#the framing of this shot makes her look so tiny

[misandriste]

[sunni-stuff]

Part 4

Soap’s eyebrows lifted with a curious glint in his eye as he looked from you to Adira, a playful grin edging onto his face. He leaned in, never one to miss a chance at a bit of friendly prodding.

“So… you’re married?” he asked, his tone as light as his smirk.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Haha! No, I’m not.” You gave Adira’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze, glancing down at her with a smile that softened every edge on your face. 

Soap tilted his head, pretending to be shocked. “A bonnie lass like yerself? Unmarried?” he teased, hand on his chest as though it were a crime.

“Guess I’m a rare breed,” you replied with a grin, chuckling as you shifted Adira’s hand in yours.

Soap’s face lit up at your response, as if he’d just been given the most interesting bit of news he’d heard all week. He shot Ghost a quick look, but Ghost was still watching Adira, his gaze softened with something unreadable.

Meanwhile, Gaz wasn't fascinated by Soap's ability to make anyone at ease, the man was a cassanova. Roach watched Adira with curiosity, as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed until now. Price stood off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing the whole scene.

“If you aren’t married, how’d you get this little one?” Soap pushed, grinning as he wiggled a playful finger in Adira’s direction.

Adira’s gaze snapped up from Ghost to the man with the funny hair, her little brow furrowing as she studied Soap with a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned into your leg, clearly wary, but her attention stayed on the finger waving in front of her.

You chuckled, brushing a hand over Adira’s head to reassure her. “Long story,” you replied, smiling. “Let’s just say she was an unexpected blessing.”

Soap laughed softly, glancing at Ghost with a gleam in his eye. “Ah, aye, life’s full of surprises, eh?” 

Ghost, who had been studying Adira in silence, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably as Soap’s words hit a little too close to home.

“I used to be really wild back in the day,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, a hint of nostalgia coloring your tone as you thought back to those not-so-distant years.

Soap wasn’t quite done yet, though. “Does the father know?” he threw a quick glance at Ghost, who had just risen from his crouched position. A new tension ran through Ghost’s frame, his stance rigid, as if the question had struck something he’d rather not confront.

You hesitated, a shadow crossing your expression before you shook your head. “No, he doesn’t… He, uh, probably has no idea.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering from you to Adira, who was absorbed in her drink, unaware of the intensity surrounding her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, he looked as though he wanted to speak—but whatever words he had caught in his throat, locked behind his silence.

"I see, well. I'm sorry if I took up your time, ma’am, you've been a nice chat," Soap said, his voice softening with a touch of politeness, his grin still present but more reserved now.

You nodded, giving Adira’s hand a gentle tug as you continued on your way, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your steps. The blue sky stretched above, peaceful, serene. As you walked, Adira turned her head, glancing back at Ghost one final time. She refused to let go of her cup, her small fingers gripping it tightly, but she lifted her other hand in a small, hesitant wave. "Bye-bye," she whispered, her voice soft but sweet.

Ghost’s gaze lingered, but he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of things churning behind those eyes. 

Price let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and facing Ghost. “So... what’s the plan?” he asked, his tone both blunt and expectant, clearly waiting for some kind of direction. The rest of the team stood in silence, watching the exchange unfold.

Ghost didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on you and Adira, watching you both disappear further down the street, the distance growing with each step. The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound in the quiet winter air. He didn’t even notice Price's voice until the man spoke again, closer now, with a slight edge to his tone.

"Ghost, talk to me. What’s the plan here?”

Finally, Ghost shifted, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Price. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something caught between anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing regret.

"I don't know," he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips. "I wasn't expecting this. Hell, I didn't even know she existed." His voice was low, strained, but there was a quiet honesty to it, as if he was trying to process something that didn’t make sense.

Soap stepped closer, his expression serious for once. "What now, Ghost? We can help. But you need to tell us what's going on."

Ghost finally looked away, his attention drawn to the ground, his fingers twitching like he was trying to find something to hold onto. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. "All I know is... I saw her. And it hit me like a fucking truck."

Roach, always one to stay in the background, spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to talk to her, yeah? Figure out where to go from here?”

Price’s eyes narrowed, his stern gaze shifting to Ghost, assessing him. “And what exactly do you want from us? You’re in this, whether you like it or not.”

Ghost let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “But I can’t just let her slip away.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the weight of the situation settled in. Then, slowly, Ghost nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just… not now. Not here.” His eyes flicked toward the street where you had disappeared, and something in his gaze softened, just for a moment, before the mask fell back into place.

Price gave a single nod. "Alright. But we stick together on this. You’re not doing it alone, Ghost."

The team stood together for a moment longer, the wind howling through the alley, before they slowly began to move, their steps trailing off into the winter evening. The silence that hung between them was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what came next, but they knew one thing for sure: whatever happened, they were in this together.

A month passed, the team giving Ghost the space he needed to process the whirlwind that had hit him. They all knew this was something he had to handle on his own terms, but that didn't mean the questions didn't linger. What did it mean for the future? What did he want? The answers were still unclear, even to Ghost himself.

But Soap, ever the persistent one, wasn’t content to let things sit in limbo. He knew Ghost, knew how his mind worked, and that sometimes the best way to breakthrough was to take small steps. And if that meant subtly nudging you into the picture, then so be it. He’d always been good at this—at slipping in the background, making things happen without anyone noticing.

So, Soap started to "accidentally" run nto you. At the park, when you were out with Adira, he'd make sure to be in the same place at the same time, offering a casual greeting. It always started simple, harmless, with a nod or a small comment about the weather. Then, of course, there was that coffee shop where you'd gone to get hot chocolate for Adira.

The first time he "bumped" into you there, it was nothing more than a quick exchange. A question about the drink, a comment on the cold weather, just the usual small talk. But Johnny's natural charm and ease made you relax, and made the conversation flow without much effort. Over time, those small moments grew. You'd smile when you'd see him, and he'd greet you with the same friendly energy, always leaving you feeling at ease. No pressure, just casual.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Johnny began to warm you up to the idea of him. It wasn't much at first—a smile here, a shared laugh there—but he knew what he was doing. He wasn't pushing, just letting the connection build at its own pace. The more you saw him, the more comfortable you felt. The more you talked, the more you found yourself enjoying the interactions, even if they were brief.

One evening, Johnny sat beside you on the park bench, casually leaning back as Adira bounced around in the snow, her laughter filling the crisp air. The sound was contagious, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, watching her with a soft smile.

"So, me and a couple friends are meeting up at Leslie's this weekend," Johnny said, his tone light but with a hint of something more. "Would you be interested?"

You snorted, expecting the usual joke or teasing, but when you glanced over at him, his expression was far more serious than you anticipated. For a moment, you considered dismissing it. After all, Leslie's? A pub? That was a far cry from the cozy routine you’d built for yourself with Adira. 

“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I fit the scene."

Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that playful grin of his. “Please. It'll just be like old times.”

Your mind immediately wandered, trying to understand what he meant by that. What was it about old times that Johnny thought might appeal to you? You didn’t exactly have a wild past to cling to. Sure, you’d had your moments, but those felt long behind you now. 

Still, something about the invitation lingered. A night out... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You hadn’t done anything for you in a while. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to let someone else take care of the night for once. No worrying about Adira, no responsibilities for a few hours. Just some fun, whatever that meant now.

You hesitated, looking down at Adira as she made another snow angel, oblivious to the conversation happening nearby. She’d be fine, right? And you could leave if things felt uncomfortable. 

“Alright,” you finally said, meeting Johnny’s gaze with a reluctant but genuine smile. "I'll join you. But only if it’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound." 

Johnny’s grin widened, and you could tell he was already mentally planning the evening, no doubt with some plan to ease you in without overwhelming you. He stood up, dusting off the snow on his pants as he glanced back at you.

“Deal. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”

You just hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

The weekend seemed to arrive so fast, and here you were, standing outside your apartment, nervously adjusting your blue blouse and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the type of outfit you thought would fit a night out, but it was the best you could do. Most of your wardrobe these days consisted of comfortable clothes, ones that could be easily changed or wiped clean in case Adira had another of her toddler mishaps. Sexy or flirty clothes were a distant memory, tucked away in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.

Adira stood in the doorway, clutching her little stuffed bear to her chest, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. The sight hit you harder than you expected. You knelt down in front of her, your heart sinking at the sight of her teary eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, I promise,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out to her with a reassuring smile.

Adira sniffled, her tiny hand coming up to rub her eyes, but she didn’t break her stare. You held out your pinky, the gesture as familiar as breathing. Slowly, she reached out, her small finger wrapping around yours with the same trust she always had. The connection was brief, but it felt like a promise, one that you hoped would calm her.

"I won't be out long," you said softly to the friend you’d left with her. "And you, be good for Auntie too." The last part was directed at Adira, though the words felt bittersweet on your tongue.

Adira nodded, but her face still held that sadness, that uncertainty of what the night would bring without you. 

Standing up, you ruffled her hair and offered a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just a little fun for Mama, okay?”

Her small nod didn’t do much to ease the tightness in your chest, but you turned and gave her one last look before stepping outside. The cool evening air wrapped around you, a contrast to the warmth of the apartment behind you, but you pushed the feeling away. Tonight was for you, however strange that sounded. 

Locking the door behind you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t just any night out. It was a night with Johnny, with his friends, with the possibility of reconnecting to parts of yourself you’d set aside for so long.

Arriving outside the establishment, the familiar hum of chatter and music filled the night air, but what caught your attention first was Johnny standing outside, leaning against the brick wall, checking his watch. The moment his eyes met yours, they lit up, his expression shifting from casual to something almost... eager. 

“Well, well, look at you,” he said with that trademark wink of his, his gaze raking over you with a genuine appreciation that made you feel suddenly self-conscious. “You clean up well.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to resist the easy charm of Johnny.

“Let’s just hope I survive this night,” you muttered, though the words were more for yourself than him. You weren’t sure what to expect tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not go as smoothly as Johnny seemed to think.

Johnny chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

With that, you fell into step beside him, the weight of your hand at your side suddenly feeling strange in the cool night air. He led you toward the door, and as you entered the dimly lit space of the bar, your eyes scanned the room. 

It was bustling, a mix of regulars and newcomers, all seeking solace or company for the night. It smelled of beer, whiskey, and the faintest hint of fried food, a familiar and welcoming kind of atmosphere. But as soon as you stepped inside, your nerves shot back up again. You tried not to let the nerves show, but they were there, itching under your skin.

What you didn’t notice, as you made your way to the bar, was the group inside. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Roach—quietly observing, waiting for their chance to either speak to you or simply let you slip through their fingers once more. Ghost’s eyes tracked you the moment you stepped inside, and there was a hesitation in his gaze, something raw and almost pained that flickered in and out. 

For a moment, Ghost didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched you, aware that the moment he’d been dreading—he had finally stumbled into. Your gaze met his across the room, the flicker of recognition passing between you both. But that was it. You didn’t remember. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was to you.

Approaching the bar, you saw that Johnny was already leaning in, chatting with the bartender, exchanging friendly banter. You barely heard the words, only caught up in the feeling that something was different. Something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced back at the table where those men sat. They weren’t talking, but their eyes were all trained on you, as if waiting for something to happen.

Your heart raced without explanation. Ghost’s eyes—those eyes—stayed locked on you. He didn’t know how to approach, how to change what had already seemingly been set in stone. What was he supposed to say? What was the plan now that you were here, so close? God, why the fuck did johnny do this.

Johnny leaned toward you again, a soft smile curling his lips. “You good, love?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy tension brewing in your chest. “Just... getting used to being out.”

Johnny winked again, oblivious to the chaos of emotions swirling within you. “It’s all good. Let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”

Ghost’s fist clenched involuntarily under the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this distance, this silent acknowledgment of his role, or how long he could ignore what it meant to see you here now. 

“You’ll fit right in,” Johnny said, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words. “Just a bunch of mates enjoying a drink, nothing crazy.” Johnny leads you over to the table, you expected to be met with… well you didn't quite know what.  

Price leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, a soft smile on his weathered face as he regarded you with a raised brow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

"Neither did I," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile and doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered when you looked at him. You hadn’t quite expected this part of the evening.

“I’m just here for a drink, nothing more,” you said, looking over at Johnny was getting comfortable in his chair.

“Well, pull up a seat, love,” Price said, motioning to the empty spot next to him. “We’re all friends here.”

You hesitated but made your way over, perching yourself on the seat next to him. The sound of the glass being slid toward you, the clink of ice against glass, broke through the chatter around you. Your nerves buzzed as you focused on the drink in front of you, trying to ignore the sudden realization of just how different this was from the quiet, routine life you had at home with Adira.

“Enjoy yourself,” Price said with an air of casual amusement, leaning back in his chair. “This is all new for you, isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to admit just how out of place you felt in the moment. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey warming you from the inside out.

You laugh lightly, a bit awkwardly, trying to shake off the nerves that gnawed at you. "Yeah, this all a bit... newish. I haven't been out like this in years honestly," you admit, taking a deep breath and glancing around the bar. The warmth of the space was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, but the sight of the men made you feel more like a fish out of water than ever.

Johnny claps you on the back with an easy grin, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “These are my mates. Price, Kyle, Gary, and Simon," he introduces with a flourish, motioning to each man in turn. 

You give them all a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of them just yet. There was something about the way they carried themselves, all standing a little apart from the crowd, that made it clear they were more than just regulars at the pub. But you didn’t have time to focus too much on that right now. You were trying to just survive the night.

Price, who looked a bit older than the rest, nods at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost cautious. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that is polite but distant, as though he’s waiting for something, some sign.

Kyle, as Johnny had called him—gives you a friendly nod, a playful glint in his eyes, but there's a strange sharpness to his look that you can’t quite place. “Pleasure," he says, offering you a tight smile.

Gary simply gives you a quick but sincere nod. His eyes linger on you just long enough for you to catch a flicker of interest before he looks away.

And then there’s Simon. His presence, as always, is quieter, more intense. He’s sitting in the middle, arms crossed, his gaze fixed directly on you. You can feel the weight of it, though. It’s impossible not to. There was something you couldn't place with him though you couldn’t see too well under the dim light.

You try to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. “Nice to meet you all," you reply, your voice warmer than you feel. 

Johnny, oblivious to the awkwardness in the air, slaps the bar and gives a nod. “Alright, drinks all around, yeah? Let’s get this party started!” he declares, pulling the group into the rhythm of the night.

As the revelry began your stomach churns slightly, a sense of unease still lingering despite the distraction. You knew something was off, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the men—it was the way Simon’s gaze lingered on you, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for something. It unsettled you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Johnny, seemingly oblivious to your tension, slides a drink toward you. “First round’s on me," he grins, the clink of glass against the table snapping you back to the present. "Here’s to a good night.”.

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the nerves that still clung to you. This was supposed to be a night out, after all. A chance to shake off the past, to let loose just a little. You couldn’t let the weight of everything pull you under before you even tried. What would be the point if you didn’t at least try and enjoy yourself?

Shaking the tension from your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of alcohol easing the knot in your stomach just slightly. The guys were chatting among themselves, Johnny’s laughter cutting through the low hum of the bar as he joked with Kyle. Price was listening intently, nodding along while Gary seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes occasionally flicking to you, though his gaze didn’t linger long.

And then there was Simon.

His presence loomed even when he wasn’t speaking, his broad frame leaning against the bar just slightly, face half hidden by the shadows. You caught his eyes for a split second, the intensity of his stare making your pulse hitch. You quickly looked away, focusing on your drink, your nerves creeping back up despite the effort to push them aside.

You could feel his gaze on you, though, like a weight pressing against your back. You tried not to let it show, tried not to acknowledge how his proximity seemed to pull at something inside you, but it was impossible to ignore. There was a pull, something in the air, but you couldn’t quite grasp it.

Sighing inwardly, you turned your attention back to the others. Just enjoy yourself, you remind yourself again. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it.

Johnny clinked his glass against yours, a grin on his face. “Here’s to not letting the night pass us by,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile back, lifting your glass.

“Cheers,” you said, the warmth of the alcohol giving you just the nudge you needed to ease into the evening. For now, you’d ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You’d enjoy yourself. 

But the eyes that lingered on you would remain, whether you were ready for them or not.

You pushed your chair back with more force than necessary, the scrape of it against the floor loud in the otherwise quiet bar. The conversation still echoed in your ears, but your focus had been on the man, Simon, for the past half hour. His silence had become suffocating, every glance he cast in your direction feeling like it held some hidden meaning. You couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. His eyes, cold and intense, had followed you too much, made you second guess every word you’d said.

