said, his tone lighter.

“Well, I must be one of the lucky few then because I swear I’ve seen it.”

The warmth in your voice caught him off guard, but he didn’t mind it. Not one bit. “You’re in a unique position.”

“Unique, huh?” you teased. “You make it sound so exclusive.”

“It is,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Not many people see past the job.”

Your tone matched his now, the playfulness giving way to something more sincere. “That’s because the job is easier to focus on. It’s harder to look past it.”

He let out a quiet sigh, nodding even though you couldn’t see him. “You’re not wrong.”

The call buzzed with a quiet warmth neither of you acknowledged outright, but both felt. Hotch leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before letting out a breath. He stared at the phone in his hand, debating whether to say what had been sitting in the back of his mind.

"So, this call," he said, his voice measured but holding a thread of something lighter. "Official business, or are you just checking up on me?"

"Can't it be both?" you asked, your teasing tone doing exactly what you intended--it made him relax, even if just a little.

He let out a soft laugh, surprising himself. "I suppose it can."

"I don’t know," you said, your voice playful. "Can it?"

He hesitated just a moment before admitting, “I actually thought about calling you too; I wanted to see how you were doing. And…I guess I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

The silence between you settled softly, comfortable, and filled with an understanding neither of you needed to articulate.

“Well, I’m doing okay,” you said finally, your tone calm. “Work’s the same. Chaos, classified details, long hours. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he replied, the weight of shared experience clear in his voice. “Too familiar.”

“And you?” you asked gently, your tone softening. “How are you, Hotch? Really?”

He hesitated again, the instinct to protect himself battling against the trust he felt when speaking to you. “I’m…I’m managing,” he said at last, quieter than before. “But it’s...been a lot.”

You didn’t push. You never did. That was one of the things he appreciated most.

“Well,” you said, the warmth returning to your voice, “if you ever feel like you need to step away from saving the world, give me a call. I’ve got plenty of experience in chaos management.”

He let out another rare, quiet laugh. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” you said lightly. “Don’t be a stranger, Hotch.”

He let the words settle, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure what prompted him, but before the conversation could end, he spoke again.

“Actually,” he started, his voice betraying a hint of nerves that even he couldn’t suppress, “have you ever thought about meeting up?” The question lingered, and he immediately wondered if he had overstepped. “I mean, if your schedule allows it,” he added, his tone faltering slightly. “I know how demanding your work is.”

You paused, clearly caught off guard. “Meeting up?” you repeated, a smile audible in your tone. “You mean in person?”

“Yes,” he said quickly before he could second-guess himself. “I just thought…you’ve been a consistent voice through everything, and…” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t know how to explain it without giving too much away. “It would be nice to catch up.”

“I think that sounds...great,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “Though I should warn you, Hotchner, I’m still terrible at small talk.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Well,” you teased, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.”

“Flattered,” he said, surprising himself again with the sincerity in his tone.

The brief pause that followed carried an unspoken weight, a quiet understanding of the connection that had been building between you since the mission in Pakistan. Neither of you said it outright, but it was there, tangible in the way you lingered on the call longer than necessary.

“I’ll check my schedule,” you said lightly, breaking the silence. “But don’t think I won’t hold you to this.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied, his voice steadier now.

When the call ended, Hotch sat back, his thoughts circling the conversation. He realized that while he still didn’t know the full scope of your personal life or if there was someone waiting for you back home, he felt compelled to try--to find out, to see where this connection might lead. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself the thought of something beyond the weight he carried every day.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

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lanf1an · 24 hours ago

Text

DREAMS lando norris pt.4 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

The café was one of those cozy little places tucked away on a quiet street in Monaco, far from the usual chaos of the race weekend. You, Max and Keegan had agreed to meet up for coffee today before the whole sleepover fiasco, the three of you now quietly nursing your coffee, the late morning sun streaming through the windows. It was a slow, easy moment—the kind that had become rare with how busy things had been lately, reminding you of old times in London.

Keegan was scrolling through his phone, probably looking at memes, while Max stretched lazily, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. “I’m glad you and Lando get along well now,” he said casually before taking a sip of his drink, not letting his suspicions of the last night when you were at the apartment for your keycard go.

You blinked. “Do we?” You replied casually.

Max shot you a look, amused. “Well, yeah. I mean, you used to talk about him like he was your worst nightmare during Quadrant.”

“That’s dramatic. He just always wanted to review my designs that we had already agreed on.”

“Is it?” Keegan cut in, grinning. “You hated the guy.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t his biggest fan. But I still wouldn’t say we ‘get along well’ now.”

There had been a shift. He had been texting. Not just about work, but little things. A funny picture from a shoot, a comment about a jacket he knew you hated, a random ‘What’s your coffee order?’ text that had caught you off guard. You had chalked it up to him being Lando—charming, friendly, probably like this with everyone.

“He’s just—” You searched for the right words. “I don’t know, being normal?”

Keegan snorted. “For Lando, that’s basically flirting.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach twisted a little. Because you’d felt it too—that slight shift, the underlying current of something unspoken. And you weren’t sure what to do about it.

Then, a small smile tugged at your lips. “I do have something fun planned for him at the event tonight, though.”

That got their attention. Keegan finally looked up, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max narrowed his eyes. “What kind of fun?”

You just grinned, leaning back in your chair. “You guys will see.”

The event was big. Formal. Typical McLaren. It was their Monaco opening. A sea of sharp black suits, starched white shirts, and carefully curated ties. It was the kind of night where image mattered—where every driver, team principal, and executive looked like they had stepped straight out of a luxury menswear campaign.

Except Lando.

He looked good, of course. He always looked good. But instead of a suit like every other man in the room, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored business-casual look: an expensive white knit, sleek navy trousers, and—just to really drive the point home—pristine white sneakers.

Not a blazer in sight.

You watched from your seat in the audience, biting back a smirk as he stepped onto the stage beside Zak, Oscar, and Andrea—all of whom were dressed to the nines in proper suits. Lando barely had time to shake hands before he turned his head, scanning the crowd like he already knew exactly who was responsible. You were easy to find because Max and Keegan next to you had burst out laughing as soon as they saw him.

When he spotted you, sitting comfortably with Max and Keegan, his brows lifted in a silent really? Gesturing to the outfit.

You just smiled sweetly, lifting your hands to applaud like nothing was out of the ordinary. Keegan was the first to crack, letting out a low whistle. “You actually did it. You made him look like he’s here for a tech startup pitch instead of an F1 event.”

Max, already grinning, leaned in. “Wow, you’re an evil genius. How’d you get away with it?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “I have enough pull at Louis Vuitton now. They trust my vision.”

On stage, Lando shook his head slightly, fighting off a smirk. Then, ever so subtly, he lifted a hand and gestured at you—one of those small, exasperated motions that said this is your fault.

You just gave him a little wave in return.

He exhaled a laugh, running a hand over his face before focusing back on the event, because, well—he had to. But you knew this wasn’t over.

The event wrapped up smoothly, filled with speeches, applause, and a little too much formal pleasantry. You didn’t see Lando immediately after, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

And sure enough, just as you were slipping past the backstage area—maybe heading toward the afterparty, maybe just trying to make a quiet exit—he found you.

“Undress me. Now.”

His voice was low, but his words were very clear.

You turned, arching a brow as Lando stepped into your space, still looking unfairly good in the outfit you had put him in. “Excuse me?”

He gave you a pointed look. “You picked it. You put me in this. Fix it.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “Didn’t realize you had a problem with it.”

“Oh, I don’t,” he said easily, tilting his head. “It’s the part where everyone else was in suits and I looked like I was about to give a TED Talk, that’s the problem.”

You hummed, feigning deep thought. “Well, maybe I just wanted you to stand out.”

Lando exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You knew what you were doing.”

You shrugged, gaze sweeping over him. “And yet… you still looked good.”

For a second, he just watched you—like he was weighing his next move. Then, he leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “I’m serious, though. Fix it.”

You swallowed, pulse kicking up.

Because suddenly, this didn’t just feel like him joking around anymore.

“Fine,” you said, steadying yourself. “But I’m not undressing you here.”

Lando’s smirk widened. “Dressing room backstage”

You exhaled sharply, giving him a look. “I’ll get the suit”

He chuckled, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “I’ll be waiting, stylist.”

And with that, he walked off—leaving you standing there, heart racing, already knowing this wasn’t going to be just about a wardrobe change.

The door clicked shut behind you, the distant thump of the party muffled by thick walls.

Lando turned to face you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well?” He tilted his head, voice a quiet challenge. “You started this.”

You looked at him questionably.

‘’Was this your plan all along? Finding a reason to undress me?’’

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers itched to touch him. “You are such a—”

He took a step forward, crowding you against the wall. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dropping. “Undress me.”

He grabbed your wrist, leading it to his waist.

Your breath caught.

You reached for the hem of his knit sweater, fingers skimming the warm skin underneath. Lando inhaled sharply, his hands finding your hips as you tugged the fabric over his head, revealing toned muscle, golden skin.

He watched you, gaze dark, waiting.

And then he was kissing you—deep, insistent, no hesitation.

No pulling away this time.

No one disturbing this time.

You felt yourself melt into him, hands sliding over his bare chest, his fingers slipping beneath the straps of your dress, pushing it down slowly, deliberately. He didn’t wait for you to undress his pants.

His lips moved down your neck, across your collarbone, down your stomach, lower, leaving a trail of heat. He paused just long enough to meet your eyes, teasing. Worshipping.

“I love your clothes,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough. “But without is even better.”

You smoothed your hair in the mirror before stepping back into the party, the energy buzzing around you. Lando, as always, looked effortlessly unbothered, like he hadn’t just had his hands all over you.

You were less successful at hiding it.

Max and Keegan noticed immediately.

“Oh, finally,” Keegan muttered, nursing his drink. “Took you long enough.”

Max smirked, raising a brow at Lando. “Have a nice wardrobe change?”

Lando rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed him. “Much needed”

Keegan snorted. “Right.”

Max leaned toward you, still grinning. “You really got him with the dress code thing. Brilliant.”

Keegan nodded. “Never seen him look so much like a finance bro.”

Lando groaned. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Then he turned to you, gaze lingering. “You’re lucky I still look good in anything.”

‘’Glad you two are working well together now.’’

You felt your face heat up, but Lando, the smug bastard, just smirked. “Oh, yeah, great team effort.”

Max and Keegan burst out laughing again, but you barely heard them—because Lando was still looking at you, that same glint in his eye.

WN: Hope you guys like it! Let me know! All suggestions are welcome. I hope to be updating more regularly, already have many fun chapters for this story.

tl: @freyathehuntress @linnygirl09 @sarx164 @joannaln4 @widow-cevans @444-leqz @laneyspaulding19 @mayax2o07 @n3versatisfied @anayaverse @tvdtw4ever

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reiding-writing · 5 hours ago

Note

cold!reader gets a better job offer in a different department and ends up not taking it? (she’ll never admit it but she just doesn’t want to leave the team and Spencer) 💞

NO, THANKS — SPENCER REID!

you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime, but you don’t want it. you’re comfortable where you are.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.8k | ??? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — i finished the valentines fic 🤭🤭

“I appreciate the offer, but my answer is no.”

Your voice is steady, devoid of hesitation, as you stare across the desk at Assistant Director Shaw. His expression doesn’t shift—no flicker of disappointment, no flash of irritation. If anything, he looks like he expected this response. Maybe he did.

A man like Shaw doesn’t come into a conversation like this without preparation. He leans back slightly, hands lacing together on the polished wood surface between you.

“Agent,” he sighs, his tone just short of exasperation. “I just need you to take a week. Think about it.”

“Doctor.” The correction is automatic. Your arms cross over your chest, the cool detachment in your posture mirroring your tone. “And there’s nothing to think about.”

Shaw tilts his head, studying you, the way a handler might assess a particularly stubborn asset. “There is, actually.” His voice is measured, persuasive without being forceful. “This is a leadership position. A brand-new BAU satellite office, built from the ground up, with you at the helm. You’d have full autonomy. Hand-pick your team. It’s an opportunity that doesn’t come around often.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose—not quite a laugh, but close. “You know I don’t care about authority. And I already have a team.”

“And that team would want what’s best for you,” he counters smoothly, his gaze steady. “Just take the week. That’s all I’m asking.”

You don’t answer right away. You just look at him, the weight of his words pressing against something deep in your chest, something you don’t want to acknowledge. Shaw is good at this. He wouldn’t have climbed the ranks of the Bureau if he weren’t. His words are carefully chosen, strategically placed to plant a seed of doubt.

He’s waiting for you to push back. Waiting for the inevitable argument, for your reasons why this isn’t the right move for you.

The problem is, he’s not entirely wrong.

You’re not someone who shies away from change—you’ve uprooted your life before, for far less compelling reasons. And on paper, the offer is good. More than good. Full autonomy, no bureaucracy in the way, the ability to build something from scratch. A leadership role without the red tape that normally makes those positions unbearable.

It’s everything some agents would kill for.

But you don’t want it.

You don’t want the distance it would create. The shift in dynamic. The responsibility of a team that isn’t your team.

Shaw watches you, waiting. The seconds stretch between you, thick and heavy, until finally, you exhale.

“Fine,” you say, standing from your chair. “A week.”

Shaw’s lips twitch slightly—something between victory and satisfaction. “That’s all I ask.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you turn on your heel and walk out of his office without another word, already knowing that no amount of time will change your mind.

—

You don’t intend to spend the next seven days dwelling on the offer. You’ve already made up your mind.

And yet, for some reason, you catch yourself noticing things you’d miss if you left.

The warmth of your coffee in the morning, left on your desk by JJ without a word, the way she always seems to know exactly how you take it, even when you change things up.

The way Morgan always manages to rope you into his banter, no matter how hard you try to stay detached, how his teasing is never unkind, how it always manages to pull a reluctant smirk from you even on your worst days.

The way Hotch trusts you implicitly to handle high-profile cases, his respect for you never in question, his rare nods of approval feeling more meaningful than any spoken praise.

The rare but genuine laugh that escapes Emily when you let your sarcasm slip just a bit too far, the way she nudges you after with an amused shake of her head, like she’s letting you get away with something.

The way Garcia lights up whenever you step into her lair, her effortless ability to make the job feel lighter, more bearable. The quiet moments, the in-between ones—the ones you don’t usually pay attention to, but now, for some reason, feel sharper, more defined.

