#what is a change key service

[al-mayriti]

quite interesting how the valencian government cut the emergency services and last october there were unprecedently catastrophic floodings there, and how the city of los angeles cut the funding for the los angeles fire department and now there is a catastrophic fire going on. almost as if there was a pattern going on here...

[themyscirah]

Reading shit comics kind of sucks but at least I get the satisfaction of proving my own point w this

[becomingkatie]

Came home from a weekend away to find out that when the catsitter said she lost her key and had to call a locksmith, he didn’t just make a key to fit our lock. He REKEYED our door so our own keys don’t work 🙃🙃🙃

[localgardenweed]

About to lose my shit over my shitty Algebra teacher cause i think he’s the devil incarnate cause he doesn’t respect kid’s 504 plans, there is this kid who may not always show up to class on time for some reason im not sure why but they try their best to catch up and work hard and they asked to send over and take the recent test they missed in a certain classroom and he was like “No you cant, you have to show up tomorrow in here to take it” when literally in their 504 plan says they can take it in that room no one can force them to take it in their classroom, but DOES HE CARE??? NOOOOOO. I think he was just trying to be tough or smth god knows what cause he has a huge ass power complex like dear god dude we get it you were a army guy but is yelling at teens really what you wanna do to feel that high of power again?? The kid then complained to the school and he got a ass whooping but sadly not fired and then the next day was pissed as hell and took it out on all of us 😍

he doesn’t care to actually help students at all, he just gives up on them if they don’t understand the first or barely the second time and tells em to basically fuck off and find someone else to explain it and i get it teaching is hard you might not be able to get everyone to understand BUT ITS LITERALLY HIS GO TO RESPONSE WHEN YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SMTH IN HIS SHITTY RAPID FIRE EXPLANATION WHEN HE JUST JUMPS FROM THING TO THING WITH NO VISUAL OR EVEN SENSE CAUSE WTF HOW DID YOU GET THAT ANSWER HELLO?? SLOW DOWN?? We were going over the study guide and he started doing a question and then realized half way it was “too hard” to do on the board so he gave up and kept going to the next question and a kid at my table who didn’t do that part pf the study guide cause they dont know how asked “Can you go over that please i don’t understand it” and his response was “im not going over it just to fill it in” and the kid said “im not asking to just fill it in im asking cause I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO IT” and guess what. HE DIDNT DO IT HE JUST IGNORED THEM AND KEPT GOING. YOUR STUDENT IS ASKING FOR HELP AND YOU AINT DOING SHIT. HELLO??? AND THIS ISNT THE FIRST TOME HE ALWAYS PULL THIS SHIT ALL THE TIME, GOD FORBID YOU ASK A QUESTION MORE THAN ONCE THATS TOK SCARY AAAHHHHH.

I hope all his classes fails and they fire his ass cause omg there has never been anything positive said about this man that isn’t from favorites/people who already are godly at math. The average student who’s had him HATES HIM.

Im really debating like cussing him out Thursday after my final cause i cant just walk away and act like it was a okay class no he needs to get fucking humbled at least see what he does is harmful and shitty and douchey. I dont care if i get in trouble im not gonna go down like this so many kids in that class have struggled cause of his ass not doing his job. And sure some of there are rowdy and sure some are a bit off task but that doesn’t give you the right to abandon them. If i ever kicked my own bucket he would be 5 of my 13 reasons why.

[asgardian--angels]

Planet's Fucked: What Can You Do To Help? (Long Post)

Since nobody is talking about the existential threat to the climate and the environment a second Trump term/Republican government control will cause, which to me supersedes literally every other issue, I wanted to just say my two cents, and some things you can do to help. I am a conservation biologist, whose field was hit substantially by the first Trump presidency. I study wild bees, birds, and plants.

In case anyone forgot what he did last time, he gagged scientists' ability to talk about climate change, he tried zeroing budgets for agencies like the NOAA, he attempted to gut protections in the Endangered Species Act (mainly by redefining 'take' in a way that would allow corporations to destroy habitat of imperiled species with no ramifications), he tried to do the same for the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (the law that offers official protection for native non-game birds), he sought to expand oil and coal extraction from federal protected lands, he shrunk the size of multiple national preserves, HE PULLED US OUT OF THE PARIS CLIMATE AGREEMENT, and more.

We are at a crucial tipping point in being able to slow the pace of climate change, where we decide what emissions scenario we will operate at, with existential consequences for both the environment and people. We are also in the middle of the Sixth Mass Extinction, with the rate of species extinctions far surpassing background rates due completely to human actions. What we do now will determine the fate of the environment for hundreds or thousands of years - from our ability to grow key food crops (goodbye corn belt! I hated you anyway but), to the pressure on coastal communities that will face the brunt of sea level rise and intensifying extreme weather events, to desertification, ocean acidification, wildfires, melting permafrost (yay, outbreaks of deadly frozen viruses!), and a breaking down of ecosystems and ecosystem services due to continued habitat loss and species declines, especially insect declines. The fact that the environment is clearly a low priority issue despite the very real existential threat to so many people, is beyond my ability to understand. I do partly blame the public education system for offering no mandatory environmental science curriculum or any at all in most places. What it means is that it will take the support of everyone who does care to make any amount of difference in this steeply uphill battle.

There are not enough environmental scientists to solve these issues, not if public support is not on our side and the majority of the general public is either uninformed or actively hostile towards climate science (or any conservation science).

So what can you, my fellow Americans, do to help mitigate and minimize the inevitable damage that lay ahead?

I'm not going to tell you to recycle more or take shorter showers. I'll be honest, that stuff is a drop in the bucket. What does matter on the individual level is restoring and protecting habitat, reducing threats to at-risk species, reducing pesticide use, improving agricultural practices, and pushing for policy changes. Restoring CONNECTIVITY to our landscape - corridors of contiguous habitat - will make all the difference for wildlife to be able to survive a changing climate and continued human population expansion.

**Caveat that I work in the northeast with pollinators and birds so I cannot provide specific organizations for some topics, including climate change focused NGOs. Scientists on tumblr who specialize in other fields, please add your own recommended resources. **

We need two things: FUNDING and MANPOWER.

You may surprised to find that an insane amount of conservation work is carried out by volunteers. We don't ever have the funds to pay most of the people who want to help. If you really really care, consider going into a conservation-related field as a career. It's rewarding, passionate work.

At the national level, please support:

The Nature Conservancy

Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation

Cornell Lab of Ornithology (including eBird)

National Audubon Society

Federal Duck Stamps (you don't need to be a hunter to buy one!)

These first four work to acquire and restore critical habitat, change environmental policy, and educate the public. There is almost certainly a Nature Conservancy-owned property within driving distance of you. Xerces plays a very large role in pollinator conservation, including sustainable agriculture, native bee monitoring programs, and the Bee City/Bee Campus USA programs. The Lab of O is one of the world's leaders in bird research and conservation. Audubon focuses on bird conservation. You can get annual memberships to these organizations and receive cool swag and/or a subscription to their publications which are well worth it. You can also volunteer your time; we need thousands of volunteers to do everything from conducting wildlife surveys, invasive species removal, providing outreach programming, managing habitat/clearing trails, planting trees, you name it. Federal Duck Stamps are the major revenue for wetland conservation; hunters need to buy them to hunt waterfowl but anyone can get them to collect!

THERE ARE DEFINITELY MORE, but these are a start.

Additionally, any federal or local organizations that seek to provide support and relief to those affected by hurricanes, sea level rise, any form of coastal climate change...

At the regional level:

These are a list of topics that affect major regions of the United States. Since I do not work in most of these areas I don't feel confident recommending specific organizations, but please seek resources relating to these as they are likely major conservation issues near you.

PRAIRIE CONSERVATION & PRAIRIE POTHOLE WETLANDS

DRYING OF THE COLORADO RIVER (good overview video linked)

PROTECTION OF ESTUARIES AND SALTMARSH, ESPECIALLY IN THE DELAWARE BAY AND LONG ISLAND (and mangroves further south, everglades etc; this includes restoring LIVING SHORELINES instead of concrete storm walls; also check out the likely-soon extinction of saltmarsh sparrows)

UNDAMMING MAJOR RIVERS (not just the Colorado; restoring salmon runs, restoring historic floodplains)

NATIVE POLLINATOR DECLINES (NOT honeybees. for fuck's sake. honeybees are non-native domesticated animals. don't you DARE get honeybee hives to 'save the bees')

WILDLIFE ALONG THE SOUTHERN BORDER (support the Mission Butterfly Center!)

INVASIVE PLANT AND ANIMAL SPECIES (this is everywhere but the specifics will differ regionally, dear lord please help Hawaii)

LOSS OF WETLANDS NATIONWIDE (some states have lost over 90% of their wetlands, I'm looking at you California, Ohio, Illinois)

INDUSTRIAL AGRICULTURE, esp in the CORN BELT and CALIFORNIA - this is an issue much bigger than each of us, but we can work incrementally to promote sustainable practices and create habitat in farmland-dominated areas. Support small, local farms, especially those that use soil regenerative practices, no-till agriculture, no pesticides/Integrated Pest Management/no neonicotinoids/at least non-persistent pesticides. We need more farmers enrolling in NRCS programs to put farmland in temporary or permanent wetland easements, or to rent the land for a 30-year solar farm cycle. We've lost over 99% of our prairies to corn and soybeans. Let's not make it 100%.

INDIGENOUS LAND-BACK EFFORTS/INDIGENOUS LAND MANAGEMENT/TEK (adding this because there have been increasing efforts not just for reparations but to also allow indigenous communities to steward and manage lands either fully independently or alongside western science, and it would have great benefits for both people and the land; I know others on here could speak much more on this. Please platform indigenous voices)

HARMFUL ALGAL BLOOMS (get your neighbors to stop dumping fertilizers on their lawn next to lakes, reduce agricultural runoff)

OCEAN PLASTIC (it's not straws, it's mostly commercial fishing line/trawling equipment and microplastics)

A lot of these are interconnected. And of course not a complete list.

At the state and local level:

You probably have the most power to make change at the local level!

Support or volunteer at your local nature centers, local/state land conservancy non-profits (find out who owns&manages the preserves you like to hike at!), state fish & game dept/non-game program, local Audubon chapters (they do a LOT). Participate in a Christmas Bird Count!

Join local garden clubs, which install and maintain town plantings - encourage them to use NATIVE plants. Join a community garden!

Get your college campus or city/town certified in the Bee Campus USA/Bee City USA programs from the Xerces Society

Check out your state's official plant nursery, forest society, natural heritage program, anything that you could become a member of, get plants from, or volunteer at.

Volunteer to be part of your town's conservation commission, which makes decisions about land management and funding

Attend classes or volunteer with your land grant university's cooperative extension (including master gardener programs)

Literally any volunteer effort aimed at improving the local environment, whether that's picking up litter, pulling invasive plants, installing a local garden, planting trees in a city park, ANYTHING. make a positive change in your own sphere. learn the local issues affecting your nearby ecosystems. I guarantee some lake or river nearby is polluted

MAKE HABITAT IN YOUR COMMUNITY. Biggest thing you can do. Use plants native to your area in your yard or garden. Ditch your lawn. Don't use pesticides (including mosquito spraying, tick spraying, Roundup, etc). Don't use fertilizers that will run off into drinking water. Leave the leaves in your yard. Get your school/college to plant native gardens. Plant native trees (most trees planted in yards are not native). Remove invasive plants in your yard.

On this last point, HERE ARE EASY ONLINE RESOURCES TO FIND NATIVE PLANTS and LEARN ABOUT NATIVE GARDENING:

Xerces Society Pollinator Conservation Resource Center

Pollinator Pathway

Audubon Native Plant Finder

Homegrown National Park (and Doug Tallamy's other books)

National Wildlife Federation Native Plant Finder (clunky but somewhat helpful)

Heather Holm (for prairie/midwest/northeast)

MonarchGard w/ Benjamin Vogt (for prairie/midwest)

Native Plant Trust (northeast & mid-atlantic)

Grow Native Massachusetts (northeast)

Habitat Gardening in Central New York (northeast)

There are many more - I'm not familiar with resources for western states. Print books are your biggest friend. Happy to provide a list of those.

Lastly, you can help scientists monitor species using citizen science. Contribute to iNaturalist, eBird, Bumblebee Watch, or any number of more geographically or taxonomically targeted programs (for instance, our state has a butterfly census carried out by citizen volunteers).

In short? Get curious, get educated, get involved. Notice your local nature, find out how it's threatened, and find out who's working to protect it that you can help with. The health of the planet, including our resilience to climate change, is determined by small local efforts to maintain and restore habitat. That is how we survive this. When government funding won't come, when we're beat back at every turn trying to get policy changed, it comes down to each individual person creating a safe refuge for nature.

Thanks for reading this far. Please feel free to add your own credible resources and organizations.

[caterpillarinacave]

Hm, definitely not, you look the leader directly in the eye, stand straight and tall and firmly declare, "No, I'm not interested in joining you."

For brief moment there is complete startled silence and you can feel your heart in your throat, then the leader narrows their eyes and clicks out an order, you hear boots crunching through forest debris and you see uniformed officials start descending on you, you jump back to dart through the door as planned, but you feel a prick on your neck right before a sudden drowsiness blankets your senses.

You can hardly think straight much less see, you stumble and through the mess of your vision you watch shadows and hear angry tones, you feel sick, the ground swimming beneath your feet, there are flashes of coherency, falling on a ground of leaves, hands shuffling you around, glimmering strings of gold floating through the air, falling on to concrete, a figure standing before a doorway of bright blue flashing light...you can see their lips moving, as if from a great distance you hear them yelling out to you to close the door, now get up! You need to RUN!

The blur of a white deer, a ren you correct yourself, bounds to you from afar brushing away the image of dark voids and strange figures, the world goes dark for a while but eventually you notice the lights blinking into existence.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

On...