"Im... gonna go powder my nose," you muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. You didn’t wait for a response, the words barely out of your mouth before you were already making your way across the room, past the low hum of idle chatter and the clink of glasses.

While you were in the bathroom, the entire team turned their attention towards Ghost, each of them sizing him up, starting with Soap.

"What is wrong with you?" Soap asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"What?" Simon blinked, genuinely confused.

"Mate, you've been gawking at her all night," Gaz added, raising an eyebrow, his voice teasing but laced with concern.

"Shit. Are you serious?" Simon muttered, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze didn't stray far from where you had just disappeared.

Roach, leaning back casually with his drink in hand, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's like you’ve been stuck in a staring contest with her since she walked in."

Price, who had been watching quietly, shook his head with a resigned sigh. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's gaze. "If you scared her off, I doubt you’ll get another chance, lad."

Simon’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realized how obvious it had been, but now that the team was calling him out on it, he felt the heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but the pull to look at you, to remember what had sparked your connection all those years ago had been almost magnetic.

“Alright, alright,” Soap teased, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don't burn a hole in her head.”

“Shut up,” Simon muttered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse.

Price shared a look with the rest of the team, a silent understanding passing between them. While Soap might have been the one to set this whole thing in motion, it didn't mean the others didn't have contingencies in place. 

Soap got up first, stretching a bit. “Gonna make sure no one's tried to get in my car,” he said with a casual tone.

“I’ll come with you,” Gaz chimed in, already pushing himself up from his seat and following Soap toward the door.

A minute later, Roach also stood, excusing himself without a word, and then Price followed suit, his movements deliberate. “I’m gonna make sure they’re not up to anything,” he said with a knowing glance.

With everyone out of the immediate area, the bar suddenly felt quieter, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. It took Ghost only a second for it all to click—he had been set up. Without thinking, he bolted from his seat, rushing outside just in time to catch the taillights of Soap's car disappearing down the street.

He cursed under his breath, but before he could make another move, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. There, in simple words from Price: 

“Good luck.”

Ghost stood still for a moment, phone in hand, as the weight of the situation hit him. His heart thudded in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now.

By the time you returned to the table, you felt a bit more at ease. The night out wasn’t all that bad… it was just that Johnny had some weird taste in friends. Well, mostly the tall one. You couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to have left, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of being ditched.

You let out a quiet sigh, about to gather your things and head out when your phone lit up in your purse. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Johnny. 

"Emergency, looks like one of the beers wasn't that good, poor Kyle threw up."

You paused, reading the message again, a small smile tugging at your lips. Aww… nevermind. At least they hadn’t forgotten about you after all. 

"Hope he's okay." You replied quickly, grabbing the straps of your bag when suddenly a hand landed on top of yours.

You looked up, meeting the intense gaze of Simon. Seriously? You couldn’t help but think. They took everyone but this guy?

You forced a smile, trying to pull your hand away, but Simon’s grip was firm, not unkind. “Look, I had a decent time, but I have to go—”

“Just a minute,” he interrupted, his voice low, steady, almost pleading. There was something about the way he said it that made you pause, something different than the usual small talk.

"Fine." The word slipped out before you could process it, and you cursed yourself inwardly. Really? You just agreed to stay with the guy who hadn’t stopped staring since you met him. You sat back down, and he mirrored you, settling across the table. 

Silence stretched between you, his intense gaze unwavering. He didn’t so much as blink, and you couldn’t help but feel more unsettled by the second.

What the hell is his deal?

“Look, if you're just going to be a creep, I don't think I want to mee—"

“Do you remember Armed Forces Day?” His voice cut through your words, quiet but resolute.

Okay, this took all day, I wanted to give you all something long to read incase I disappear for finals (which I might)

Reblogs appreciated!!!

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WOWWW LOOK AT ALL THESE NAMES. Thank you all so much for the support!! Im sorry if i missed any, I will update if I noticed any missing or comment on those who's tags didnt go through!

[enderlovez]

It's Okay

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: You and Spencer have to comfort a little girl after she finds her parents dead in her home, and your odd tactics work surprisingly well.

Content Warning: guns and violence, mentions of murder, blood, strange methods of calming a child down, dead bodies mentioned, broken glass, scared children

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The house is unnervingly silent.

Bloodstains and shards of broken glass litter the carpet around the bodies as you carefully step around them, you and Spencer moving cautiously towards the bedroom.

From inside comes the faint, muffled sound of sobbing. Through the cracked door you can see a little girl—Harper—curled up tightly in the corner, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit as though it's her only lifeline.

You glance at Spencer, your expression heavy. This is always the hardest part of the job: dealing with the survivors, especially ones this young and scared. Spencer offers you a faint nod, his own nerves masked by his calm demeanor.

You open the door slowly, kneeling down to meet Harper's line of sight. "Hey there," you say softly, careful not to startle her. "I'm Y/N, and this is Spencer. We're here to help you."

She doesn't answer, her tear-filled eyes darting between the two of you. Your chest tightens as her tiny frame trembled, her grip on the stuffed animal tightening further.

Spencer kneels beside you, his voice just as soft and measured as he addresses the young girl. "We promise, we're not gonna hurt you. We're here to keep you safe."

Her bottom lip quivers, but she doesn't speak. You can practically feel the weight of her fear, and your usual comforting words don't seem enough right now. You briefly look at Spencer, then back at her—time to get a little creative.

You stand and cross the room, kneeling again when you're right in front of her.

Reaching for your holster, you carefully pull out your sidearm and hold it up in a non-threatening way, your finger nowhere near the trigger. "Do you know what this is, Harper?" you ask, your voice calm and steady.

Please don't backfire on me...

Her sobs pause for a moment, her wide eyes fixed on the gun. "A... a gun?" she whispers.

"That's right," you say, your tone light as if you're discussing her favorite toy. "It's my job to use this to protect people, to keep them safe. And right now, I'm here to keep you safe. Me and Floppy," you add with a smile, nodding toward her bunny.

Spencer glances at you, his eyebrows raises slightly in surprise, but he doesn't stop you. You know what you're doing—or at least you hope you do.

"Can I see it?" Harper asks hesitantly, her curiosity momentarily overpowering her fear.

"Not this one—it's very grown up," you say with a small chuckle, slipping the gun back into its holster. "But maybe someday, when you're older and want to be a hero too. For now, just know that it's here, and it'll keep you safe."

Harper blinks, her tears slowing as she processes your words in her little six year old brain. "You'd use it for me?"

"Absolutely," you say firmly without hesitation, leaning in a little closer. "You're really important to us, Harper. We're going to make sure nothing bad happens to you."

Spencer finally chimes in, appearing beside you, his voice gentle but slightly amused. "And I can vouch for Y/N. She's a very good shot."

The faintest ghost of a smile crosses Harper's face, and your shoulders relax slightly. "You're like superheroes," she says, her voice so quiet you would've missed it if you weren't paying so much attention.

"Exactly," you say, grinning. "Superheroes with badges and really big teamwork. And guess what? Superheroes are really good at making sure kids like you are okay."

Harper nods, her fingers loosening their death grip on Floppy. "Okay," she murmurs, edging closer to you, "but I'm still scared."

"That's okay too," you assure her. "Being scared just means you're brave enough to face things that are hard. And right now, you're doing and amazing job, Harper."

She hesitates, then leans forward slightly, her small frame still trembling but no longer frozen in fear. She wraps her little arms around your waist, face pressed into your stomach. You take her into your arm, tracing shapes on her back with your pointer finger.

You glance at Spencer, who's watching you with a mix of admiration and mild disbelief. He mouths, Really? The gun?

You shrug subtle in response, your lips quirking up.

After a moment, Harper looks up from your stomach, her eyes still red but clearer now. "Will you stay here?" she asks.

"We'll stay as long as you need us," you answer instantly, tone as warm and reassuring as you can make it. "You're not alone anymore, Harper. Are you tired?"

She nods, so you lift her up off the floor and lay her down on her bed, only laying beside her when she gently tugs on your shirt. She immediately snuggles up against you, clutching onto you with one of her death grips, but you don't care.

Her breathing starts to even out, and for the first time tonight, the tension in the room begins to lift.

When Morgan peeks into the room a few minutes later to check in, he raises an eyebrow at the sight of you—Spencer sitting at the end of the bed, you actually laid down with Harper's arms wrapped tightly around you, tight enough to actually make breathing a little difficult.

"You two good?" he asks, glancing between the three of you.

"Superheroes don't leave their missions unfinished," you reply with a wink, gently stroking Harper's hair, and Morgan shakes his head, muttering something about your methods as he leaves.

One Harper is finally asleep, Spencer leans towards you, his voice low. "You know, not every kid finds guns comforting."

"Worked on her, didn't it?" you whisper back, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Spencer rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Only you would use a weapon as a comfort object."

"She needed to feel like we can keep her safe," you reply, looking down at Harper's peaceful face, "and I think we nailed it."

He chuckles softly, his hand brushing against yours for a brief moment. "You're not wrong." A brief pause. "Wait, how'd you know the rabbit's name?"

You silently gesture to a drawing on the wall, a little girl and a rabbit holding hands, Harper and Floppy written in blue crayon beneath it.

[boypied]

pairings: stepdad!henry cavill x male reader

request: Henry catches the reader dressing and touching himself, and then later, the reader teases henry. He was wearing his boxers in the kitchen to show off his ass and bulge. Massaging henrys shoulder while he’s at the table on the laptop, breathing close to his neck. Henry moves the chair a bit so the reader can hop on and grind. They end up having sex henry, preferably breeding him. Lots of daddy kink and good boy talk throughout sex.

warnings: SMUT ! , breeding, pet names, hair pulling, rough fucking, swearing (slurs).

part two

MDNI + FDNI !

You hated your mum for marrying such a sex-god. She didn't deserve to have a man like him every night. Your mum's work forced her to leave town for a couple of days, leaving you alone with your Stepdad. Henry went out on his daily morning run, leaving you alone in the house. You watched him jog away from your bedroom window. You pulled out Henry's used underwear, sniffing in his scent while you gently play with yourself, moaning out.

You jerk you cock slowly building up the speed while breathing in his musky cock scent. You hear your door creek open, Henry catches you jerking off to his underwear. You both gasp while Henry stands there shocked while his bulge grows. You blush slightly, trying to cover your body. "I-I I'm so sorry!" Henry shouts out his hands, covering his eyes as he swiftly runs out of the room. Your boner hardens at the thought of him standing in the doorway watching you.

After he caught you, you began to tease him over the days, walking around wearing tight underwear or short shorts. You walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a jockstrap, "Hi Step-daddy" you say while walking past him, making sure he gets a good shot of your ass. He quietly gasps while staring at your bare ass, he tries to ignore to, sitting down to eat. He begins eating as you slowly creep up behind him, and your hands begin massaging his shoulders. "Henry, you have such broad shoulders," you says whispering in his ear.

Henry slowly closes his eyes, trying not to let his cock take over, Henry's bulge begins to make a large imprint in his shorts as the feeling of your hands massage his shoulder. You slowly lean down to whisper in his ear, "You have such a large frame, I'd love to be under you." You blush while nibbling at his ear. Henry gets up to face you, grabbing your neck to pull you into a kiss.

Henry's tongue fights for dominance in your mouth, ultimately winning the battle. You let this beef cake take control, picking you up and pulling your legs around his waist. His hand grips at your exposed ass, rubbing his thumb against your hole and pushing it in. You gasp, "Step-Daddy!" You rest your head in the nook of Henry's neck, whimpering as his thumb wriggles around inside you. "Yeah, say my name," he smirks. "You've been such a tease, and now you're a whimpering mess just from my thumb," Henry says while laughing slightly.

Henry lays you down on the kitchen island, pushing his index finger and thumb inside you bending and curving them. "I bet you love the feeling of your stepdad's fingers inside you, giving you the ultimate pleasure." he says while he rubs your sweet spot. He pulls his fingers out, pulling down his pyjama bottoms to reveal his hairy beast, the thick veiny cock. He jerks it a couple of times before thrusting it fully into you, without warning.

You gasp it slight pain trying to accommodate to his size "AH!" You groan out before Henry shoves his fingers in your mouth "be quiet fag" he groans as he thrusts himself back and forth into you. "Look at your tiny hole stretching for my size" Henry says while fucking your hole. He thrusts back and forth inside of you "You're taking me like such a good boy", hitting your sweet spot multiple times, causing you to shoot your load hands free while you stare at the greek god above you. "STEP-DADDY" you groan out as you shoot your load over your stomach, "Want daddy to fill you up?" Henry says while gripping your hips while thrusting into you.

"Fill me, Stepdaddy!" You groan as he shoots his load inside of you, coating your walls with cum. Henry continues to fuck his cum back and forth inside your hole, squelching sounds come from your hole. Henry leans down to kiss against your body before pulling out of your hole, breathing heavily. He wipes some cum from your hole and feed it to you "Swallow it, like a good boy" Henry says while smirking.

Henry lifts you up off the counter and carries you into your bedroom, laying you down in bed. "You were such a good boy for me." Henry says while laying down next to you, pulling you close to him.

"I love you, Daddy,"

"I love you too, boy."

[darkmatilda]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her.  He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief. 

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

*

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location. 

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

 "Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

 “Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

 “Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

 It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

 "Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

*

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control. 

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it. 

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth. 

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else. 

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

*

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

*

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength. 

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you.  That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch

[ennn]

Hold the fuck up, this isn’t a real trial.

In retrospect a number of things about the episode, especially the coven's characterisation felt off... and now on rewatch I'm pretty certain this isn't a trial of the Road at all – it's the Salem Seven punishing Agatha.

Clues under the cut with some spoilers from future scenes in trailers / promo clips.

Clue #1 – No screen aspect ratio change

As @wolfcracker points out, for the two previous trials the screen ratio changed once they entered the place (going full screen). We didn't get that for this cabin.

Clue #2 – No phase of the moon decoration at the entrance

We've had these obviously built into the previous trial entrances but there's no sign of one for this cabin.

The coven's so panicked getting chased by the locusts they don't notice it running in. The door is made of wooden planks with tiny gaps in between and you don't see a sign of any moon on the other side either.

Notably, in a trailer and promo shot, you see the moon featured prominently again for an upcoming trial, when Agatha and Billy cross a stone bridge structure and approach an entrance (presumably of the tower).

Clue #3 – Each trial has an element, this cabin doesn't

This was something that seemed odd even before this episode, we saw five weird horror movie-trope settings – assumed to be trials – in posters and promotional materials but there are only four identified elements for the Road.

Sure you could have more moon phases (like we do irl) but the Ballad that is central the show only mentions four elements: fire, water, earth, and air.

Our first two trials had strong ties with an element: if you failed you'd be killed by that element or something associated with it i.e. drowning or burning.

Now from the promos, an upcoming trial with the anti-gravity effect going on in a tower fits well with the air element. And the threat of death here is associated with going into the air (spikes in the ceiling).

Notice from the flying forms that this trial does go full-frame like the first two we certainly had (clue #1).

Another upcoming trial we know of (that looks like a morgue or asylum-like place) can be linked with the earth given that we see rocks and earth falling in a shot. Death by crushing earth.

This cabin had no element associated with it at all. The threat of death was by... Agatha siphoning your magic? Or in the case of Agatha, to be tortured forever by her mom?

Clue #4 – The trial area doesn't necessarily keep out the Salem Seven

From the promo shots of presumably the air trial (see above), we clearly see the Salem Seven in the tower attacking them. Why then did Locust and the rest of the Seven leave them alone in the cabin when they were right behind them?

Other sus elements

OK, these are more ambiguous and could be the result of bad writing but here's the other stuff in this "trial" that just seems off

The coven turns really really quickly on Agatha and viciously. And they literally just rode broomsticks where it's mentioned it's "about selflessness" and "we fly together or not at all". I mean yeah the people might lie but they were enough of a team that the magic for the broomsticks worked.

The trial's instruction was to just "punish Agatha"? That's oddly specific and pointed. Previous trials had the entire coven in danger (e.g. everyone had to drink the poison). Between this and the above point it feels like someone is mad at Agatha for killing lots of witches over the years. Some people like the Salem Seven.

The trials so far have tested the witch's ability in the craft (potion-making, protection) and how they work together. How does punishing or sacrificing Agatha align with the Road's test of "Burn and brew with coven true / And glory shall be thine" -- which we were just reminded of last week.