And then there’s Spencer.

Spencer, who watches you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

He’s the first to notice your frequent absences.

“You’ve been taking a lot of calls lately,” he says casually, one afternoon when you return to the bullpen after stepping out for yet another conversation with the Director’s office.

His tone is light, but there’s something searching in his gaze, something that lingers a second too long.

“Personal matter,” you reply, dismissive. You don’t owe him—or anyone—an explanation.

But Spencer is persistent.

Morgan, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, leans back in his chair, smirking. “What’s got you so busy, princess? New boyfriend?”

You give him a flat look. “No.”

JJ joins in, resting her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “A headhunter maybe?”

Emily snaps her fingers. “She’s writing a book. That’s gotta be it,”

“Oh!” **Garcia gasps from across the room, whirling in her chair. “Are you secretly a vigilante crime fighter by night? Be honest. You’d tell me, right?”

The entire team turns to you expectantly, waiting, their amusement barely concealed. You say nothing, just sip your coffee, unbothered.

Theories continue throughout the week.

Garcia, in all her unsubtle glory, even tries to hack into your recent call logs. She fails, because you’ve anticipated her and taken countermeasures, and when she confronts you about it with a dramatic gasp of betrayal, you merely raise an eyebrow.

“I’m wounded,” she huffs, clutching her heart.

“You’ll survive,” **you deadpan.

They never guess correctly.

Spencer, though—he watches you more closely than the others. He notices the little things. The way your fingers tighten around your pen when your phone buzzes, the way your posture shifts just slightly when you decline a call. The way your expression smooths over, controlled, but never quite fast enough.

You don’t like being watched.

But you don’t tell him to stop.

—

By the time the week is up, you expect the conversation.

What you don’t expect is for it to happen in the middle of the bullpen.

The Assistant Director shows up unannounced, walking in like he owns the place, his sharp gaze sweeping the room as the usual hum of conversation and clicking keyboards grinds to a halt. Silence settles, heavy and expectant. You don’t have to look up to know that every single one of your teammates has stopped what they’re doing.

“Doctor,” **he greets, his hands in his pockets, his posture at ease in a way that feels calculated. “Have you made a decision about Seattle?”

You set your pen down, leveling him with a steady gaze.

“Yes.”

He waits.

The team waits.

You let the pause stretch, just long enough to make him think—maybe, just maybe—you’ve reconsidered.

“No, thanks.”

Silence.

Shaw’s brows lift slightly, genuine surprise flickering across his face for the first time since this conversation began. “You’re rejecting the chance to be in charge of your own team of people, hand-picked by you and built from the ground up?”

“Yes.”

He exhales, his gaze shifting briefly to the others—who are, at this point, blatantly listening despite their half-hearted attempts to look busy. Hotch stands with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. Emily and JJ exchange glances. Morgan leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised. Spencer is watching you, unmoving, unblinking.

“Understood,” Shaw finally says, his tone neutral. “If you ever change your mind—“

“I won’t.”

His lips twitch, like he’s amused despite himself. Maybe he respects your conviction. Maybe he was hoping for more of a fight. Either way, he nods. “Good luck, Doctor.”

And then he walks out, just as abruptly as he arrived.

For a long moment, no one says anything. The silence lingers, thick with the weight of what just happened.

Then—

“Wait, what?”

JJ is the first to break, whipping her head toward you. “You were offered a new position?”

“Seattle?” Spencer echoes, voice tight with disbelief. “You were offered chief of an entire new division, and you didn’t say anything?” You don’t fail to notice how he looks a little disappointed.

“More importantly, you rejected it?” Morgan leans forward, incredulous. “Why?”

Garcia makes a strangled noise from across the room, looking personally offended. “Wait, wait, wait—back up. You were offered a dream job, like ‘here’s a brand-new shiny team for you to build from scratch’ kind of deal, and you turned it down?!”

A dozen explanations flicker through your mind.

You could say you don’t want to uproot your life for an uncertain future. That leadership is more politics than profiling, and you’d rather stay in the field. That you’re comfortable where you are.

You could say all of that.

Instead, you pick up your pen, flipping open the next case file with deliberate ease.

“It wasn’t the right fit,” you say simply.

No one believes you.

Morgan lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Not the right fit?” Emily repeats, skeptical. “That’s all you’re giving us?”

JJ narrows her eyes. “Did Strauss block it somehow? Were there strings attached?”

“Or,” Garcia interjects, waggling her fingers dramatically, “is this one of those ‘I’m too emotionally repressed to admit I actually like it here’ situations?”

You don’t even dignify that with a response.

The theories start up again, murmurs of debate bouncing around the bullpen.

“Maybe it was a test,” Spencer muses aloud, his gaze still fixed on you. “A way to gauge her loyalty to the team,”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t want to be stuck behind a desk dealing with bureaucratic nonsense,” Emily counters.

“Or maybe she’s hiding something,” Morgan adds, giving you a pointed look.

You sigh, rubbing at your temple. “Are we done psychoanalysing me, or should I clear my schedule?”

That earns a few chuckles, but the curiosity in their eyes doesn’t fade.

Spencer, though—Spencer doesn’t look like he’s speculating anymore.

His expression is quieter, more thoughtful.

Like he’s already figured out the truth.

And when his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a knowing smile, you don’t look away.

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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aajjks · 2 days ago

Text

The conqueror (XXVI)

synopsis. He had conquered everything. Anything but your heart.

pairings: yandere king!jungkook x fem!reader ft. Shuhua of g-idle

warnings. ôrâl sëx (fêm!rëcëïvïng), 18+ smût, èxplïcït thëmës, yândërë, óbsëssïón, psÿchótïc sêxûâl dësírës, nóncón, dárk thèmès.

note. This is just a start. mark my words.. but be careful of Meilin. Please share feedback and talk to these new characters in TC too… we’re finally getting what we want. ENJOY AND SHARE FEEDBACK.

series masterlist

•••

The night is restless.

Jungkook sits alone in his chambers, his back against the grand throne-like chair near the fireplace.

The flames flicker, they are highlighting the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drum impatiently against the armrest.

His robe hangs loosely around him, his chest exposed, rising and falling with deep, measured breaths.

He’s been waiting for you. Like he told you tonight he hopes that you will listen to him and obey him.

But patience is not his virtue.

His wine sits untouched. His thoughts are a mess, spiraling, drowning in one infuriating truth.

You did not come to him.

He waits— because surely, you wouldn’t dare.

Surely, you wouldn’t test him like this.

But as the minutes stretch into hours, something dark unravels in his chest, tight, squeezing until his breath comes heavier.

He is the King of Goryeo. The world bends to his will.

And yet, his own wife is rejecting him.

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he finally stands, slow and deliberate. His fingers flex at his sides, his patience stretched to its limit.

The silk of his robe brushes against his skin as he moves, but it does little to soothe the heat simmering beneath it.

His steps are heavy as he leaves his chamber.

The halls feel too quiet, too still— his guards straighten as he passes, though none dare meet his eyes.

His presence alone is thunderous, crackling with the kind of storm that promises destruction. You are a bitch and he’s had enough.

He reaches your chamber.

And his blood boils.

The doors swing open violently, the wood crashing against the walls, making you jolt awake.

Your breath is sharp, startled— but you barely have a moment to react before he’s upon you.

“You dare,” he breathes, his voice deadly soft, vibrating with fury. “You dare defy me?”

His fingers curl around your wrist, dragging you out of bed with effortless strength.

“Jungkook- y-your majesty-;”

Your voice is small, lost beneath the weight of his presence. The heat of his body is suffocating, the scent of him.. spiced, dark, masculine— wrapping around you like a noose.

“You were meant to come to me,” he growls, his face inches from yours.

“Yet I find you here, sleeping. As if I am not your king.”

His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of exactly who he is.

Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with deep, controlled breaths, but inside?

inside, he is unraveling.

He is a man worshipped. Feared.

Men kneel before him, beg for his mercy, offer their kingdoms at his feet.

But you?

You deny him.

It’s maddening. It’s intoxicating. It makes him want to devour you whole.

His fingers loosen, but only so he can tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His dark gaze is endless, swirling with something primal, something raw.

“You test me, my love,” he murmurs, his voice no longer sharp with anger, but thick with something else entirely.

Desperation.

Need.

Possession.

His thumb drags along your jaw, slow, deliberate, as he exhales shakily.

“I have brought entire kingdoms to their knees,” he whispers, his lips grazing your temple, his breath hot against your skin.

“I have crushed armies, made emperors kneel in my presence.”

Then, his lips brush against your ear, his voice dropping into something dark and sinful.

“But you—;”

He pulls back, his gaze burning into yours.

“You are the only one who has ever brought me to my knees.”

And then—

Jungkook drops.

The King of Goryeo is kneeling before you.

Your breath stutters.

His hands slide over your hips, slow and reverent, his fingers digging in just enough to make your skin tingle.

His touch is fire, his grip both gentle and possessive, like he is holding something sacred—something he is not ready to let go of.

“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough, thick with raw emotion.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?”

His lips part as he leans forward, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin.

Then—

The first kiss.

Soft. Featherlight. A mere tingle against your knee.

Jungkook hums low, deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your skin. His hands trail down the sides of your legs, slow, deliberate, as his lips press again— hotter this time, lingering.

“mmh,” he exhales, his voice laced with something sinful. His fingers tighten against your thighs, his lips trailing lower, teasing, tasting.

“Do you feel it?” he breathes against your skin. “The way I burn for you?”

His mouth moves higher, then lower, never where you expect— never where you need. His teeth graze your inner thigh, just barely, sending a shiver up your spine.

“You will not deny me again, my love,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, desperate. “You are mine.”

His lips part against your skin, his tongue flicking out, tasting, teasing.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say that you’re mine.”

And for the first time—

You don’t know if you can resist him.

•••

You can’t believe… him. You don’t believe what is happening right now because you simply do not want to.

Your brain is not working.

The air in the chamber is heavy.

All you can feel is your body burning up right now.

Your skin burns where his hands have touched, where his lips have ghosted against you. The heat coils in your stomach, twisting, betraying you with its intensity.

Jungkook is still on his knees before you. The King of Goryeo.

Your husband.

And he is looking at you like a starving man.

You can hardly breathe. His presence alone takes up all the air, leaving none for you, suffocating in the most intoxicating way. Your pulse pounds in your ears, a frantic drumbeat against the unbearable silence stretching between you.

But there is no silence—not really.

Not with the way he exhales so slowly, his breath fanning over your skin, his fingers tightening on your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. Not with the way the soft hum of satisfaction leaves his lips when he presses another kiss— hotter, wetter— just above your knee.

“Jungkook…” You whisper his name without thinking.

His fingers flex. His head tilts just slightly, his dark eyes flicking up to yours. He looks ruined—his lips parted, his pupils blown, his expression so intense that it makes your stomach clench.

And then, his voice.

“S-Stop.

“Again,” he rasps. “Say my name again, my love.”

Your breath shudders.

You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.

Because every second that passes, every moment where his lips linger on your skin, your resolve crumbles.

It’s terrifying.

Your body is betraying you, heat rushing beneath your skin, an ache forming deep in your core, responding to him even as you fight it.

It’s the way he touches you—not rough, not demanding, but reverent. Worshipful.

As if you are the only thing in existence that matters.

As if you hold power over him.

And isn’t that the most dangerous thing of all?

He has destroyed empires. He has broken men with nothing more than a glance. He commands armies, and yet—

Here he is.

On his knees.

For you.

“I have made the strongest men bow before me,” Jungkook murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin between each word. “But not like this.”

His tongue flicks out, just barely, teasing, dragging over the sensitive skin of your thigh. You gasp, your fingers twitching at your sides, desperate to grasp something— anything.

Especially to your threading sanity.

“I have taken kingdoms,” he continues, voice hoarse, almost pleading. “But nothing— nothing, has ever ruined me like you do.”

His fingers press into your hips, as if anchoring himself. His head bows lower, his lips tracing slow, deliberate patterns over your skin, and your body betrays you— your breath hitching, your legs threatening to tremble.

“Ahh—;” The sound escapes before you can stop it, small, but devastating.

Jungkook groans.

Deep. Rough and desperate.

Like he’s unraveling.

Like you own him.

His head tilts, his nose brushing against your inner thigh, his lips parting against your skin. “Mmh,” he exhales, and his voice alone sends a violent shiver up your spine.

“You feel that, my love?”

His fingers slide over your legs, teasing, tracing, but never where you need. His lips hover just close enough to drive you mad, his breath scalding, his control hanging by a thread.

“Your body responds to me,” he breathes. “No matter how much you fight it.”

Your chest rises and falls, your own restraint slipping.

Jungkook lifts his gaze, eyes locked onto yours, and the sheer hunger in them makes you weak.

His hands press against your thighs, thumbs stroking slow circles, his grip tightening just slightly, a silent plea, a command, a promise all at once.

“You can deny me with words,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement, “but this? his nails dig in just a little, possessive, “this does not lie..”

He is too much.

Too overwhelming. Too powerful.

And yet…

Why does it feel like you are the one holding the power?

“Fuck baby just one fucking yes…” his lips travel upwards, pressing hot open mouthed kisses to your bare skin under your robe, he’s dangerously close to your center.

But before you can ever register, what’s happening or whatever you want to decide, his hot mouth attacks your covered pussy.

he’s waited too long for this moment and he can’t wait anymore. Jungkook groans, a guttural moan escapes him as he frantically starts to lick you through your panties.

He’s burning up— youre burning up.

Your knees buckle and you scream, it comes out more like a moan and he takes the opportunity to pull your center completely over onto his mouth as he falls flat on the marble ground of his chambers, pulling your heat down on his face as he starts to hungrily eat you out right through your undergarment.

You feel so incredibly disgusted yet, so fucking wet down there.

You don’t know what’s happening to your body, but you can’t seem to stop it.

“A-Ahhggg~~” you moan, grabbing on to his long curly licks as you tug in them. You’re being so loud, so loud.

Jungkook growls, his teeth attacking the fabric of your panties.

“Time to rip these off, baby. Biggest tonight there’s not going be a wall between us.”

•••

She can’t sleep at all.

Night drapes over Goryeo like a heavy curtain, The air is thick with the lingering scent of incense, mingling with the cool breeze that drifts through the open window of Meilin’s chamber.