Something moves and you jolt more fully awake, you're in a room lying on a couch, it's dark but there's a light on in the next room where someone is moving around in an unhurried and comfortable pace, you notice a soft blanket on you and on the ground beside you is your bag along with your things. Your head aches and you swallow back a bout of nausea waiting for it to abate. The figure moving in the other room starts to come over, you rush to sit up fully and the room dances unpleasantly.

"How! Wonderful to see you so mobile, yet let's try this more slowly next time. You seem much more injured than is standard."

Relief seeps in as you recognize your friendly nextworlder's voice and once you see them their face as they watch you with concern. You agree you are definitely more injured than standard, but the longer you stay awake the more alert you feel. You ask how you got here. Your friend tells you they were walking through the park last night when they saw the white ren you summoned days ago wandering around, they figured it was strange and went to see what was up with it when it suddenly bolted away back towards the alley the door was in. Thinking you were back and calling for it they went to go greet you, but found you falling in and out of consciousness and hurriedly took you home. They say the door was closed and the alley was empty aside from you and your things.

You take a moment to contemplate all of this. That was scary, you aren't sure what to do next, but you're grateful you said no now if that's how they treat people who refuse them. You don't want to imagine what would have happened if they'd caught you.

Eventually you find the energy to move and clean yourself up, you share a meal with your friend and show them the notes you've taken of the books they lent you last you met, they offer to take you to the library tomorrow. You're nervous about the government people of the last world and feeling cautious but you know you need to learn more if you want to figure out this door.

The next day you both head out early, when you get to the library your friend shows you around, where they found the books you'd found most useful and such, they go to return the books you gave back and head out, letting you know they'll stop by later to pick you up or you can head back early. You spend all day pouring over the books but by the end of the day you're no closer than before. Most depictions of the Inbetween sound like the world you were just in, not like your world or even a new one.

The next few days are just as unfortunate, your dreams uneasy and your search fruitless. You keep an eye out for anyone who seems out of place, but it seems you aren't being watched or followed. Your friend seems delighted to have you around and when they can they join you in hunting down information.

After nearly a week of hunting down every scrap of information you can find in the library you find yourself walking back to your friends place bummed once again. As you go to cross the street you notice an old building you'd overlooked most walks, it claims to be a museum of oddities, the windows are dark and the door is cracked open. You feel a powerful draw to go in, but you need to get back to your friends place soon since it's getting dark.

Do you go in?

Yes

[snekdood]

"TrANsMeN rEalLy nEeD tO HaVe wOmEn AroUnD TO NoT Be MiSoGyNiSTic 🤪" bitch i have great relationships w my mom and gma, i dont think it's on my end with this one

[oscpstri]

born to ride | grid

ft. verstappen, norris, leclerc, sainz, piastri (fem!reader)

the perks of dating a formula 1 driver was that they had an arsenal of cars at their disposal and they knew how to drive them. but what if you took the wheel this time?

INCLUDES: fluff, its funny ok please laugh, use of y/n, use of endearments for certain drivers, they're cute, not proof read

NOTE: born to ride or wtv lana said. I GOT CARRIED AWAY W MAX AND LANDO SO IF YOU WANT MORE DRIVERS ILL GET TO IT IN ANOTHER POST !!!! these were the first ones i did before it got WAY TOO LONG

( masterlist | more grid )

★ MAX VERSTAPPEN

You should've known better.

Your boyfriend being a Formula 1 driver had its perks, one of them being the fact that you had a personal chauffeur whenever you had anywhere to be.

Ever since you and Max started living together, you had created a schedule to follow during the summer breaks. The both of you would run errands on Saturday morning, cook lunch together, then cuddle all day until the sun falls over the horizon. Simple enough.

Today was different, though. It was the first day off of the summer break and Max had spent the entirety of yesterday getting as much training as possible before putting his phone on Do Not Disturb. Because of this, he got home quite late and was absolutely exhausted. Poor guy didn't even get a chance to properly change out of his clothes.

You felt bad having to wake him up early, so you did what you thought was best. You took the car keys off the wall and started heading out as quietly as possible. As you turn the car on, you scroll through your phone to try and find the best music to fit the vibe. You were so lost in trying to find the perfect playlist that you didn't notice the blue-eyed blondie walking towards your side of the car.

A knock is what brings you out of your trance. You jump in your seat, startled at the sound before snapping your head towards your door. You could only sigh in relief as you saw the familiar face of your beloved in a hoodie.

He opens the door before you could even put your phone down, a deadpan look on his face. "I'm driving."

You stay frozen in your seat for a beat, before getting up and heading to the passengers side of the car. By the time you had settled in to your usual spot, Max immediately brings the car to life.

The both of you drive in silence for a few minutes. You would glance every so often towards your boyfriend but he only looked straight ahead.

You slump in your seat, a tinge of disappointment coursing through you as you start overthinking if you had fucked up. Max seems to notice this as he leans over to grab your hand from your lap, intertwining your fingers like you always do.

"I'm not mad. Just wake me up next time," he comments, glancing over to you with a gentle smile. You nod at this, muttering a 'sorry' in return.

"Schat, I literally drive for a living," he starts. "No matter how tired I am, I will always drive you. Always. As long as it's you."

"I'm sorry," you muster up, throwing him a sheepish grin. He smiles warmly at this, rubbing his thumb over your hand.

"No need to be sorry. I'm sorry if you thought I was mad." You chuckle at this, bringing your connected hands to your mouth and planting a kiss on top of his knuckles.

"But seriously, you have a four-time world champion at your service and you decide you want to drive yourself?" he starts, energy slowly coming in. "Schat, I literally won at driving. Four times!"

★ LANDO NORRIS

You had accepted the invite to your boyfriend dragging you around while they filmed for Quadrant all day. It was always a rare occurrence whenever Lando would be free to join in on his company's shenanigans, so you decided to come along.

It was lunch time and everyone was scattered around the area, munching away and socializing with the team. Although Lando had urged you to eat earlier on, you just didn't feel like eating anything. It was that time of the month and your appetite was never much for actual food during it. So while there was a good buffet in front of you fit for the whole team, you wanted cupcakes. But not just any cupcakes, Cecil's Cupcakes. This wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that Cecil's was an hour drive from where you were filming, and with only 20 minutes left before they start production again, you knew you couldn't drag Lando to drive you there.

So what did you do? You silently grab his car keys, sneak out of the huge building, and trudge towards the car park. It wasn't until you reached the door when you notice someone following you. And it wasn't until they got closer when you realized that it was the lovable face of Lando Norris doing so, one hand still holding on to his plate of food and the other shoving nutrients into his mouth.

Your eyes narrow upon seeing this, Lando stopping in his tracks when he notices that you've seen him. A boyish grin creeps up onto his face, still chewing on his food. "Where are we going?"

"We? You have to film in," you glance at your watch before looking back up at him. "15 minutes."

He swallows harshly, throwing away the plastic plate and utensils. "So? Not like they'll fire me."

You scoffed at his response, "Unbelievable."

Lando seems to hear this, walking towards the drivers side and stopping beside you. "So... where are we going?"

A smile creeps up onto your face, shaking your head in disbelief. "Cecil's."

Lando's eyes go wide at the bakery, stealing the car keys from your hand. "You were about to drive an hour to get cupcakes by yourself?"

He places his hands on your shoulders, pushing you towards the passengers side. You giggle at his actions. He opens the car door, pushing you down on the seat while muttering something under his breath. You couldn't make out what he said, but you heard the phrase 'did she forget?'

When Lando plops down onto the driver's seat, you laugh at the sulky look on his face. He looks at you like a hurt puppy before bringing the car to life. "Have you forgotten what I do for a living?"

You try to stifle your laugh, looking forward. "Lan, I didn't wanna disturb—"

Out of nowhere the car comes to a halt, your eyes go wide as you grip the seat. You turn to look at your boyfriend who was already looking at you with a crazed expression: eyes wide, mouth agape, "Is this your way of telling me I suck?"

Your facial features fall. You exhale loudly at the antics of your boyfriend, blinking at him with a deadpan look. "Seriously?"

He purses his lips, putting the car into drive again as you make your journey towards fluffy cupcakes. "I don't suck..."

"No you don't, my love."

★ CHARLES LECLERC

"Oh my god!" You get up from your position on the couch, head shot up from Charles' arms. He looks at you with both eyebrows raised, both concerned and shocked from your excitement.

You turn to look at him, shoving your phone screen in his face. "It's open! It's here!"

Charles raises an eyebrow at your happiness, taking your wrist and adjusting the screen so he could read what you were showing him. It was an Instagram post from your favorite coffee shop back in Spain. You and Charles had discovered the place when you went with him for the Barcelona Grand Prix and you were constantly praying for the day it would open a chain near you. And it finally did.

"Do you wanna go get some right now?" Charles asks, an endearing look on his face as he watches your eyes light up in delight. "Yes! Yes please!"

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, and before he knew it, you bounced off the couch and went to go get ready. Charles stayed on the couch, scrolling through his phone when he looked up as he felt your presence near him. When he met your figure though, his eyes went wide and it was his turn to bounce up off the couch.

"Why are you holding that?!" He exclaims, snatching the car keys that you were twirling around your finger. You blink in confusion, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"I'm gonna drive, duh." You said that like it was a given— like it was the most obvious answer in the world. This situation could have passed immediately, but Charles needed to be dramatic.

"What?! What do you mean drive yourself?!" He grabs you by the shoulders, eyes still wide like a crazed person. "Do you forget what I do for a living?!"

You laugh at this, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're seriously going crazy over the fact that I offered to drive?"

Charles shakes his head profusely in reply, grabbing your hands in his. "Mon amour, when I'm around, I drive."

"But you drive all the time!"

Charles starts stuttering, head still shaking like this was the stupidest concern in the world. "And? I drive. No questions asked."

You giggle as he grabs your hand, heading towards the door. "I drive. I always drive. I drive all the time. You should never drive."

"Charles, I get it—"

"I always drive you! Never do that ever again!"

★ OSCAR PIASTRI

You and Oscar had gotten home from the airport early and jet lag hit you two like a rocket. So as soon as the both of you got home, you dropped everything and headed straight to bed. Early enough that the sun was still setting and the two of you were already halfway to dreamland.

Here's the thing— you two never had dinner. So when you woke up at midnight, stomach grumbling like a lion, you weren't exactly surprised. You weren't surprised either that your boyfriend was still asleep next to you, the different time zones affecting him more than the lack of food.

You slowly got out of bed and trudged sleepily to the kitchen. Your eyes were barely open and your hair was the standard definition of bedhead.

You rummage through the refrigerator like a mad man, trying to find anything that could satisfy you. Upon finding nothing, you slump into a chair, head in your hands as you try to fend off both the sleep and the hunger. You thought that this was it, you were about to fall back asleep at the kitchen table in the dead of night, until a glint of silver catches your eye.

Oscar's car keys.

It lay perfectly by the end of the table, shining in all its glory. It was practically calling out to you, screaming your name, directly hit by the kitchen light like it was put there for you.

So what did you do? You got up and took it. You pocketed it in your pajama pants and headed back into the bedroom, making a beeline for the first hoodie you saw lying about. As you put it on, you could instantly tell it was Oscar's.

You thought you were being quiet, pacing around the room trying to find a clip, hair tie, anything to make your hair not look like it was ran over by a train. But apparently you weren't, because as you turn around to open the door and leave, you stop dead in your tracks when you hear—

"Y/N?"

You turn on your heel, slowly taking in the tired appearance of your boyfriend on your bed. He was sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking at you with a worried expression.

"Where are you going? It's—," he reaches for his phone, blinking profusely when the light from the screen practically jolts him awake. "It's midnight."

You walk over to him, sitting on the bed. "I'm hungry."

He blinks, eyebrows furrowing. "Okay. Is there nothing in the kitchen?"

You shake your head in response. Oscar starts getting out of bed, also pulling a hoodie on. He takes your hand and you follow as you both head out. He seems to notice that his car keys weren't where they usually were. He doesn't say anything, probably not to alarm you, but you already knew he was panicking deep down.

You fish the keys out of your pocket, poking his arm and dangling it in his face. He blinks comically, "You were about to drive yourself to get food?"

Now it was your turn to blink, a sheepish smile now on your face. You lower the car keys, nodding slowly. "Yeah?"

Oscar was surprised, you knew that for a fact. He was normally the one that drove you around. He treated you like a queen— never letting you even touch the steering wheel like his life depended on it.

He nods slowly, "Okay."

The both of you stand there for a minute, not really knowing what to do or say. You shift uncomfortably under your boyfriend's gaze, not exactly knowing what he was feeling in that moment.

"Do you want to drive?" He softly asks, taking your hand in his. Your mouth is slightly agape, barely stuttering out a reply. "Yeah. Why? Do you wanna drive?"

"No, it's fine," he shakes his head, pulling you closer to him. "Well, that's my job but... you can do whatever you want to do."

You smile softly at this, looking up into his eyes.

"But," he starts, piquing your interest. "Can I come with you?"

You laugh at this, resting your forehead on his chest. "Of course."

★ CARLOS SAINZ

Carlos insists that Monaco is too chaotic for you to be driving yourself and that you're too pretty to be doing any hard labor. Which is why no matter the time and the date, he always insists on driving you everywhere.

Until today.

You were getting ready to go out. One of your close friends was flying into Monaco and you were going to give them the privilege of showing them around. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend was out training so you had to drive yourself. This wasn't really ever a problem, Carlos just always made it out be one.

You had texted him an hour ago about the arrangements you had made. You informed him that you would be gone for the day and not to be surprised if he came home to an empty house. He was busy so you weren't surprised that he never replied.

You grab your car keys on the way out and take one last final look in the mirror. As you open the door though, you're surprised to see the love of your life standing outside. Your eyes go wide at this, mouth slightly agape. Why was he here?

"Amor?"

He smiles when he sees you. His eyes drop down to what you were holding and his eyes narrow. "Ay, you're not supposed to be holding this."