Jen calling and dismissing Billy as a familiar is... more mean-ness that I'd expect. You could make a case for her disliking Agatha, but the amount of venom in this moment towards the boy for trying is surprising considering she was trying to watch out for him not too long ago. Of course, it could be her frustration and fear in that moment boiling over.

Pretty much everything at the end after Billy snapping and going all dark and vengeful.

Ultimately we don't know what the Salem Seven can do. Sure they shriek like Nazgûl but turning into animals isn't the most threatening thing? So, bad writing and copium or is this show being truly tricksy and reality-bending?

[starless-nightz]

Remember me

note -> ACT 3 SPOILERS!!! I am NOT okay!

parts -> part one | [part two]

pairing -> Jinx X fem! reader, platonic! Isha X fem! reader

summary -> You will always remember them.

warnings -> mentions of death.

content includes -> angst, death, suicidal thoughts, Vi and Ekko appear.

Life with Jinx and Isha felt perfect in a way you never thought possible.

The three of you spent most of your days hidden away in your workshop or Jinxs lair because of her wanted status. But you never minded it. If anything, you cherished the quiet moments the three of you shared.

Your days together were filled with laughter and creativity—tinkering with inventions, sketching out wild ideas, and playing games that felt like they belonged in a world far kinder than Zaun.

On rare occasions, you’d venture out into the Undercity together, blending into its chaos and finding moments of joy in its grim corners.

And at night, when everything settled, you’d find yourself lying between them. Isha’s small frame curled up beside Jinx, and Jinx’s breath soft, her head laying on your shoulder.

You’d look at them, the two people who had somehow become your entire world, and feel a warmth in your chest.

In those moments, you let yourself believe it could last. That the three of you could stay like this forever—safe, whole, and happy.

But Zaun isn't a place for dreams.

And you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

————

It all happened so fast.

In one moment you were fighting alongside Jinx and in the next Isha was running towards Vander, Jinxs gun held tightly in her small hands.

You knew what she was going to do as she put two more hextech gemstones in the gun, and Jinx knew it very well too.

You two tried to get to her, calling out her name, trying to stop her from doing it, but you two were stopped by Vi, pulling you both back as you two despreatly called for the little girl.

The only thing you could do in that moment was watch as Isha shot a finger gun at you two before firing the real gun upwards, closing her eyes, feeling at peace knowing she was protecting you two.

And your world slowly started shattering into tiny pieces.

————

You knew you couldn't do anything.

You know you couldn't save her.

Jinx has already accepted her fate a long time ago, she wasn't scared of death and she made peace with it.

"Always with you sis." Jinx said as Vi tried to pull her up. Jinx quickly removed the hextech gemstone from Vis gauntlets, making them power off and letting Jinx go.

Jinx looked at you with a small smile on her face as she started fallling. You screamed her name as you watched her fall before an explosion went off.

And in that moment your whole world shattered into tiny pieces.

————

"Is there anything so undoing as a family?" you whispered, your words barely audible over the soft hum of Piltover below.

Your knees were brought up close to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them as your fingers absently traced the jagged edges of the bomb's shattered metal head of the bomb that had taken her life.

Vi and Ekko sat beside you in silence, their gazes fixed on the distant glow of the city. Neither of them said a word, and you couldn't bring yourself to fill the void.

They didn't know you well, not really; just a shared face in their grief, a faint reflection of their own shattered hearts. But in this moment, words didn't matter.

Each one of you had lost the most significant person in your life that day. A single point of light went out in a way that no amount of tears, anger, or revenge would ever balance.

Jinx was gone.

And nothing would ever bring her back.

————

You knew your couldn't bring Jinx and Isha back, you know that the hole in your heart will never disappear.

You stood in Jinxs destroyed lair, holding onto one of her explosions as you looked down into the abyss.

You didn't want to live anymore, there was no reason for you to be alive. The only two people that made your life worth living for were gone, and you couldn't bring them back.

You wanted to end your life.

But before you could leap from the ledge a voice stopped you, making your ears perk up.

"Whatcha doing, toots?"

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. New video for the Merc team and they rope the couple to answer questions in This or That. Which seems to be an instant hit among the internet. Feat their son, Jack. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Unscripted Moments

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, feat. Jack

Word count: 1.4k

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The sun was bright over Brackley as the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzed with activity. It was a special day—media day, where the team filmed content for their social media channels and sponsors. Among the lineup of activities, one stood out as a highlight: a “This or That” video featuring the Team Principal, Toto Wolff, and his wife, Y/n. To add an extra dose of charm, their young son, Jack, would join them.

The idea had been floated around for weeks. Fans adored Toto’s serious, calculated demeanor in the paddock, but whenever he appeared with Y/n and Jack, a different side of him came to life—one full of warmth, humor, and a little bit of mischief. The media team knew this would be gold, a perfect blend of light-hearted fun and family love that would resonate deeply with fans around the world.

As the day began, Y/n and Jack arrived at the headquarters, warmly greeted by the staff. Y/n was no stranger to the world of Formula 1; she had stood by Toto’s side through every victory and defeat, offering her unwavering support. Today, however, was different. It wasn’t just about the cars, the team, or the strategy. It was about their family.

Jack, bouncing with excitement, held onto Y/n’s hand as they made their way to the set. The production crew had transformed one of the spacious lounges into a cozy, living room-like setting. There were plush sofas, soft throw pillows, and a few framed photos of the Mercedes cars in action, giving the room a personal touch.

Toto, already on set, was talking to the director when Y/n and Jack walked in. His face lit up at the sight of them. “There’s my little man!” he exclaimed, scooping Jack up in his arms. Jack giggled, his tiny arms wrapping around his father’s neck.

Y/n watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. Toto was always busy, always on the go, but when it came to his family, he made sure they knew they were his top priority.

“Ready for this?” Toto asked, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of playfulness. He leaned in to kiss Y/n softly, his free hand resting on the small of her back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied with a grin, adjusting the collar of Toto’s shirt before smoothing down Jack’s hair. “Jack’s been practicing his answers all morning.”

Jack beamed proudly. “I’m going to say ‘Airplane!’ every time,” he declared, which made both his parents laugh.

The director clapped his hands together, signaling the start of the shoot. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. Y/n, Toto, Jack—you’re the stars today.”

The family settled into their seats, with Toto in the middle, Y/n on his right, and Jack perched comfortably on his lap. The cameras zoomed in, capturing the easy, loving dynamic between them. Toto’s arm rested casually behind Y/n, his hand occasionally brushing against her shoulder, while Jack fiddled with the buttons on Toto’s shirt, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Okay, first question,” the producer said, his voice lively. “Coffee or Tea?”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. “Tea, definitely.”

Toto shot her a mock-surprised look. “Tea? Really? I’ve been making you coffee every morning for years, and now you tell me you prefer tea?”

Y/n laughed, nudging him playfully. “You make it so well, I couldn’t break your heart by saying anything.”

Toto chuckled, shaking his head. “And all this time I thought I was being the perfect husband.”

“You are,” Y/n reassured him, leaning into his side. “Just with slightly misguided caffeine choices.”

The camera caught every bit of the banter, from Toto’s faux shock to Y/n’s playful smile. Jack, sensing the mood, contributed his own answer with a loud “Juice!” which earned a burst of laughter from everyone on set.

“Juice is a valid choice,” Toto said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “But only when Mum’s not looking.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “Are you encouraging our son to sneak juice?”

Toto’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Only in emergencies,” he quipped, which caused Y/n to roll her eyes in mock exasperation.

The questions kept coming, and so did the laughs. “Mountains or Beach?” was next, and Y/n immediately answered, “Beach. There’s nothing like the sound of waves and the feeling of sand between your toes.”

Toto nodded thoughtfully. “True, but the mountains have their own charm. The peace, the quiet... Perfect for a getaway.”

“Perfect for escaping emails and phone calls, you mean,” Y/n teased.

“Exactly,” Toto admitted with a grin. “But honestly, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you two.”

The sweet comment made Y/n blush slightly, and the crew couldn’t help but let out a collective “aww.” Jack, who had been listening intently, chimed in with “Airplane!” again, sticking to his plan, which sent everyone into fits of laughter.

“Looks like Jack is sticking to his guns,” the producer said, still chuckling. “How about we change it up a bit? Dogs or Cats?”

“Dogs,” Y/n and Toto answered simultaneously, their voices merging into one. They exchanged amused looks, both remembering the countless times they’d been charmed by stray dogs during their travels.

“Especially the time we tried to bring one home from Monaco,” Y/n reminisced, her eyes sparkling.

Toto nodded. “That dog was convinced we were meant to adopt him. He followed us everywhere.”

“And he almost ended up in our suitcase,” Y/n added with a laugh.

“Jack would have loved him,” Toto said, glancing down at his son, who was now pretending to be a dog, barking softly.

“Maybe one day,” Y/n mused, resting her head on Toto’s shoulder.

The producer, sensing the perfect segue, moved on to the next question. “Formula 1 or Football?”

This one took a moment. Y/n grinned, knowing where her loyalties lay. “Formula 1, of course. How could I choose anything else when I’m married to this guy?”

Toto smiled, a bit bashful under the attention. “I’d have to agree, but,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I do enjoy a good football match. Just don’t let the drivers know.”

The cameras caught the playful exchange, the way Y/n playfully nudged Toto, the fond look in Toto’s eyes as he gazed at her. Jack, meanwhile, shouted “Cars!” in a burst of excitement, once again steering the conversation back to his favorite subject.

“You know what, Jack?” Toto said, shifting his son slightly so he was facing the camera. “One day, you’ll be in one of those cars, and I’ll be on the pit wall cheering you on.”

Jack’s eyes widened with delight at the idea. “Really, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” Toto replied, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “But first, you have to promise Mum and me that you’ll always have your juice.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head at the promise. “That’s one way to secure his focus.”

The producer smiled, flipping to the final card. “Morning person or night owl?”

Y/n and Toto looked at each other, this time with more serious expressions, though still laced with affection. “Night owl,” Y/n said with a knowing smile.

“I’m a morning person,” Toto countered, “though I’ve learned to appreciate the night more because of you.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing. “You’re sweet. But you have to admit, some of our best conversations happen late at night, after Jack’s asleep, when it’s just the two of us.”

Toto nodded in agreement, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. Those are the moments I cherish most. Even if it means less sleep.”

Jack, who had been listening carefully, suddenly yawned, earning another round of laughter from the crew. “Looks like someone’s not quite sure if he’s a morning person or a night owl yet,” Y/n said, wrapping her arm around Jack and drawing him close.

The session wrapped up soon after, with the family exchanging warm goodbyes with the crew. As they walked off the set, hand in hand, the cameras continued to roll, capturing those unscripted moments that showed just how close-knit the Wolff family truly was.

When the video was finally released, it was an instant hit. The internet exploded with love for the Wolff family, with fans praising their natural chemistry and the way they made every moment feel genuine and full of heart. Jack became an overnight sensation, with his “Airplane!” answer and infectious smile winning the hearts of millions.

“More Wolff family content, please!” was a common comment, along with “Jack is the real MVP!” and “Toto and Y/n are couple goals!”

[anaconamor]

telepathy - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: business is business. what happens when certain business is now in a twist when a new stranger comes along? let alone when there’s tension with your now boss who’s a very known stranger in the past?

wc: 7.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist | part one

psa 🗣️: phewww it’s been a while since i made a long fic, but it’s a christmas miracle!! here’s part two to the long awaited ceo! jude fic!! this fic does contain smut so minors dni!! 🔞 like always i hope you enjoy!! 🤍 i do apologize in advance for any spelling errors…

“let’s call a twenty-minute break, i need to rest my eyes for a bit,” your co-worker called out, everyone in the room letting out a despaired sigh of relief. you push your glasses up, grab your water bottle and wallet, walking out the room to the nearest vending machine to buy snacks. you greet some employees as you pass, twisting the cap to refill with ice and water. 

by instinct, you turn your head to the side looking at the huge double doors that lead to his office. you see him on an appeared work call, frustrated as he speaks loudly and with his hands, brows pulled in with a tiny frown playing on his lips. he hangs up, writing a quick note before looking up and locking eyes with you. taken at back you looked away quickly, focusing on how you almost overfilled your water bottle. 

you quickly pay for some cookies and salty crisps, avoiding how you feel a pair of eyes following you as you return to the workroom. you trip on the tiny door frame as you look back to jude, feeling two arms holding you steady, a quick thank you escaping your lips at your clumsiness. “sorry that was my fault, i wasn’t looking straight,” you laugh off. 

“it’s all good! don’t stress it can happen to anyone. i blame this doorframe for making it have a step,” the stranger jokes, looking up to see a guy dressed in a white tee and leather jacket combo, dark wash jeans, and a pair of sneakers. very much giving book-coded. “i-i didn’t catch your name? i’m matt,” the green-eyed man extends your hand, and you shake it out of respect. 

“i’m y/n, it's very nice to meet you,” you smile and walk off not thinking much of it since he was either new or already worked here. you open your crips offering your friends around the room, sipping on your water as you hear lilly say something, “oh you met the new guy! that’s matt, he’s joining us at the end of the year.”

“yeah i did, right when i walked in, he seemed nice,” you shrug going back to the notepad and crossing of the items you had done and highlighting the ones you wanted to finish before the end of the day. “you didn’t hear from me, but he apparently demanded to be hired,” lilly whispered raising her brows and pursed her lips. “demanded?” you ask curiously, thinking of jude right away and how he would’ve reacted.

“yeah! which is infuriating since we went through the whole process of interview after interview, background checks, and even a test! suddenly just because he’s a man and demands to work here he gets accepted? yeah, i don’t like that,” lilly stressed typing harsher on her keyboard. “well to everyone else he’s perfect on paper, but to us, he will have to get to know us for us to trust his word… we will see if he can fit in, we’ve become a tiny family,” you say softly sending a smile to lilly where she nodded. 

💌 — judebellingham@*****.com

Good Evening Ms. Y/n, I hope you are well. 

your eyes shot up, pulse-raising as it had a couple minutes ago. the email notification caught you completely off guard making you lower your brightness immediately and scramble around. 

💌 — judebellingham@*****.com

We have a scheduled meeting in 5 mins, just a quick update on the project. Your team members requested you to speak to me. 

💌 — yournamelastname@*****.com

Will do! See you then! 

💌 — judebellingham@*****.com 

I take it you met Matt? 

your brows pull in confused, wondering why on earth he’s asking this, especially on the company's email, knowing everything could be checked and traced back. your fingers hesitate to type back a response, not knowing the outcome or why all of the sudden you felt eyes boring into you. 

jude leaned back in his chair, seeing his latest email being read yet no response back. was his question appropriate? to HR, yes. but to you? maybe not so much. jude knew how you would read this in a different manner, but he couldn’t wait to ask. he saw how he stared at you, where his hands traced, how his smile wasn’t anything friendly and more of flirtatious manner. so yes, he was going to ask. 

💌 — yournamelastname@*****.com

I did! He was very lovely and professional! Great choice for the group!

while jude chuckled almost angrily, a knock interrupted his typing, looking up to see his assistant bringing in printed paperwork he had to sign off. he knew in a few minutes you were to step into his office, just the two of you. jude gripped his pen harshly, aggressively signing off with his signature, mimicking your words because he knew you were pushing his buttons. 

“your meeting with ms. y/l/n starts soon, would you like me to bring anything?” his assistant asked, stacking the paper and organizing them in the folder. “lock the door and just make sure no one comes in and disturbs us,” jude said, looking back to his screen and seeing you hadn't replied yet, rather met with a new email from a different company. 

“hello good afternoon mr. bellingham,” you spoke professionally, greeting his assistant as he walked out, the door clicking shut. your legs felt wobbly as you walked over and sat on the chair, taking out your notebook and your favorite black pen. “ms. y/n it's nice to see you,” jude smiled leaning back as he stared at you. “we discussed the course last tuesday as a group but to my understanding there were a few changes made, along with an update on the january project correct?” jude spoke, his voice stern and serious which intimidated you. 

why you? why couldn't someone else be up here right now?

jude watched you intensely, how your legs crossed, your fresh new set of manicured nails flashing and catching his eyes instantly, your voice soft but full of professionalism, your new hair now slightly shorter than last time, but what caught his attention was the new charm on your bracelet, the letter ‘a’ with a tiny heart on the bottom, something anyone could miss but not jude. 

his mind immediately wondered to what it could be, what it stood for, or whose name. question after question and theory after theory was driving him insane. “we believe the january campaign will be finished by the end of next week, and we would begin the february one starting the new year after the break,” you finished seeing his brown eyes on you. “mr. bellingham?” you whispered jude humming as he interlocked his hands and placed them under his chin. 

you grew more and more intimidated, afraid that you were just blabbering and not actually giving him the new information, or worse he disagreed with what you and the group were working on. you had confrontational issues and this wasn’t helping at all. the familiar race of your pulse, your stomach dropping, what was it that you were more scared of, him, or the idea of failure. 