She lies on her bed, her silk robes are cool against her feverish skin, but she can’t sleep.

Her fingers press into the fine embroidery of her blanket, her breathing slow and measured, yet her mind is anything but calm.

She is thinking.

Thinking of him.

The King of Goryeo.

Jungkook.

The name alone makes her lips part, her throat tightening slightly.

It started out innocent, didn’t it? That moment in the grand hall when her eyes first landed on him.

At first, it had been simple.

A woman’s admiration of a man’s beauty.

A fleeting breath of attraction, of curiosity.

Something natural. Something harmless.

But now, as she lays awake in the darkness, she knows—

It is no longer innocent.

Not when she remembers the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his royal robes draped over his powerful frame.

Not when she recalls the way his voice curled around each syllable, so rich, so controlled, so utterly commanding.

Not when she replays the way he had introduced his wife.

Her stomach twists.

She had hated hearing it.

Hated the way he had stood so proud beside you.

Hated the way his touch had lingered on your arm, the way his voice had been filled with something so unmistakably possessive.

Because she should not care.

She should not feel anything.

She should not be jealous.

But she is.

She is.

And the realization is like a slow, simmering poison spreading through her veins.

She tells herself it is just attraction.

A woman’s fascination with a powerful man.

That’s all.

But deep down—deep in the darkest parts of herself.

She knows it is something more.

Something worse.

And for the first time, Meilin begins to wonder just how far she is willing to fall.

154 notes · View notes

omamervt · 1 day ago

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oh my god every one of these replies is so stupid. I was content when it was just one to block and move on but y'all kept going, Jesus.

From top to bottom:

"Review embargoes are good, though!"

If you wanna miss the point, I can help you understand. If you're just wrong, I can try and help you see why. But if you're gonna be wrong WHILE missing the point, nothing you have to say is worth saying.

Ignore for a moment that none of the perks of an embargo in your eyes benefit READERS, only the reviewers, their publishers, and the game's publisher. Because even if I agreed with THAT point, do you think review embargoes had a bad reputation back in the day because of the NON-toxic patterns? No! The point is that reviews aren't allowed to come out now until the game's release is so close that it's too late to inform everyone who pre-ordered that they might want to cancel! And that this went from a predictable indicator that a game was gonna suck on launch to a near-universal practice! And AGAIN, that the editors and reviewers would rather maintain a positive relationship with AAA game publishers than with their own readers!

"influencers can play and stream the game before reviews are out, as long as they stick to certain talking points and avoid others"

In other words, you can only review the game if you don't leave a bad review? do you not think that JUST MAYBE that would fall under the category of "problematic embargo pattern?"

"why are you going to a video game magazine for ttrpg news instead of like, Dicebreaker?"

oh, I don't know? Maybe BECAUSE POLYGON HAS A FUCKING TABLETOP SECTION? Maybe because as great as Rascal and Dicebreaker and the like are and need support when they do good work, it doesn't change the fact that if Polygon wants to have a Tabletop beat, they should at least try and do a good job with it? And the head of that section writing an open letter to people his department has straight-up ignored, despite them doing everything right, and saying, "be more marketable!" You can't pretend it's not a bad look. Ignoring the work of members of his own team, who are doing the thing he's saying needs to be done? You can't pretend it's not a bad look. ESPECIALLY when you acknowledge that WoTC has a LITERAL MONOPOLY on the TTRPG scene!

and shieldfoss, I know you won't see this because I blocked you because you're an idiot arguing in bad faith, but everything you said is exactly what I meant by "debating the role of a games journalist in a way that lets them off the hook for not doing their job." Because actually, it IS a journalist's job to inform their readers, not just spoon-feed them what they want to hear, with info they could just as easily get directly from WoTC.

As it stands, the likes of Polygon ARE serving as part of the marketing for major products and services. And that's a BAD thing!

Oh, and about your analogy: If I were going to an e-bike repair man, then no, I wouldn't expect him to try and sell me a new e-bike. BECAUSE HE'S NOT THE PUBLISHER OF AN E-BIKE MAGAZINE! However, I WOULD expect an e-bike magazine to keep me as up-to-date as is reasonably possible on e-bike product launches, even if it's only via reviews. I would expect them to have a handful of guys whose job was to keep their ear to the ground to research up-and-coming e-bike makers. And if one E-bike brand had a monopoly on e-bikes, I'd hope that e-bike magazine would do everything in its power to at least not COME OFF as a shill for the company that holds the monopoly.

And it's all fascinating that two out of three of these replies are, again, still largely in the context of "this is an issue with Charlie Hall, specifically, writing an article about not wanting to have to do any investigation or research to populate his TTRPG section with TTRPG articles" when, as I've been saying from the beginning, this is bigger than him. It's bigger than Polygon. Every major publication has these issues, and they have them in regards to ALL types of games, not just TTRPGs.

So no, none of these people had good points.

I've often heard people debate the role of Games Journalists and their duties relating to coverage of Games, but its usually in the context of letting them off the hook for just taking the easy route and shilling for the AAA industry.

After This Article from Polygon today, whose TTRPG beat is almost entirely covering WoTC press releases, written by the editor for the TTRPG beat, talking about how indie TTRPGs need to do better about getting press coverage themselves (hmm wonder how that would happen, Charlie!), while neglecting to highlight his own team members' work to do so, but finding plenty of time to bemoan the lack of any upcoming Curse of Strahd-tier adventure modules from WoTC?

Yeah we're done with that. No more. Don't even think about it.

445 notes · View notes

purplereina11 · 1 day ago

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New Signing, New Beginning Last Part!

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Mia was lounging on Keiras sofa conversations going on around her, she was too lost in her own thoughts to join in. She kept replying the morning over in her mind, the kissing the touching the orgasms the so many orgasms. She’d never felt so satisfied in her life, she could picture every inch of Alexia’s body in her mind. Alexia didn’t give much of herself to people but she got Alexia in ways she never wanted to forget.

Beth clicked in Mia’s face getting a knowing smile on her face when Mia still in the Spain shirt was out of it. “I miss her” Mia grumbled with a little smile when Beth laughed at her.

“You really like her don’t you?” Beth asked softly and Mia nodded, “Could you fall for her?”

“Think i already have, don’t get me wrong no where near the L word but, i have fallen for her” Mia got the most dopiest of smiles on her face when Alexia lit her phone up.

“What she said?”

“I know i said i’d see you tomorrow at training, but do you want to have breakfast together before going in?”

Mia’s thumbs quickly went back to Alexia Beth leaning her chin on her shoulder to read over her shoulder, Mia was back in the room after her short text exchange. They laughed they cried the five friends went through all the emotions catching up on life, Mia was happy, she had a gorgeous woman in her life excited to see what may happen there and her friends were happy and her career was seemingly better than ever.

Mia smiled softly as Alexia was giggling as she told her a story it was the cutest thing in the world to see. “Alba was so angry it was hilarious”

“I bet she was” Mia looked as Alexia’s hand rested on her thigh, she wasn’t a PDA person and she assumed neither was Alexia. But she had been touchy this morning, a hand on the small of her back, holding her hand when they were walking through the parking garage. Mia was surprisingly enjoying it. She leant on her clenched fist giving Alexia her full attention, “You excited to go back to camp?”

“Um, excited is never the word, i see friends i rarely see but it’s not an environment I’m ever excited for”

Mia’s eyes scanned Alexia’s face as she was finishing her pancakes, “I’m going to miss you” she said it before she even realised the words were flowing from her mouth but the honesty just slipped out in her comfortability with Alexia.

Alexia wiped her mouth with her napkin smiled and pecked her lips, “I’m going to miss you” she spoke and the grin Mia got on her face was adorable, “You’re coming to the home game though right? I told Alba she said she was going to-“

Mia interrupted when Alexia was beginning to frown thinking Alba hadn’t done what she asked her, “She text me, we have a plan”

“Ok good” Alexia checked her watch, “We best get going”

Mia tapped her thigh, “I’ll get this” She rose to her feet to go pay for breakfast but Alexia took hold of her wrist

“No, i invited you”

“So?” Mia walked away as Alexia neatly stacked there plates, soon as Mia got in Alexia’s car her hand gently came to Mia’s neck pulling her closer and they had a little kiss session, which made you go all fuzzy in certain places “Lex, we’re going to be late” she kissed Mia again, “Not that i care suddenly”

Alexia laughed, pecking her lips giving her thigh a gentle squeeze, “About telling people”

“Do, you want to?” Alexia seemed nervous that she’d offend Mia by her answer, “For me.. i’d like to keep it between us for a little longer” she knew that’s what Alexia would want and that they were on the same page, it was exactly what Mia wanted to. She was nervous for telling people she was dating the captain. She feared the reaction she may get.

“You would?”

Mia nodded, “I mean, Keira knows but it wasn’t rocket science to figure out why I’d been gone a few hours when i went back to hers” Alexia smiled, “People don’t need to know yet” Alexia turned her car on and she pulled out the space.

“I agree.. i don’t like sharing”

Mia laughed, “No surprise there, your poor dog can’t even get a cuddle from me without you glaring at her”

Mia was naked in Alexia’s bed yet again her breathing heavy as they kissed her body flushed, “Eres tan sexy” Alexia whispered in Spanish as her finger tips wandered up and down Mia’s bare skin of her side as she lay on top of her. “You make me happy” Mia let her hand come to Alexia’s back, she was pretty sure her legs were still shaking from that last round but she knew they weren’t finished yet. “I haven’t felt this happy for some time”

Mia kissed Alexia when she looked into her eyes, “I don’t know what i did to deserve you, you’re perfect” Mia rolled Alexia to her back and her mouth went wandering until it was on Alexia’s most sensitive spot. Mia could stay down on Alexia for hours the way she could make her body twitch and writhe the sweet noises coming from Alexia. She’d always enjoyed doing the act but it was that bit sweeter with Alexia.

Mia woke the next morning to Alexia’s alarm fully wrapped and entwined with her, she was so warm and sweaty as they lay there “Lex” she spoke squeezing the body part under her hand which was a thigh “Time to get up, you have a flight to catch”

Alexia pecked the nearest piece of skin she could find untangling herself and getting out of bed turning her alarm off. As she rubbed her eyes Mia was stretching in bed behind her.

“Well aren’t you just a hot piece of ass” Mia smiled admiring the naked back of Alexia’s body and the many tattoos over it.

Alexia looked over her shoulder to see Mia her breasts peaking out the covers with a cheeky smile on her face, “You need to cover up otherwise i’ll never leave” Alexia closed her eyes briefly when Mia slowly revealed her whole body never feeling shy under Alexia’s gaze. “Mia”

Mia moved to kneel on the bed in front of Alexia, she pecked her lips as she took her hand coming off the bed her body pressed to Alexia’s due to the small gap, “i’m sure you can multitask” Alexia smirked as she was led to her bathroom Mia switching the shower on, smiling her arms coming around Alexia’s neck as her hands gripped to Mias ass talking in to her ear.

“I’ll never get enough of you”

Alexia stood in line in her Spain kit looking for Mia, she could see her mum uncle and Alba but she couldn’t see Mia. She feared maybe she had second thoughts of coming in case the fans caught on who she was sat with. But she bit back her smile as Mia rose to her feet coming into view she laughed at a comment Alexia’s uncle made to her it appeared the way they were talking there first meeting had gone smoothly. Alexia had obviously told Jenni Hermoso all about Mia the minute she got face to face with her, Jenni loved the smile her friend had whenever she spoke of Mia. Jenni looked to Alexia then smiled seeing where she was looking, she turned her head back to Alexia, “She looks good” Alexia simply smiled at her friend, she knew. She didn’t need telling.

Spain won there match with ease, Alexia waved at her family firing kisses to them unable to actually speak to them. She fired a wink at Mia and both prayed she’d hurry up and just get back to Barcelona. They both were shocked just how lost they felt without the other and Alexia was lucky she had more structured days and less opportunity to miss Mia.

It had been a long week with the majority of the team off on international duty, Mia had hung out with Mapi a lot this week in and out of training, there friendship developing, both just as silly as the other and were driving Pere mad even if he did find the funny side. Mia was having dinner with her grandparents at the end of the week when her phone lit up, it was a text from Alexia. She was outside, her Grandmother smiled seeing the message and her granddaughters smile, “Invite her in if you like, there’s plenty of food if she’s hungry”

Mia got to her feet and headed outside as Alexia shut her car off and climbed out the car. “Hi” Mia smiled, “You hungry? My gran said there’s plenty” Alexia slipped her arms around Mia silently, holding her tightly just glad to be back in her company to be able to hold her and smell that sweet perfume that lingered now in her apartment “Lex?”

Alexia pulled her head back, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Rubialas blocked you playing for Spain and England”

Mia just stared at Alexia, obviously it had been discussed at her Spain camp but her understanding was she wasn’t too speak on the matter for fear of more retribution clearly that wasn’t the case for everyone, Mia wondered how it came about but didn’t want to have the conversation so didn’t ask questions, “It wasn’t relevant��

Alexia looked over her girl, “You can always talk to me you know”

Mia nodded, “I know that, we’ll talk about it one day”

Alexia kissed her, “What’s for dinner then?” Mia smiled walking backwards taking Alexia’s hand to get her moving.

“Come on” Mia turned opening the door Alexia smiled when Mia spoke Catalan with her grandparents introducing them to Alexia and vice versa.

“It smells amazing” Alexia commented when she had a dish of food put before her, “Thank you”

Mia ate her dinner as her grandparents and Alexia chatted freely, she smiled when her grandfather quickly turned the conversation to football. “Granddad”

“What?” He asked innocently, “I stand behind my statement if you played internationally you would of won a ballon d’or by now”

Alexia smiled down at her food, “I agree” Mia looked to Alexia, “What? You would of this years the way you’ve played for us”

“Does Alexia know the rea-“

“She doesn’t know the whole story” Alexia kept tucking into her meal she could feel the sudden change in air, but she explained anyway

“She doesn’t think it’s relevant, friends on camp told me Rubialas stops her-“

“We don’t say that name in this house” Mia’s grandfather spoke softly, Alexia glanced to Mia wondering what happened

“Maybe we should change the subject?” Mia offered she let her hand touch alexia’s thigh under the table to let her know she hadn’t offended her grandparents on there first meeting, far from it.