He takes the keys from your hand and replaces it with his hand instead, grinning at you from ear to ear when you look at him with a done expression. "What are you doing?"

He perks up at this, heading into the house and closing the door behind him. "I'm driving you, of course."

He says it like it was an obvious answer, immediately darting to change out of his sweaty clothes into a fresh set. You follow after him, shaking your head at your boyfriend's antics.

"Seriously, Carlos? You dropped halfway through training to drive me?"

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, a mischievous smile on his face. "Of course, cariño."

"Your trainer is going to kill me."

He walks up to you adjusting his shirt and bends down to plant a kiss on your forehead. "He'll have to get through me first."

You're weak in the knees from his actions, accepting his hand as he drags you out of the room. "I can drive myself, you know?"

He stops when you reach the living room, turning his body to look at you. "Eh? Drive yourself? Your hands cannot be damaged by hard leather."

You quirk an eyebrow at his words, "Hard leather?"

"Yeah," he smiles. "Of the steering wheel, duh."

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the smile that forced its way onto your face. Upon seeing this, Carlos smiles even more. He squeezes your hand before leading you both towards and out of the door.

"Road rage does not suit you, amor. Let me handle the driving."

[moniquill]

Here is a brief summary of what is happening in Wikipedia right now:

In the last few years (3-4 years) the WikiProject Indigenous peoples of North America, which was originally created to improve the quality and coverage of native issues and native articles on wikipedia, has been hijacked by a small number of users with an extremist agenda. They have been working diligently over the last few years to change the definition of both what it means to be an Indigenous American and even what it means to be state and federally recognized.

The four or five key players (Mainly Editor Yuchitown, Bohemian Baltimore, ARoseWolf, (now retired editor CorbieVreccan, Netherzone and Oncamera) who are part of the “Native American Articles Improvement Project” started implementing these changes slowly, but they started pursuing their goals aggressively after November 2023, when state-recognized tribes retained their voting rights in NCAI. Essentially, after the movement to delegitimize state-recognized tribes failed officially, the key players doubled down on altering and controlling the flow of information about Native Americans through Wikipedia.

The talk page of Lily Gladstone’s article has a relevant discussion here. Initially, the leaders of the WikiProject removed any reference to her being a “Native American Actress” and instead had her as “Self-identifying as Blackfoot” and “Self-identifying as Nez Perce” because her blood quantum was too low to be enrolled in either tribe.

You can see some of the discussion here:

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk:Lily_Gladstone

Eventually they relented and changed her category to being “Of Nez Perce Descent” but you can see in the discussion that they are referring to an article that these editors (Yuchitown, Bohemian Baltimore, and CorbieVreccan) themselves appeared to have mostly written and revised:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Native_American_identity_in_the_United_States

This statement is very much at odds with even the government’s description, as seen below;

The DOJ Office of Tribal Justice Office on their webpage “Frequently Asked Questions About Native American”, question “Who is an American Indian or Alaskan Native” states:

“As a general principle, an Indian is a person who is of some degree Indian blood and is recognized as an Indian by a Tribe and/or the United States. No single federal or tribal criterion establishes a person's identity as an Indian. Government agencies use differing criteria to determine eligibility for programs and services. Tribes also have varying eligibility criteria for membership.”

In addition, “List” pages have been created on Wikipedia for federally and state recognized tribes. The Wikipedia “List” page for state-recognized tribes is inaccurate in its interpretation of state recognition and not supported by expert reliable sources--(1) Cohen’s Handbook of Federal Indian Law 2012 edition, (2) NCSL.org current stand on state recognition (not the archived list from 2017 which NCSL no longer supports), (3) Koenig & Stein’s paper “Federalism and the State Recognition of Native American Tribes: a survey of state-recognized tribes and state recognition processes across the United States” (both 2008 & updated 2013 in book “ Recognition, sovereignty struggles, and indigenous rights in the United States: A sourcebook”)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/State-recognized_tribes_in_the_United_States

State-recognized tribes who have received recognition through less formal but acceptable means have been moved from the Wikipedia list page on state-recognized tribes to the Wikipedia list page of unrecognized or self-identifying organizations.

The Wiki page "List of organizations that self-identify as Native American tribes", in particular, is being used to purposely defame legitimate Native American individuals who are members of the tribes/Native communities that are on this list. 

By the parameters set up on Wikipedia, only the colonizer’s governments can acknowledge who is Native American through either federal recognition or state recognition. If an individual is not a member of a federally or state-recognized tribe, then it is determined that they cannot be Native American and are, instead, considered “self-identifying” or only “a descendant of ...” (example Lily Gladstone). As a result, Native individuals are currently being tagged as “self-identifying” and their names are put on “list” pages that strongly imply they are “pretend” Indians.

These editors have indicated that they would like “self-identification” to be the default setting for any people who they deem do not fit within the parameters that they themselves created within Wikipedia.

Moreof, these editors are admin and senior editors within the Wikiproject Indigenous Peoples of North America, and are being called in specifically to weigh on Native Identity, and any project involving any Indigenous Group.

Any attempt to correct misinformation, add information, or change any of these articles is often met with being blocked, reported for various offenses, or reported for having a Conflict of Interest, whether or not that is actually applicable. They have use this strategically in many different pages for many different individuals and groups within the scope of their Wikiprojects.

While changing things in Wikipedia does not change the truth, it is a way to control how most people take in information, and thus they hope to manipulate the narrative to better suit their goals.

This is quick and messy but:

Here is a link to the google document with the other state recognized tribes (Including yours) that were edited by these editors. This is an incomplete list so far that only goes back to September 2023 but I am going to add to it. If you can add to your own part of this list, and send your complaints and information to the arbitrator committee (the email is below) with the involved editors, this will help our case.

The  more tribes who complain, and the more Wikipedia editors complain, the better our case will be. 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YNDEjLTrrZ_mMIRCVxtvt69FwCYpJWKs71lBhWa5a9M/edit?usp=sharing

The place to make complaints on Wikipedia is oversight-en-wpwikipedia.org , and

arbcom-enwikimedia.org . It is most helpful to have an editing account on Wikipedia, because Yuchitown and the others will try to defend themselves using Wikipedia methodology and make anyone who confronts them look like the aggressor (see the other tribes who tried to fight back on Wikipedia I found).

The more people and tribes make complaints the more likely it is that this will work and we can rid ourselves of these monsters.

Some of the tribes I have spoken to are taking legal action against these editors. Any groups affected by their policies should also reach out to the news to make knowledge of this more widespread.

Thank you

- quoted with permission from an email sent by an associate of my tribe. Message me for their email address if you'd like to reach out to them.

[yuramour]

✿ LOVE LANGUAGE — F1 GRID

synopsis. how the grid shows their love pairing. f1 grid x reader (ft. mv1, yt22, ln4, op81, gr63, ka12, cl16, lh44, dr3, aa23, cs55, ob87, ih6, jd7) genre. pure fluff warnings. just some fluffy headcanons, established relationships ig wc. 2.8k (around 200 each)

a/n. TEEHEE MY FIRST F1 HEADCANONS I HOPE YALL LIKE (special thanks to @bear-yawns for giving me this idea & to @revelauver for the oscar and kimi ideas)

MAX VERSTAPPEN

✿ acts of service

for max, it's the simple things. helping you bring in your groceries, opening a jar of jam for you, opening the car door for you, whatever. it all just comes naturally to him- he doesn't even really register what he's doing. but it's like he knows what you need without you ever having to say it. one day you came home from work, and the little light in your car indicating that you needed an oil change lit up. you opted to ignore it for now, deciding you'd get it done at a later date, and went on with the rest of your day. a couple hours later, you heard the door close, and max walked into the living room where you were watching tv. you asked where he was, and he replied "i was just out changing the oil in your car." as if it were no big deal. you hadn't even told him you needed an oil change, but without you even needing to ask, without any incentive, he just went out and did it himself. just because it was something you needed done.

YUKI TSUNODA

✿ physical touch

despite being an avid PDA hater- and if you asked, he'd fully deny it- but really, if he could, yuki would make it so he could be attached to you 24/7. there's nothing he loves more than having his arms wrapped around you. you'd never guess it by looking at the way the two of you interact in public; doing no more than standing close together. but in private, yuki practically lives with his arms around your waist or with his hand in yours. you're standing at the stove making dinner? he's standing behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist. you're laying in bed in the middle of a saturday afternoon doomscrolling on your phone? he's laying right down with you, your chest acting as a pillow for his head as he watches a youtube video. if any of his friends saw the way you two interacted in private, their jaws would be on the floor- and yuki would never hear the end of it. so he's happy to keep the affection behind closed doors.

LANDO NORRIS

✿ acts of service

not only is this man a clingy mf, he will not let you do ANYTHING. he'll cut your steak for you, pull out chairs for you, fold your laundry for you, he will quite literally jump out of the drivers seat and run around the car to open the passenger door for you. you swear that he'd brush your teeth for you if you'd let him. mans absolutely worships the ground you walk on. and while it may be mildly annoying sometimes, your favorite moments are the softer slower moments at the end of the day. he'll wash your hair for you in the shower, line up your skincare products on the counter and put them away when you're done with them. he'll massage your shoulders as you apply lotion on your arms and legs, and he'll double-check with you to make sure the temperature in the room is comfortable for you before he settles into bed alongside you- adjusting the thermostat accordingly. while his will to make sure you never lift a finger irritates you on occasion, you just consider yourself lucky to have found someone that loves and cares for you the way lando does.

OSCAR PIASTRI

✿ quality time

mr. piastri for sure goes along with acts of service, as well. bc this man is LOYAL. almost to a fault, tbh. this man is convinced that you're his good luck charm. he'll ask you to come to every single race, even if he knows you can't- he just likes to ask anyway. and when you can't come, before every race, he'll stare longingly at that little polaroid photo of you he keeps in his wallet. but oscar knows that the key to a healthy relationship is mutual respect. so trust he will be flying out to see you whenever he gets the chance. he's a firm believer that your life, schooling, and career is just as important as his. this man is calculated with it, too. he's always keeping track of the time difference between you two so that he only calls and texts when he knows you're available- even if it means sacrificing his sleep schedule a bit. but when you're together, things are easy. he doesn't need to take you out to fancy restaurants in italy, or buy you designer handbags for you to know that he absolutely adores you. all you have to do is look his way when you're watching tv on the couch together, and catch him staring at you with that stupid love-struck look on his face for you to know that you're everything to him.

CHARLES LECLERC

✿ physical touch

with charles, his way of showing affection is subtle, fleeting, most people wouldn't even notice the way his hand ghosts across your lower back as he passes by you, or the way he keeps his knee touching yours when you sit next to each other. for charles, physical affection doesn't have to mean being as close together as possible, for him, it means your feet resting on his lap as you two watch tv in the living room together, it means him brushing your hair behind your ear at random times, it means pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles as his pre-race ritual. with charles, physical touch is soft, it's romantic, and most importantly; it's meaningful. every little touch means something- even if he's not quite sure what.

LEWIS HAMILTON

✿ gift giving

now, i know you might think that means him buying you luxury items, designer clothes, and fancy dinners- and all that does in fact going along with dating the lewis hamilton, but you already know he's more thoughtful than that. his gifts come from the heart- everything is personalized exactly to your taste. when you first moved in together, you asked him to buy some new plates, and he remembered from your first date years ago when you mentioned briefly that you loved the plates from the restaurant he took you to. so of course, he tracked down where the restaurant got their plates from so you could have them in your home. valentine's day with this man is absolutely unparalleled- little handmade gifts and notes throughout the day, leading up to a quiet homemade dinner and the final gift of a one-of-a-kind necklace that he had custom ordered just for you. every gift from lewis is special, because he knows you and what you love.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

✿ physical touch

good luck trying to keep this man off of you. like, seriously. hands all over all the time. absolutely unashamed about it, too. whether in the privacy of your own home, or in the paddock where everyone can see, this man will be copping a feel in one way or another. honestly, it's more of a comfort/security thing than anything else. he feels most at ease when he's got a hand on you- not only is it a comfort for him to feel your warm skin in his hands, but it means he knows you're right there, and you're safe. but of course, if he ever gets even the tiniest sense that you're uncomfortable with him touching you, he'll stop immediately. no questions asked. one time you expressed your appreciation for him understanding and respecting your boundaries and he was just like, "???that's literally the bare minimum tho???" daniel is at his happiest knowing that you're safe and comfortable. and the only way he sees he can assure that is to have you in his arms as often as he physically can.

GEORGE RUSSELL

✿ acts of service

i fear this man will not rest until he knows that you're completely taken care of. if george comes home at the end of the day to find you asleep with dirty dishes still in the sink, trust you will be waking up to a spotless kitchen and a fresh pot of coffee. george not only supports you in your career, but he fully encourages you to go out and live your own life. if you're up late studying for a big exam, he will be bringing you drinks, and snacks, and will ask if you need his help with flashcards or anything. the best part about george's affection is that he's not overbearing with it. he seems to know exactly where your boundaries lie without you even having to tell him.

KIMI ANTONELLI

✿ physical touch

oh, kimi. sweet sweet kimi. while he may seem like just a silly little guy, at his heart, he's an absolute loverboy. in private, there's nothing he loves more than to be laying on the couch with you watching tv- and trust he's big spoon. he basically lives to have his arms around you. and in public, he gets anxious if he's not holding onto you in some way. although some bit of him gets a little bit nervous to be engaging in pda, instead of fully holding onto you as he'd like to, he settles for holding your hand tight. (shoutout liz for giving me this idea) if there's a language barrier between you, he definitely comes up with a secret hand holding language- almost like morse code. every squeeze of your hand meaning a different thing. and whenever you're not around? trust he's calling you like, every ten minutes. i swear, anytime he hears something he thinks you'd find funny, or sees something that reminds him of you, he's calling you. no matter the time. that being said, his love language definitely creeps into words of affirmation. even if you don't speak italian, he'll call you some cute italian petname, or tell you some sweet phrases that you can't understand. but that doesn't matter- he knows what he's saying, and trust- it's either the dumbest shit you've ever heard, or the most romantic thing ever uttered by a human being. no in between.