“i told you to call me jude,” he said, making you almost roll your eyes. “and i thought i told you i wouldn’t because we’re at work,” you defended knowing it wasn't proficient to do so. 

jude squinted his eyes slightly before speaking again, “the new changes sound amazing just remember to be updating the timeline as you do and make your team aware that once this is done there no updating or fixing any longer. we delayed it a week because of the site crash but we can’t delay anymore longer. as for the january campaign send tomas with the contract and i'll sign it for my approval next week when i see a close-to-finished presentation…”

you nodded your head paying attention as you wrote on your sticky notes his reminders. “i will let the team know, thank you for your time,” you flashed a smile, gathering your belongings and wanting to rush out the door, not because you were uncomfortable, but the last time you two were alone he had kissed you and his assistant walked in. you’ve kept your respective distance since then, knowing you wouldn’t be able to control yourself around him. 

“what are your plans for break?” he asked suddenly, you paused your movements afraid to look up or even answer. you were indeed ignoring him, but not on purpose, maybe a slight bit. when it came to being around jude there was this indescribable tension, where no words had to be exchanged, just a single look and you both knew. 

since the shared kiss in this office, all you felt was the taint and taste of his lips. the desperation of wanting him back in your arms, and having nights like those from the past summer. it drove you insane, knowing you spent hours in the same building yet you were so apart from each other. the looks could deceive anyone but not you or him. 

you knew you were being naive and just trying to protect your image and his. though if word got out you had slept with the boss, hell would break loose. you were caught that day in his office, by his assistant, had it been anyone else you don’t know what would’ve happened. you let yourself be careless and free and it almost faced you with consequences. 

there was nothing more you wanted than to at least attempt a relationship with jude. but the partnership was risky business. being in here was already risky with his assistant knowing what happened a few weeks ago. how would people react to you and him? the rumors or just overall overwhelming sense of being judged? you knew yourself, and you couldn’t handle that mentally. 

“so far catch up on some well-deserved sleep, i’m also hosting a friendsmas at my apartment, besides that stay-in, no travel this year,” you smile at him, jude walks over and leans on his desk. “sounds like an ideal break,” jude offered back a smile handing you the folder you had brought, your fingers slightly grazing his. 

“and you? what are your plans?”

you didn’t want to be rude but the curiosity got the best of you and you had to ask. despite being CEO you pictured maybe he would also have some time off. “i have to work, but if i wasn’t i would go back to visit and spend the holidays somewhere hotter then this cold weather,” he said. 

you frowned, “not at least one day off? you need some time for yourself, especially for the holidays,” you almost insisted. you loved and cherished the holidays. the traditions, the lights and trees, the weather, the food, the time off for friends and family. you felt bad for him, he had expressed that summer how he appreciated the days he had off. 

“unfortunately not this year. my parents decided to travel for christmas and new years and my brother got stuck at work as well. the company is also behind on some due dates and i have to be here to make sure everything goes in order,” jude sighed, watching how you shifted your weight from one foot to another. 

from times you spoke with jude he never mentioned his family, hell even his friends, so this was definitely a surprise coming from him. he was always serious and only focused on his company's success. a knock on your door made you jump, your head swiftly turning to see lilly walk in, jude instantly scowled, standing uo straight. 

“i'm so sorry to interrupt but we need her back because the vender came in and were planning the host,” lilly said rapidly out of breath. “don’t worry we were done here?” you asked curiously, jude nodding, “let me know if anything changes, i will be here!” jude dismissed. you let out a breath of relief, lilly gushing “i know he’s our boss but damn that man is so fine.” 

if only she knew… 

the next week flew by quick, and before you knew you were having a christmas lunch to say bye for the break. you all pitched in to bring food and items, some warm cookies and hot chocolate, sandwiches, and fruit layed out. relief and finally some relaxation ran through everyone, knowing after a long couple of months you finally got some well deserved rest. 

the encounter with jude didn’t leave your mind, in fact it kept you up day and night. he wasn’t in the office apparently due to some business outside town, but he sent his regards and thank you for our hard work. you often kept looking back to the empty office, wishing that maybe you could see him one last time before you all went separate ways. 

“what do you mean he was caught kissing someone? when was this?” lilly yelled, unable to control her raging emotions. “the jude bellingham? mr. perfect? he was caught kissing someone in his own office?” clarified julian, tapping his chin thinking, “where did you even hear this?” lilly asked chris. 

“it's could be just a rumor, for all we know it could be false. i overheard one of the 15 assistants he has during the lunch break today,” chris said nonchalantly, but your blood ran cold. it's as if you had seen a ghost or were caught again in his office. the same gut-wrenching feeling at the possibility of them knowing it was you. how could you be so careless?

“do they have an idea of who it could be?” lilly further asked and you were so close to shut her up, the walls closing in on you, and afraid that the sandwich you had eaten would make a reappearance. “they do know, but couldn’t say who because they signed an NDA. my guess its someone from this office or a celebrity. why would you force someone to sign a contract over a silly kiss? it’s weird,” chris continued, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite. 

“well, you guys know mr. bellingham, and his private life is completely private, if anything i don’t blame him. the world he’s in, all eyes on you watching your every move, its very eerie. a small slip up like that can cost him many ups and downs, so we shouldn’t even be discussing or else were next on that NDA contract,” julian defended, yet all you could do was stay silent. 

you trail your thoughts to that day, remembering how his assistance almost begged for forgiveness and swore he wouldn't say anything. the fury look on jude’s face but also the concern he had knowing every thought raced your mind. the fact you were new, your first real corporate job, the consequence of already fucking up your career because you let yourself be careless. over a damn kiss. 

your muscles tightened yet your hands shaked, you were angry not only at yourself but also the assistant who lied to his face and yours, knowing you were in jeopardy if people looked into it. you didn’t know how many people he had told during lunch or if had told other people in the past. the nerves and fear at everyone poking fingers at you worrying you. 

“i really want to know who it is! this is gonna keep me up at night because it happened here! right where we work,” lilly groaned sitting down and pushing her glasses up. the five of you looked at the door when someone knocked and walked inside. “hi everyone, i just came by to sign off the rest of my paperwork but i wanted to properly introduce myself, i’m matt!” the same guy who you accidentally bumped into last week walked in. 

“it's very nice to meet you, we hope everything went well and smoothly?” lilly said sarcastically, to which matt nodded, “very smoothly, i expected it to be difficult but they worked with me and what i was looking for.” you rolled your eyes a part inside you was glad he came in so the focus shifted around him rather than the kiss. 

“must be nice, no?” you offered a fake smile, you knew it was wrong but overall he was in the wrong for buying his way in. matt looked at you confused squinting his eyes and walking over to where you all stood by the cookies and sweets table. “what do you mean?” he smiled confidently. it seemed like you somehow manifested it, because before you could respond, jude walked in. 

“sorry i’m late everyone, but we just closed in on the february term. don’t worry,” jude’s smiled dropped at the sight of you standing next to matt. what the hell is he doing here? jude thought but gained focus again, “don’t worry this will all be planned once you come back, just wanted to pop in person to thank you for your incredible hard work and wish you all happy holidays!” 

jude would be lying if he said he hadn’t been rushing. he was called into a meeting on the other side of town to confirm and present details about a case, but all he could think of was you, and not being able to say bye. he knew it was the holiday party today and he wanted to get a last goodbye. he wore his best suit and favorite tie. 

yet that same jealousy feeling returned when he’d seen you with matt, he needed to keep his cool but this guy was already getting onto his guts. 

“thank you mr.bellingham, it’s been a pleasure, please help yourself to some cookies if you please,” lilly offered and he gladly took some. you distanced yourself from matt and pretended to grab your items, giving the message you were headed out. “ju- mr.bellingham, do you think i can speak to you really quick, it's about the project,” you lied, wanting to be alone and explain to him the situation. 

“sure follow me!”

“what’s up?” asked jude, his body language more relaxed as he unlocked his office. you waited till the door shut fully, “they know. they know about what happened,” you deadpanned, jude froze looking up and seeing your wild eyes. “how do they know? what do you mean by that?” jude whispered loudly. 

“chris was telling us how he overheard your assistant talking about it during their lunch break. i don’t want to seem like a tater tale but i’m scared jude… i’m scared about people finding out it was me,” you whimpered your eyes glossy as tears began to brim your eye sight. the anxiety getting to much and having no other option than to break down right here infront of him. 

“ssh it’s okay, listen it’s okay! i’ll take care of it,” jude ushered you, bringing you into his embrace, a quiet sob escaping your lips. “it’s not okay! jude people know what happened here. they know what took place because someone caught us, that person went around after they signed a contract and told people,” you tried to explain with a heavy heart and knot in the back of your throat. 

“i know that baby, i know you’re scared, but you just have to trust me on this one and that i will handle it. i’m giving you my word that nothing will happen to you. i know how hard you’ve worked for to be here, i won’t let this be the end of your career. just trust me,” and just like that his voice soothed you, just as it once did in the almafi coast. 

“just let me handle it.”

“jude we can’t. i know you wanted to try, well we wanted to try but it’s too risky. too risky for you, especially with the deal you signed off on, and too complicated for me. we’re back to square one, and i can’t threaten losing it all over this,” you spoke softly, jude stiffening, clearly not expecting this from you. just when he thought he could have you, you’re pulling away from him. 

“i can sue, you forget who i am.”

“do you not realize where that is going to get us? i am going to have to be present when it's what i’m trying to avoid. he knows who i am, if you threaten to fire him or even get near that idea he’s going to expose it all,” you exclaimed pulling apart from now a hurt jude. he stood quiet, thinking how you had a point but he wasn’t afraid of anyone let alone some assistant who was barely qualified for the job. 

“you should go… have an amazing break,” jude said after a minute in silence, you looked at him confused, still trying to find ways to help each other. 

“jude-”

“y/n just go,” jude stressed, your shoulders fell, feeling defeated and discouraged. how were you supposed to drop it and leave for three weeks and be unaware of anything? just wait like a sitting duck till you came back? you looked at jude who turned his back from you, removing his blazer, knowing he wasn’t going to say anything. you wiped your tears and walked out, not caring to say bye, just wanting to be alone to cry away the dread and sadness. 

your friendsmas was a success, a small get-together to just eat and chat, which ended up being amazing after the sorrowful week you had. you couldn’t sleep, as the conflict taunted you, being reminded that people out there knew what had happened. and you just had to wait. sadness turned to being impatient, impatient turned to anger, and that anger led to frustration. 

you wanted to know what he was doing if he truly was just working like he said. to see how he was solving the issue. you just wanted to be with him. this time alone made you realize maybe he was right, maybe you just had to trust him and see where things went. you couldn't just think of the worse, but the worse was already done. 

“y/n please tell us you're gonna go out! it’s saturday and we traveled all down here to be with you. you can’t stay here,” your best friend pleads for the third time, and you have no reason other to cave in, knowing they would take no for an answer. “now hurry your ass up we leave in an hour.”

a long sleeve black lace top, and a black denim mini skirt with boots, with makeup and hair done, you walked together downtown to where they wanted to go clubbing. it was a while since you last went out, so hearing the loud exhausts and smelling the familiar smoke of weed was like a deja vu. 

you forgot the adrenaline rush it gave you, the cool chills as they checked id’s and paid the fee. they wasted no time rushing to the bar and ordering a round of shots and drinks. you all stood near the bar, dancing sometimes talking as a mix of music played. it was a good vibe and you slowly felt yourself letting loose. the worries escaping as your favorite songs played and danced away with the girls. you didn’t want to drink much, wanting to stay aware of your surroundings in case anything happened, along with being sober enough to drive back to their place. 

“i need some air, wanna come with me?” you asked your friend who nodded, grabbing her drink and her pack of cigarettes for a smoke. “you okay? you were quiet during the dinner and at amy’s house,” she asked, the flame from her lighter lighting the cigarette. “just thinking, you know me. i'm a yapper but also an overthinker,” you giggled.

“someone on your mind?”

“yes actually…” you knew she would keep this confidential and take it down to the grave until you decided to tell the other girls. “i met a man last year, after graduation in the almafi coast. it was the best week i had. i mean like the best. we had sex, lots of sex, we went on small dates, watched the sunset, woke up together and had breakfast, danced, you name it. i can’t help but think, we also had this i don’t know? connection?” you spoke.

“and i am just now knowing of this? y/n!”

“listen to be fair, you guys ditched me so, it's your loss.”

“touche.” 

“never in my life have i met a man like him. he is straight out a book, tall, handsome, charming yet he  has this dominate side that just makes me,” you groaned in desperation, the flashbacks in your head not doing any justice. “i got too attached, and overthought what we had. we lived different lives, he had this quota status while i just had finished school. he was already successful while i just began my path to find future me. so i left…”

“you left? what do you mean you left?”

“while he was out doing a meeting, i managed to sneak out, i left him a letter and i apologized…i was scared, i felt like i wouldn’t ever be enough especially with his lifestyle. i tried to be positive but all i kept picturing was the absolute worst, i let myself leave and i regret that…” you smiled painfully as your friend stared at you with the biggest and widest eyes ever. 

“a letter? a damn letter? y/n you left that man hopeless and with questions unanswered. he probably blamed himself and wondered what he’d done! who even is this man! y/n i’m trying so hard not to smack you right now,” she took a smoke letting out a shaky puff. “that’s the funny thing, i ended up seeing him again, but under different circumstances…”

“meaning?” she said slowly. 

“i can’t and don’t want to say much, but we somehow work in the same place together… and he ranks higher than i’ll ever be…” you frown, thinking back to jude. jude here, jude there, you felt like he was everywhere and you couldn’t find an escape from him. a silent second was shared, your heat beating out your chest and head fuzzy from everything. 

“y/n… you should-”

“guys? come back in, we just ordered another round of shots! c’mon!,” your friend who was inside came out and dragged you back in. you gave your friend a pleading look to not say anything, and she understood right away. 

you felt two eyes stare behind you, and you looked back to ensure your friend was there, but instead those brown eyes that haunted you stared at you with a serious and tension gaze. your friend smiles and took your hand, as you quickly turned back and went to your group, this sense of uneasiness laying on you once again. why the hell was he here?

you downed the shot before they could cheer, not feeling the burn or bitterness from the lime and salt after. you tucked yourself away from his view, dreading being here, and wishing this instant you were cuddled up and watching a k-drama. “oh my god, new plan! let’s go to the jazz bar a few restaurants down from here! live music and drinks!” amy spoke, the group immediately agreeing, the wash of relief spreading through you. 

as soon as the tab was paid, you grabbed each other’s hand and walked out to the exit. luck was on your side as you made out with any complications or slurred walks. “y/n? where’d ya headed?” matt tugged you to the side, his breath reeking from alcohol. “we’re leaving!” you lied quickly and pulled away from him. it was enough seeing jude but matt as well? had you been cursed?

“hold on, hold on, why you leaving so fast? the night is just beginning, join me and my friends!” matt slurred, tucking your hair behind your ear. you pulled away, “no thank you, we’re leaving. have a good night,” you tried to seem nice as possible so you could avoid an altercation but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “c’mon i want to get to know you!”

jude who was back inside had been watching you the minute you locked eyes. was it really possible you were in the same place he was? or was it just a vivid image of you? it was you, dressed so elegantly yet seductive. he had replayed the scene in his office before break over and over. hating how the empty void in his heart wouldn’t dissapear especialy at the thought of you. 

the once loud music was no longer there in his ears, he was just enamoured by you. your hair, your smile, the way you laughed, yet you were being the same naive and stubborn y/n he knew. the same one from italy, from work, and the one now. he just wanted one more look of you. but you were no longer there. jude panicked, ditching the vip booth in a second and waving though the bodies on the dance floor to look for you outside. 

“like i said, we were leaving-”

when the fuck was this man ever going to take a hint? matt pissed him off more and more as days passed. and jude was livid as he couldn’t take a hint and continued bothering you. he knew you were smart but a man like matt was a attachment not even he could get rid of. with his stupid blue eyes and blonde hair, jeans so tight he cringed at the sight. 