Mia lay on her bed with Alexia who was in a world of her own as Mia watched her face knowing she was thinking about something, “Ask your question” she smiled, “I can see on your face you have a question”

“You said we’d talk about it some other time”

“He asked me to be apart of the Spanish selection group about 6 years ago, I said no. I wanted to play for England. He didn’t like that, he would harass, hound and just torment me. No matter how many times i’d block his number he’d get a new one, if i got a different number he would get hold of it. The only way to make it stop was to say i’d be available for Spain only, he told England and then he would tell the coaches to never select me.”

“The players, a lot of them, they think you refuse”

Mia shrugged, “Thats the story he peddles and I let people believe it, less embarrassing than people knowing you aren’t called up”

“Yeah but not because you’re not good enough”

Mia finally looked to Alexia resting on her hand looking down at her, “It’s easier this way, i get peace and quiet this way, you have no idea how many calls and texts id get a day, it was driving me to breaking point Lex”

“He can’t do that now”

“Alexia” Mia sighed, she was clearly over the subject and defeated by her having a rebuttal to everything she said.

Alexia pecked her lips, “I’ll stop but, you should be playing on the international stage, don’t let him take that from you, he’s took far too much from people that I care about without him doing it to you to” Alexia could see Mia thinking about it she kissed her cheek and lay beside her, “Your rooms cute”

“Not changed much since i was a kid” Mia spoke happy for the subject change and the distraction now it was all she could think about it, “I always got a room since i’d come stay in the school holidays, all the other grandkids had to share the other room whilst mine was always empty if i wasn’t here” Mia smiled at Alexia, “I was always the favourite still am”

“You’re my favourite”

Mia rolled onto her side closer, “I best be with what i let you do to me”

Alexia smirked pecking Mia’s lips, “That aside, you’re my favourite person”

“You’re in the top 10” Mia laughed when Alexia was smiling tickling her, “Stop” she laughed, “Why do you do this?”

Mia and Alexia had a conversation about telling close friends, she’d already told Parades and Mapi who was under strict instructions to not say anything and let Mia tell Ingrid on her girls night tonight with Ingrid Keira and Patri.

Mia was in the bar having her wine smiling at the story Patri was telling from camp, she wanted to ask Patri how she came up but was scared for the answer so didn’t. “You’ve got anything you need to tell us Mia?” Ingrid asked, Mia instantly creased her brows.

“Maria told you didn’t she, Alexia told her not to”

“Told me what?” Ingrid asked, “I was only asking after that revelation?” She jerked her thumb at Patri beside her, both looked to Keira seeing the look on her face

“What the fuck are we missing here?”

Keira looked to Mia who took a breath, “Me and Alexia are.. dating”

Both girls were stunned into silence silently trying to process what was just said, “Does.. Does Alexia know?” Patri asked, “Alexia doesn’t date, never has”

“Alexia is very aware” Keira spoke sipping her drink, “Why don’t you tell them about how great the sex is so I’m not the only one that has to know that”

Mia smiled shaking her head as she sipped her wine, “Shush Keira”

“Thats why she’s so fucking chirpy all the time all of a sudden” Patri spoke, “She’s finally getting some!” It was like realisation washed over her, “Oh my god” Patri was spiralling, “It’s so fucking obvious now!”

“You ok?” Mia smiled as her friend seemed stressed.

“I’ll be having words with her”

Mia hummed, “She’s expecting you to, oh you mean now” Mia saw Patri requesting to FaceTime her captain.

“Hola” Alexia answered from the angle Mia could see she looked all snug on her sofa.

Ingrid smiled reaching over to squeeze her hand, “I’ve been secretly hoping this would happen, i’m happy for you i think your perfect for each other”

“Right before I start, I am so happy for you but, you ever keep anything from me again we’ve got problems Ale, you’re sleeping with one of my friends and didn’t think to mention it?”

Alexia smiled, “We agreed to keep it to ourselves for a little while”

“Whatever” Patri grumbled hanging up

Mia putting on a clinic in the home league game, what she hadn’t been told was that Sarina Weigman was here, she was back helping defend when the lines woman signalled goal kick when the opposition thought they should of had a corner. Mia looked over her shoulder when she heard shouting her brows instantly creased turning rushing over getting herself between the player and the official. “Don’t talk to her like that” Mia put her hand on the girls shoulder gently trying to push her back, “You don’t need to talk to her like that!”

The girl shoved her hand off her and she squared up to Mia but she didn’t back down, the team hadn’t noticed they spotted the bench up shouting and gesturing, they in unison all turned as the referee blew her whistle and began running, Mia was well in truly giving the player a piece of her mind. Showing she could be just as fiery when pushed.

“Get the fuck out my face” Mia shoved her with hand a little harder this time and the girl stumbled, Mia looked pissed as she started walking away fed up of this chick shouting at her, she lifted her shirt to wipe her face of sweat as she went to plead her case to the ref she simply held a hand to her and kept on by showing the player a red card that was hot on her heels.

“What happened?” Keira asked stopping Mia in her tracks the other girls coming over.

“She got in the officials face saying all kinds of crazy shit, I maybe shouldn’t of gotten involved but you don’t speak to people like that”

Alexia stayed by her players side as the referee came back to her, “Are you mad?” She shouted when she got a red card to, she pointed to the lines woman, “I was sticking up for her!” Alexia touched Mia’s back as a silent plea to just take her leave, Mia was shaking her head clearly not happy as she started to walk off. She took her shirt off as she started the long walk from the other side of the pitch to head back to the changing rooms, she put her head back annoyed with herself when she spotted Sarina in the crowd. “Wasn’t a red” she hollered back to the ref.

Mia kept walking as the lines woman came rushing onto the pitch over to the ref, Mia got to the fourth official who was told to hold her there.

“I was just trying to stick up for her” Mia said to the fourth official who nodded,

“I saw, I’ve explained” she said, “Please put your shirt back on”

Mia sighed doing as she was told as Pere came to stand with her, “She was kicking off at her I was just trying to help she looked terrified of her”

The ref blew her whistle coming jogging over as the lines women went back to her position, the ref waved away the red car and motioned for Mia to come back onto the pitch

“No yellow?” Mia asked

“No” The referee shook her head, she whistled for the game to get under way.

“I should at least get a yellow for the pushing”

“Do you want me to give you a yellow?” The referee asked watching the game as Mia still hadn’t left her side.

“No, I was just saying”

“Stop saying” The referee motioned for her to go away, Mia picked up a jog to follow the girls attacking, the ball was passed back and she struck it with so much force and accuracy that the goalkeeper stood no chance.

For Alexia’s birthday, Mia struggled to know what to buy her, what do you get the woman that has everything and the ability to get whatever she wanted. So she decided to go for an experience she arranged for her, Alexia her sister and mother to have a day on a yacht.

Mia came out from the inside in her bikini to join the trio after putting the drinks she’d brought with her into the fridge to keep cool, Alba smiled and wolf whistled her, “Shush you” Mia smiled down at her gently shoving her head playfully as she came to take a seat as she looked at her phone she’d connected to the speakers to start the music playing.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo” Alba spoke looking at the one she had on her hip.

“Why would you” Alexia asked, “If you knew she had that tattoo on her hip I’d have some questions”

Mia smiled watching Alexia and Alba bicker over something so trivial as to why it would be weird for Alba to know that, “This is the rest of our day huh?” Eli spoke.

“No” Mia spoke as she lay back, “This is the rest of our lives” Mia put her cap over her face and lay listening to the music being drowned out by Alba and Alexia.

Mia invited Alexia to the beach for a walk, Mia hadn’t contributed much to the conversation with Alexia as they strolled. Alexia looked over Mia, “Is something wrong?” She asked Mia looking to her, “You’re really quiet, are you breaking up with me?”

Mia stopped turning to Alexia, “No.” Mia smiled softly leaning in to kiss her as reassurance “i do have something i have to tell you though”

“Is it bad?”

Mia smiled ever so slightly, “I’ve been invited to join the next England camp at the end of the month”

Alexia got the biggest smile on her face which grew Mia’s, “Really?” Mia nodded, Mia giggled when Alexia wrapped her arms around her and lifted her in excitement, “I am so happy for you!” For the moment she was being spun around by Alexia, as she laughed she forgot all the negative feelings she did feel, all the apprehension and worry left her body. For excitement and happiness. Alexia set her down and made eye contact, “You said yes right?”

“I’m nervous”

“You’ll smash it” Alexia pecked her lips her hand coming to her face, “And nothing with come of it, i mean with him”

“I hope not”

Alexia pushed her forehead to Mia’s, “You should be excited”

“I know” Mia whispered, “But when they announce it tomorrow i’m dreading it”

Alexia cupped her face, “Mia” she spoke softly her thumb gently moving back and fourth, “Just focus on the football and what happens we’ll face together” she pecked her lips, “I’ve got you, ok?” Mia nodded and reconnected their lips, she felt safe when she was close to Alexia. “I’m so proud of you”

“Stop” Mia spoke softly, “You’ll make me cry with how cute you’re being” Alexia smiled, “You do realise, if i get minutes i’ll be playing against you”

“Oh yeah, Spain are playing England” Alexia smiled, “At least i won’t have to mark you” Alexia ran her hand to rest on her hip as they laughed.

“Am i ever getting this cap back?” Mia asked fiddling with the hat on Alexia’s head

“Do you want it back?”

“No, you look hot in it, you keep it”

Mia had the best time at her England camp over the first few days, she got to spend time with her friends, meet players she’d played against to get to know them and meet players she’d never played against. They were all so warm and welcoming and went out there way it seemed to speak to and include her. It had been a positive experience one she wished had come sooner but there was a reason it hadn’t.

Today was the Wembley game against Spain, she was on the bench, Sarina had a conversation with her, she would sub on in this game around the 60 minute mark after not appearing in there away game in Belgium. Sarina wanted to give her this moment at Wembley making her debut against Spain the country that had blocked this for many years with her home fans to welcome and support her.

It was the anniversary of her parent’s death today, and the team had been incredibly supportive of that. Mia took a deep breath as she came up to the line to wait to come on, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation it was a big moment for one of English fans favourites. Her eyes were trained on the grass in front of her going over all the tactics she’d been told about. There had been some reports in the papers this morning of her ‘feud’ with the Spanish federation and bits of what Luis Rubialas had put her through, it was bad enough what had been written and it all had actually been true but it was no near where as bad as it did get.

She felt emotional she didn’t know whether it was the dead parents or the moment she’d waited too long for or it all just combined.

“Substitution for England” Mia rose her head, “Making way Number 9 Alessia Russo” Wembley cheered as Alessia clapped then she got a big smile when she saw who was coming on, she would usually exit on the right considering she was all the way over there but she ran over the field, Alessia hugged Mia so tight when she got to her.

“Proud of you Mi! Kill it”

“And taking her place” the announcer started raising his voice, “Making her England Debut! Number 23! Mia Larsen!” Mia jogged onto the pitch to a loud ovation that forced her to smile instantly. She slapped Keiras hand on the way past looking back with her smile still when Keira smacked her arse.

Mia added energy to England who were 3 Nil down, she got the ball in the midfield in a lot of space, more space then the women who played with her week in and week out should of afforded her. She looked up and did a pin point pass to Beth Mead like going back to there Arsenal days who headed it past Misa. Beth ran to Mia they celebrated together briefly before heading to the restart, Mia was clapping at her team, “Come on” she shouted, she motioned to fire up if it was any team that could bring this back and get this Wembley rocking it was England.

Leah mimicked Mia and the energy was coming back to the team as the restart was taken, Mia was running rings around Olga Carmona much like she did in the Madrid game, she sent Olga the wrong way on the edge of the box and she had the space to take a shot which she did and it went in. She went running back down the field there was no time to celebrate her debut goal 15 minutes in, they had 15 minutes to get one goal to draw level, it was doable to salvage a draw in this friendly.

Mia held her fist to the bench and staff that was up celebrating, “Come on!” She shouted, “Come on girls” she shouted out to the field of players, “One more!” Alexia had full view as one of the English defenders came up behind Mia speaking into her ear arm around her chest Mia smiling. They slapped hands as Alex Greenwood moved back into position covering her mouth to say something to Millie who told Leah who then told Lucy.

Spains shoulders were down, and Montse had no rebuttal no tactical help, she didn’t know how to counter, it was left to the girls on the pitch to try and figure this out for themselves. Mia had pointed out Spains defence were sitting pretty high, they were trying to get the high press back on, Mia saw the opportunity to run in beyond if Leah could play one of her long passes. Keira and Beth were told about the plan, as was Tooney. Mia, Tooney and Beth were to as soon as Keira got the ball keep on side so when she passed back to Leah and she booted it beyond. It took a little while to get the ball from the Spanish mid field playing it around but Keira dispossed Alexia, Mia took off running and was clearly on side when Leah booted the ball beyond the defence line.

Wembley was rocking when Mia showed her pace with the ball skipped around Misa who came out to meet her and slot it home to square it all up on the 89th minute of the game. Mia stood alone with the corner looking up to the sky, “For you” she fired two kisses up, just as Beth and Ella got to her. It was nice two of her teammates who had suffered a loss was there, they’d had many deep conversations this week about grief and shared difficulties and different ways they’d found to cope.

“Always with you” Beth spoke tapping Mia’s heart, “In here, they’re always watching, they’d be so proud Mia”

Ella hugged her so tight as a few tears escaped, the other girls all got there to celebrate the moment. As the girls were moving away Mia was walking backwards she tapped the badge and threw her hands up to fire the crowd back up, she pulled her shirt up to wipe her tears as she began jogging back to the restart. Patri grabbed her neck to speak into her ear briefly smacking her back as she went by.

It was the best outcome for Mia’s relationship, they both scored twice and they drew, Alexia was the last Spain player to find her she motioned for Mia to come to her with her finger, “Give me your shirt” she hollered as Mia walked towards her in the centre of both teams, they swapped shirts but neither put the other on.

“I have one of these” Mia smiled, “Would you care if I gave it someone else?”

“Who?”

“One of the younger girls, I heard her talking she wanted your shirt but wouldn’t ask you”

“Oh.. ok” Alexia nodded before pulling Mia in for a hug, “I’m so proud of you, it took everything in me to not come to you when you were crying”

“I’m ok, it’s just all a lot but i’m ok” They stood silently just holding each other longer than deemed just teammates would do, of course it was TikTok with many comments debating the interaction.