ALEX ALBON

✿ acts of service

similar to lando- but a bit more laid back. he doesn't have the same clingy energy as mr. norris- but he's still just as obsessed with you. he'd do quite literally anything and everything you ask of him; wash the dishes? already done. take your car out to fill up the tank? you don't even have to ask. take you out for dinner at some fancy expensive restaurant? pls, he's already had reservations for months. although he loves doing things for you, he still respects your independence. he'll always cheer you on, praising you for any and every personal achievement you made without his help. alex would do literally anything you ask of him, but he believes that all relationships involve give-and-take. so rather than doing everything for you, he loves to do everything with you.

CARLOS SAINZ

✿ words of affirmation

there will never be any room for doubt in your relationship with carlos, because he will always tell you how much he adores you. his communication is absolutely off the charts, istg. all "pleases" and "thank you's", he'll always let you know how appreciates you are- even with the littlest things. even something as small as you taking the trash out at the end of the day, as soon as you come back inside, you're met with a sweet kiss to the cheek and a murmured "thank you." the way carlos loves so loudly and unconditionally was a little bit jarring to you at first- but you quickly got used to it. not only is he appreciative, but he's observational. any time you change something about your appearance, even just slightly, he notices, and trust, he will be giving you a very specific compliment about it. carlos makes you feel seen, heard, loved, and appreciated more than anyone else. you wake up every morning and go to sleep every night to the sound of carlos telling you he loves you, and whispering some sweet spanish phrase to you- even if you can't understand it. and you wouldn't give that up for the world.

OLLIE BEARMAN

✿ acts of service

ollie is simple with it. almost mindless. maybe it's the older brother in him, but the way he goes out of his way to make your life as easy as possible is almost mindless to him. whether it be holding out his arm for you to grab onto while walking in heels, holding open doors for you, or paying every time you go out, he just does it without thinking. it's just so obvious to him. like, he's your boyfriend, of course he's going to pay for you? he's your boyfriend, of course he's going to fly you out because you mentioned missing him? he's your boyfriend, of course he's going to get reservations at that restaurant you briefly mentioned in passing one time? his love for you is so entirely pure and unconditional, you could never be a burden to him. and if you ever mention feeling as such, or feeling inadequate, he's just more confused than anything. the way he sees it is that he's wholly yours, and it's his responsibility to do anything and everything to keep you happy, safe, and comfortable. even if all you need is one of those tight bear hugs of his, he's more than happy to give you one. because truly, if you're happy, he's happy.

ISACK HADJAR

✿ physical touch

i mean, have you seen him? by him, i mean his arms? those arms were made to be wrapped around the person he loves. okay but on a real note, isack just gives me the vibes of like, sweet clingy introvert who needs to be holding onto your hand at all times. but, he absolutely cannot do pda. like, he just can't. so in public, he keeps such a respectable distance between you two, it's almost odd to the outside viewer. but in private, he's practically glued to you. he's like a cat in the way that whenever you're doing literally anything, even just like, washing the dishes, he will come up to you, snake his way between you and the counter, and wrap his arms around you tightly, pulling your chest into his and burying his face in your neck. despite adamantly denying being a little spoon, every night, despite starting out behind you, his arms around your waist, fingers drawing light circles into you skin, you somehow end up almost facing each other, his face digging into your shoulder, and your hands in his hair, playing with the short curls. if you ever asked him, he would flush and tell you that never happened, but it did. every single night. and he loved it.

JACK DOOHAN

✿ quality time

god, jack is so boyfriend. if anything, jack much prefers staying in than going out. while he's happy to go wherever you lead; the beach, a nice restaurant, the grocery store, some random lookout point you'd found while driving around aimlessly, he's just happy as long as he's with you. but truly, he's at his happiest when the two of you are laying on his bed, the tv on the wall playing some corny show that you loved to make fun of together. you don't even need to be touching (although he's a d1 big spoon), he just gets so much energy from being in your presence. genuinely, if any of the men on here are a "golden retriever boyfriend" type, it's jack. you could go to hell and back, and he'd follow you the whole way through. as long as he's with you, he could face anything and everything with a smile on his face.

[miabebe]

Too Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 1

Choi Seungcheol may be your parent's best friend's son, your next door neighbour for 20 odd years and the one face you saw every damn time, every damn where but that didn't mean the two of you wanted anything to do with each other. But a business trip - one room, three nights, and seven beds - might just be what it takes to change it all....

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 13k (don't ask me how I thought I could do this in 5k)

Genre - Rivals to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots, that's all. Oh and smut.

Warnings - one mention of blood cause of intense make out wew, other smut warnings under the cut!

Smut warnings - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, brief face fucking, thick dick cheol lol, slight choking, allusions to a breeding kink, unprotected sex (these two are digustingly in love, extremely horny and highly irresponsible, please don't be like them), creampie, mention of the word slut like once, and I'm hoping that's all?

“Absolutely not.”

“No way in hell.”

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m not sharing a room with him.”

“I refuse to even breathe in her vicinity.”

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.”

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you, sweetheart.”

“That was a fact, darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So, the two of you are dating?”

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back.

“No!”

“No!”

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday than date her-”

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. I can give you something better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that skinny thing-”

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.”

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.”

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking all three of its inhabitants aback.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder. Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out. Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in each hand, leading the way to your despair of the night.

Seungcheol followed quietly behind you, hands tucked in his pocket, his large headphones perched on his head as he swayed to the music, blatantly ignoring you. You were thankful for that. Since you were little children, you had always craved moments where you could pretend like this man didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t you? Everything about him was a pain in your ass.

You first met Seungcheol when you were five. Your fathers were college mates turned business partners and coincidentally, your mothers were best friends since high school. Naturally, everyone expected the children of both families to be just as close as their parents but alas, even at the age of five, you could not bear him for more than five minutes. He was so aggressive and unruly, always messing up your dolls, always pulling your hair, never giving you a second of peace when he was around. Albeit that behaviour got milder over the years but there were other things now.

Like the fact that your father always preferred to have a boy, a son who could be his heir, someone like Seungcheol. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you but a different side of him came out every time Seungcheol was around, a side not even you could bring out. He would laugh louder, his eyes would shine more, he would seem so carefree. Seungcheol too never missed the chance to rub that on your face, constantly sneering and claiming that your father would be happier if he was a part of the family.

Over the years, your displeasure and annoyance at Seungcheol only grew into a deep dislike. As though it wasn’t enough that the two of you did your entire schooling together (yes, all twelve years of it), he was always present anywhere and everywhere you went - the debate club, the swim team, the dance academy, the cafes, the libraries, the movies - there was no place you were free of him. Ever since you were young, you had longed to escape to a place far away from home just to be carefree and explore and reinvent yourself without the constant looming of a figment of your past. You had hoped that at least after school you’d have the chance to go away from him but as your luck would have it, the two of you were accepted into the same business school, were interning in the same company, were working on the same project, and had come out of town for the same three-day conference together. It was one thing to have to bear this man’s presence all day, now you had to do it all night as well, thanks to your cheapskate company.

As you got in the lift Seungcheol held the doors open for you before settling in the corner opposite yours, keeping as much distance in between as possible. The bell boy looked at both of you confused.

“I thought the two of you are dating?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, and fished out your phone, scrolling through it instead.

Seungcheol glanced at you before scoffing at the absurd idea of dating you. He wasn’t foreign to that doubt though – people often wondered if they were together and Seungcheol wondered what on earth they saw between them that even resembled a speck of liking or even tolerance for one another.

Seungcheol had honestly not met anyone as stuck up as you. He never understood why his parents constantly considered you as the ideal role model for their son - ‘Look Cheol, she joined debate, you should too’, ‘She got selected in the swim team, you should try Cheol.’, ‘What do you think about dancing Cheol? She’s really good at it.’. Seungcheol was sick of being dragged into everything you were in, only to always be second. He hated debates, he would rather play football than swim, and though he liked to dance, ever since he joined the academy with you, even dancing was not giving him any solace.

Yet he gave his best all the time. He tried and tried and tried but he was always second to you who was evidently a natural at everything. For example, back in the school days, Seungcheol would almost get the same grades as you but at the cost of sacrificing nights of sleep and putting hours and hours into teaching himself. Meanwhile, you would breeze through the notes a day before the test, get a full 8-hour sleep and still score higher than him. As if that wasn’t enough, you’d invite him home, offering to “tutor” him only to constantly berate him about his ignorance, drop snide comments about how you were better, subtly challenge him in a battle that the both of you were well aware he could not win.

No wonder you had no friends while Seungcheol was as popular as could be - who would even want to be friends with you when you were always so cold and condescending towards anything that moved or breathed. If your parents weren’t joined at the hip, forcing Seungcheol to be a constant presence in your life, he wondered who would ever even talk to you? You should have been thankful for him, that he was the one human presence in your life who was always there despite it all, yet you treated him like he was beneath you. He had hoped that at least after graduating the two of you could part ways but the universe apparently loved playing cosmic jokes, putting the two of you together yet again, at the same workplace. And completely up in each other’s space for the next few days as well.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t ever shared a room before - whenever your parents would meet up at each other’s house to drink and talk all night, the two of you had no choice but to crash in the same room, sharing the same bed even but thank God it was usually queen size, allowing the both of you to take two opposite ends, not even your breaths mingling. It had been years since that though…..Seungcheol felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He had no idea how he was to spend tonight in this room. Or the next few ones.

Neither did you.

As all three of you stood before the door and the bellboy fumbled with the keys, you glanced at Seungcheol. He looked unbothered as one could be. Perhaps you were overthinking this whole thing. It was a matter of four nights, surely the two of you could at least try to be courteous right?

“What in the...?”

Seungcheol’s voice rang in the empty corridor and you leaned to see what had him so shocked. Your own jaw dropped in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and relief.

Room 68 was no average hotel room. It was as big as the entire lobby, 7 heavily pillowed and blanketed single beds aligned from one end to the other almost military barrack style, only small bedside tables putting space between them.

“Room 68 is uh our bachelorette party suite.” The bellboy clarified. “For, you know, those big groups of girls who are hell bent on partying all night together?” He looked away like he was recalling a horrifying memory. “Since it’s holiday season, the lodge is booked out, this was the only room we had left. Is... is it not good?”

Seungcheol looked at you and for the first time in nearly 25 years, the two of you could finally agree on something.

“No.” You stepped in. “It’s perfect.”

It had been years since you had seen Seungcheol half-naked.

Well, you frequently saw him during swim practice in those tight speedo shorts of his, ass all plump and taut but you were not talking about that. You were referring to the sight before you right now, him with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he searched for something in his bag frantically – most likely his aftershave. You knew he must have cleaned up given the conference was starting tomorrow and also that his cheeks were burning because you couldn’t smell the subtle cinnamon spice aftershave that usually followed in his routine.

Seungcheol strangely felt a pair of eyes on him as he rummaged through his things and suddenly remembered he was not alone in the room. He quickly turned, looking for you, finding you curled up in your bed, writing in what he guessed was your journal, unbothered by his presence. You were wearing that cute nightgown with little tomatoes drawn all over it which Seungcheol found funny given how much you hated tomatoes with all your heart and soul. Realising he had been looking for too long, Seungcheol gulped, quickly grabbing the aftershave he finally found and rushed back into the bathroom.

You flinched as you heard the door of the bathroom slam shut, looking up from your journal. Shaking your head exasperated, you returned to your writing. Seungcheol always handled things around him roughly like he was just not built to be gentle - slamming doors hard, breaking at least one coffee mug a month, causing rips in most of his clothes when he would gym because he was so big…. And muscular…. And built…..You bit the back of your pen thinking about how good he looked in his gym wear but if you were being honest, he looked best in a suit.

He’s going to be wearing one tomorrow.

You snapped out of your thoughts realizing you were entering dangerous waters and turned your attention back to your writing. Seungcheol made that process slightly harder as he walked out, furiously rubbing his towel against the back of his head, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweats.

As he sat down on his bed, he looked at you sitting six beds across, all the way in the other end of the room, right by the window. The moment the two of you entered the room, he took bed 1, the one against the wall and you took bed 7, the one against the opposite wall, putting the maximum possible distance between the two of you. He let you use the bathroom first, not because he knew you preferred using it when it is dry but because he thought this was the best time for him to call his parents and wish them goodnight….. even though it was still 7:30.

He showered after you did but even now, despite being so far from you, he could still smell your bodywash, the fragrance of lilies, the mildest kind because strong fragrances irritated your sensitive nose. Throwing his towel on the chair he kicked his legs off the floor and lied on the bed, turning to the wall, hearing the faint annoyed click of a tongue. Seungcheol knew exactly what triggered it - you hated it when he tossed damp towels like that. But honestly, he couldn't care less right now, not when there were more important things to deal with tomorrow, not when he was so tired already.

You shut your journal, irritated by his behaviour remembering exactly why being in the same vicinity as this man infuriated you. Flipping the lights off and pulling the covers over your shivering body, you realigned your thoughts towards your goal - Tomorrow’s conference was crucial. You had to look your best and do your best so clocking in 8 hours of sleep was the priority, Choi Seungcheol's character development be damned.

But as you lied down turning towards the window, lightning flashed across the sky, a loud thunder following. You turned to see Seungcheol and his back was facing you, the outline of his figure moving up and down rhythmically like he was already in a deep sleep. Slightly relieved yet still unconvinced, you turned towards him before the sleep and tiredness took you away.

Seungcheol simply stared at the wall all night.

Seungcheol most definitely did not sleep all night.

You could tell by the fact that one, he was up without you waking him and two, he was not there in the room right now. That meant he was out for a run which in turn meant his face must have been all swollen which definitely meant he didn’t get enough sleep. You did notice though that his bedding had shifted from bed 1 to bed 2 and guessed it was because of the coldness of the wall - Seungcheol had the habit of tossing and turning at night and there was nothing he hated more than his bare skin accidentally brushing the cold walls. Considering you were still five beds away from him, you ignored it as you went to wash up and prepare for the day.