“is there a problem here?” jude said angrily, you got a whiff of his cologne, standing still as he approached you closer and closer. “seems like you’re bothering her when she wants to leave… not very gentlemanly like from you, hmm?” jude got between you, bringing you behind him and acted as a shield. 

“jude it’s okay, just drop it, he’s drunk-”

“jude? what the fuck is this? why did you call him jude, when he’s mr. bellingham,” matt chuckled angrily, a hand waving in the air trying to get sense of what was going on. “oh i see, i know what is going on here! you're the bitch who was caught kissing him in his office! makes total sense now,” matt mocked, your blood running cold at the reveal. 

“watch your fucking mouth. you may not be sober but you need to control yourself,” jude spat angrily coming closer to him. “you can pull all the stunts you want in my building but not here where you’re gonna make a fool out yourself, remember it’s easy for me to call off this stupid contract,” jude sneered. “i should’ve known the second you two were alone, the boss and his employee, what a coincidence! no wonder you got the job, you slept with him and now you’re here!” 

you don't see jude’s next move, all you see is matts face twisting with pain as jude punched him straight and square on his jaw, immediately towering over him when matt gained consciousness and threw a punch back. your body froze, watching the scene play out as they man handled each other, before feeling your friends drag you away and ask if you were okay. “who the fuck was that?” your friend asked, looking back as a chill ran down your spine. 

“my boss.” 

it was the afternoon, having slept in till late from the vents that took place, thankful you were alone after having complained. you weren’t in the mood to speak to anyone or yet be interrogated by your friends. all you said that it was your boss and a random guy who was trying to bother you. despite it all, you still wanted to protect and cherish the tiny bits of jude you had. 

you couldn’t contact him, not through email either, left wondering how he was and if the cops got involved. you felt guilty, guilty because of the mess that was created, guilty for leaving him when you most wanted him, and guilty for making yourself suffer like you had. if things had gone differently maybe this would’ve never happened. maybe you should've just walked away and let fate take control. 

this wasn’t a good image for either of you, and despite it hurting, the truth was bound to come out, whether you liked it or not. 

you looked at the clock, a brow raising in confusion when two simple knocks were heard at your door, followed by shuffling. you removed yourself from your blanket and took careful steps to the door, looking through the peephole and seeing a familiar set of curls facing you. 

you panic, running a hand through your hair, and mouth, adjusting your top and batman pj shorts. you silently yelp and get the urge to jump from either excitement or nerves. 

after a quick breather, you unlock the door and open to reveal jude, who stood in a black hoodie and pants, the soft boyfriend look reminding you of his normal side. not the harsh ceo, or business look, just your jude. 

“hi,” you smile, jude walking in when you open the door further. “i-i- was in the area, and i wanted to check in on you to see how you were from last night,” he said simply, as if those words didn’t make your heart jump. “in the area or did you see my file?” you taunt, jude scratching his head knowing he was caught. “both?” he smiled. 

“i’m doing okay, thankfully we got out of there, but i’ve been worried about you. i wasn’t sure if i could communicate with you, but i’ve been worried sick,” you admit, your heart slowly piecing its way together at the sight of him. “i’m fine, believe me i am, just a couple of scratches but i’m okay now that i’m here with you…”

you sigh deeply, jude pursed his lips, “i hate how we said goodbye. i felt like an asshole just pushing you away when all you wanted was reassurance. i hated seeing your smile drop and leaving you taken at back, i’m not proud of that,” jude confessed, stepping closer. “i’m attached to you, yet all we have is this painful distance. i just wanted to simply try y/n, i am not a man full of words but i almost begged, begged for you to stay. after you left me that letter i looked for you for weeks, imagine how i felt when i saw you in my own office?”

you stay silent, letting him know you were listening him pour his heart out. you weren’t going to push him away, you were tired of this miscommunication and back and forth. “you know what the hardest part was, watching you live your life knowing i’m not apart of it. having this idea that we could’ve been something instead were just known strangers who cross each other like nothing. i hate that you can’t be mine, i hate the fact you can’t even look at me in the eyes because you’re scared,” his voice broke. 

“what is it going to take? why can’t we just try?” jude pleaded. “because it wouldn’t be easy! i would hate the idea of seeing each other behind closed doors when all i want is to spend it next to you and not hide it. it isn’t easy when i have everything ahead of myself, everything i’ve worked hard for and you have it all already! I can’t easily say ‘fuck what they have to say’ because it does matter.”

“jude its been equally as hard for me as for you as well. you think i don’t want to try? that i don’t wish and dream were together in the almafi coast even if its for a day? i want to more than everything, i want to try but there’s so much on the line. people know about us already, and matt was just a taste of what would be headed our way if we did…” you cried, hating the feeling of your stomach turning. the idea of jude no longer with you. 

“i want you more than anything y/n, i’ve never wanted something so bad like this in my entire life. i have enough, i want to be enough for you. i want to show you the positive rather the negative that you envison, please just let me. i promise you there’s more than just the bad with me…” 

“jude…” you whine.

“we can work our way through this, i’m giving you my word. my all to you. please just let us try and we can be jude and y/n from that summer together… please baby, just let us try,” his hands reached for your, his thumb running delicatly over your knuckles. you caved in, you knew and felt like the whole world was at risk but you couldn’t care less. you also deserved to be loved, and being loved by jude was special in so many ways. not because of the status or money, but because of the tenderness and cherishment he laid. 

“promise me that no matter what, you won’t leave. i can’t lose it all and you as well jude…” you plead, and a smile of relief spreading across jude’s lips. i give you my word, i’ll even sign a contract for it, whatever it takes as long as i have you…” jude whispered along your lips, “no more contracts, just us,” you say softly.

“do you know how long i’ve wanted this? how much i missed this? how much i missed you?” jude said with a rough and raspy voice. your lips trembled, focusing on his lips kissing down your jaw, his hands running down to your hips to your ass where he gripped it firmly. “you denied me, rejected me, and wanted to pretend like nothing happened, what happened y/n?” he continued. 

“maybe i just finally caved in to what i truly wanted, and what i want is you,” you say breathlessly, his fingers burning your skin as he trailed them against your skin. “you bluffin or are you being serious?” he quoted making you giggle and press your lips against his, feeling as he smiled. “i’m being serious jude.”

he carried you to your bedroom, removing the tanktop you had on, “tell me what you want from me,” his voice low and groggy. you clenched your thighs, a hand running up his chest to pull him into a messy kiss, hearing a slight groan escape from his already plump lips. “i want you, all of you, all of you always and forever,” you say between the kiss, your one hand on his chest now palming him through his black pants.

jude stepped back, admiring you before his fingertips grazed your shoulders as he slowly removed both of your bra straps down, your chest revealing himself, he sucked in a breath, his eyes drawn to you, just you. “so fucking perfect,” his pupils dilated, leaning down to press a wet kiss on your collarbone all the way up to your jaw, a small suckle before catching your lips once again. 

every single nerve in your body is alive and active, awaiting jude’s next move as you helped him remove his hoodie and shirt. his tone and tanned body shinning against the warm light from your night lamp. there’s no space left when he crashes his body with your, lips tangled as he slowly places you onto your sheets. “i want to hear you, can you do that for me?” jude said, his eyes dark and full of lust. 

“anything you ask me,” you nodded, he smirked, jude placed faint and subtle kisses down the valley of your breasts. you shifted around uncontrollably, letting out small pants as he traced his tongue down your naval. he looked up ensuring you wanted this much as him, and when he got that confirmation, he slowly removed your shorts. “cute, took you more for a marvel gal though,” he snicked. “quit it! i didn’t expect you.”

your eyes fluttered closed as he blew cold air against your core, “so wet, just for me,” he kissed your clit softly, a small kiss that drove you to your breaking point and you were just getting started. jude’s tongue separated your folds immediately, drawing out a loud moan, your hand clenching your sheets as he continued his movements down and up. 

you almost lose it when he places the tip of his tongue right on your entrance, bitting your lip as you cry out in pleasure. you forgot how good he was at this. how he knew all your weak points and could drag you to there in just seconds. his heavy breathing and knowing he was enjoying this as much as you were made the thrill even bigger. 

the intrusion of his two fingers and licks against your core are enough to make your hips lift from the bed, “please jude, please,” you moan, your hand resting on the back of his head, so he doesn’t pull back. “can feel you, almost there for me, holy fuck y/n…” jude grunted. he dove back, wanting to feel you cum against his tongue, not getting enough of how sweet you were. 

you sobbed as your orgasm ripped through you, slightly embarrassed at how quick you came but it had been a while since you were with anyone. that last person being jude. he rode you out to the last drip, cleaning you up effortlessly, coming back up to press a small kiss on your neck before slowly undoing his pants and removing his boxers. 

his cock sprang out, hitting his abdomen as pre-cum leaked, you swallowed harshly, jude gently getting between your thighs and holding you by your waist, “you sure you want this?” jude asked, wanting to be a hundred percent sure, “fuck me, jude,” you said with confidence. he slowly entered you, your back arching and pressing against his chest, jude kissed your chin softly, watching your body unravel with his. 

“holy fuck, forgot how tight you were, how tight you are just for me,” he said lowly, pushing back his hips and thrusting into you. “it’s okay baby, just breathe for me,” he ushered, as you squeezed his girth. “doing so well for, always such a good fucking girl for me,” he moved his hips thrusting deeper as you moaned his name. 

jude's eyes squint close, his lips shaking a smile as you rub his cheek in full appreciation. he’s taking this slow, wanting it to special, he kisses you deeply as he began to move and thrust into you, your bed squeaking as you both stiffle out a tiny laugh. “go faster jude,” you whisper in his ear. jude lets out a tiny ‘fuck’ before slamming into you harsher and deeper. 

your moans mix together, eyes shut as you felt your pleasure become closer and closer. his thrusts move in a pace that has you wanting to see stars quickly, his skin burning yours with his touch and slips. “oh my god, shit, shit, shit,” you let out, jude smirking as he moved faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt into your bed. 

“you have no idea how fucking amazing you feel,” jude says, pinning you down, his forehead touching yours as you share a feverly kiss. his tongue entering your mouth and tracing yours, pulling back and fully blurred on making you cum. the closeness and messiness of your bodies had you overwhelmed with pleasure, looking away from him as it became to much. “eyes on me, i want to see you, see you when i cum inside you,” jude stated, and you obliged. 

“so fucking close, can feel you squeezing me, i know it baby, just cum for me,” jude praised you, and thrusted faster, making you squeal and clench your legs around him, pinning him down. jude was on the bridge of bursting, the intensity becoming unbearable. “there we go baby, cum, cum for me,” jude said as he felt you reach your climax, your body slightly trembling in shivers of bliss. 

you felt your walls coat with his warm release, his cock twitching as he let out pants of air. He kisses you one last time, enjoying the moment as you let the afterwaves pass. jude pulls out slowly, laying next to you as he brought you to his chest, his hands running down your back and soothing your slick and warm skin. 

“you okay? still here with me?” he spoke still out of breath. “i am? are you?” you draw small shapes on his chest. he grabs your face getnly and makes you face him. his thumb runs down your brows and cheek, “as long as i am with you, i will forever be okay….”

“be mine y/n…”

[isak-dot-gov]

Compact and efficient

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Short!reader

Word count: 1044

Based on this request.

My masterlist :)

...............................................

Living with Paige Bueckers had its perks—she was kind, funny, and always up for an adventure. There was never a dull moment when she was around, whether it was spontaneous road trips, surprise date nights, or even something as simple as cozy movie marathons on the couch. But one of the unexpected challenges of dating someone much taller than you was...reaching things.

You would think that after all this time, you’d have gotten used to it. You’d have figured out some clever system or bought a stool specifically for this kind of thing. But no, there you were again, standing on your tiptoes in the kitchen, straining to grab a mug from the top shelf. Your fingers brushed against the handle, but it remained just out of reach.

You huffed in frustration, glaring at the cupboard as if it were the one responsible for your vertically challenged situation. Why did everything have to be placed so high up? And why did Paige insist on putting things away in the hardest-to-reach places? You weren’t sure if it was intentional or if her long limbs just made her oblivious to your struggle, but either way, it was maddening.

Just as you were about to give up and make do with a different mug—the purple one that you didn’t really like, but could actually reach—you heard a familiar laugh behind you.

“Need some help, short stuff?” Paige’s voice was filled with amusement as she leaned against the doorway with that signature smirk on her face.

You turned around and shot her a playful glare, crossing your arms in mock annoyance. “You know, not everyone can be a giant like you.”

Paige walked over, her tall frame effortlessly filling the small kitchen. She didn’t even have to stretch as she reached up, grabbing the mug from the shelf with one hand and handing it to you with a mockingly exaggerated bow. “Your mug, milady,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. This was a regular occurrence between you two—Paige teasing you about your height, and you pretending to be annoyed, even though you secretly loved the attention. There was something endearing about the way she always came to your rescue, even if she never let you forget it afterward.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking the mug from her. “One of these days, I’ll figure out how to do this on my own.”

“Sure you will,” she said with a wink, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her side. Her warmth was comforting, and you couldn’t help but relax against her. “But until then, I’ll be here to rescue you from all those high shelves.”

You leaned into her, enjoying the closeness, the way her arm felt like a protective shield around you. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Paige said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Her lips lingered there for a moment, and you felt a shiver of warmth spread through you. “Teasing you is one of my favourite things.”

You groaned, but the smile on your face betrayed you. “I should’ve known what I was getting into when I started dating a basketball player.”

“Hey, you knew what you signed up for,” Paige said with a laugh. “It’s not my fault you’re so tiny.”

“Tiny?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow as you turned to look up at her. “I prefer ‘compact and efficient.’”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say.” She chuckled, giving you a playful squeeze before letting you go. Her hands lingered on your hips for a moment longer than necessary, making your heart skip a beat. “Anyway, what do you need the mug for? Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea,” you said, turning back to the counter. You tried to focus on preparing the tea, but Paige’s presence behind you was impossible to ignore. Even when she wasn’t trying, she had a way of commanding the space around her. “Want to join me?”

Paige smiled, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms as she watched you. “Sure, why not? I’ll even reach for the sugar for you, if you ask nicely.”

You threw a kitchen towel at her, and she dodged it effortlessly, her laughter filling the small kitchen. Despite her teasing, you knew that Paige loved taking care of you in her own way. Whether it was reaching things on the top shelf, holding your hand in a crowded place, or just being there when you needed her, she always had your back.

As you poured the hot water into the mugs, you glanced over at her, feeling a surge of affection for the woman who had become such a huge part of your life—literally and figuratively. It wasn’t just her height that made her presence so big. It was the way she filled every room with her energy, the way she made you feel safe, loved, and never alone.

“Thanks, P,” you said after a moment, your tone softer now.

She tilted her head, her teasing expression melting into something more tender. “For what?”

“For always being there when I need you,” you said, glancing up at her with a small smile. “Even if you make fun of me for it.”

Paige’s grin softened into a warm smile as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a hug. She rested her chin on top of your head, and for a moment, the world outside the kitchen seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

“Always, babe,” she whispered, her voice low and comforting. “I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, sinking into the embrace. In moments like these, it didn’t matter that she teased you about your height or that you sometimes struggled to reach things. What mattered was that she was there—always, without fail, making sure you were okay, making sure you knew you were loved.

As you stood there in her arms, you realised that while being shorter than your girlfriend might have its challenges, it also came with a whole lot of love, laughter, and—yes—teasing. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

........................................................

[stsgluver]

tags. gojo x reader, established relationship, fluff, non-sorcerer!au, you+gojo+geto+shoko all teens, slice of life

“move.” shoko tried to shove gojo off of the small bench in the photo booth, inadvertently almost pushing you off too as you sat perched on his lap. the blue eyed male gasped, his hold on your waist tightening as he shoved shoko back.

“don’t push me!”

you giggled at their bickering, geto rolling his eyes as he remained trapped between the wall and shoko's knee that was on the bench between him and gojo.

"this wasn’t designed for four people," geto pointed out the obvious. it barely had enough room for two so when the two boys had decided to crash what was meant to be a strip of photos of just you and shoko, it had been a struggle to even fit all four of you in.

it didn't help that two of you well exceeded six foot.

shoko scoffed as she pointed her thumb towards the curtain, "yeah gojo get out."

your boyfriend shook his head, dropping his chin down onto your shoulder as he whined like the child he was behaving as, "why me? baby defend me."

you patted the top of his head condescendingly, "i'm sorry but you're just too tall." whether it be his or shoko's lap, you knew you'd be comfortably in the photos.

gojo's head shot up and he pointed accusingly at geto who looked like he longed to be out of this tiny box that was way too hot. "he’s the same height."