Mia was peeled away to go to ITV interviews with Laura Woods, Karen Carney and Ian Wright. She was met by Karen and Ian with excitement smiles and big hugs, she warmly greeted Laura when she was handed a microphone, “Wow Mia, what a debut what a moment, what are you thinking right now?”

Mia puffed out some air, “Honestly?” She questioned with a smile, “Finally” Ian was nodding along at the end, “I’ve dreamt of that moment many times over the years and it’s never gone like that, its what dreams are made of for sure, and to be able to do it with this group of girls at the home of English football, I couldn’t of asked for anything more special”

“A lot of fans were shocked you didn’t appear in the Belgium game”

“We were shocked” Ian spoke

Mia smiled as Laura carried on, “And to see you get only thirty minutes, but what a thirty minutes it was”

“Yeah of course me and Sarina had a conversation around the expectations of me coming into this team and if I was as young as Clinton, Naz, Beever-jones I too would have to prove myself that doesn’t change just because I’ve been playing longer, what you achieve away from England gets you through the door but its what you do when here that keeps you here and at what level. I’ve obviously followed the girls over the years and I’ve watched many players that are world class come in and sit on the bench game after game so for me to get on today was the icing on the cake to a perfect week”

“We saw you there moments ago having an embrace with your Barcelona Captain Alexia Putellas and swapping shirts, what are the feelings from your club players here tonight?”

Mia nodded, “Yeah um, just congratulating me and saying they were proud, I’m not keeping this shirt, one of the girls was too shy to ask so I’ll give it to her besides I sit next to Alexia in the locker room back home so I can sneak a few shirts if I wanted to” Mia joked

Mia walked into the locker room, she held the shirt in her hand to Grace Clinton, “What’s this?” She asked

“Putellas shirt” she nodded, “I heard you talking you wanted it”

“Oh my god” Grace of course insisted on hugging Mia who laughed.

“I have to go, I have to pee”

“Just 10 more seconds, thank you so much”

“She’s not that scary, next time just ask”

“You would say that” Beth hollered. Mia rolled her eyes finally getting away from Grace.

“What’s she talking about?” Millie Bright asked

Mia as she moved through the locker room Leah and Keira grinning away she confessed, “I’ve um, been dating Alexia for about 5 months”

“Fuck off” Millie hollered, “Only you’d fucking go to Barca and pull La fucking Reina” Mia just laughed as she left to go the bathroom

“Mia” Beth hollered as Alexia nervously and awkwardly stood near the door with Sarina, she smiled at the captain before shouting, “Mia!” She exclaimed

“What?” Mia met her aggression back

“Come here!”

“You come here!”

“Trust me!” Beth called again, “You really want to come here!”

Mia sighed washing her hands she paused as she came out to see Alexia stood adorably awkwardly, “Hola” Alexia smiled, Mia smirked as Alexia spoke in Spanish to her, “Get your stuff we need to go” she always got nervous speaking English in a large group as she wasn’t overly confident doing it.

“Go where?”

“That’s a surprise come on” Mia furrowed her brows and didn’t move getting a look from Alexia that made the room show there amusement in many different ways. “Keira” Alexia looked to her club mate, “Can you tell her to get her stuff and that we have to go?”

“Mia babe, get your stuff you have to go” Keira looked to Alexia, “Where are you going exactly?”

“Paris”

“What?” Mia vocalised her shock, “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris”

“I know but you won’t get to go if we miss our flight, come on” Alexia smiled

“Why though?”

“You ask to many questions” Alexia said looking out the door.

Alexia climbed on there bed where it seemed to all get to much for little Mia who’d fell asleep, Alexia gently woke her with kisses. Mia slowly opened her eyes, “Come on, the towers lit up” Alexia whispered, she helped Mia off the bed and out onto the balcony she stood behind her holding her as they silently watched the tower glisten.

“If you would of told me four hours ago i’d of scored twice on my international debut and ended the night in Paris with you i wouldn’t of believed it”

Alexia held her a bit tighter as they went back into silence, Alexia had something to say but she was incredibly nervous to say it but when she gazed at Mia’s soft smile on her face it came falling out, “I love you Mia”

Mia turned her head to Alexia before her body spun in her arms, she held her face as she kissed her gently, “I love you”

Mia smiled, “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?”

Alexia laughed gently, “Of course. It’s always been you Mia, from the day i met you. You flipped my world completely and i wouldn’t have it any other way”

#alexia x reader #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader

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sunflowersandsapphires · 19 hours ago

Text

Self-Indulgent Matt Comfort

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Matt has a trick or two up his sleeve when you are exhausted in the workplace.

warnings: None, this is the fluffiest fluff

a/n: I was absolutely exhausted today but I still wanted to write, so... here!

w/c: 1.1k

You weren’t going to yawn again. You weren’t.

After the second yawn in the last ten minutes, Karen was already eyeing you from her desk, her gaze raising the hair on the back of your neck as you clenched your jaw against the sensation.

You didn’t need to yawn. You were fine, just a little tired.

Maybe more than a little.

Weeks of strenuous, back-to-back cases and increasingly tumultuous periods of sleep had begun to weigh on you. Fatigue draped over your shoulders like ribbons of cement, urging you to slump forward until you were propped on one fist, practically faceplanted on your desk. The pile of paperwork you were slogging through wobbled in your line of sight, text sprawling off the page as your vision blurred. With a measured breath, you let your eyes flutter shut, your body rejoicing in the darkness for a moment before you forced them to open again.

You were used to this. Exhaustion was an old friend of yours, a constant presence in the back of your mind. This wasn’t a new struggle. So why was staying awake so remarkably difficult today?

Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you shoved the thought aside. Given how much brain power you were using just staying conscious, you couldn’t exactly spare the time it would take to crack open that can of worms. A handful of hours and you’d be free to trudge home and collapse into bed. But first, paperwork.

Using two fingers to separate the top page from the remainder of the stack, you held it in front of your face, your lips moving mechanically as you read the bold letters. ��MOTION FOR PARTIAL SUMMARY JUDGEMENT’ Motion for..what case was this? Oh right, Miss Owens. Her ex-boyfriend was claiming she misappropriated child support. Or was that the Howard case…

Completely lost in a jumble of names and case numbers, you didn’t hear Karen calling for you until it was accompanied by a tap on your back. The abrupt heat of physical contact made you flinch, a tiny shriek flying from your mouth before you could effectively silence it. Hands flying up to your rapidly heating face, you whirled around.

“I thought you heard me, I’m sorry–” Karen rushed to apologize, drawing her hand away from you as you cut her off.

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention. What did you say?” The words tumbled out of your mouth almost incoherently.

Before Karen could repeat herself, a door opened behind you, a head of dark hair popping around the frame.

“What happened? Are you ok?” In his haste to respond to your embarrassing outburst, Matt’s crimson lenses had been forgotten, his vehement concern on full display. Blank eyes darting between you and Karen, he crossed the short distance to your desk, focusing solely on you.

“I’m fine, I just..zoned out and got startled.” You explained feebly, reaching for one of Matt’s outstretched hands. The dip between his brows only grew in ferocity at your lame excuse.

“Uh huh. Well, I had a question for you anyway so,” Nodding to you, Matt’s gaze flickered in Karen’s direction. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?”

“She’s all yours.” Karen smirked, holding her hands up and retreating to her own desk.

Confusion bloomed in your stomach as Matt and Karen somehow exchanged a look. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing. Got a minute to talk about the Owens case?” Something about the pacing of Matt’s response seemed..off, but your sluggish thoughts weren’t quick enough to discern exactly what was afoot.

“I, uh, haven’t finished prepping that motion for filing.” You admitted sheepishly, staggering to your feet with Matt’s help.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. We have another two weeks to respond to their newest complaint. I actually wanted your opinion on his testimony from the last hearing.” Drawing you into his office with effortless strength, Matt’s hand dropped yours and coasted over the small of your back. He clutched your waist gently, shutting the door with a swift tap of his foot.

“Oh.” A coil of anxiety you hadn’t noticed before began to unwind in your chest, your posture sagging until you were draped against Matt’s side. You’d expected him to scold you, to remind you how important it was to keep your full attention on the task at hand. “Yah, I can try to help.”

“Great, why don’t you sit, I’ll pull up the segment I’m thinking of.” Squeezing the flesh of your hip, Matt gracefully slipped from your partial embrace, rounding the large wooden desk in the center of the room.

Nodding absently, your fingers grazed the top of the chair in front of his computer, tilting it back before Matt stopped you. “On the couch, love. Much more comfortable.”

Something was definitely up. You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing at the smug lawyer. “And that matters because?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I want you to be comfortable?” Matt laughed brightly, arms snaking over themselves in a haphazard imitation of your own stance.

With a doubtful grumble, you settled onto the couch cushions behind you. The true reason for Matt’s actions was just beyond your grasp, one fired synapse away from clicking into place. Until you solved that mystery, you could handle a little forced comfort.

Balancing his computer on one broad palm, Matt chuckled as you remained stiff, refusing to give in to the inviting squishiness of the worn fabric. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re up to something.” You mumbled, scowling at him as he slid onto the couch beside you, throwing a sculpted arm over your shoulders.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. Here,” Passing you an earbud, Matt’s fingers flew over his keyboard, queueing up the testimony in question. “His phrasing is…interesting. And I think he might’ve contradicted his statement from the original custody battle, but you’re more familiar with that case than I am.”

Placing the tiny speaker inside your ear, you tucked yourself into Matt’s side. As always, his heat encompassed you first, warmth radiating from him like rays of pure sun. Touch quickly followed, his left thigh sliding against yours, denim scratching over cotton. Positioning the laptop atop both of your legs, Matt’s thumb caressed your shoulder as he started the recording.

A smatter of voices prickled through the static, lawyers, clerks, and–eventually–the adverse. The monotonous call and response crashed over you in waves, threatening to siphon your dwindling awareness and lead you straight into slumber. You nudged Matt’s upper arm with your forehead, eyes fluttering shut against your will. “You tricked me. Wanted me to sleep.”

“You caught me.” Matt murmured, shifting to pull something from the back of the couch and tuck it around you. “You’ve been running on fumes this week. Rest for a bit.”

“Hypocrite.” Your scathing comment was hindered by the slurred edge to your speech as you drifted off.

A rumbling laugh shook Matt’s chest. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @daisy-arien0 @yarrystyleeza @silas-aeiou @harleycao @for-hearthand-home @chwlogy @valhallavalkyrie9

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crimsonvictory · 2 days ago

Text

Emergency

MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8.2k

Tags: simon riley x reader, self-reader insert, simon riley x you

Warnings: SMUT, p-in-v, overstimulation, pain kink, mature, voice kink, fingering, oral sex, fluff

Looking up at the building's sign above your head, you were starting to think that this was a mistake. Maybe driving yourself to a sketchy address texted to you by your friend wasn't the best idea, and there was the possibility that she may be planning your funeral next week. The tan brick building was old and crumbling, but somehow still standing after all the weathering over the years. You pulled your phone out, double-checking the address from your messages, and yes, 869 Elvie Street was the correct address.

The events leading to this scenario started a couple of weeks ago when you mentioned to a friend that you were having some stress-induced pain due to your job.

"Have you tried getting laid?" was her first question.

After exclaiming to her that not every problem is fixed with sex, she provided the option of possibly seeing a chiropractor or massage therapist. You had gone over the suggestion in your mind, waiting a few days before texting her and asking for recommendations. She had a tried and true place she had been going for years, so you trusted her judgment.

"Now, don't be put off immediately. Simon doesn't have a lot to say, strictly work. Not the friendliest type but I swear he can pinpoint exactly where my pain is coming from and I feel like I'm on cloud nine when I leave his place. He's a private practice, so only one-on-one with him."

The issue with going there was that Simon’s hours conflicted with your work schedule, and it was extremely difficult to get time off. It took you a while to message him, but when you finally did work up the courage, you asked if there was any possible way he could stay a little late to work you into his schedule. You were met with the blunt reply of,

"No. - S”

And that was that. You didn't dare message again, determining that your pain wasn't actually that bad to manage and that you could deal with it. To be honest, you had forgotten all about the text and went back to work, keeping busy for the next several weeks. That is until the sharp pain shooting from your hip down into your groin was unbearable and you could hardly walk. You were never one to call off of work, but there was no possible way you would be able to get through the day in the state that you were currently in. Teeth gritting in pain, you called your friend, begging her to talk to Simon - put in that it was an emergency.

"Can you get yourself there by 10?" she had texted.

You shot a glance at the clock - 8:47. A soft groan left your lips, you had texted a short reply that you would be able to. Maybe you should have thought about it for a moment before sending an immediate reply. Typing in the address that your friend had given you, you were pleasantly surprised that it was only a few minutes down the road from your apartment. Slowly sliding to the edge of the couch, you grit your teeth in pain once again as you try putting your weight on your good hip. The sharp jabbing pain raced like fire down into your groin, causing you to cry out softly. You huffed in annoyance, slowly making your way to the bedroom to get dressed for your appointment.

It took a lot longer than you wanted, the attempt to put on a new pair of pants almost sending you into a fit of hysterics. You limp over to your bathroom vanity, taking a moment to brush your hair and then your teeth. Your eyes are a bit bleary with tears, so you blink them away, attempting to not look deranged. This is the best that you can do in your situation. Taking one final look at yourself, you huff yet again and make the long and painful route (typically a less than 2-minute walk down a short flight of stairs) to your car.

Shutting the door behind you, you lean on your good hip as you lock the front door to your apartment. It's a bit chilly out, the sun is not quite over the clouds this morning. A quick glance at your watch lets you know that you have about 15 minutes until your designated appointment. The familiar wash of anxiety starts from the crown of your head, making you shutter slightly as it passes down your shoulders and into your stomach. Everything would be okay... you told yourself (almost unconvincingly).

The ride over was quiet, opting to not listen to any music as you were already overstimulated. You followed the little arrow on the map, almost missing your turn because your thoughts were elsewhere. A quick parallel park of your car and you throw it into Park, letting out a deep breath before attempting to pull yourself out. You have your keys and phone in one hand, using the other to grab the handle above to use as leverage. Your good foot makes contact with the asphalt, digging in slightly as you hoist yourself up, careful not to jerk too quickly.

You stumble for just a moment, leaning against the now-closed car door before righting yourself once more and slowly making your way over to the sidewalk. Nervousness pulls in your stomach again. A glance to the left and right of your surroundings shows there are no other cars on the street that you're parked on. You tilt your phone up, opening up your messages to let Simon know that you're here.