When he saw the time on his watch as he finished his last lap, Seungcheol realised he was way behind schedule and that you probably were already at breakfast, sitting with a dozen snide remarks, waiting for him. True enough, as he quickly showered, dressed, and headed down to the buffet, you were there already, going through the proposal, the plate beside you nearly empty. Quickly grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it in his mouth he walked over, putting on his suit jacket in a hurry. As you saw him approach, you shut your laptop, looking at him top to down in an ensemble that fit him all too well. Seungcheol’s eyes wandered over the pretty way you did your hair, and the plunging neckline of your blouse, a sliver of your pink bra peeking from underneath the fabric-

Both of you cleared your throats and looked away.

“We should leave, the cab should be here in-” He glanced at his watch. “-should have been here ten minutes ago, fuck.”

“It’ll be here in ten.” You pushed a cup of coffee towards him, looking at him pointedly to take a seat. Seungcheol glanced at it then back at you.

“You changed the time on my watch.” He huffed annoyed. “Again.”

“Glad to know you are still capable of basic comprehension.”

“You vile woman.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth, sitting down. “I showered so fast I thought I was going to pass out.”

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged. “And learn to be grateful Seungcheol, you’re only ever on time when I meddle, so say thanks to me.”

“I’d rather die before I thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee before the extreme bitterness hit his tongue, making him spit it out right back into the cup. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You did say you’d rather die.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know ten minutes is more than enough for you but personally, I prefer longer.”

Every single time. Every single time you flashed him that sweet, mocking smile and every single time it pushed his buttons like no other. One day he swore to put you in your place but right now he was too low on energy for that.

Well aware that you loved strawberries more than anything, he grabbed the last one on your plate and walked off to the taxi stand, ignoring the way you whined behind him.

“Oh, real mature of you Choi Seungcheol!”

You knew in your stress about perfecting the proposal early in the morning you had forgotten something important and the moment you stepped into the room that night, you knew exactly what that was.

To close the windows.

Thanks to the pouring rain, the water had drenched your entire bed, not to forget, your bag full of your clothes which was conveniently placed right on the mattress, soaking nearly every piece of clothing you owned. Thank God the laundry in the lodge said they would handle it for you so you still had an outfit for tomorrow’s conference but there were still two major concerns - one, what to wear tonight and two, where to sleep tonight.

You solved the first problem (almost) by grabbing your umbrella and heading to the nearest clothing store as instructed by the receptionist only to find out it sold barely any ‘cloth’ at all. It was an adult shop, filled majorly with lingerie of all kinds which were aiming to cover as little as possible. Groaning inwardly, knowing you didn’t have a phone on you to go any further in this weather, you grabbed the most decent nightgown you could find and rushed back.

A hot shower, a change of clothes and a quick meal later you decided to deal with your second problem, moving your things from bed 7 to 6, not too displeased considering there were still three beds between the two of you. You glanced at Seungcheol’s empty bed and then at the time - it was well past 10. Sighing, you settled under the covers pulling out your journal to write but got lost in your thoughts instead.

You were pretty proud of what you presented today - people praised you, congratulated you for a well drafted proposal and even went so far as to offer you jobs in their company. Yet you were not satisfied. Somehow, the one thing constantly running in your mind was the swarm of women who had flocked around Seungcheol the moment the conference was done, ‘mindlessly’ touching his arms, ‘casually’ brushing their chests against his, ‘genuinely’ laughing too hard at whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.

This was not new to you, Choi Seungcheol being the centre of attention wherever he went. He enjoyed it, basked in it, and chose to make a show of it whenever he got a chance. It was all so fake and superficial; you could not bear to stand it. That’s why even though everyone decided to go out for dinner and drinks tonight, yes, all twenty-seven of them, you politely said goodbye citing a headache and took a cab back. You were not interested in casual conversation and definitely not interested in seeing Seungcheol’s pathetic flirting.

Just as you begin to relish his absence and the beautiful silence that came with it, a loud knocking on the door and his voice screaming your name ended your perfect night. Grumbling, you opened the door to a fully drenched Seungcheol looking absolutely frazzled.

“What the hell-”

He stopped when his eyes fell on you dressed in a white floor length satin gown, the material seductively clinging to the curves of your body, your leg slightly visible between the slit. You crossed your arms to cover yourself up, feeling conscious under his gaze as he gulped audibly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He met your eyes, a slight worry flashing behind the anger. “You just disappeared without letting me know-”

“I told you I was leaving.” You walked into the room rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you could see something beyond all that pathetic fangirling you’d have heard.”

“Fangirling?” He looked genuinely confused, following you in as he stripped off his jacket. You tried your best to not stare at the way his pecs were so perfectly outlined under the wet shirt sticking to his body but Seungcheol caught you peering, his features lighting up with amusement.

“Would you look at that?” He smirked. “Someone is jealous.”

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t be jealous even if we were the last people on Earth.”

“Obviously, if we were the last people, who would you even be jealous of?”

You sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I actually don't, sweetheart. If a little action is all you want, you can just ask for it you know?”

“Funny coming from a guy who kissed me just because another man was talking to me.”

The first tea break of the conference had led to an introduction that was surprising to you considering people did not really tend to approach you on their own. It was even more shocking that this man chose to speak to you in the lunch break as well, completely unprompted. He was sweet, not egging you too much with conversation, simply limiting it to work and the conference and then Choi Seungcheol appeared out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist, uninvited. Before you could glare at him and send him away, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, excused himself and led you away from there, only to abandon you the very next second without an explanation.

“You call that a kiss?” Seungcheol scoffed. “You were so swept off your feet, you were this close to spilling details on our quotation for the project. That was actually me shutting you up.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you really wanted to shut me up, then you should have kissed me on the mouth.”

Seungcheol stared at you wordlessly.

As you began to walk away, he pulled you by the elbow, putting you against the wall, trapping you between his hands on either side.

“Is that how?” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses. “Because there is nothing I’d love to do more than shut you up.” He cocked his head with a small smile. “And maybe also show you what a kiss really is.”

You tried not to gulp the phantom lump in your throat, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze. Somehow, as though it had a mind of its own, your hand traced his exposed collar bone, trailing down his chest slowly, eyes following. Seungcheol held his breath under your touch. You stopped your tracks at his hard pecs, right above his heart beating just as fast as yours and looked up at him.

And then twisted his nipple.

Shrieking in pain, Seungcheol stumbled back, clutching his chest.

“What the hell mate?”

You walked towards your bed, grabbing your matching satin night robe and slipping it on. “It's ridiculous that you even think you of all people could show me a real kiss.”

“You forget sweetheart, I was your first one.”

You turned to Seungcheol as he brought up a memory you had actually done a great job forgetting. It was during your senior year - your parents had forced you to accompany Seungcheol to a house party so you could “get more involved in the social scene” instead of holing yourself up in your room all the time. It was a classic game of truth or dare and the worst dare of your life - to kiss Seungcheol for a minute.

Now the last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you every day about how you were too scared to kiss him so you held him by the collar and pulled yourself into his lap straddling him, your mouth meeting his in a frenzy. If you were being honest, something about that kiss served as your sexual awakening - maybe it was the way he moaned into your mouth, or his hands gripped your ass, or hands entangled in his soft hair or your chest pressed up against his. Whatever it was, there was a video of it that your classmates took circulating somewhere out there, timed around five and a half minutes as opposed to the one minute it was supposed to be.

“Don’t take too much pride in yourself Cheol.” You sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands planted in the mattress. “Only I know how many other guys I had to kiss after that to know what kissing truly is.”

Seungcheol felt his jaw tighten.

Something in you had changed in junior year. Yes, you were still the same antisocial, inhospitable, unapproachable person you always were but somehow every other day, he found you in a new location with a new guy's tongue shoved down your throat. They were not boyfriends, Seungcheol knew that much, and it was the fact that they weren't that made his blood boil with anger.

“You shouldn’t take pride in yourself either sweetheart.” He looked at you with a strange mixture of anger and pity. “There's nothing to feel accomplished about not forming a single real bond in your life.”

The moment the words left his mouth Seungcheol regretted it, knowing he had hit a soft spot. It was too late now; the damage was done - pain was flashing in your eyes.

You looked at the insensitive man before you and laughed at him sadly, mirroring his hurtful words.

“No real bond? I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.”

And with that you turned away from him, tucking yourself under the sheets, turning off the lights on your side of the room. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, Seungcheol locked himself up in the bathroom, your words piercing his heart like no other. Over the years yes, the two of you argued and fought and annoyed each other and couldn’t stand one another but hate? He didn’t ever think that’s what you felt for him. Perhaps he deserved it - he had after all crossed a line with that comment.

He knew you had always struggled around people. He knew that even though you detested taking his help for anything, in every social setting, you would always choose to hide behind him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact, you just couldn’t. You were a sick child since birth, constantly brought down by various illnesses that often confined you to your room - you didn’t go out to play with the other children, you didn’t join the kids on their trips to the ice cream shop, you didn’t go late night camping with your classmates, you didn’t do a lot of what kids your age did.

And when you were old enough, when you were healthy enough to step out into the world, you didn’t know how to anymore. Hence you continued to stay in your own shell, closing yourself off from everyone, wary of any and all interactions. Seungcheol knew all this, that’s why when he couldn't lay his eyes on you in the crowd of the conference, the panic he felt was like no other. He never thought he would ever feel his heart stop but Seungcheol felt it twice today - once when he lost you and the other when you said that. I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.

You stared out of the window, mildly annoyed by all the light falling in your face, Seungcheol’s words ringing in your ears. It might have sounded harsh but he was right. You never formed real bonds with anyone, you could never bring yourself to. Having spent years all by yourself, you didn’t know what it was like to let another person into a space that was entirely yours. That’s why, though you engaged in all sorts of flings and hookups, you never let it go beyond that - you never let yourself lose your heart to someone, walking away from them before they could walk away from you.

In that sense, Seungcheol was indeed the realest bond you had - just a constantly present, mildly irritating, oddly comforting white noise in your life. It was easy with him - you never had to think in his presence, you never had to wonder whether anything would drive him away, never had to worry about keeping him by your side unconditionally - he was always there. Somehow what you felt for Seungcheol was liberating in a way you hadn’t even realized. Hate could hardly define that; you were unnecessarily harsh earlier.

Seungcheol stepped out of the bathroom, eyes falling on your unmoving figure which he just realized was on bed 6 instead of 7. Noticing the damp sheets and piecing it together, he didn’t think too much of it as he switched off the lights and crawled into his bed.

Hearing the sounds of him shuffling, you turned towards him.

“Are you not going for the dinner?”

“It’s too late now. I would have eaten there if I didn’t have to run back here to check up on you.”

“You could have just called me.”

“I did.” He turned to you, looking at just your silhouette in the darkness. “A few hundred times.”

You checked your phone immediately and it wasn’t a hundred times but there were some fifty odd calls from him and two dozen messages.

“I put my phone on silent during the conference and forgot to take it off.” You mumbled, just a little guilty that he was missing out on a gathering because of you. “Did you at least eat?”

“I’m not hungry, thanks to all the Americanos you kept feeding me all day.”

“If not for that, you would have been snoring in the conference barely an hour after it began.” You turned to lie on your back, facing the ceiling. “And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just obediently drank that double shot espresso in the morning.”

Seungcheol remembered you sliding the coffee cup to him and smiled to himself in the dark.

“Then maybe you should also listen to me and stop munching on those strawberries every chance you get, especially when you know they flare your allergies.”

You remembered Seungcheol gobbling up the last berry and smiled to yourself in the dark.

“Goodnight, you obnoxious prick.”

“Goodnight, you insufferable fiend."

When you woke up in the morning, two things had changed - one, Seungcheol had moved from bed 2 to bed 3 in the middle of the night and two, his shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the mess on the floor. He was lying sprawled on his bare stomach, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his tattoo shining as the light hit it. Ignoring the sight before you with much difficulty, you shook him awake.

“Get up Cheol, we’re going to be late.”

He groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly blinking open, falling on you first thing in the morning. Even though you were dressed in the sultriest thing he had ever seen on you, Seungcheol controlled himself and tore his eyes away.

“The radiator is right across the other bed; I was literally burning all night.” He mumbled, stretching awake, justifying his move.

You turned towards it noticing how it was in fact between bed two and three, closer to three than two to be honest. Considering Seungcheol was still drenched in sweat, his move in the middle of the night was actually quite pointless, but you chose not to say anything about it. Quickly washing up, the two of you rushed for breakfast, skimming over the presentation notes one last time. Today, neither of you noticed but Seungcheol drank the coffee and you didn’t eat the strawberries.

Day two went by in a flash much like day one. Only this time, you didn’t talk to the gentleman from yesterday, choosing to sit quietly by Seungcheol in the break and he didn’t leave your side either, regardless of all the ladies calling him to join them. In the evening, as the team headed to the city’s best karaoke bar, inviting you and Seungcheol again, Seungcheol brushed them off claiming the two of you had a little more work to do on the proposal. To his surprise, you shot him down, agreeing to join everyone, looking at him with a small smile.

“Don’t be such a killjoy darling.”

Seungcheol knew you were compensating for last night so he followed, well aware that you would most likely want to leave the moment the singing started. Well, he was almost right - you actually wanted to leave the moment you stepped foot into the room, turning to him with pleading eyes. Seungcheol turned you by your shoulder, laughing as he led you in.

“Don’t be such a killjoy sweetheart.”

You sat patiently as the beers poured in and people around you fought for the photobooth props. Seungcheol was sitting right beside you, his thigh a comforting weight against yours, laughing with everyone. As the night progressed, you had downed a beer or two, a slight buzz taking over, not noticing the way Seungcheol had his arm around you now or that you were warmly cuddled against his torso. Soon, one by one, everyone settled on the couches, tired from all the screaming, resorting to chatter instead and deciding on an old-fashioned game of truth or dare. Seungcheol smirked at you and you turned his face away with a soft push.