"yeah but he’s not as annoying so he doesn’t take up as much space," shoko argued.

gojo threw up his hands at that, hurt by your betrayal and shoko, "that doesn’t even make sense!"

geto, having given up on there ever being a peaceful resolution between the two, paid the fee for the booth. he tapped shoko's arm (who was still standing awaiting gojo to move off the bench) and pointed towards the camera her back was covering. "the photos are about to start."

begrudgingly - and muttering several choice words at gojo - shoko settled on kneeling down on the metal floor. she held up a middle finger towards gojo who copied the action back towards her. you looped your arms around your boyfriend's neck, smiling towards the camera as the familiar shutter went off several times.

"that 100% only got my forehead," shoko complained and geto gestured for her to sit on his lap as you were on gojo's.

she agreed, quickly swapping positions. you'd dropped your arms from around gojo's neck so just before the camera went off, shoko leaned across, pulling you into a side hug as you both smiled for the camera.

geto had been alright and in view, laughing on the other side of shoko as she'd moved herself to specifically be in the way of gojo as an act of revenge for not giving up his seat.

"shoko ieiri!" gojo reached for her smoothed shoulder-length hair, messing it up by ruffling his large hand through it.

to no one's surprise, she did not take kindly to the offence and the next two photos went off with geto holding back shoko and gojo hiding behind you.

laughing, you quickly slipped off of gojo's lap and stepped out into the fresh air. there had been no screen to show you how the photos would come out, just a hope that you were all in the frame.

it took another ten seconds or so but two strips of the same four photos dropped down and you grabbed them without hesitation. shoko appeared on your right, peering over your shoulder as the two of you snickered at the awful photos.

the first one was the only one where all of your faces were visible; geto looked between shoko and gojo exasperatedly as they held up their middle fingers whilst you were smiling brightly. the second one had you, geto and shoko grinning whilst only gojo's forehead was visible along with his white hair that had been pushed back by his dark sunglasses.

the next two were a display of chaos - the first of the two had managed to capture shoko's less than pleased expression and gojo with his hand still messing up her hair. the second one then had geto's arms around shoko's middle whilst gojo used you as a human shield, trying to hide his large frame behind your much smaller one extremely unsuccessfully.

you slipped one into your bag and handed the other to geto who would probably put it up in his car behind the mirror.

shoko held her hand out towards gojo expectantly, "you're paying for me and yn to have another go."

[thefanficmonster]

Never Beating the Allegations

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A compilation of Colby and Y/N being far too obvious with their feelings for one another for the entire world to see. Basically, a YouTube documentation spanning several channels that marks the history of this goofy relationship

"It's fucking nighttime already, dude! We're running two hours behind schedule!" Sam complains through a smile, shaking his head at Colby who's trailing behind him with bags full of snacks. "All because someone spent those two hours scouring a store!

They're currently in Canada following the filming of a couple investigations for Hell Week with Kris and Celina. As Sam said, they were supposed to be two hours along the road back home already - a very tiny portion of their roadtrip back, seeing as how they didn't get to buy plane tickets on time. So, they settled for a two day roadtrip and the adventure it would bring on.

Colby, not at all bothered by Sam's accusations, smiles at the camera, "I promised Y/N I'd bring back signature Canadian snacks for her. There is no chance in hell I go home empty-handed. She'd kill me." As if to prove he is serious about his quest, he lifts the two heavy looking bags for the camera to get a better shot of them.

Sam's smile falters, replaced by a highly offended frown, "So you're telling me we're not gonna eat any of those snack on the road?" Colby - folding with laughter, mind you - shakes his head. "Are you fucking ki-...."

* * * * *

"I'm almost done!" Y/N calls out from her spot in front of the mirror where she's been stuck for the past thirty minutes trying to even out her winged liner.

A groan comes from a far distance but is still picked up by her phone microphone and is heard by the audience of Y/N's Instagram live, "You keep saying that!"

Not ten seconds later, the door is thrown open, provoking a laugh from the girl. She lowers her hand and takes her attention away from her reflection to pay her roommate proper acknowledgement. "Give me a second, sheesh! Can't a girl make herself pretty in peace?"

Although he never enters the frame fully, the live chat is already flowing with cheers of Colby's name. Whether it was wishful thinking or an educated guess on their part is a mystery. Regardless, they're entirely correct, their suspicions confirmed when they hear his voice and see his arm come into frame, his hand cupping Y/N's chin to tilt up her face.

"You're always pretty." He says, causing her to roll her eyes. At that, he boops her nose with his pointer finger before withdrawing his arm, "You have five minutes to wrap things up."

Y/N's gaze lingers on him until he's out of sight. She shakes her head and catches the camera's eye in the mirror reflection, "The audacity on that man. Tsk

* * * * *

@_y/n_dragonfly Fuck Valentine's Day @_colbybrock

Needless to say, the comments went wild, running with this post on Y/N's Instagram as unofficial proof of the ship the fandom seems to hold so near and dear to their hearts.

Hope dies last, after all. Maybe one day their ship might set-sail.

* * * * *

"Ok, so, update..." Colby chuckles, looking away from the camera he's currently holding blogging style to make sure he doesn't trip on anything, "We were supposed to go grab food before starting the investigation, but then...." He flips the camera to show the backyard of the abandoned house they'll be exploring tonight, "Y/N found a trampoline in the backyard."

As the camera focuses, both Sam and Y/N come into clear view - the former laughing at the latter who's too busy to care. She's too occupied having the time of her life on this raggedy looking trampoline, reveling in childlike joy as she hops around.

Colby sets the camera on the tripod Sam had left nearby, wanting to capture this wholesome moment, even if it didn't make it into the final cut of the video. Though he doesn't see why it wouldn't.

After adjusting the camera, he turns to find Sam has joined Y/N on the trampoline, far more hesitant than she is, though.

"You guys are ridiculous." He remarks as he approaches them, shaking his head with a bright smile on his face.

Y/N lands on her knees so she can be at least halfway at eye-level with her friend, offering him a beckoning hand, "Come be ridiculous too. Don't be a bore."

Colby scoffs and rolls his eyes. Still, he accepts her hand but instead of using it for support to climb up to join his friends on the trampoline, he tugs on it. Y/N lets out a little yelp as she's enveloped in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, unwilling to have a rather unpleasant encounter with the ground.

"Colby! Put me down!!" Put her down he most certainly doesn't, instead opting to spin her while securely holding her in his arms, eliciting mock terror-filled screams from her.

Eventually, he does get persuaded into joining her and Sam on the trampoline.

And the whole fiasco eventually makes it into the final cut and onto the internet.

And, inevitably, in edits.

* * * * *

It's an innocent, wholesome TikTok they filmed in the garden of the Conjuring house. Yes, the Conjuring house, no biggie.

Sam is the cameraman who much to his relief didn't even need to orchestrate anything. He just pressed the record button on his phone to capture the tomfoolery going on. The lighting is perfect, provided by the few remaining rays of sunlight before dark befell them. A little lighthearted fun was more than needed before they'd have to go back in the house to chat with spirits for the night.

The video captures Y/N in her natural element - dancing goofily with the pair of headphones they use for the Estes method on her head. The caption under the video reads: 'When the spirits drop a sick beat' and is quite the perfect depiction of the trio's dynamic.

Sam documenting the chaos. Y/N being the chaos. And Colby observing her chaos with heart-eyes from the sidelines.

Although Sam hadn't originally noticed his best friend's awed gaze accidentally captured in the video, the fans most definitely noticed. And, as per usual, they ran with it.

*sigh* These two are never beating the allegations.

@benbarnesprettygurl @jessy-shine @mushycore @richardsamboramylove55 @smuttiest-smuttt @honey-bees-13 @rei-ito

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This: Part One

Roman x black!oc

Warnings: language, fluff, smut

Word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was originally planned as a one shot, but i’m indecisive as hell, so i guess we’ll see 👀. also, tiny reminder but this is my first time writing fan fiction/ smut, so please go easy on me guys 😭

Zoe can’t fathom a better way of spending her birthday, this is truly all she could ever ask for. While she’ll never understand how she got so lucky to have Roman in her life in the first place, words can’t even begin to describe what this man means to her. Zoe in no shape or form is a materialistic person, yet somehow every year Roman manages to go all out and spoil her with shit she doesn’t need, but is still extremely grateful for.

And while this amazing day of shopping and sightseeing in Colorado is coming to an end, she’s exhausted and more than excited to get back to the hotel and gain some energy back before going out to dinner. She try’s her absolute best to ignore the fact that her feet feel worn out and in immense pain, her pride won’t allow her to show it, so she decides to keep it to herself. Especially, since Roman’s know-it-all ass told her not to wear boots with heels in the first place, but, she hates being wrong and would rather die than give him that satisfaction.

The walk to the car felt fucking eternal, Zoe couldn’t help but to sigh in relief once she was finally able to sit down. After Roman cut on the engine, he took a minute to study her, letting out a small chuckle, “I know you’re in pain baby, you don’t gotta hide it.” She immediately shot a glare at him, and rolled her eyes, “I’m not in pain, just tired.”

“You sure about that?, because when you came out of the bathroom earlier, I could’ve sworn it looked like you were limping…”, he teased. Zoe’s mouth dropped, and she playfully slapped his shoulder.

“First of all, I wasn’t limping. I was just very inspired by that Katt Williams show we watched, and decided to practice my own pimp walk…”

He couldn’t help but to let out a loud chuckle and defeatedly threw his hands in the air, “Oh so that’s what we’re doing huh?” One of the many things that Roman loves about Zoe, is her sense of humor. No matter what mood he was in, or what he was going through, she never failed to make him laugh. Roman knew her stubborn ass was lying through her teeth, but it was her birthday after all, so he decided to let it go and let her have this win.

The drive back was over an hour long, and while the beginning of the car ride was full of conversation and laughter between the two, the heater made Zoe feel extremely warm and cozy, which ended in her falling asleep.

When they finally arrived to the hotel, Roman gently ran his fingers through her hair, swiping some behind her ear, hoping he would wake her up without startling her, “We’re here, baby.”

“Shit, I don’t even remember dozing off,” she muttered. Roman smiled at her and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I’m tired too, let’s go take a nap.” Damn this man knows the key to her heart, she will never deny herself an opportunity of taking a good ass nap.

They eventually make it back to their hotel room, and as they are about to unlock their door, the fucking hotel key card starts glitching again. After multiple failed attempts, and seeing red blinks over and over again, they eventually were able to get in.

The first thing Zoe does when she makes it in the suite, is kick her stupid ass boots off. There is nothing she wants more in this moment than getting out of this outfit. As she’s digging through the drawer trying to find some comfortable clothes to change into, she suddenly feels his warm chest press against her back. He slowly wraps his big arms around her waist, his tall frame now towering over her. She couldn’t help but to let out a soft moan when she felt his breath on her neck, his prickly beard making his was down her collarbone, his soft lips showering her with gentle kisses. Her knees were growing weaker by the second, but as good as this felt, she wanted to talk to him first.

“Thank you, Roman,” she says, and before he starts to tell her she doesn’t need to thank him, like he always does she rushes and cuts him off. “Even though you never listen to me when I say I don’t need anything, the effort you make truly means to the world to me. I just wish you’d let me do the same for you.”

Roman turns her around to face him, he uses his thumb and index finger to gently guide her face to look at him. “Zo, I don’t need anything , I just need you. I need you to understand that there is no me without you. As long as I have you, there ain’t shit else I’ll ever want, or need.”

Zoe knows how Roman feels about her, but it’s something about hearing him express it, that makes her tear up. She grabs his face, pulling him in by his beard and kisses him. “I love you, baby.” He puts his hand on the small of her back and presses her towards him. “I love you more, but we should go take this nap before your ass gets cranky.”

…………..

Zoe was the first to wake up, seeing he was still in a deep sleep, she decided to quietly step away and take off her makeup that she shouldn’t have slept with in the first place.

As soon as she stepped out the bathroom and glanced towards the bed, she saw he was awake. Roman looked at her and gave that mischievous ass grin he gives when he's about to be on demon time. “Come here,” he motioned her over with his fingers, his hair was now resting on his shoulders fully out of his bun. His voice was groggy as hell from just waking up, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit how extremely turned on she was.

She wasted no time and climbed on top of his hulking body, straddling him and almost immediately feeling his erection through the thin fabric of her pants. “Looks like someone is excited to me,” she chuckled. “Baby, i’m always excited to see you,” he whispered, while lightly squeezing her ass. She began to kiss his jaw and slowly made her way down to his neck, making a trail down his chest and abs. As she started to reach for the hemline of his boxers, he flipped her over so that he was now on top of her.

“Nah baby, let me take care of you,” he growled. Before she could protest, Roman got up, took off his shirt and walked towards the foot of the bed. This had her slightly confused, but before she could ask why he got up, he grabbed her by the thighs and slid her down to the edge of the bed. His fingers gripped the top of her pants and underwear, she watched him as he eagerly pulled them down. Propping herself on her elbows, she was now staring at his hair draped over his tan broad shoulders.

Roman’s warm breath over her exposed pussy, made her more soaked than she already was. He teased his finger up and down her wet lips, causing her to instantly moan. “Mmm, daddy please.” She started to grip the back of his head when he stuck two fingers in, her hips subconsciously bucking forward once he started to curl them towards her g spot.

“Please what, baby?,” he groaned and started to pick up the pace, her pussy already dripping and squelching for him. “mmm p-please eat my pussy,” she whimpered.

“Anything you want baby, doesn’t daddy always make you feel good?” Roman flattened his tongue on her needy clit, and started licking and sucking on her essence. “You taste so fucking good baby.” Her panting becomes heavier and heavier as he feasted on her, almost as if he was starving. The combination of him eating her out and fingering her while hitting that spot, had her on the edge of coming.

“f-fuck baby i’m gonna come.” Her pussy was clenching around his fingers, he could feel it. “Come for me, right on my tongue baby,” he used his free hand to grip her thigh and bring her even closer.

Zoe, felt like she was on another fucking planet. As he brung her even closer, she used her grip on his head and started to grind her pussy against his face. “Just like that baby, give it to me,” he moaned. She let out a loud scream as her orgasm took over, her body jerked as Roman kept devouring her pussy while she rode her orgasm out.

“Such a good girl, baby.” He made his way back on top of her, and gave her a sloppy sensual kiss. Tasting herself on his tongue, made her want to come all over again.

While Zoe was catching her breath, still recovering from her earth shattering orgasm, Roman got up and brung her a rag from the bathroom and helped her clean herself. She watched him, eyeing his God like physique that she’s convinced she’ll never get used to.

Roman stood up and kissed her temple, “I’m gonna be on the balcony for an hour or so baby, I’m behind some meetings, so I gotta go make some calls.”

“That’s okay, I have some emails I gotta catch up on too.” As Roman heads out the back door, Zoe goes to sit at the desk in the corner of the suite and starts to catch up on some work emails that she’s been ignoring. Not even 15 minutes in, and she’s already bored out of her mind. She closes her laptop and decides to do something productive. Other than actual work of course, because that’s obviously boring as hell.

Boom. An idea hits her. Zoe decides that she is going downstairs to talk to the hotel receptionist, and ask if they can do something about their annoying ass key card that barely fucking works. She starts by tearing the room apart looking everywhere she can think of. Roman was the last person that had it, and as much as she’d like to ask him, she knows she can’t bother him during his important meetings.

The first place she thinks to check is his wallet, when she sees it’s not there she moves on to the next spot, which was the drawers next to his side of the bed. Fail. Shits not there either, and after scrummaging around the whole suite for damn near twenty minutes, she was thinking of giving up. And that’s when her memory hits. His fucking duffle bag. Roman tends to work out twice a day, and lately he’s been making sure to put the key card in his duffle bag before he leaves, simply because his over dramatic self can’t seem to let go of that one time he forgot it, and Zoe had slept through his phone calls and loud ass knocks.

Zoe goes to grab the duffle bag from the closet and opens it, she unzips the small pouch in the inside and immediately spotted the key card, she couldn’t help but to let out a small sigh of relief. As she goes to pull it out, something falls out and she hears a small thud. Looking down, shiny gold wrappers immediately catch her eye. She bends down and examines what turns out to be, two magnum condoms that are now on the floor.