A few moments go by in silence, and you shift your weight again, taking a look at your surroundings. A bell chiming grabs your attention and you look back towards the front door, surprise etching itself along your features as a man - you are guessing Simon, fills up the entrance. He appears almost out of nowhere, still as a statue as he stands there. He crosses his arms, stretching the grey t-shirt he has on to the point where they might almost bust out of the sleeves.

You blink rapidly, taking him all in. His dark eyes lock onto you, gaze unwavering. Brows furrowed slightly, the only available space you can see are his eyes. The lower half of his face is covered by a black surgical mask. Mysterious. You're at a loss for words, not knowing what to say. His gaze has you pinned to the spot, almost as if you were caught doing something particularly naughty.

A soft grumbling noise comes from his chest, a noise of annoyance as he rolls his eyes and turns back to walk back inside, letting the door fall back into its previous closed state. A frown tugs your lips downward, confusion whirling a spiraling pattern into your thoughts as you slowly hobble towards the door. You push it open, the bell chiming once again before the rush of the wind pulls the door shut quickly behind you, causing you to jump. Taking a look around the office, it's - as expected. Neat, white walls and grey wooden flooring. Nothing is decorating the small area, but surprisingly there are a few well taken care of monsteras by the front door. The air smells like eucalyptus and mint, a relaxing scent that causes your tightly drawn shoulders to droop just a bit.

You're not sure where Simon went so you stay by the front door, not wanting to be caught snooping around the office. He comes back just a few moments later, still silent as he steps forward and crowds your space. You inhale sharply, the faint smell of cigarettes and Earl Grey filling your nostrils. He reaches beside your head, flipping the deadbolt to the left - locking you both inside.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you grip your keys a bit tighter, watching as he turns quickly on his heel and disappears down the hallway.

"Down here, love," he calls, his deep voice reverberating off of the walls.

It takes you by surprise, a warm heat spreading in your belly. You somehow get your feet to move, brain short-circuiting as you try to actively process what the hell your friend got you into.

The room at the end of the hall is much cozier than the front office. Light grey walls and a carpeted floor, shelves full of herbs and salves, a long black bench, and a rack of towels are inside. Simon's sitting on a black rolling chair, legs spread out on either side of him. The soft glow of a lamp casts a variety of shadows in the room, making it a bit hard to see his face.

You are hesitant, but trust your friend and step forward into the room. Your eyes bounce around, taking everything in before landing back on Simon.

"Your friend said this was an emergency?" he asks coolly, eyebrows raising slightly.

You nod, pressing your lips together in a slight grimace, the pain of your hip dully radiating at the moment.

"What's bothering you?" he asks again, eyes flicking quickly over your form before landing back on your face.

You feel your cheeks flush, the rush of embarrassment hitting you quickly. A quick clear of your throat before you answer timidly.

"M-My hip."

His brows furrow for a moment before relaxing back on his face. He didn't pry, which you were grateful for. God only knows the thoughts running through his head at your answer. Simon beckons you closer and you oblige, trying your best not to put too much weight on your leg. He hums softly, almost as if confirming to himself what to do with you. You're standing rather close, the scent of him filling your nostrils again. It makes your stomach flutter.

"Can you sit?" he asks, dark eyes catching your gaze.

You nod, almost dumbly as you shuffle forward, turning and placing the back of your lower thighs flush with the black table. Leaning back slightly, you go to sit down when that flash of pain shoots down your leg again, causing you to gasp sharply.

Simon's hand wraps itself around your waist quickly, holding your weight for a moment while you try to steady yourself. Your brows furrow in pain, tears welling up as you look past him, staring at the wall and willing the moment to pass. Your body trembles slightly and you let out a huff of air, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again. The moment has passed.

You notice his dark eyes on you again, cheeks flushing with the scrutiny of his gaze.

"Alright?" he asks lowly, eyes scanning your face again for any sign of pain.

You nod slowly and he helps you lower yourself on the table. You're seated now, resting for a moment as you tell him.

"Thank you..."

He hums softly again, the sound rumbling around in his chest. Simon steps forward, pushing himself up from the small stool he was sitting on. You sit there wondering how it manages to hold his weight. A light press on your shoulder from him, wanting you to lie on your back. The plushness of the table is comfortable, and you wiggle for a moment before deciding that you're comfy. It's hard to resist looking at him, large frame taking up your entire field of vision. You can't even see the door anymore.

Your eyes flutter closed, willing them to stop for a moment. Simon’s standing by your side, and you feel his large hand circle your ankle, pushing your knee up toward the ceiling. There's a slight pull again from your hip and you tense, wary of the oncoming pain.

"Relax," he murmurs.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and tell yourself to calm down. Blood rushing in your ears, you hear the familiar whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

"'M gonna try and stretch your hip flexor before I adjust you, alright?" he explains and you nod.

With one hand on your knee and the other circling your hip he starts with a small range of motion, moving your knee towards your chest and back out again. So far so good, minimal pain. His fingers squeeze into the fat of your hip, keeping it stable as he goes through a few motions for mobility. It's only when Simon moves your knee out parallel from your body that you cry out involuntarily, the sharp sensation pulling the breath from you.

You watch as his brows furrow once more and he squeezes your hip gently - an apology. Your breath quickens, eyes widening as he slowly moves your hip back to its original spot before doing it once more. The pain is there again, but not as sudden. You let out a shuttering breath, the anticipation of the imminent pain causing you to sniffle.

"There we go..." he murmurs.

His voice causes a wave of relaxation over your body, and you go pliant in his grip. The motions are becoming easier, less and less of the pulling pain as he stretches your hip out. It's become more of a dull ache, something that you could manage. He moves to your other hip, repeating the motions from just moments earlier. This one causes no problems at all. Your gaze flits up to the ceiling, watching the shadows of the light bounce as it reflects off of his movement. He releases your hip, and you immediately miss the contact. Simon shifts down to the edge of the table, holding both of your feet together as he examines the natural alignment of your hips.

"One's a bit shorter than the other," he explains, crouching down to look at which one to adjust through one squinted eye.

"Good news, it's not the injured one," you hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

You smile back softly in return, watching as his two large hands wrap around your right foot after letting your other leg drop gently to the table. He wiggles your foot slightly, loosening up your hip.

"Relax f'me," he instructs (and how could you with the sound of his voice making pleasure burn deliciously in your stomach).

Wiggling your foot one more time, he yanks back towards himself suddenly, a sharp crack! from your hip filling the room.

"Woah," you gasp out quietly.

He grabs your shoes again, checking the alignment before dropping them gently, satisfied that the adjustment did the job. Simon's large hand reaches out, an offer to help pull you into a seated position. His hands are calloused, but not super rough against your own skin. He gently lets go and whirls around to his shelves of salves, rummaging through before he finds some BioFreeze. It's in a small aluminum tin, the sharp smell of medical tincture burning your nose.

"Apply this once you get home, you're gonna be sore for a few days. Helps relax the muscles," he explains.

You pluck it gently from his fingers, twirling the tin in your own.

"I can't thank you enough..." you murmur, looking down in your lap.

He tuts softly, placing a hand on the small of your back and helping you up and off the black table. You look up at him once more, eyes focused on his mask as you ask,

"How much?"

"Consider it a favor for a friend," he says.

You're walking down the short hallway now, looking over your shoulder at him. He follows you to the door, reaching over to unlock the deadbolt before leaning back at a respectable distance once more.

"I can't just not pay you," you argue softly.

He shakes his head, a soft huff of a laugh falling from his lips.

"Heal that hip up and I'll think about it."

With that, he gives you a wink and opens the door for you, ushering you outside. Your mouth drops slightly, blushing at his words before you click your key fob to unlock the car. You grab the handle, missing it a few times before you finally yank the door open and hop inside, throwing your belongings in the passenger seat. The first thing you do is grab your phone, furiously typing your friend's phone number into the dial box. She picks up in two rings.

"Well...?" she prods, an obvious grin in her voice.

"Well-" you huff, putting your seatbelt on in a hurry as you start to drive, not even fully clicked in before you speed off. "I feel a lot better."

She laughs on the other end. "I told you! He's amazing! And sooo handsome too, even behind the mask.”

You laugh softly at that, nodding your head even though she couldn't see you.

"He wouldn't let me pay," you pout, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel as you drive home.

"Really?" she asks incredulously.

"Mhm..." you answer, thinking back to the conversation. "He told me to let my hip heal and that he would think about it." you continue. "He also-,"

"What? He what?" she prods, so excited it sounded like she was trying to jump through the phone.

"H-He winked at me when he said it," you blush deeply, thinking about his dark eyes staying glued to you the whole appointment.

"Oh my god!" she squeals. "You know what that means right?" she asks.

"No?" you answer, genuine confusion in your voice.

What it meant was that he wanted to fuck. Unbeknownst to you, Simon could barely keep himself appropriate when he opened the door to you that day. A client of his, your friend, had practically begged him to get you in. She declared your situation an emergency. It was an emergency all right, the emergency being that he wasn't stuffing your pussy full of his cock at this very second. It took all of his composure not to strip you down in his office and have you begging for more. Your little whimpers and cries of pain turned on that wicked part of his brain that got off on it. He kept replaying them in his head that night, thick fingers wrapped around the base of himself as he bucked into the tight fist he had made. Simon was seriously fucked up. He knew it but couldn't help himself. Couldn't help dipping into the temptation of the possibility of having your soft body underneath his own.

He wanted to know what you tasted like, what you felt like under his rough hands. He'd treat you well. Pulling every last little noise out of you that he could. The thought alone had him crying out hoarsely, covering his hand in the sinful act of imagination.

Good god.

Simon groaned, shame filling his stomach as he rolled off the side of the bed, strolling over to the bathroom in just a few steps to clean himself up.

What was he going to do?

The salve Simon had given you was a godsend. As he had told you, your hips were super sore over the next few days, but having the cooling salve helped ease the tense muscles. You had gone back to work, your friend pestering you every second about him. Simon...you sigh, shaking the thought of him from your mind. Something about him...

You had thought about texting him, but that would be weird. There was no absolute reason for you to have to see him again. Your hip was doing better, the overstretched ligament finally healing with the help of his hands. Oh, his hands... You reminisce on the feeling of having his long fingers wrapped around your hips, the gentle squeezes of comfort, the sure way he knew what to manipulate on your body to make you feel better.

God. You were fucked.

Things were going well for a couple of weeks until one Sunday evening, you had decided to take a bath and treat yourself to a nice evening. The water was scalding, just how you liked it, as you slid into the water, a long sigh escaping your lips as you soaked your weary muscles. You close your eyes, thoughts drifting to a certain someone... imagining what he would do to you. A soft moan escapes your lips, hand sliding down your torso to gently brush against your clit.

An exasperated laugh left you, applying more pressure at the thought of his hands sliding down your body. Your hips jerked up suddenly, and to your horror, the sharp pain came back instantly. Oh no...

Dread filled your body as soon as it happened, already knowing that you were going to have to message him again. Maybe you could try to get out of the bath...

The sharp pain pulled again, causing you to curse in frustration. Looks like you were stuck for the time being. You grab your phone, open up to your contacts, and send Simon a quick message.

Another emergency.

...

Silence. You huff, knowing that he's not obligated to answer you. It was his day off after all. You might as well enjoy the hot water as much as possible. The warmth envelops your body, providing a little bit of comfort as you relax.

You must've dozed off because when you wake, the bath is lukewarm. A groan falls from your lips, rubbing a hand down your face before blindly reaching over for your phone. You blink blearily at the bright screen, looking at your notifications. Simon had replied. Oh shit. Your fingers shake as you open the notification.

Hope it wasn't because of something naughty. ;) - S

You nearly scream, cheeks ablaze with emotion. How the hell did he know?

Ha. Ha. You reply quickly.

You see the ... floating back and forth as he types, thoughts in limbo.

Can you walk? He asks.

You weren't sure, not having tested before because of the pain. Easing up slowly, you're able to pull yourself into a seated position. The water drips down your body and into the water, rapid descent of the drops making a soft tinkling noise. You reach for your towel, slowly starting to dry yourself off and wrapping it around your damp body. It takes a moment, but you're able to pull yourself up and over the tub, staying in a small crouch. If you're in this position, it's not too bad. You grip the counter, sending a quick text back.

Barely.

It takes a few moments for him to respond, and by that time, you have your towel dropped around your feet and are attempting to put on your panties.

I can stop by.

Your stomach flutters after reading his text. Fingers grip your phone as you respond.

I wouldn't want to bother…

Maybe you could make it until the beginning of the week. Tilting your hips back, you push yourself up, throwing an oversized shirt on quickly before bunching back over in discomfort.

Address?

Is all he asks. You huff, knowing you're not going to be able to argue, so you send it to him.

—

He arrives at your apartment in 20 minutes. In that time, you had slowly made your way to the living room so that you could sit on the couch and wait for him. A sharp rap of his knuckles notifies that it is indeed him. You groan when you sit up again, slowly shuffling to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock, twisting the metal bar to the side before you pull back, allowing the door to open.

It's a bit hard to see him from the angle that you're bent at, but you tilt your head to get a quick look at him.

Simon opted for black scrubs this time, his pants pulling deliciously taut against his thick thighs. His shirt is just a thin white tee, doing little to hide his broad chest. You notice a smattering of ink crawling up his forearm, as it’s closest to your field of sight.

Your eyes catch his, noticing the softness of his gaze. You realize you must look like a wounded animal to him - pathetic.

“Can I come in?” he asks politely, voice rumbling with deep timbre.

“Yes,” you sigh out, catching the way his eyes fall to your lower half.

His mask crinkles up against his face, he's smirking. It's only then that you realize that you forgot to put on pants. How embarrassing. Heat flushes hot up your chest, staining your cheeks pink.

“I’m sorry,” you half apologize. “I couldn’t-.”

“S’okay,” he soothes.

You nod, slowly stepping back and allowing him in. He looks odd in your apartment. The hulk of him taking up most of your entryway. He has to duck to step through the threshold, kicking his shoes off by the door. What a gentleman.

You swing the door shut, mimicking his actions from a few weeks ago, and locking the deadbolt behind you. The air is a bit awkward, mostly due to your own insecurities. You attempt to pull your shirt down farther to cover your bare legs.