“So Seungcheol,” The man beside him spoke. “Truth or dare?”

“Neither actually. We should leave now.” He stood, pulling you up, stumbling slightly. “I’ve had too much to drink and it's late, Y/n needs to sleep.”

“Didn’t realize wacky wallflower here also had the bedtime of a toddler.” One of Seungcheol’s many fangirls piqued, jealousy stark on her face. “We can book her a cab, why don’t you stay a little longer, Cheolie?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nickname, and at her jealousy but Seungcheol did not find anything about her words even remotely funny.

“No thanks, I go where she goes.”

“I thought you guys weren’t dating? Then why-”

“That doesn’t change what I said.” His voice dropped an octave. “I go where she goes.”

“Cheol.” You placed a hand on his chest, sensing his anger rising. “It’s fine, let’s stay for a few rounds, yeah?”

Seungcheol looked at you frowning as you sat down, pulling him with you. The girl you already disliked but quite vehemently hate now, spun the bottle with a giggle.

“We don’t have to stay.” Seungcheol whispered as the guy beside you excitedly asked the one across him a question. “You stayed long enough, you need sleep-”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” He spoke between gritted teeth. “Just looking at that foul woman makes me mad. I already said I wasn’t interested in her, she had no reason to be a bitch.”

“Well then don’t you want to put the bitch in her place Cheol?”

You looked at him with big doe eyes which terrified Seungcheol even more. What on Earth were you up to?

“Y/n, you get to ask Yuri!”

You looked at the bottle to see it pointing between you and your little conquest of the night. Hook.

“Truth or dare?” Line.

“Dare.” And Sinker.

“Okay Yuri, then I dare you to not take your eyes off.”

You pulled Seungcheol by the collar, smashing your lips on his, swallowing his audible moan. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer, up against his body, teeth roughly tugging your lower lip. Hand sliding up his neck and across his jaw, you entangled your fingers in his hair, drawing him even closer denying even air the right to come between the two of you. Yes, it was all a show for Yuri or whatever her name was, but at a point, she stomped her foot and got up, running out of the room. Perhaps the two of you should have stopped then or at least when you were running out of breath. But you only broke apart when someone dropped a beer bottle, smashing the glass loudly on the floor. Seungcheol and you looked at it, faces flushed, lips swollen. A low whistle echoed in the room.

“We-” Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. “We should get going.”

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, getting up and grabbing your things as Seungcheol smoothened his hair with his hand, muttering a small goodbye to everyone. As the two of you stepped out of the room, you found Yuri crying at the entrance, her friend trying her best to console her. Not sparing her another glance, you walked away, Seungcheol following you close behind. As the cold air hit you when you reached the taxi stand, you felt a painful sting on your lower lip, making you hiss. Hand cupping your face, Seungcheol wiped the trickle of blood with his thumb.

“Guess you desperately did need a real kiss huh?”

“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “I had to help the poor girl get over her pathetic taste in men.”

“By getting a taste of me?” Seungcheol smirked as you rolled your eyes. Before you could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl making you laugh and look around, spotting a burger joint.

“Let’s get you a taste of that big boy.”

“Sometimes I wonder-” You stared out of the window at the large clouds rolling in. “-considering our parents are best friends and we are not, do you think our children would be good friends or enemies?”

“Wow, children.” Seungcheol munched on his burger furiously. “I never thought that far.”

“Then think about it now.”

“I don’t know.” He hummed. He hated thinking when he was tipsy. “Siblings tend to have a love-hate relationship.”

“I was talking about our children Seungcheol.”

“So was I.”

“No, I mean, my own children and your own children.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

You looked at him exasperatedly.

“Let’s be honest here Y/n. Who else out there can put up with us for long enough to start a family?”

“We can barely put up with each other-”

“But we have, for almost 25 years.” He slurped on his drink. “There’s a reason why you have never been in a relationship and I have never been in one that lasts. Because whatever it is we share, it’s you and I, till the end.”

“Till the end.” You muttered, reaching for his burger, taking a bite from it. Judging by your expression, Seungcheol could tell you liked his better, like you always do. That’s why he made sure to get it without the tomatoes he usually loved and settled to eat your meal instead. He was just about to ask why exactly you were so lost in thought when a loud thunder boomed across the sky sending a shiver running down Seungcheol’s spine.

Shoving the last of the burger down your throat quickly washing it down with some soda, you began gathering your things.

“We should go before the rain starts.”

Seungcheol nodded, finishing up his meal as you threw the trash in the nearby can. As the two of you left, muttering your thank yous to the waitresses, you laced your fingers with Seungcheol’s, gripping him tight as another lightning flashed across the sky. Thank God it wasn’t too hard to flag down a cab because the moment the two of you sat inside, rain began pouring like there was no tomorrow. As you glanced at the obscurity outside the window, Seungcheol stared at his hand, the one that you hadn’t left in all this time.

There were times when he used to stay over in your room, unable to sleep due to all the thundering while you dozed away oblivious to his presence. Those days, you’d turn around, reaching for his hand, holding it in your sleep. Seungcheol now wondered if that might have been a conscious effort to comfort him.

Perhaps not he thought as you began to nonchalantly hum his favourite song. He wondered if you knew he loved that piece because of how beautiful you looked when you danced to it. He wondered if you knew that the reason he was always around you was to make sure you were alright. He wondered if you knew he always carried an extra inhaler for you, that he had written a long list of your allergies in order from ‘can handle’ to ‘keep away from at all times’, that he was constantly alert about everything you ate, smelt and touched. He wondered if you knew, deep down how much he cared about you…..but sleep dragged him away before he could wonder anymore.

Sensing Seungcheol had fallen asleep, you stopped humming, turning to him, smiling at his half open mouth. Scooting closer, you slowly pulled his head to rest against your shoulder, and he groaned softly, nuzzling into it. The driver looked at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, making your cheeks go red as you looked away.

“Is your boyfriend afraid of thunderstorms?”

You nodded, ignoring the title. “Since he was a child. I don’t think he’s been sleeping too well the last few days.”

“The forecast shows it’s going to be worse today.” The driver sighed. “Look out for him.”

You nodded again. You did look out for him. In your own ways you always did - you always challenged him knowing that was what pushed him to do better. You always made sure to wake him up or at least meddle with his clocks so he was always on time. You always made sure he ate and slept enough, knowing how it threw him off whenever he was deprived of either. Even now you were humming his favourite song knowing it calmed him down. You wondered if Seungcheol knew, that deep down you really cared about him…..perhaps more than anything.

When the taxi reached the lodge, you softly shook him awake after paying, dragging his sleepy self through the lobby. The receptionist's eyes followed the two of you, stumbling away hand in hand, mouth curling into a small smile as you disappeared. You only let his hand go when you reached the room and that’s what jolted him awake.

The silence that descended the room today was different. It wasn’t because the two of you were too tired to say anything to each other, rather neither of you knew what exactly to say given there was so much to. So instead, you resorted to washing up and filling in your journal for the day while Seungcheol worked on a few changes in the proposal for the final pitch tomorrow. Just as he shut the laptop and you shut your diary, the two of you looked at each other before quickly looking away, settling in your own beds, for the night.

You were almost ready to drift off to sleep, before the driver’s words rang in your mind - the forecast shows it’s going to be worse today. Without thinking much, you moved your things from bed 6 to bed 5, muttering that the light from the streetlamps was falling in your face there. Seungcheol did not point out that you could just close the curtains instead and curled up in his own bed, glad you were closer to him now.

He looked at you across the one bed that was in between and suddenly you felt too far, like the distance was too much.

You looked at him as his eyes fluttered shut, thunder rumbling across the sky, wondering if he could hear you across all this space, humming louder than usual, lulling the two of you to sleep.

When you woke up, Seungcheol was surprisingly awake and fully dressed, trying to knot his tie unsuccessfully in front of the mirror, expression focused with a small pout. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you stared at his reflection, eyes skimming over the beautiful features of his face which you never really consciously admired - his thick hair, thicker eyebrows, plump, pillowy lips, his jawline sharp and chiselled. He was indeed handsome, in a way you really liked….a lot.

You wondered why you always looked at him like he was the bane of your existence. Was it because it was easier to bury the unresolved tension under pointless banter? Or did you wantonly show him your worst side, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, hoping he would stay despite every flaw, every shortcoming. What did it mean if in 25 years, he didn’t leave even once?

Seungcheol groaned, annoyed at his futile attempts, eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. You slid off your bed, walking up to him as he turned to you. Yawning, you took his tie in your hands, tying it for him. Seungcheol’s eyes drifted over the features of your face as he held his breath.

He could get used to this, the sight of waking up to a sleepy you, your hair all over the place, your eyes slightly droopy, nose red. God you were so beautiful - he knew that, but why didn’t he ever think about it? Why did he choose to fight every remote thought about you with irritating banter? Was he scared that the tension would remain unresolved? And what did it mean if you were still here, right by his side, helping him out in everything big and small, always making sure he was going the right way and doing the right thing, every single day for the last 25 years?

You pushed the knot up to his neck, smoothening the material, patting his chest with a proud smile. Seungcheol gulped as you walked away to wash up, trying to get his breath under control.

When the two of you came down for breakfast, you pointedly avoided the receptionist's gaze. There was no time to deal with more thoughts.

The rest of the day went like that, thoughtlessly. It was a little awkward at the conference considering the little show you two put up last night, so the moment it ended for good in the evening, you bid everyone goodbye, citing you had an early flight and had to leave soon. It was true though, you did have to travel in the wee hours of the morning, but leaving from the conference so soon also meant having to spend longer with Seungcheol, all alone. He agreed with you though, stating his social battery was at an all-time low and that he just wanted to go back.

Today the two of you were somehow sitting on two ends of the car backseat, bodies pressing against the door, in complete contrast to last night. It was a silent ride, a silent walk to the room and a silent session of packing up. Suddenly there were very conscious efforts to not brush hands, or accidentally walk into each other or catch the other person randomly staring, lost in thought. It was only when you were finally done that you asked Seungcheol if he wanted to order dinner. He agreed, leading to a very small and very efficient discussion about what dishes to eat and then silence descended upon the room again. While waiting for the food to arrive, Seungcheol muttered that he was going for a quick run, leaving you alone with the thoughts you could no longer stop from plaguing your mind.

Something had changed over the last 3 days. It wasn’t you or Seungcheol - he was still throwing his damp towels on dry clothes and you were still meddling with his clocks. No, the two of you hadn’t changed. Neither did the arguing, neither did the banter, neither did the subtle flirting, neither did the silent support. No…. nothing had changed. It was all the same. It was all the exact same except now, you were finally willing to acknowledge something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself since the age of five, that-

“I’m in love with him.” You whispered, smiling to yourself.

Seungcheol on the other hand thought running around the lodge would mean those thoughts wouldn’t run in his mind anymore. He was wrong - even though you were not there, like always you were on his mind, in his every thought, in his every breath. Seungcheol didn’t know of a life without you. He also knew that you would be there with him for the rest of his life but for the first time in 25 years, he finally found himself owning up to it - that he truly wanted you be a part of his future, that he could not bear to think of one without you in it, that-

“I’m in love with her.” He whispered, smiling to himself.

By the time Seungcheol had returned, dinner had arrived. Between each bite you searched for the right words to say, noticing that Seungcheol was trying the same. Somehow, neither of you could bring yourself to say anything.

You couldn’t peacefully finish up your journal and Seungcheol couldn’t take a relaxing shower, both muttering under your breaths, practicing long speeches, determined to confess everything before sleeping tonight.

But when all was done for the night, both of you laid down on your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, unable to talk, unable to sleep.

Seungcheol turned his head as you did towards him, making his heart clench a little.

Sighing, he grabbed his pillow and put it on bed 4, lying down, facing you.

You looked at him blinking slowly.

Seungcheol held his breath.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your duvet and joined him on the fourth bed, throwing it over the two of you, lying down, facing him.

Seungcheol slid his hand over your waist, pulling you closer.

You gripped the material of his shirt, snuggling into the warmth of his neck.

Nothing was said that night.

Nothing had to be said as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

It was the harsh morning sun and the annoying chirping of the birds that woke you up.

You stared out of the window surprised at the bright light given the last few days were as gloomy as it could be. Seungcheol’s soft breaths tickled your shoulder as his arms held you tight, your back against his chest. Smiling you wiggled in his grip turning towards him, taking in how much more stunning he looked in the morning light-

Morning?

“Cheol.”

He hummed softly.

“Cheol!”

“What?”

“It’s bright outside.”

“That’s how mornings are Y/n.”

“Oh thank you for enlightening me.” You rolled your eyes. “Might I return the favour by reminding you that we had a flight at 5am?”

Seungcheol’s eyes flew open.

He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, 11am flashing on the screen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck, I can’t believe we missed the flight!”

You took the phone from him and scrolled through the app. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning, same time, 5am.”

“But the company hasn’t paid for the room tonight, where will we stay?” Seungcheol groaned. “How could you not wake me up?”

You frowned at him. “And why is it my job to?”

“Because, you don’t like it when I put alarms on my phone.”

“Uh no, I don’t like it when you continue to sleep through the dozen alarms you put on your phone.”

“Whatever your reasons are, I think its been established that you are the one who's supposed to wake us both up.”

“Yeah well thanks to you I forgot to set an alarm.”

“Thanks to me?” He looked at you bewildered. “What did I do?”

“Who asked you to..” You pointed at everything around with the wave of a hand, the two of you only just registering the situation you were in.

“You were the one who came to my bed.” Seungcheol shrugged. “This is on you because you were desperate.”

“Says the one who’s boner poking into my back woke me up.”

Seungcheol gawked at you, stuttering. “M-morning wood is a scientific phenomenon, okay? I can’t help it-”

“I could have.” You muttered, slipping out of the bed.