Her mind starts racing, and she immediately begins to go through his bag. As she starts to pull his clothes out, she stumbles across an empty condom wrapper that had clearly been used. What the fuck. In this exact moment Zoe felt her heart drop in her fucking stomach, her eyes instantly becoming watery. She has been with Roman for over two years, and not once have they ever used a fucking condom. And it’s in remembering this specific fact, that sends her into full panic. She starts crying uncontrollably not knowing what to do, as much as she would like to go outside and confront his lying ass, the thought of having to look at him makes her sick to her fucking stomach. Who the fuck is he using these on?

Her chest starts to feel tight, and she knows she needs to leave before he comes back inside. Zoe puts on her coat and grabs her purse, throwing her phone inside it. She runs out of the room and gets on the nearest elevator as fast as she can. Once she makes it to the main lobby, she beelines outside and manages to get a taxi within five minutes. She quickly put her phone on silent, knowing Roman would call and text her nonstop once he realized she was gone.

Zoe doesn’t even have a sliver of an idea on what the hell she was going to do. The only thing she knew in this exact moment, was the fact that she had to get the fuck out of here, and fast.

[copper-16]

Mascot

Elena's first time getting to be Alexia's mascot.

(a/n: I feel like I'm on such a roll with these lol. Hope you all enjoy! Feel free to send more requests if you have more of Elena you want to see before I settle in to work on my next bigger project I have planned :)

Alexia had gone into the gym to do a few extra exercises after training, just to get a few reps in before the important game the next week. It was El Clásico in Barcelona once again, the day before her birthday in fact. She wanted to be prepared, she wanted to be sharp and focused. She was still coming back from her ACL, she was still yet to get back to the form everyone expected from her. 

The mental load was beginning to take a toll on her, and her birthday wasn’t really helping anything. Yet another reminder that she was getting older, that everything would get more complicated as tried to play whilst she aged. 

She was so focused on her reps that she doesn’t realize that Elena is standing in front of her until there is a tiny tap on her thigh, and she looks down from the weights she is holding to see that the three year old is peering up at her rather shyly. 

“Pequeña! What are you doing here my little love?” Alexia said sweetly, carefully setting the weight down before she sat down, scooping the baby into her arms and smothering her with kisses. The little giggles and laughs that Elena let out relaxed her whole body, and she felt herself smiling more genuinely than she had in days. 

“I…um…uh…I had a….a question!” The little girl explained, leaning back slightly as she reached up to shove some of her hair away from her face. It was sort of braided back, but a lot of the baby hairs that framed her face had gotten free, and now flowed freely in the slight breeze through the gym. Alexia followed her little hand with her larger ones, running it soothingly over the little girl’s forehead. 

Mapi and Ingrid’s daughter seemed nervous for some reason, and the midfielder furrowed her eyebrows a little bit, wondering what was making the usually outgoing and bubbly little girl so anxious. She looked quite concerned for someone who was only three years old.

“What is it Elena? It is okay, you can tell me,” she promised, her voice gentle. This seemed to settle the green eyed girl for a moment, enough for her to ask her question. 

“Walk out with you?” She asked carefully, her words clearly well thought out. Alexia’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline with surprise. Mapi or Ingrid usually never let their daughter walk out with anyone else, and she wasn’t sure if she could say yes. 

She hesitated for a moment, knowing what her heart wanted, while also wanting to respect her friends' boundaries. 

“PSSSST!”

The blonde turned her head to see that Mapi and Ingrid were peering around the corner, the Norwegian’s head over her wife’s as they leaned into the gym while not wanting to go into the room completely. 

Both of the defenders reached their hands up to give thumbs up, citing their clear agreement with the situation. Alexia felt her smile grow as she turned back to Elena, who was looking at her hopefully. 

“Yes! I would love for you to walk out with me!” She agreed easily, picking up the little girl and twirling her around, inciting another round of laughter and squeals as she hugged the toddler. 

Suddenly the game seemed a little bit more exciting, and a little bit less overwhelming. At the very least, she had something to look forward to. 

—

“Where is my baby!” Alexia announced as she all but ran into the changing room, throwing her bag down when she caught sight of Elena. 

“Tia!” She cried, running over on her little legs and running directly into the midfielder. The laugh that came out of the Barcelona captain’s mouth was more natural than anything, as she bent down to peel the toddler off of her legs and to lift her up into her arms, dancing her back and forth. 

Elena clapped along with the bopping the midfielder was doing, horribly out of rhythm but still joyful all the same. 

“Tía, Tía, look at my shirt!” She announced, pulling at the little Barcelona jersey she was wearing. Alexia assumed that it was one of Mapi or Ingrid’s shirts, but when she turned the little girl around it was her name and number plastered on the back. 

“You have my shirt! What, do you love me or something?” She teased in an overly exaggerated attempt to hide the emotion that bubbled up inside of her, and when Elena nodded enthusiastically, she tucked the girl into her to give her a big hug. Little arms wrapped their way around her and held her tightly, and she found that her nerves had dissipated for the most part, at least for now. 

Elena was passed back to Mapi for a while so that Alexia could get ready, and before she knew it they were getting ready to head out. 

Elena was passed back to Alexia, who held her hand very securely as they walked out into the tunnel, preparing to go out onto the field. The little girl was oblivious entirely to Alexia’s nerves, and she babbled about everything and nothing at all to her Tía. 

When Elena looked over at the Real Madrid team, she quickly noticed a familiar face in line, and before anyone could stop her she had turned her body entirely, calling out with a force that was rather surprising from a three year old. 

“HOLA TÍA MISA!” Elena called out as though Misa was not ten meters from her. Mapi and Ingrid were standing further back in the line, and the Norwegian had to hide her laughter in a cough while the Spaniard smacked her forehead with her palm. 

The goalkeeper was known for her focus before matches, and for her stony expressions when she was in the zone, so Alexia looked over almost in panic when Elena called out to her. She wasn’t sure if Misa not responding would make Elena sad or not, and what she was supposed to do with an upset toddler when they walked out for the match. 

But to her surprise, Misa’s expression broke at the sound of her name, and her whole body softened as she turned slightly, offering a small wave to Elena, her gloves strapped securely onto her hands. 

Elena’s whole face lit up in excitement that Misa remembered her, and she turned back to Alexia with a bright smile on her face. 

“That’s Misa!” She explained cheerfully, and Alexia pretended to be surprised, looking up at the Real Madrid goalkeeper, following Elena’s instructions. 

The toddler managed to keep them preoccupied until they were ready to walk out, and Alexia held her hand carefully as they made their way out. She had been sure to inform any photographer she could find that she really wanted pictures of walking out with Elena, and she could hear the snap of the shutter as they walked out to get ready. 

The crowd roared around them, and as Elena took it in while they lined up, she found herself hiding behind Alexia’s leg a little bit. She was clearly a touch nervous, and found safety in the Barcelona captain. 

It was one thing to know her goddaughter and love her, but it felt like another for the little girl to find safety in the midfielder. It had this ability to make her feel such warmth inside, and like suddenly football mattered just a tiny bit less. 

The blonde looked down at the little girl, her forehead creasing in concern. 

“Are you okay pequeña? It is okay to be scared, I know they are loud. But they are just excited for the game!” Alexia whispered loudly, pretending that she was telling the curly haired little girl a big secret. Elena looked up at her, seemingly holding onto every word she said as she watched her godmother, nodding slightly. 

She reached her hands up as soon as Alexia stopped talking, and the Spaniard easily picked her up, popping her onto her hip and adjusting her little jersey down over her stomach with a practiced ease. 

“Do you want to wave to the crowd?” The captain asked, and Elena’s smile spread as she reached her hand out, waving at everyone in the stands. 

There will be a picture for Alexia to frame, of the toddler with a big smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, while the midfielder laughed at her, gazing down at the little one adoringly. 

It’s only after the coin toss, which Elena helps with, that the little girl has to part from Alexia, so that they can play the game. The green eyed girl is passed to Patri, who begins to take her from her fellow midfielder before Elena calls out, causing Alexia’s steps to falter. 

“Tía Ale! Tía come back!” Elena all but wails, and for a second the game becomes obsolete to the Spaniard, who instantly turns back at the sound of the little girl’s clear discontent. 

“What? What is it?” She replies as she jogs over, and the curly haired girl reaches her hand up to her mouth before she runs over to Alexia, exaggerating a kissing motion off of her mouth and then pressing her hand to the Spaniard’s knee. 

“Good luck kiss! Score a goal!” Elena nods her little head at Alexia before she runs after Patri, who scoops her up and jogs them both to the bench so they can start the game. 

The Barcelona captain looks down at her knee for a second. The one the toddler had tapped was her bad knee, and even though Elena couldn’t know that, it felt a little symbolic. Her resolve to win strengthens as she sets up to play the match. 

—

Elena squirmed in Mapi’s hold as the game wound down, the Spaniard’s daughter knowing full well that it was nearly over. She had been subbed off about twenty minutes prior, and had collected her daughter from Patri to sit together on the bench, but all the little girl wanted today was Alexia it seemed. 

“Just one more minute!” Mapi laughed as the little girl let out a big huff, clearly displeased with that answer. She continued to twist and turn until the final whistle blew, and finally the center back released her, allowing the green eyed girl to take off as fast as her little legs would allow it. 

Ingrid was standing in between her and Alexia, and she bent down to receive her daughter, only for the little girl to drive by her completely, clearly not in search of her. Mapi, who had been trailing after her, laughed easily at the semi-annoyed look on her wife’s face. 

“Gosh, when did we become old news?” The Norwegian shook her head with a slight frown on her lips, but the brunette could tell her wife wasn’t really annoyed, not when they turned to see where their daughter was headed. 

Alexia was headed for the little girl just as much as Elena was running to her, and she bent down just as Elena made it to her, so that she could feel the toddler bury herself in her arms as she wound them around her in exchange. 

“You did it!” Elena announced happily, because the captain truly had. 

Alexia had scored a goal in the 79th minute of the game, and with the very leg where she had received a good luck kiss from the curly haired girl right before the match. 

“I did! And it was all thanks to you and your magic kisses, thank you so much!” Alexia gushed happily, pecking kiss after kiss to Elena’s little cheek as she held her tightly. The squeals and giggles released in response were well worth it, and she found herself leaning into the kisses that the curly haired girl offered in response, pressing wet little kisses to her cheek before she nestled herself further into Alexia. 

“Love you Tía,” Elena announced as she fisted one of her little hands in Alexia’s kit, and the midfielder was absolutely positive that her heart doubled in size at the words. 

“I love you too pequeña, always,” she promised as she pressed another kiss to the top of her head, holding the little girl securely to herself, rocking her back and forth.

[msriri030]

Daddy Ren X Mommy reader

“Are you sure, Ren?” you asked weakly, your voice rasping as you fought back a cough. You had recently caught a cold after yesterday’s sudden, unscheduled rainstorm. On your way home from daycare, you had shielded your two-year-old pup, Rumi, with your jacket, leaving yourself completely soaked. Now, with no cough syrup left in the house, your alpha, Ren, was preparing to brave the rain to pick some up.

Rumi, bundled up in layer upon layer of warm clothing, pouted adorably, her tiny body practically swallowed by the extra padding. She wriggled in protest, clearly displeased with the situation.

“I’m sure, Angel,” Ren said gently, adjusting the zipper on his thick jacket. “I’ll take Rumi with me so you can rest.”

You coughed again, your hand instinctively pulling your face mask into place. Meanwhile, Rumi nestled closer against your neck, letting out a soft whimper. You responded by gently nuzzling your chin against her black hair, trying to soothe her by scenting. She loved your scent of Honey covered peaches. 

Therefore, Rumi wasn’t the biggest fan of being away from you, a trait that either stemmed from her attachment to you—or, as you sometimes teased Ren, something she had inherited from her equally stubborn father.

Ren smiled at the two of you, a fond but resigned expression on his face. “Rumi, come to Daddy,” he crooned, holding out his arms expectantly.

But Rumi only pouted harder, burying her face into your shoulder as she glared at Ren with all the fierceness her tiny frame could muster. “No, I want Mommy,” she declared firmly.

Ren let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. When he tried to lift her from your arms, Rumi clung to your clothes with surprising strength for someone her size.

Ren sighed in mild frustration, though his smile didn’t waver. “You’re making this difficult, sweetheart,” he muttered under his breath.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene unfolding in front of you—the playful standoff between your determined husband and your equally determined daughter.

“Good luck,” you teased, your voice still hoarse from the cold.

Ren shot you a mock-offended look. “I don’t need luck,” he quipped, though his tone betrayed his doubts.

As the tug-of-war continued, you gently stroked Rumi’s back, murmuring softly, “Rumi, baby, you can go with Daddy. Mommy just needs to rest for a little while, and then I’ll be here waiting for you, okay?”

Rumi looked up at you with wide, watery eyes, her lips trembling slightly. “Promise?”

“I promise,” you said, holding out your pinky.

After a moment of hesitation, Rumi finally hooked her tiny pinky around yours, sealing the deal. “Okay,” she whispered reluctantly, her pout still intact.

Ren let out a breath of relief as he scooped her up into his arms. This time, she allowed it, though she continued to glance over his shoulder at you as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere. Before, she rubbed against Ren scent glands, covering herself in a mixture of mahogany and rose. 

“You’re raising a stubborn one,” Ren teased, adjusting Rumi’s scarf to ensure she stayed snug. 

You gave him a tired smile. “I wonder where she gets it from,” you retorted playfully.

Ren feigned a look of betrayal but quickly recovered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “We’ll be back soon. Get some rest, Angel.”

As Ren grabbed his umbrella and stepped out into the rain, Rumi waved at you from over his shoulder, her tiny gloved hand flapping against his jacket. “Bye-bye, Mommy!”

“Bye, sweetheart,” you called back, your voice soft but warm. “Be good for Daddy.”

When the door clicked shut, the house fell into a serene quiet. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, sinking back onto the couch. Even as the chill of the rain lingered in the air, the thought of Ren and Rumi venturing out together to take care of you warmed your heart.

Meanwhile, Ren drove carefully through the rainy streets, the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the car roof filling the silence. Rumi, bundled in her layers of clothing, sat snugly in her car seat, her tiny hands pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her wide eyes tracked a sleek black motorcycle weaving through traffic ahead of them, her small brows knitting in concentration.

Ren noticed her gaze through the rearview mirror and glanced briefly at the motorcyclist before focusing back on the road. “What’s wrong, Rumi?” he asked, his voice calm and curious.

Rumi didn’t immediately turn to him, her focus still locked on the motorcycle speeding through the rain. Finally, she murmured, “It’s Mommy’s boyfriend,” her small voice almost lost amidst the sound of rain tapping against the car.

Ren’s calm demeanor faltered for the briefest second. His eyes twitched at the word boyfriend, though his face remained carefully composed, a pleasant mask for Rumi’s sake. However, his hands betrayed him, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly through his nose to calm the growing frustration bubbling in his chest.

“Oh?” Ren said, his voice light but forced. “Why do you say that, Rumi?”

Rumi hummed thoughtfully, flexing her feet in her little boots as if trying to remember something important. “Because he gives Mommy roses, when we stopped at a red light” she said innocently, looking up at Ren in the mirror with wide, honest eyes.

Ren’s jaw tightened slightly, but he forced a soft chuckle. “Roses, huh?”

“Mhm!” Rumi nodded, her little hands forming a heart shape as she added, “Also sometimes he makes hearts like this too. Mommy said you knew.”

Ren’s grip on the wheel tightened again, the humor in his laugh strained this time. “Mommy said I knew, huh?”

Rumi didn’t notice the edge in his voice, too preoccupied with looking back out the window at the motorcyclist, who had long disappeared from view. She wiggled her feet again and added, “And he likes to call Mommy pretty.”

Ren bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his eyes glued to the road as he silently reeled from his daughter’s innocent words. He knew better than to jump to conclusions—this was a misunderstanding, a child’s misinterpretation of something harmless. Still, the image of some mysterious motorcyclist giving you roses and calling you pretty churned his gut.

He took another deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “Rumi,” he began softly, turning his head slightly to glance back at her, “are you sure you didn’t just see a friend of Mommy’s?”

Rumi tilted her head, her tiny face scrunching in thought. “Maybe…” she said slowly, then shrugged. “But he gave Mommy lots of flowers!”

Ren’s lips twitched into a faint, strained smile. “Well, that’s nice of him,” he muttered under his breath, though his tone carried an edge he didn’t intend.

Rumi didn’t notice, already distracted by the raindrops racing down the window.

Ren sighed, running a hand through his hair when they stopped at a red light. He shook his head, silently reminding himself to talk to you about this once he got home. Misunderstanding or not, he wanted answers.

Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of you entertaining any so-called boyfriend. As if I’d let that happen, he thought.

“Rumi,” he said, breaking the silence as the light turned green, “how about we get Mommy some flowers too? What do you think?”

Rumi’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands together. “Yes! Pretty ones like the boyfriend gives her!”

Ren winced but laughed softly, his grip on the steering wheel loosening at her excitement. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he said. Let’s see how these ‘roses’ stack up against mine.

When they arrived at the supermarket, Ren parked the car and sighed, glancing at the gray, rain-soaked world outside. The rhythmic drumming of the rain on the roof continued as he reached back to unbuckle Rumi from her car seat. She wriggled in her layers of clothing, her tiny arms outstretched for him to lift her. 

Ren realized that by the time they got home, it would be close to dinner, and soup would be the perfect choice to warm everyone up.

“Alright, Rumi, let’s make this quick,” Ren muttered as he hoisted her into his arms. She snuggled into his jacket, her small hands gripping his collar for warmth and comfort. “We’ll grab what we need for soup, get Mommy’s medicine, and maybe some flowers to cheer her up. Sounds good?”

“Pretty flowers!” Rumi chimed, her eyes lighting up at the idea. Her excitement made Ren smile, despite the lingering irritation from her earlier “boyfriend” comment.

Inside the store, the bright fluorescent lights offered a stark contrast to the rainy gloom outside. Ren maneuvered the cart with one hand while Rumi sat snugly in the child seat, kicking her little feet and gazing around the store with curious wonder.

“What do we need for the soup, Rumi?” Ren asked as they strolled down the produce aisle.

“Um…” Rumi tilted her head in thought, her expression serious as she pondered. “Carrots! And… green stuff!”

Ren chuckled at her enthusiasm, plucking a bunch of fresh carrots from the display and tossing them into the cart. “Good call. The green stuff must be celery, right?” He grabbed a stalk of celery and added it to the growing collection.

“Onions too!” Rumi added, clapping her hands excitedly.

Ren raised a brow. “Since when do you like onions?”

“I don’t,” she admitted with a cheeky giggle. “But Mommy does!”

Ren laughed, shaking his head as he picked up a yellow onion and placed it in the cart. “Smart thinking, kiddo. You’re gonna be a pro chef someday.”

Rumi beamed at the praise, her little legs swinging happily as they made their way to the meat section. Ren grabbed a small pack of chicken thighs, knowing it was your favorite for soup.

As they passed the bakery, Rumi’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Cookies!” she squealed, pointing at a display of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

Ren sighed, already anticipating the request, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, fine. One pack for you and Mommy. Deal?”

“Deal!” Rumi said with a big grin, watching as he picked up a small box of cookies and placed it in the cart.

Finally, they reached the flower section near the front of the store. Ren scanned the selection, his eyes landing on a vibrant bouquet of red roses. He hesitated, then glanced down at Rumi.

“What do you think, Rumi? Should we get Mommy these?” he asked, holding up the bouquet.

Rumi tilted her head, studying the roses intently like a tiny flower critic. “Hmm… they’re nice,” she said thoughtfully, “but Mommy likes those flowers too.”

Ren raised a brow in surprise. “ huh?” He turned back to the display and spotted a bouquet of delicate red chrysanthemum, which Rumi pointed to. He picked them up, holding them out to her. “So these then?”

Rumi’s eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! They are so pretty! Mommy will love them!”

Ren smiled, adding the red chrysanthemum to the cart. “Good job, Rumi. You’ve got a great memory.”

As they stepped back into the rain, Ren carefully adjusted Rumi’s hood, ensuring she was bundled up tight against the cold drizzle. With one arm securely around his little helper and the other balancing the bags of groceries, he made his way across the parking lot.

That was when he spotted the same sleek black motorcycle from earlier, now parked just a few spaces away. Its rider, likely the mysterious “boyfriend” Rumi had mentioned, was nowhere in sight, having already disappeared into the store.

Ren's lips curled into a faint, humorless smirk as his eyes lingered on the motorcycle. He didn’t slow his pace as he walked by, but when he was within reach, his foot subtly extended to the bike's stand. With a calculated nudge, he tipped it just enough to send it toppling to the wet pavement.

The crash of metal against asphalt was muffled by the rain, but it still echoed satisfyingly in Ren’s ears. He didn’t look back, his expression remaining calm and collected as he adjusted his grip on Rumi and continued toward the car.

“Daddy, what was that noise?” Rumi asked, her little head peeking out from her hood to glance behind them.

“Just the wind, sweetheart,” Ren replied smoothly, his tone light and unaffected. “Let’s get you warm and home to Mommy, okay?”

“Okay!” Rumi chirped, apparently satisfied with the answer as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Ren opened the car door, setting Rumi carefully in her car seat before stowing the groceries in the trunk. His movements were deliberate and unhurried, the satisfaction from his petty act still simmering beneath the surface.

As he settled into the driver’s seat and started the car, Ren glanced at Rumi through the rearview mirror. She was humming again, completely unaware of her father’s momentary lapse in composure.

Ren chuckled softly to himself, gripping the steering wheel as the windshield wipers swished rhythmically. “Mommy’s going to love the flowers,” he muttered under his breath, a faint smile playing on his lips. “And I’m sure she won’t mind if her ‘boyfriend’ has a little bad luck in the rain.”

With that, he pulled out of the parking lot, the faint sound of the fallen motorcycle’s alarm blending into the distance as they made their way home.

After you stepped out of the shower, warm steam followed you into the bedroom. You wrapped a soft towel around your damp hair and reached for a familiar shirt of Ren’s from the dresser. It was one of your favorite things to wear—oversized and soft from years of washing, carrying his comforting scent of mahogany and rose that always made you feel safe. Pairing it with a pair of shorts, you couldn’t help but smile as the fabric fell loosely over your frame, swallowing you in its warmth.

Ren’s shirts were a small indulgence you never felt guilty about, even if he teased you for "stealing his wardrobe." Truth be told, you knew he secretly loved seeing you in his clothes—it was written all over his smug yet fond expression every time.

With your hair still damp and loosely tucked behind your ears, you made your way to the couch, the cozy fabric of Ren’s shirt brushing lightly against your skin. You felt better after the shower, though the lingering effects of your cold left a faint flush on your cheeks, and you still felt a little drained.

Just as you wrapped yourself in the blanket and settled into the couch, the familiar sound of Ren’s car pulling into the driveway reached your ears. Moments later, the door opened, and you could hear Rumi’s excited chatter before Ren’s deep voice called out, “We’re home, Angel!”

Rumi was the first to burst into the living room, her little boots squeaking against the floor as she ran toward you with outstretched arms. “Mommy!” she squealed, her face lighting up like the sun.

You laughed softly, opening your arms to catch her as she practically leaped into your lap. “Hi, my little love,” you murmured, hugging her tightly and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

Rumi nodded enthusiastically, her black hair slightly damp from the rain. “Uh-huh! We got soup stuff and flowers and cookies!” she announced, her voice filled with pride.

Ren appeared next, carrying the groceries and balancing a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His sharp features softened when his eyes landed on you, his gaze lingering on how effortlessly beautiful you looked in his shirt. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he walked over.

“Look at you,” Ren teased, setting the bags down on the counter. “Raiding my closet again, huh?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing Rumi’s hair back as she snuggled against you. “I’d hardly call it raiding when you never even notice they’re gone,” you shot back, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ren chuckled, shaking his head as he approached with the bouquet of vibrant red chrysanthemums in hand. “Fair enough. Here—these are for you,” he said, his tone softening as he extended the flowers toward you.

Your breath hitched slightly as you took the bouquet, the fresh scent of the blossoms filling your senses. “They’re beautiful, Ren,” you murmured, your fingers grazing his briefly as you accepted the flowers. “Thank you.”

Rumi perked up at your reaction, her little voice chiming in. “I picked them, Mommy!”

You smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You did such a good job, sweetie. They’re perfect.”

Ren leaned down, brushing his lips against your lips as he whispered, “Glad you like them.”

He straightened and gave you a pointed look, his smirk returning. “So... about this ‘boyfriend’ of yours,” he began, his voice laced with faux nonchalance, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

You froze for a moment, blinking up at him in confusion. “Boyfriend?”

Rumi, oblivious to the subtle tension in Ren’s tone, piped up excitedly. “The motorcycle man! Daddy and I saw him again!”

Ren crossed his arms, tilting his head at you with a raised brow. “Care to explain?” he asked, trying his best to appear stern, but the corners of his mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a grin.

It took you a second to process his expression before laughter bubbled out of you. You clutched your stomach, unable to contain yourself as the realization struck you.

Ren’s attempt at amusement wavered, his brows furrowing as he watched you. His arms dropped to his sides, and a flicker of hurt crossed his face. “Why are you laughing?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with confusion. “Am I a joke to you, Angel?”

When you finally noticed the look of vulnerability in his eyes, you quickly reined in your laughter, a soft smile replacing it as you reached for his hand. “Oh, Ren,” you said, your voice warm with affection. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just... you forgot something important.”

Ren raised a brow, skepticism etched across his face. “And what exactly did I forget?”

You grinned, gently squeezing his hand as you teased, “You love to ride your bike, don’t you?”

His frown deepened as he tilted his head in confusion. “What does that have to do with—” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened slightly as the pieces began to click into place.

For a moment, Ren stood completely still, and then he let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair as realization dawned on him. “Wait…” he muttered, almost to himself. “You mean I’m the motorcyclist boyfriend?”

You nodded, biting back a smile as you watched his expression shift from confusion to something resembling disbelief.

Ren blinked, rubbing the back of his neck as he pieced it all together. “I bumped into you and Rumi on the way home that one time,” he said slowly, as if replaying the memory in his mind. “I thought I was being... cute when I made that heart with my hands.”

You snorted, covering your mouth to hide your laughter. “And don’t forget the time you gave me that rose. You wanted to surprise me, but it just so happened that we were both stopped at the same red light.”

Ren groaned again, his hand dragging down his face as a faint blush crept up his neck. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You couldn’t help but tease him. “So, what you’re saying is... you got jealous of yourself?”

Ren let out a long sigh, though his lips twitched with the beginnings of a sheepish grin. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled. “I really thought...” He trailed off, shaking his head as he looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement in his gaze. “You could’ve cleared this up earlier, you know.”

“And miss that cute jealous face of yours?” you replied, leaning forward to poke his chest playfully. “No way.”

Ren chuckled despite himself, pulling you into his arms. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You love it,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist.

From across the room, Rumi looked up from where she was playing with her toys, her big eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Mommy, Daddy,” she called, “are we talking about the boyfriend again?”

Ren groaned, burying his face in your shoulder while you burst into laughter once more.

“No, sweetheart,” you said, smiling at her. “Turns out Daddy is Mommy’s boyfriend.”

Rumi tilted her head in thought, then giggled. “Daddy’s so silly!”

Ren let out a defeated sigh, though the warmth in his smile betrayed his true feelings. “Alright, alright,” he said, straightening up. “I’ll take the teasing. But just so we’re clear, Angel...” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “I’m still your only boyfriend.”

“Of course,” you replied with a wink. “But you’ve got some stiff competition. That motorcyclist boyfriend of mine? He’s a real charmer.”

Ren rolled his eyes, but his laughter joined yours as he pulled you in for another kiss, his earlier jealousy melting away into fond affection.

[fungal-rot]

Daddy’s Girl

summary: this is actually a part two of Sweet, Domestic Life. i’m glad y’all thought it was cute bc i love joel having a happy life and being a family man (but tbf idk if i like this or not) also i’ve been reading writing tips and whatnot and even had a friend go over this for me (she helped so much) !! i hope you can notice a (good) difference shskdhakal

warnings: your child is a menace (affectionate), f!reader, reader is referred to as mama, the daughter is nicknamed ‘Bug’, so sweet it’ll rot your teeth, i also don’t know how to properly write toddlers lol

w.c.: 1k

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    A soft, content sigh escaped your lips as you sat on the bed, crossing your legs as you neatly folded laundry and separated each article of clothing into its own pile. Joel was not as contented; he chased your little girl up and down the hall, her high-pitched squealing bouncing off the walls as she scuttled away, and he followed in hot pursuit with heavy feet that thundered after her with every laugh and giggle.

You heard Joel ask with an accusing tone, "What do you have in your hand?" Your ears perked up, and as soon as you lifted your head, you saw your three-year-old come barreling in. With a wide, shit-eating grin plastered on her face, making her cheeks appear rounder, she held her closed fist out in front of her.

"Mama!" She hollered and rushed to the edge of the bed, her free hand gripping and fisting at the bed sheets as she clambered up the mattress and placed a tiny foot against the frame of the bed to hoist herself up, trying her best to reach you.

"Bug!" You exclaimed with a dramatic widening of your eyes, dropping the shirt you held, and raising your arms slightly before grabbing her and settling her onto your lap. Joel joined next and propped an arm against the door frame as his chest heaved from the chase he had just endured. His brows bunched together, but a playful smile stretched his lips, clearly thrilled to be a part of the game.

"Nuh-uh," he said with a shake of his head and walked forward, "Mama can't help ya." Then he reached for the toddler once again.

Your eyes narrowed as you were about to argue but stopped short as Bug screeched in your ear. The sudden noise made you recoil with a wince. Your neck craned to the side, and you arched your brows while you blinked rapidly and waited for her to simmer down.

After a minute, you tilted your head to look down at her, "You done?" You ask softly and tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear.

Her head bobbled in response, "Yeah," she sucked in her lips and shifted in your lap, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt to balance herself.

You nod back and carefully remove her hand from the shirt, preventing her from possibly tugging the collar too low. "Okay," you whisper, then turning back to Joel. You resume your theatrical act, cradling your daughter's head to your shoulder protectively as you give him a mock pout.

"Not so fast, Miller," you say dramatically, "You bein' mean to my girl?"

The little girl had her hands tucked under her chin as she peeked at Joel with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Your husband noticed this, of course, and shot her a lighthearted glare.

"If anything, she's the mean one," he retaliated with a vague gesture of his hand and moved to lay down beside the two of you. "Makin' an old man with a bad back and bad knees run around like that." He added, followed by a soft exhale as he brought his hands to his stomach and clasped them together.

You snorted faintly and observed him with mild amusement as he got comfortable. You then avert your gaze to the fidgeting child in your lap. "I heard Daddy ask what you got in your hand," you tell her, tilting your head curiously. "Wanna show me what it is?"

Her nose scrunched as she bared her teeth in a goofy grin and brought her hands from under her chin, splaying them open to reveal-

"Nothing?" Your head reeled back with a laugh. Ah, of course. She was getting her father riled up for the sake of it, truly a chip off the old block.

Joel chuckled under his breath, bringing a hand from his torso to rub tiredly at his face.

"Glad I've got my girls ta keep me on my toes." He mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as he opened his eyes again and glanced between you. Your daughter wormed free from your hold and crawled onto Joel's lap, her little hands splayed across his chest as she gazed down at him.

" 'S'a joke, Daddy." She explained, her shoulders bobbing up and down with a happy lilt in her voice. "Bellie told me." Ah, that would explain it. Joel couldn't deny that Ellie's favorite pastime seemed to be finding ways to get under his skin, and now that had also expanded to his other daughter.

" 'Course she did," Joel replied, flicking his gaze to you, his expression mostly neutral with a faint look of amusement. You noticed your daughter's lip slightly parted with a soft yawn, and her eyes dropped ever so slightly, which signaled the two of you that she was starting to get sleepy.

"Yeah, bein' a li'l menace is tirin' ain't it, Bug?" Joel cooed playfully and touched her back, gently lowering her to lay against his chest.

You watched the interaction fondly and felt your heart flutter.

You couldn’t deny it; your daughter was a daddy's girl through and through, always seeking out the time she could spend with him, running to him with open arms when he came home after patrol, and always being under his feet, which he would always welcome with equal enthusiasm.

You finished folding the rest of the laundry and gathered each pile, placing them in their respective spots within the dresser. As you worked, you listened as Joel quietly sang, "Bye, Baby Buntin," his words slowly trailing off as he did. You turned back to see the pair fast asleep, the two embracing each other.

A warm feeling rushed through your body, and you silently padded over to the bed, reaching for the comforter folded at the end and throwing it open. You placed it over the pair and gently kissed each of their foreheads before turning off the lamp, then snuggled in next to them and closed your eyes, savoring this moment of peace and contentment.

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sorry it’s so short ahh !! i just wanted to write something real quickie. thank you for reading and comments/reblogs are always appreciated <33