“Don’t have to hide from me, lovie,” Simon murmurs. “Let’s get you sorted out, yeah?”

You nod, looking at him for direction. He takes a step forward, crowding your space with his presence. Simon’s paw of a hand flexes at his side, clearly restraining to the best of his ability to not touch you.

“Where’s most comfortable?” he questions, taking a look around your small apartment.

You hum, thinking…the bed would probably be the most comfortable, but also very intimate. The couch could work too, but being only one-sided due to the back of it. There was also the floor…but you didn’t know if you could get back up from it afterward. Bed it was then.

“The bed…” you murmur shyly.

His mask crinkles again, pulling against his face as he smirks again.

“After you,” he gestures with a slight nod of his head.

You turn then, stomach twirling with anxiety as you lead him into the bedroom. Slow, deliberate steps to not flare up your injury. The air is a bit cooler and you shiver, goosebumps crawling up your skin. Your clock reads 0442, the golden rays of sunshine confirming the time.

Your bedroom isn’t messy, but a bit eclectic with the clutter - a few books stacked on your nightstand, a jewelry tray, and a few odds and ends from your purse scattered on your vanity. You always leave a lamp on, along with an essential oil diffuser. Eucalyptus and mint - your favorite.

Simon pads silently behind you, almost forgotten until you catch him out of the corner of your eye. You watch as he takes in the small space, a soft hum as his eyes dance around the room.

You had, for once made your bed today, a fluffy black duvet and a grey throw stretched across the queen size. You didn’t particularly need such a wide space, but it was a luxury of yours, being able to spread out on your own.

Walking (limping) around to your side of the bed, you take it slow when sitting down. You laugh suddenly, imagining what Simon must think of you - an old lady.

“Somethin’ funny?” he questions, a smile in his voice.

“I must look be a sight, hobbling around like this,” you laugh breathlessly.

A slight shake of his head, eyes nearly shut. He’s cheesin’. Simon steps around to meet you, mimicking his movements from a few weeks prior. Two of his thick fingers push into the rivet of your shoulder - a silent plea to lay on your back. Obviously, your bed is much comfier, plush pillows surrounding your head as you sigh. Eyelids fluttering, you look directly up at him, a blush dusting your cheeks as you wait for him to move.

A large hand slides down your side, settling in the crook of your hip. His fingers squeeze at the fat there, stabilizing the joint as his other hand slowly brings your knee up to point to the ceiling. The movements are much slower now, remembering from the first incident that he had caused you pain.

Your body is tense, waiting for the sharp ripple that travels down your thigh - it does, as soon as your hip flexor is tilted to the side.

A sharp cry punches out of your lungs, eyes immediately filling with tears.

“Sorry, love…” Simon murmurs, voicing genuine concern.

You sniffle, taking a deep breath as he makes the rotation back to the first position.

“You’re too tense,” he grumbles, releasing the hold on your knee before sliding his fingers down your bare leg, erupting goosebumps along their wake.

He allows his fingers to unfurl from your hip, pushing the hem of your shirt just above it, so that he can see the bare skin there.

Your eyes flicker down to the exposed spot, desperately wanting to yank your shirt back down.

“Where’s the salve?” he questions.

“Hm?” you hum, thoughts drifting again to his hands.

“The salve?” he questions again, eyebrows raising towards his hairline.

“Oh,” you sigh. “Bedside drawer.” you point to the nightstand to the right of you.

He rummages around for only a moment before the metal tin is in his large hands. Spinning the lid off, he dips two fingers down into the tincture before gently rubbing it into the skin of your hip. You whine softly, the cooling sensation a relief to the flared injury.

Simon huffs softly, eyes flitting over your near-naked form before settling on your own.

“Can’t be making noises like that, bunny,” he warns lowly.

A tingling sensation pulls in your stomach, desire pooling at the base of your spine. Only then do you notice his cock is straining against his pants, clearly turned on by your involuntary noises. You bite your lip hard, turning your head away to not look at him. He was doing you a favor - that was all. A favor for a friend…right?

“Simon,” you sigh softly. “I’m sorry.”

You roll your head back to the other side, blinking before looking up at his face. His brows furrow, confusion etching them into place.

“Don’t apologize,” he huffs, just a faint hint of frustration in his voice.

You can’t tell if he’s frustrated with himself or you. A frown turns your lips downward. His fingers have stopped rubbing the rest of the tincture into your skin, frozen in place as if he’s afraid to touch you again. His other hand is at a fist at his side, fingers clenching together in restraint. Simon’s chest rides and falls languidly as the moment passes, silence lingering in the shared space.

You take a deep breath before you speak,

“Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes flit to yours, pupils dilated to the point where they melt into his irises. Another unblinking gaze makes you a bit uneasy. A familiar flutter of panic itches at the back of your skull.

“No,” he finally answers, slicing the tension of silence with a verbal knife.

“Why?” you breathe out, entranced in his gaze, the rise and fall of your chest quickening.

“Because I want to touch you,” he admits, words so soft your ears are straining to hear them.

Your brain short circuits, a flood of arousal filling your panties. You tense slightly, an unwarranted reaction - before slowly relaxing and letting your legs fall open - an invitation. You’re still mindful of your injured hip, Simon’s fingers still slightly brushing the top of your thighs.

He groans then, a delightful noise that rattles around in his chest before spilling from his lips. Simon places his knee on the bed, slowly leaning his weight forward as he crawls up in between your legs. Your head was spinning, trying to catch up with what was unfolding before you. His touch is featherlight, fingers lightly brushing the bare skin of your calf closest to him. Sitting up on your elbows, you watch quietly, curious as to how this was going to play out.

The sun was starting to set, golden hues splaying across Simon’s form. A particular ray hit his eyes, revealing the brilliant ochre that spiraled within them. He looked like something of a god, on display for you and you only. Simon leans down then, pulling his mask down just a bit to place his lips on your skin. You shutter, the feeling of them erupting goosebumps. They were surprisingly soft, slightly chapped, and full. He slowly moves up your thigh, gentle kisses placed on your skin, nearly afraid of breaking you.

—

You were fragile in his eyes. Something that he wouldn’t dare to shatter. But yet, something in him wanted to, wanted to break and bend and manipulate you with his bare hands. Simon wanted to pull every ounce of pleasure from your body, to take away the pain that was lingering. He wanted to hear your pretty whines, watch your body react, and flush to his touches. Mold you into his own body, fitting the two as one. Dip his fingers into your soaking cunt. He opts for placing soft kisses first, warming you to his touch.

To his pleasure, you’re extremely reactive, soft sighs and hums of approval are music to his ears. His large hands slide up your bare thighs, admiring the smoothness of your skin. You answering your door in your underwear was not on his radar and completely threw him for a loop.

Things had moved quickly and now…now he was wanting to taste you. Mouth watering at the thought. Simon looks at you now, trembling under his touch, anticipation etched onto your pretty face. He’s resting on his stomach, broad shoulders causing you to stretch your good hip out almost near exertion. A slow lean down and…

His warm mouth makes contact with your clothed pussy, tongue flattening against the fabric and sliding up achingly slow. A low moan falls from your lips, head falling back against the pillow. Simon repeats the motion, slowly mapping out your folds to memory. A shudder of pleasure makes its way down your body and you reach a hand out, placing it on his bicep. You give it a light squeeze, fingers curling tight.

Soft moans of yours fill the air, along with the smell of your arousal. You’re dripping wet, soaked fabric of your panties clinging to your folds. Simon hasn’t let up since he began, your slick dripping down his chin. His mask is long forgotten, but his face is hidden between your legs, so you can’t see what he looks like in his entirety.

His long fingers brush against the side of your panties, causing your hips to jerk upwards suddenly. A sharp gasp punches out of your chest, pain radiating down your thigh once again. Tears spring up in your eyes - frustration causing them to bubble up and over onto your cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed and you are jostled by Simon moving. Cheeks burning hot with shame, you turn your face away.

Your lip trembles despite you trying your best to keep it still. This was a mistake, and now he was going to leave. Your hand curls itself into a fist at your bare side.

A touch to your face startles you, causing your eyes to flutter open in shock. Simon is still there, mask placed back on his face as he gazes down at you. He’s half leaning over you, hand placed by the space near your shoulder, eyes glittering with concern.

“Let’s try something different, yeah?” he suggests.

It takes a moment for your brain to process the words, still in shock that he is still here. He still wants to even though you ruined the moment. You nod slowly, still frozen and afraid to move due to the pain. Simon snakes his right hand down to wrap his long fingers around the fat of your hip. He squeezes tightly, holding the aching muscle in place as he climbs onto your bed yet again.

Simon’s straddling your left leg, taking the quick movement to switch your positions in one fluid moment. You yelp, hands flying out to land on his chest as you try to steady yourself. He’s still got a grip on your hip, the pressure keeping it from overextending itself as you sit in his lap. You can feel his length through your soaked panties.

He’s resting comfortably back against your pillows, eyes half closed as they lazily scan down your body. His chest rises and falls languidly, a sound of contentment rumbling throughout. It almost sounds like he’s purring. An experimental shifting of his hips has the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, sending fire licking down your spine.

A pathetic noise crawls up your throat, falling from your lips on its own accord. You watch as his mask crinkles again, eyes nearly closed as he smirks. Simon rolls his hips up towards your own, keeping you locked in place. All you can do is take it, his vice-like grip preventing you from moving. Your stomach flutters with arousal, slick dripping down your thighs as his cock slides against the sticky fabric of your panties.

“Look ‘atcha,” he praises. “Makin’ a mess and I’ve barely touched ya.”

Your lip trembles and you bite down hard, willing it to keep still. His eyes catch your own and you watch his pupils dilate. You can see a blurry reflection of yourself in them, watching your face contort in pleasure as Simon presses up into you. Another whine pulls from your throat, the friction not enough. You needed more - you tried to wiggle in his grip but to no avail.

“What’sa matter?” he mocks, tone almost turning mean. “This not enough for ya?”

You shake your head, a hot flush running down your neck and into your chest.

“N-No,” you gasp as he thrusts his hips upwards again. “I need you, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” he coos, squeezing your hip lovingly.

Simon doesn’t even bother to move you, just pushes your panties to the side and brushes his fingers through your folds. Your slick pools down onto his fingers, making it easy for him to press two inside. They’re thick, causing you to tense for a moment before relaxing and letting him in.

“‘Atta girl,” he praises again before sliding his fingers back out to the tips before thrusting back in your warm heat.

You moan, releasing your grip on his shoulder as he fucks you with his fingers. His other hand keeps you steady as he lowers you down and back just a bit, almost seated at an angle on his lap. Both of your legs are spread on either side of his hips, hand braced on the bed to keep yourself steady. Simon curls his long fingers towards himself, pressing that spongey spot that has your knees going weak.

“S-Simon,” you gasp, knees buckling inwards towards themselves.

His hand leaves your hip momentarily to push them gently back to their original position, keeping your glistening folds on display just for him. A laugh punches itself out of his chest, almost restrained. It’s a beautiful sound, one you wish you could’ve heard sooner. Simon takes the pad of his thumb and swirls it around your clit. Pleasure burning in your stomach and down your legs, you cry out, orgasm squeezing a moan out of your lungs. You tremble as it ignites your nerves, breath quickening as the pleasure wrecks your body.

He doesn’t slow his fingers, keeps milking every last drop until your body has settled. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on your skin, illuminated by the golden hues of your bedside lamp. A low whistle carries out, faintly hitting your ears as you try to push yourself back up into a sitting position. Your legs are like jelly and Simon laughs again before helping you up.

His fingers absentmindedly brush back and forth on your hip as he hums, giving you a moment to recollect yourself. Pleasure has your joints relaxed, and your hip no longer burning with discomfort. Your eyes roll languidly, almost as if floating in syrup, to meet his own. He’s watching you again, taking you all in. You try to get a good look at him - a slight furrow in his brows, almost as if he’s always in thought. The mask hides most of his face but you can tell his nose is a bit crooked - possibly broken? You fight the urge to reach out and run your fingers across the bridge. There’s a small spattering of freckles peaking out from underneath the mask and you smile.

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, smiling.

He huffs out a laugh, a small smile on his lips as he shakes his head. Hesitantly reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, you give it a soft squeeze before you slide your hand down his chest and over the tented part of his scrubs. His eyes follow the trail, locking onto where your hand is slowly stroking up and down his length.

A shudder of a breath leaves his lips and his eyes fall shut. Touch-starved and desperate for more, Simon restrains himself from reaching out and flipping the two of you, wanting nothing more than to have you under him. He reminds himself to be careful with you.

You slide your hand into his pants, stroking him through his boxers. He’s fucking huge, filling your hand with his girth.

“Jesus,” you huff out in astonishment, a small laugh escaping past your lips.

“Too much to handle?” he quips, peeking one eye open to look at you.

“No!” you huff, biting your lip as you try to plan on how to begin.

“Here,” Simon sighs, taking both of your hands in one of his own while he shimmies out of his scrubs.

His cock strains against the confines of his boxers for a moment before he pulls them down too, finally letting it bounce against his stomach.

He’s oversized, pretty - creamy skin with a lush pink tip. It curves to the right just a bit and is leaking from being neglected for so long. You want to bend down and have a taste, mouth watering at the thought. Simon still has your hands on his own when he settles back down. You wriggle them free, wrapping your fingers around the base and stroking slowly up to the tip.

A low rumble of pleasure starts low in his chest, so you keep going, swiping your thumb over the tip. He’s super sensitive, length twitching in your hand as you tighten your grip. Simon’s lids are half closed, watching you languidly.

His hips act on their own accord, bucking into your hand to chase more pleasure. You’re transfixed - watching over and over as he fucks into your hand. The action has you clenching around nothing, wetness creeping down your thighs again. A whine creeps up your throat and you roll your hips slowly against his clothed thigh - unable to stop yourself.

“Just can’t get enough, can you?” he laughs, the sound getting interrupted by a moan as you squeeeeze your fingers tight around the base.

“Not fair,” he wheezes softly, hips stilled for a moment.

His thigh twitches, bumping up into your pussy, causing a spark of pleasure to pull in your core. Simon moves then, pulling his mask down and smashing his lips to yours. He leads the kiss, licking into your mouth with slow swipes of his tongue. You moan into his mouth, eyes falling closed and hands coming up to rest on his forearms. He tastes like Earl Grey and lingering tobacco. Simon moves his thigh up and down, the slick from your pussy drenching his pants. You whine against his lips, hips stuttering as pleasure overcomes you yet again.