Seungcheol pulled you back under him, half hovering over you.

“Oh yeah?” He bit his lower lip with a small smile. “How exactly?”

You hummed, “I happen to know some good meditation techniques-”, running a finger down his abdomen, tracing a random design.

Seungcheol grabbed your hand and pinned it to the mattress by your face, leaning close.

“Think of a better way, baby.”

The nickname sent a delightful chill down your spine as you slightly squirmed under him, smiling.

“How about I get you some ice-”

“That’s not what I want right now.”

“Then what do you want right now?”

His eyes ran along the features of your face.

“I want to kiss you.” He whispered. “So bad.”

“And what are you waiting for?”

Seungcheol groaned, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, needy and ravenous, like he had been waiting eons for this. Well, so had you.

Pushing him off you and onto his back, you straddled his hips, kissing him again, rolling your tongue over his. Seungcheol moaned into your mouth, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other holding you by the nape of your neck, taking back control. When you ran your hand over his thick pecs, he pulled away with a dreamy sigh, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

“Strip for me.”

Sitting up immediately, you lifted your hips a little letting Seungcheol push the material of your nightdress up your thighs and you pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere. In the ten seconds it took you to do that, Seungcheol was a changed man. The old him wanted to take his time unravelling you slowly, pushing you to the edge but the new Seungcheol felt the animal in him come alive with a throbbing, insatiable desire. It became exponentially worse when you pulled your hair up, tying it with the hair tie on your wrist, baring your neck, perfect breasts, soft stomach….unable to reign it in anymore, Seungcheol lunged forward, hungrily sucking a tit into his mouth, making you lose your balance over him a little, grabbing his bicep half laughing.

“Huh, I really thought you were more of an ass guy.”

Seungcheol let go with a wet pop, looking up at you from between his thick lashes. Oh wasn’t that a sight.

“For you, I’m an everything guy.” His hands gripped your ass hard. “Your derriere does take the cake though.”

You laughed, “Who even uses that word?”

“I don’t know, I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth right now.” He confessed, his tongue running up the gap between your boobs, the sweet and salty taste of your skin driving him insane. “I just know what I want in it.”

“Yeah?” You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him back with a harsh grip, before he latched onto your other tit. “I have better things to put in it.”

Seungcheol grinned like he couldn’t wait, flashing his canines, biting his lower lip.

God he was going to be the end of you.

But you’ll beat him to it.

Palms planted behind you, you slid yourself back off his thighs and sat between his legs, lifting your own up for him. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened in an instant and the moment he saw the wet spot in the middle of your pink panties, he could not hold himself back anymore. With a swift movement he was up on his knees before you, hooking his fingers in the elastic by your waist and slowly dragging your underwear along your legs. Like a man starving he crumpled it in his hand, breathing it deeply, eyes fluttering shut like he was intoxicated by your scent.

“I’m going to be borrowing this, for whenever you’re not there.”

“Pervert.” You whispered as he tucked it in the back pocket of his tracks. “But I’m never not going to be there. I’m afraid you’re stuck for life now.”

Seungcheol fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, flinging it somewhere before he put his hands between your knees and spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight before him. You were quite literally hiding his paradise between your legs.

“Trust me,” He reached for a pillow behind him, throwing it to you. “I want to be stuck here.”

The moment you tucked it under your head lying back, Seungcheol wasted no time in crawling between your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, descending on your sex. You felt your back arch off the mattress as he devoured, his tongue, mouth, lips all showing you stars in daytime.

“Fuck Cheol.” You whimpered as his tongue slipped into your hole, his moan sending a wild vibration against it. Bringing your hands to his head, your fingers gripped his hair, pushing your hips up against him “Give me more.”

Seungcheol smirked, pressing your hips down, continuing his ministrations in a way that made your toes curl. Damn he knew what he was doing. For a split second you wondered how he knew so much and an ugly jealousy began coursing through you but it was lost almost immediately, when he began to suck on your clit.

“Cheol….” You moaned, the sudden stimulation too intense for you, a tightness growing deep inside. “F-fuck that’s good.”

Seungcheol knew he was good. Not because he was experienced, not exactly - more because he was desperate to taste every inch of you. If he thought the taste of your arousal was heavenly, the moment your legs trembled and your breaths got harsher and you came against his mouth, Seungcheol knew he’d cast aside the heavens for it. This wasn’t enough.

This was probably the fastest orgasm you ever had, waves of the buzz washing over as your jaw fell slack. You rode it out against his mouth, tense shivers running down your body as his nose grazed your clit before falling limp into the softness of the bed, chest heaving.

Seungcheol was so noisily devoted to making you fall apart on his tongue, he wasn't sure if you didn't moan his name or if he was too entranced to hear it. Either way, he had to go again, keeping in mind to put his eyes on you this time. When he looked up at you, your face was flushed, lips curled into a blissful smile and Seungcheol thought he fell more in love with you, if that was even possible.

“We're gonna have to talk about why you're so good at that.” You half laughed, trying to sit up. Seungcheol pushed you back down, throwing another pillow at you, humming.

“How good was I exactly?”

“Nice try big boy,” You stacked the pillow over the previous one, leaning back against it. “I'm not going to feed your ego.”

“I'll feed myself then.” He smirked before licking a long strip between your folds making you tremble with over stimulation.

“Cheol not yet-”

“If I don't hear you I'm not going to stop.”

And he descended upon you like a mad man again, making you gasp in surprise. You did not think he'd go through with it.

“Cheol I really can't-”

but Seungcheol did not stop.

When he didn’t listen, you reached to pull him off you but Seungcheol was quicker as he grabbed both your wrists in a flash and held them against your heaving chest, continuing to eat the life out of you.

“Seungcheol please.” You couldn’t even squirm if you tried to, held down hard by his brute strength. “I really can’t-”

He looked up, his mouth wet with his spit and your arousal as he licked his lips. Fuck you really loved this man.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

He was taunting you but there's a slight concern laced in his voice.

You shook your head slowly.

“I thought so.” He chuckled before continuing his act of wolfing down on you.

Your second orgasm began to rush in with an unreal speed and you don't know how Seungcheol could read your body so well already but the little bitch backed out before you could cum again.

“Cheol…”

You whined, frustrated at the feeling ebbing away, desperately clenching to hold on to it.

“I said I wanted to hear you.”

You glared at him, not used to him having the upper hand. He knew he's got you under control when he finally loosened his bruising grip on your thigh to sit up and you opened your mouth on your own accord to let him slip his fingers into them.

“What a pretty little girl.” He sighed as you sucked on his digits. “My pretty girl.”

“Yes yours.” You moaned, as he pulled them out of your mouth and pushed them into his, wetting them more as you practically panted below him.

“I'll do what you want, just put them in me Cheol.”

“You're quite demanding baby.” He leaned over you looking amused. “I hope you deliver as well as you talk.”

“I'll suck the life out of your dick after this I swear, just let me cum again.”

Enticed by the idea, Seungcheol captured your mouth in another one of his messy kisses, his fingers slowly slipping into your heat. You gasped into his mouth, surprised by how thick his fingers were. Oh his dick would probably make you pass out and god were you ready for it.

“Say my name baby.” Seungcheol pressed his forehead against yours, still holding your wrists between both your bodies with his other hand. “Tell me who's making you feel so good.”

“You.” You moaned as he pumped his fingers, slowly stretching you open, your arousal dripping down between your thighs. “Fuck Cheol, faster.”

He obeyed, picking up the pace as you babbled a string of curses, legs squeezing his hand desperate to feel more. Seungcheol sucked on your neck, enjoying the way you were crumbling apart for him. How was he ever going to be away from you after this?

“Oh god yes.” You sighed, as his fingers curled hitting the spot, eyes rolling back. Seungcheol looked at you in awe.

“I apologise if I ever told you that it was annoying when you rolled your eyes.” He continued to push you over. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Yes yes yes.” You chanted not hearing him, too lost in your own pleasure building. Pleased with himself, Seungcheol finally put his thumb over your clit and that was all it took for you to cum all over his fingers with yet another silent scream.

Seungcheol let your hands go and sat back on his heels, admiring his artwork. Your chest heaved erratically like you had forgotten how to breathe, squeezing your tits, hands desperate to claw something. Hair sticking to your forehead, sweat running down your neck next to the bruises he marked, you were a vision to behold.

Seungcheol sucked his fingers clean, relishing the taste of you yet again. You stared at him wide eyed, curious.

“Have you never tasted yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Seungcheol pushed his tracks down just a bit, enough to pull his dick out. It's not the longest you've seen but God was it thick, a stark vein running down the length which looked painfully hard. The thought of having him fill your mouth and choking around it literally made you drool.

He pumped it a few times before hooking his hands under your thighs and pulling you towards him with unsurprising ease. You scrambled to raise yourself up on your elbows, watching as he ran it up and down your slit, gathering your release on it.

“Come taste.”

You blinked at the man holding out his dick to you like it was a treat, like he expected you to crawl to him, stunned at just how cocky he had gotten in 20 minutes. Hell no.

You shook your head, tilting it in challenge.

“Come fuck my mouth.”

If Choi Seungcheol had a fatal flaw it was how much he desired control but right now, there was nothing he desired and craved more than you.

Moving over not so gracefully he aligned himself by your mouth, knees planted on either sides of your waist, looming over you.

You immediately wrapped your lips around his tip, humming at the weight on your tongue as he pushed your hair off your face softly.

“I know baby, you taste fucking divine.”

Giving him a half nod, running your tongue over his slit before hollowing your cheeks around him. The mix of your and his arousal indeed tasted….right, like they belonged together.

You tried to take in more of him but you might have underestimated his girth and overestimated your ability. Pulling back with a pop, you licked your lips.

“You're too thick.” Mumbling you tried to push him off you, onto his back. “Let me move over-”

“Oh no no.” Seungcheol clicked his tongue, grabbing the back of you neck, forcing you to look up at him. “It can't be that bad, someone claimed they could stack fruit loops on it.”

You rolled your eyes realising he was a bit too proud of himself. “I still can. I just don't have the cereal to prove it.”

“I'll buy some on the way back and when we go home that's the first thing you're going to do.” He wiped the spit leaking around the corner of your mouth with his free hand. “And if you don't manage to prove your point, that's grounds for punishment.”

You grinned at him.

“Oh you like that.” He hummed, guiding your head back to his cock. “We'll see how much of it you can take baby.”

A lot apparently.

Seungcheol should have known. You were like him - you didn't like to be challenged. That's why the moment he thrusted himself into your mouth, you held onto the back of his thighs with both hands, pushing it in a lot more than Seungcheol had thought you were capable of. Throwing his head back with a satisfied moan, he began moving his hips ever so little, slowly fucking your face, but you had other ideas, taking him as far back as you could, your throat constricting around his dick.

“Alright that's it.” Seungcheol pulled you off him, staring at your confused face. Somehow you had no gag reflex and Seungcheol suddenly had the endurance of a teenager. “Want to actually fuck you.”

He muttered drawing back, kicking off the remaining of his clothes and sitting up, trying to hide his breathlessness.

“Aw Cheol, was I right again?” You laughed, getting up and clambering onto his lap. “Is ten minutes really enough for you?”

“You'll see.” He pulled you into a deep kiss before abruptly breaking away, leaving you confused yet again. “Or not.”

“What?”

“I just realised… I don't have a condom.”

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding but he looked serious.

“Cheol….” He looked at you apologetically. “Ugh Choi Seungcheol, why not?!”

“One, don't call me that and two, I don't know, maybe because this was a work trip and the conference dress code didn't mention dick envelopes.”

You sighed annoyed. “I just always thought you'd carry one on you, xl sized.” You shot his overconfidence down before it even grew on him. “you know, for your head.”

“Oh because I'm a dick?” He rolled his eyes at the comment you had used on him too many times already. “Well, wouldn't that make you a little slut? Since you’ve been in love with me for so many years.”

“Who said I was in love with you?”

Seungcheol looked at you with the biggest, fucking cutest eyes. “Are you not?”

You smiled, surprisingly shy despite all that transpired so far. Honestly, you didn't have to answer that question. What you felt for each other was clear as day.

Putting a finger on his mouth, you whispered. “Less talking, more fucking please.”

Seungcheol groaned. “What do you want me to do? Go buy them now?”

“No…” You hated the thought of him leaving.

��Or…. I could pull out?”

“The last thing I trust in this world is your timing.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, don't you want to be inside me when you cum? Squeezing you tight? Milking you dry?”

“Kinky.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted. “And shoot me if I ever say no to that, but you're not on birth control are you?”

“No…” You drawled. “But I can get plan b?”

“Baby, you realize how reckless this is-”

“I know.”

“-we've barely just-”

“I'm aware.”

“-plus your health-”

“Choi Seungcheol.” You pushed him back into the bed, annoyed. “Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if you don't then I'm gonna do it myself and all you get is to watch-”

Seungcheol, tucked his arm under his head, looking like he liked that idea a little too much.

“-while I cum taking someone else's name.”

His eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you down to his eye level, “Try me sweetheart.”

“You know how I feel about challenges.”

“And you know how I feel about sharing what’s mine.”

“Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

Seungcheol smiled, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth, much in contrast to what followed. “Remember, you asked for this.”

One arm wrapped around your waist, he flipped you over, putting you below him once again, the hunger in his eyes burning a lot more now. As he shifted to push your legs apart, hand leaving your neck, a soft whine left you and Seungcheol caught it immediately.

“You’re into that too?” Seungcheol smirked as you frowned at him, annoyed.

“Apparently. I just found out as well.”

“I wonder what else you’re into.”

“You can wonder all you want, after you put that dick into me.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t like how you think I’d listen.”

Yet before you could talk back, he slid his cock along your folds, the tip slightly dipping into your hole, pulling out the most exquisite moan from you.

“Now that’s something I’d listen to.” He pushed himself a little further, your hands immediately coming to grip his biceps, gasping again at just how big he was. Seungcheol had been dying to listen to you sound like this and god was it so worth it.