“You comin’ again?” he asks with a laugh, smirking against your lips.

Your cheeks blaze furiously, tears pricking at your eyes as you come again. Simon kisses down your neck, biting down at the soft flesh above your collarbone. His arms wrap around your back, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and begins rolling your lower half up and down, up and down as you ride out your second orgasm against his thigh. You’re gasping for air, breath stuttering as pleasure squeezes your chest. All the stress forgotten as it washes over your body. You feel euphoric, the overwhelming release causing tears to fall down your face.

Simon shushes you quietly, rubbing soothing circles into your back as you come down again.

“There you go,” he coos. “Good…so good f’me.”

You sniffle, a laugh bubbling up and over your lips.

“Should’ve called you a lot sooner,” you joke.

He laughs loudly - the melodic sound filling the air.

“Mhmm…” he agrees, placing soft kisses on your overheated skin.

You tilt your head back, allowing him more access. Soft presses of lips to skin. It lights you on fire, desire tingling down to your toes. You arch up into his touch, sighing when his large hands caress your skin.

His thumbs brush across your nipples, stiffening them into peaks.

“Needy little thing…” he murmurs, sliding his hands down to the hem of your shirt to pull it up over your head.

Your shirt lays forgotten on the edge of your bed, you, bare except for your panties. A shiver runs down your spine, the cool air biting your skin. Simon shifts slightly, wrapping his hand around his cock and brushing the velvety tip through your folds. It catches on your entrance, slowly sinking into your pussy.

You moan, breath catching in your throat. His size stretches you open, causing your thighs to shake with exertion. Simon’s slow, allowing you to adjust before sliding you down another inch. His large hands keep you steady, squeezing the fat of your hips. There’s a moment of silence and that’s when you notice you’re trembling.

“S’okay,” he soothes, rolling his hips experimentally.

The tip bumps against your cervix - a mix of pain and pleasure.

“O-Oh,” you gasp, grasping at his shoulders for leverage.

Just like earlier, he has you pinned, stuck in pleasure as he slowly thrusts up into you. Your head falls back, arching your chest forward. Simon takes this opportunity to latch his mouth over your nipple. His tongue expertly runs over the bud, stiffening it yet again into a hard peak.

The sound of your bodies meeting echoes in your small room, the smell of sex heavy in the air. You clench around his length, wanting him even closer than physically possible.

“Bunny…” he warns, nipping at your jaw.

You laugh, pleasure blurring your mind’s worry. You can feel him in every thrust, thick cock bullying its way into your cervix. Simon’s pace has picked up, a steady motion of in out in out in out. You know he’s chasing his pleasure, large hands grabbing at your body ravenously. Itching to touch every part of your body, nothing left undiscovered by him.

He flips you quickly, your mind whirling from the sudden change of position. Simon steadies your hip, still so mindful as he pushes back in, the new angle causing your toes to curl.

“Ohmygod,” you cry out, breaths punched out of your lungs with every thrust.

Simon’s pace falters, growing sloppy as he chases his release. You clench around his cock and his hips stutter.

“Don’t ya fuckin’-“ he starts before you ignore him and do it again.

He curses, hips jolting as he comes.

“Fuck,” he moans, filling your pussy full.

You whine, the feeling overwhelming as he thrusts a few more times before slowly pulling out. A mixture of slick and him leaks down your thighs, cooling in the air. You grimace, going to sit up but Simon pushes you down. He gets up, walks to your bathroom, and grabs a washcloth to run under the warm water. It feels good on your skin as he cleans you up. He then grabs your shirt, picking you up to pull it over your head before gently laying you back down.

Your breathing has started to even, eyes closed as sleep threatens to pull you away. A cold feeling on your hip has you yelping - the salve. Simon has placed a generous amount on your skin, rubbing it in gently. Your eyes crack open to peek at him, he has his mask on again and you frown slightly - sad you weren’t able to see his face.

“Rest up dove, you still owe me,” he winks, leaning over and crawling back into bed with you.

As you start to drift, Simon pulls you close to his chest, warmth causing a slight shiver as you shift to get comfortable. He pulls a blanket over the two of you, warmth breath brushing your neck. His mask off once more. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you snuggle down into the blankets, and the thought of how you were going to explain to your friend suddenly pops up. Shit. You couldn’t hide this from her.

“What should I say if she asks?” you mumble, almost half asleep.

“Hm..?” Simon rouses, nearly dozing himself.

“What do I tell her what happened this weekend?” you ask him.

“Tell her it was an emergency,” he laughs softly, pulling you closer as he rests his face into the crook of your neck.

#simon riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #reader insert #crimsonwrites #cod smut

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meelusinee · 3 days ago

Text

NEW NUMBER | R.L X READER

word count \ 2.0k | fluffy fluff | slash / remus lupin x reader

in which you get remus' number at the bakery he works at

NEW NUMBER | REMUS LUPIN X READER

Remus had decided he needed a job.

His friends had money. James, Sirius, Regulus, Lily. Even Peter, who wasn’t rich but wasn’t poor.

Not like him at least.

So he decided to get a job. He didn’t think he could have a job in a Wizarding area, as much as he wanted to. It wouldn’t be safe, to say the least.

Which led to his journey to a Muggle town. Small, just outside of Hogsmeade, with an older style surrounding the buildings. There was a lot of greenery and other calming elements, wide sidewalks and scooters for transportation.

Plus, he found a job as a baker.

He only needed training for more advanced things. Remus had muscles big enough to carry the pounds and pounds of flour and other ingredients. And he knew recipes, which he learned when his mother tried to distract him as a kid.

It was nice.

He had great coworkers, and a good genre of customers. A calming environment too, which helped his pain a lot better than he thought it would. He also lucked out with his boss as well, who was also a Werewolf trying to make a living. Which meant the payment could be given to him in Galleons rather than Muggle currency.

Some days, he came to the bakery even when he wasn’t called in for work. The coffee was amazing, to say the least, and the food was even better.

His job seemed to get even better when you joined the picture.

It was a rather boring day at the bakery. Remus had been assigned the front counter, he had been a real hit with the older ladies who came in most often. He didn’t exactly like it, but they sometimes gave him extra money as a tip.

He never complained about that.

He also didn’t complain about the phone calls, something that he didn’t mind at all. He liked the comfort of the barrier between him and the phone.

“Welcome to Bettie’s Bakery, how can I help?” his voice rang through the bakery. It was mostly empty at the moment, all except for the workers and whoever was on the phone right now.

“Hi!”

Remus felt his heart pounding at the sound of your voice, mind running wild as it flitted through different lines of romantic poetry that he had read over the years. Who was he kidding, it was one single word that you said. Just one.

“Hi there,” he said, clearing his throat. “How are you doing today?��

He smiled softly as he heard you giggling over the business phone, leaning both of his elbows on the counter as he listened to you. “I’m good.”

“Good?” he asked. “Not great?”

“I’ll get to great if you keep talking to me.” you giggled to him.

Remus felt a wider smile breaking out on his face as he heard that, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I’ll be able to keep talking to you if you order something from the bakery.”

“Oh, yes!” you said, giggling. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his life, sweeter than the taste of thaumatin. “I wanted to wonder if you had this bread that I really like. My friend made this tomato bisque that tastes like spaghetti, I pair it with this special loaf you guys used to make. I don’t know if you still make it though.”

“What’d it taste like?” Remus asked, assuming that you didn’t know the name based on how you were describing the situation.

“Uh,” you mumbled. “Kinda like a Cuban loaf. Very peelable, but it had a nice crust still. It had a special name you guys made though.”

“Like a baguette shape?” he asked.

“Mhm!” you smiled. “I always cut it in half.”

“Was it Sasha’s Slice?” he asked, looking at the different breads held in their display case. “It’s a baguette with a decently hard crust, kind of sweet.”

“Yes, that one!” you smiled. “You still have it?”

“Yea, we do.” he chuckled softly, his Welsh accent coming out a bit more than usual when he was talking to you. Maybe it was the natural comfort he felt around you, despite the fact he barely knew you. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe he was just tired, and it had nothing to do with you.

“Am I gonna see you in here?” he asked.

“If you’re there before closing.” you chuckled, the sound of your keys jingling in the background.

“I’ll be here after close.” he said, his voice a bit hoarser before he cleared it. He held the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he started to look around for things to distract himself with, writing random words on a piece of paper to look like he was doing something. “My night.”

“Well, I hope I see you!” you giggled.

“Me too.” he smiled, sighing as he heard the sound of the phone hanging up in his ears.

“Hello there!” your voice chirpped through the bakery.

Remus looked up as soon as he heard it, like he was a dog and your voice was a dog whistle made just for his ears alone. Maybe your looks were too, a stunning beauty he doubted he could drag his eyes away from.

You were around his age, he could tell that much. Maybe a year younger, but he hoped that didn’t matter much to you. If something were to happen, that was.

“Hi.” he smiled as you walked to the counter. “Sarah’s Slice?”

You gasped dramatically, pointing a finger at him. “It’s you! Phone man!”

“Phone man?” he chuckled at the nickname, both of you bursting out into laughter at it. Indeed, you did meet through the phone, but it was still a rather funny nickname regardless. “I thought it’d be bread man at first.”

“Maybe ‘phone bread man’ then.” you said, watching as Remus bagged your bread.

“Phone bread man it is.” he said. “I’ll head to the bank soon, make sure they change my name. I’ll start with my nametag first though.”

You gasped before giggling, a wide smile on your face as you grabbed the bread. “Oh, why thank you! You make sure to add a ‘Mr’ in front of it.”

He chuckled, smiling at you. “Mr. Phone Bread Man. First, middle, last.”

“That’s the spirit!” you smiled bright.

Remus looked around the store to make sure nobody else was there before leaning forward a bit, his eyes now meeting yours as he spoke. “Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Not as often as I’d like.” you whispered. “I have school, but it’s working out okay. I’m moving down here soon, a small town just North.”

He smiled softly as he heard you ramble about the lovely town your mother would be taking you too, more so captured by the way your lips moved rather than the words coming out of your mouth. Though, if anyone asked, he was sure he could recite the talk in his sleep. Word for word.

“That’s really interesting.” he whispered.

You smiled, the bag holding your bread crinkling in his hands. “It’d be more interesting with a friend to spend my time with.”

Remus looked at you with a raised eyebrow before the both of you laughed, your eyes watching as he pulled out his phone and opened the app. He had gotten it so his boss could contact him for work schedules, something he charmed to still be usable in Hogwarts. He was sure it was about to pay off in more ways than just that now.

“Thank you,” you said, voice trailing off as you looked at his nametag. “Remus.”

“Remus.” he smiled, much like a lovesick puppy might look at its owner.

“Y/N.” you smiled gently, holding your bread filled bag up. “And thank you, really Remus.”

Remus smiled, watching as you walked out of the bakery with your phone in hand. He didn’t know what way you were going, not yet, but he was planning on learning soon. At least, he hoped.

Remus was sat in class with Sirius and James to each side of him, foot bouncing up and down as he sat in Potions class. He had already done the assignment the night before, submitting it early so he would have time to relax.

Sirius demanded help with the potion they were working on, but Remus gave up after he began to wing it much like James. Despite the fact that James had been doing Potioneering since he was a kid, Sirius decided they were on the same exact level with potion making. James definitely didn’t help.

Which led to him sitting in silence, watching the fumes of different potions and ingredients finding their way into the air.

That was, at least, until you texted him.

Y/N: hi there!!! youre remus, right?

Remus looked at the message for a bit with a small blush on his face, biting his lip as he texted a quick response.

REMUS: Yes, Remus. Y/N?

Y/N: i can’t believe you remembered! thats so sweet :c

Remus smiled softly at that, adjusting his posture in his seat to be more comfortable. He tried to minimize himself as much as possible, which wasn’t much given he was well into 6 feet territory.

REMUS: You are rather unforgettable.

Y/N: and you are apparently a sweetheart

Y/N: btw i made the bread and soup!! It tasted really good, and i wanted to thank you

Remus felt his phone vibrating against his hand as you texted him more about the bread and the soup, eventually offering a photo without waiting for a yes or a no. It looked delicious, he had to admit, a cheesy looking tomato bisque soaking into the bread.

Y/N: i must be rambling so much though, im so sorry! how are you doing??

Remus chuckled to himself, not having minded your ramble one bit. On the contrary, he thought it was a rather endearing tidbit about you.

REMUS: Don’t feel sorry, I enjoyed it.

REMUS: I’m okay though. Having to suffer through classes.

Y/N: you have classes???

Y/N: i didn’t mean to interrupt them or anything, im so sorry!

Y/N: ill let you get right back to it right now

Remus chuckled softly, his fingers typing a quick response. He was rather glad that he was in the back of the classroom, Professor Slughorn not able to see far back enough to notice his phone.

REMUS: Don’t be sorry, I’m not busy. I already completed the assignment so my friends could cheat off of it.

REMUS: Besides, I like talking to you. You’re a fun distraction.

Remus felt his shoulder being nudged as soon as her saw your spamming of heart emojis and apologies, looking up to see James and Sirius staring at him with a rather teasing look.

“What?” he asked them.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows, nudging Remus again. “Who’re you texting?

“If you don’t back off, I’m taking my homework back.” Remus said threateningly, his eyes narrowing in a way that showed he meant every single word.

“Understood Sir!” James said, going back to his potion. As much as he loved potions, he hated following the rules with them. Which meant that he loved Remus’ notes and homeworks, his ability to understand the words and make them sound even better getting him higher marks.

Sirius just hated Potions regardless, mainly out of spite. It was Snape’s favorite subject, and he tried hard not to have anything in common with the greasy-haired boy.

Suffice to say, a lack of homework was a good threat.

Remus went back to texting you almost as soon as the two looked away. Maybe even before, he wasn’t quite sure. You were like a black hole that he was falling into, with rings of gravity around you sucking him through different perceptions of time and space before crushing him completely.

You had him utterly hooked. Something that, surprisingly, he didn’t mind the idea of.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank you so much everyone for reading! i haven't been writing as much, but i'm hoping that, with valentine's day and the spirit of love fast approaching, i'm able to get more stuff done. i might make a small series of just text messages between some characters, though i haven't decided who yet, so feel free to comment if you want any specific character!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, reblog, and have a wistful day!

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