You attempted to relax, adjusting around his girth as he eased himself in, but gave up even trying to maintain the facade of composure when he bottomed out, pressing all the way in.

“Fuck yes Cheol.”

He hissed softly, feeling your soft walls flutter around him. He had never fucked anyone raw and after this, how was he expected to just not spend his whole life buried in you?

“Please, move.” You begged, and he folded immediately, his hips slowly picking up pace as he kissed you along your neck.

“We should have done this years ago.” He groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, pounding faster, harder. “We should have been doing this for years now.”

You nodded half listening, half submerged in your pleasure, nails running down his back. “Let’s just never get out of this bed.”

Seungcheol chuckled, absolutely agreeing with that idea, snapping his hips faster, delighted by the way you were reacting under him.

He wanted to flip you around and take you from the back, mark your ass with the red prints of his hand. He wanted you sitting on him, fucking yourself on his dick while he watched, your head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to eat you out till you cried, fuck your throat and make you swallow, pull every moan and every whine and ever chant of his name out of you. God he wanted so much but Seungcheol wasn't capable of any of those right now - he had been hard for almost an hour now and your grip around him was like a vice.

“Seungcheol more.” You whined, despite him already railing into you like there was no tomorrow. He still listened though, sliding his hand down between your bodies and finding you clit, well aware that you would probably go unbelievably tight the moment he touched it, rendering him absolutely helpless. Sure enough, you keened, clamping down on him hard the moment he began rubbing circles, a string of curses leaving your mouth.

“Cum for me.” He whispered, hips rutting against yours harshly, holding his own release back desperately. “Cum all over me.”

And you did, the pleasure washing over you in waves, legs tightening around him before they finally went slack, exhausted. Seungcheol pulled them off him, gripping your thighs instead, shifting from an erratic rhythm to quick, deep strokes as he finally came inside you, collapsing on top.

He was careful enough not to crush you under his weight, holding himself up a little so you could regain your breath, watching your eyes flutter tiredly.

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mixed arousals dripping out of you. “I don’t know how long the statute of limitations for ejaculate is….”

For the first time in your life, Choi Seungcheol had managed to turn you dumb, as you nodded mindlessly, not having registered the stupidity that just came out of him.

He chuckled, rolling off you, but you dragged him back by the wrist, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hold me.”

And as though the universe hated you, a sharp knock on the door made you two jump apart. Seungcheol still proceeded to hold you but the knocking only repeated, louder this time. He huffed annoyed, sliding off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and threw it on. Opening the door just a little, half hiding behind it, lower half specifically, he peaked out but his plan was foiled when the receptionist pushed the door fully open and came barging in, throwing her hands around.

“Check out time was 12! You’re late-”

She froze as Seuncheol quickly covered himself with a towel from nearby and you scrambled in a hurry, hiding under the sheets, squirming in embarrassment.

The old woman slowly, still shocked to the core, muttered an apology and walked out of the room as Seungcheol smacked his head against the wall, regretting not wearing his pants.

“You…” She cleared her throat from the other side of the door. “You have till 2. Get it together and get out of my lodge.” She then walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading, before they suddenly got louder again. “I would also like to add that I knew this was going to happen from the moment you two stepped foot in here!”

You covered your face trying not to pass out from the embarrassment as Seungcheol locked the door laughing.

"Why does she sound so happy?"

“I cannot believe she saw us." You groaned. "Who walks in like that-”

“Who cares?” Seungcheol walked over to you. “I cannot believe we still have two more hours.”

“You’re not even ready to go again.” You looked pointedly at the softened dick in his hand that he was pumping lazily. “Besides, we're going to have to book the room again, for tonight.”

“2 hours isn’t enough for you? Oh baby-”

“Our flight is at 5am tomorrow you idiot, we still need a place for the night.”

“Right.” Seungcheol recalled, “I forgot we had to go… that this had to come to an end.”

“Nothing’s ending.” You clarified, putting a rest to his worries. “Didn’t you say, you and I, till the end?”

Seungcheol nodded as you held your hand out to him. He walked over taking it, dropping a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Say.” And you knew an unholy thought was brewing in that head of his. “We have all this time and there are seven beds here.”

“I don’t care how many there are.” You laughed, pulling him into the softness of the sheets. “I only want one to share with you.”

A/n - this was supposed to be out a few hours ago but tumblr was being a bitch to me. Im adding the tags in the comments! Reblogs with tags, comments and asks are much appreciated, thank you for reading :)

[marsmaximoff]

🦑 hwang jun-ho; headcanons 〇△□

content warning: gn!reader. fluff. mentions of death, coma and jealousy. pet names. no season 2 spoilers. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 941

author’s note: well, my man is back, and i had to write some headcanons for him. the OBSESSION that i had back in 2021 needs to be studied, omg. anyway, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, english is my third language, so i apologize for any mistakes. in case i don’t post anything else this year, happy 2025 everybody!! enjoy! 🩷

divider by @k1ssyoursister

〇 pre-games

best. boyfriend. ever.

that’s it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

🙃🙃🙃

his love languages are:

1) quality time

he may be a police detective, but he ALWAYS tries to make time for you 

and see you every day, and if he can’t, he’ll save some minutes to call you

loves to hear about your day

big on communication, that’s key on your relationship 

type of boyfriend that picks you up after work, or anything really

he just wants to see your cute face :3

takes you out on cool dates

to the park, to eat, to cute animal cafés

he’s okay with staying in too, just cuddling, talking, watching something….

and 2) acts of service 

will drive you anywhere you need

you get ‘good morning/night’ texts every single day you’re not together

makes you breakfast 

and has no problem with cooking for you

opens doors for you 

pulls out the chair at the restaurant ☝🏻

he’ll simply do anything you need

loves coming home to you, it doesn't matter how shitty or overwhelming his day was, you just put a smile on his face

his favorite thing to do with you is eating

it may sound boring, but he loves to see you taking care of yourself, well-fed and happy

takes you to meet his family

his mom loves you

even his brother likes you

he’s a tease and enjoys seeing you all flustered

i feel like he’d be the type to have many pics of you on his phone that he goes back to whenever he misses you

you’re probably his wallpaper, perhaps even on his wallet too 🤭

some pet names like: “honey”, “love”, “beautiful”, “cutie”

would never cheat

a guard dog

not super jealous -a bit tho- but won't hesitate to step up if someone acts stupid 

(picture that one scene in season 2 when that man mocked him and didn’t believe he was an actual police detective hehe)

shows you off 🤩

checks you out :p

his hand is on you in some way when you’re out

has good emotional intelligence

big spoon

reminds you to take your make up off before bed if you wear any -he may even do it himself if you're too tired

or to take meds

he is just really caring and supportive

doesn't like seeing you worried or anxious because of his job

absolutely hates to see you suffer

doesn’t mind that you may be struggling financially, it won’t change what he feels

will help you with whatever it is

just don’t hide it, he hates secrets and lies

i hate doing it, but there always has to be some 🚩 

he’s the first one that would do it (lying and hiding stuff) to ensure you’re okay and don’t get worried

on a particularly overwhelming day, he will raise his voice at you

can get really overprotective 

some days you may not hear from him, or at least not much

will sometimes struggle to open up about his issues or what’s upsetting him

△ during the games

after your sudden disappearance, worry and fear ate him up

while checking your house he found a weird card

and once he discovered the exact same one at his brother’s, he knew something was going on

heard gi-hun at the police station rambling about some weird symbols and immediately recognized the design

interrogated him about you, desperate to know about your whereabouts 

as soon as he successfully infiltrated the games, he began your search

almost had a heart attack when he spotted you

had to make the effort of his life to stay calm and not run to you

would somehow manage to get you two alone so he can get you out of there (i wrote about this)

almost gets caught

feels betrayed you didn’t tell him and quite angry you’d risk your own life like this

but mostly relieved you’re okay (and still alive)

watches you like a hawk from the distance, ensuring your safety

constantly around, you continuously sense his presence close by 

□ post-games (you died)

had to see your death and practically went numb

blurry vision, ringing in his ears, shortness of breath, sting in his throat

the worst thing tho, was finding out his brother had been behind everything

how could he have done this to you? you trusted him! 

feels completely disgusted

after his coma, he blames himself for everything

your name was his first word after waking up

dreams about you 

gets you a cenotaph given that your body will forever remain strayed

nevertheless, he still talks to you like you’re there

tells you about his recovery and his progress finding the island

you are his strongest motivation

he’s doing this for you, to provide the love of his life a much deserving peaceful rest

gets you new flowers every few days

he’ll never stop feeling guilty

〇 post-games (you survived)

has nightmares he failed and left you to meet your demise on those cursed games

always there when you have them, and so is his shoulder if you need to cry

reassurance king

hides the identity of his attacker from you

becomes even more overprotective

shared location on at all times

gets paranoid if you don’t text him all day

he swore to never miss a single detail of your possible struggles. not again

you can still tell he holds himself responsible for your time on that island

stays awake at night just watching you sleep safe and sound (will never say it tho)

babies you

bigger spoon

doesn’t let you go out on your own if it’s late, afraid that something may happen and those psychopaths will reach you again

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[leashybebes]

Buck jolts awake on the couch with no idea of what time it is, and even less idea of what woke him. The latter resolves itself pretty quickly when, from the other end of the couch, Tommy lets out another window-rattling snore. Mr what are you talking about, Evan, I don't snore has his head tipped back, his mouth wide open. It's a deeply unflattering position and Buck can't help himself, reaches for his phone and snaps a photo.

Tommy's own phone is on the coffee table and if Buck can get there without waking him, he's going to have a delightful new wallpaper come morning. He wonders if he could sneak in a recording of Tommy's pneumatic drill impression and set it as his ringtone, too. Maybe it's a little mean, but Tommy's just such a dad with his insistence that he doesn't snore.

Buck almost drops his phone, but not before he sees the time: 00.34. 

Mentally, he scrolls through the day. A run through the neighbourhood, running into the lady two streets over with the cute dog. An unnecessarily indulgent breakfast, as has become a habit on his days off. Facetiming with Eddie and Chris. Collecting Jee from swimming lessons and dropping her home after an ice cream. Tommy showing up like he always does on their mutual free days - unannounced but never unwelcome. Trying to put together a decent lunch while Tommy tunes up the Jeep's engine for the third time in six weeks. Driving to the grocery store and bickering their way around the aisles. Talking Tommy's ear off about the latest episode of the latest podcast he's gotten into while they make dinner. Tag teaming the clean up when Tommy tries to insist he can take care of it all. Settling in to watch another movie Tommy can't believe you've never seen, Evan.

Yep. Nothing.

He pulls up the notes app on his phone, opens the right folder, and starts a new message. He'd given up on actually sending them before they could start getting bounced back with a number out of service message, knowing that would have taken him out at the knees.

It's past midnight and I didn't think about you dying once today, he writes. I know you'd say that's a good thing, and I think you're right, but I think it's the first time that's happened, and I feel really weird about it. I had a really nice day. There was a time I didn't think I'd ever have a nice day again, but I saw a cute dog, and I spoiled Jee, and I cooked, and I hung out with Tommy, and it was really, really nice. We're not back together btw but it's heading there. We both know it. You were right about him. I really, really wish you were here.

He saves the note, pockets his phone, leans over and pinches Tommy's nose shut in the middle of another snore to watch him flail awake.

"Asshole," Tommy says, once he's settled.

"Yep. C'mon," Buck tells him. "Bed."

Tommy grumbles, heaves himself to his feet, and staggers towards the bathroom. Buck watches him go for a second. Platonic and only slightly charged bed sharing is a fairly new development - Tommy has slept on this couch a lot over the last few months. He has a toothbrush in the bathroom. He has spare clothes in Buck's closet. He has a key.

Buck takes out his phone again and hesitates for a second.

I'm gonna tell him, he adds to his message. Tonight. Right now. While he's brushing his teeth so he can't change the subject. Wish me luck, pops. Love you.

[spencersmopbucket]

Polar Opposites | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: When you joined the team, it was very evident to the others that you and Spencer may not get along the best. You were water and he was oil — but when working on a team, the repelling can be dangerous. Themes & Warnings: Ummm violence, hurt/comfort with Reid!, enemies to lovers

You were raised in New York. Alone. No siblings or mother.

Learning independence was quick for you. By the time you were eight, you were walking yourself to school, a keychain with the apartment key and a bottle of pepper spray dangling from it. You were tough, bull-headed, but not completely absent of warmth.

Your father was a good man. A strong one. He was on the NYPD, a conductor of justice, yet a fair one. You idolized him, even when he came home with blood on his knuckles and exhaustion in his bones. You learned early that justice wasn't always clean, and rarely kind.

You quickly learned from him.

When you were old enough, he put you into self defense classes. It wasn't much of a surprise to him that you immediately excelled.

He watched proudly as you took down grown men twice your size in the ring, never once hesitating. “You fight like your mother,” he told you once. You didn’t remember her, not really, but something about the way he said it made your chest swell.

You lived by his rules. Protect others. Never back down. Trust your gut, even when it got you in trouble.

By the time you were a teenager, you were patrolling with a police scanner on in the background of your homework, studying both algebra and 10-codes. While other girls wore lip gloss and whispered about boys, you were memorizing the NY penal code and learning how to hold a Glock.

As soon as you could, you joined your father on the force. Not quite where he was. He was pretty far up. But you made him proud, which is all you wanted.

Every commendation, every collar, every time you kept your cool when things went sideways — he’d clap a firm hand on your shoulder and say, “That’s my girl.” And that was enough. It had always been enough.

Until it wasn’t.

The night he didn’t come home changed everything.

You were the one who got the call. Not the captain. Not some rookie liaison. You. Because you were his emergency contact. Because they knew you’d want to hear it straight, from the mouth of someone who cared.

Officer down. Ambush. Three men. Two with priors, one on a vendetta. He died fighting, they said. Died protecting his partner.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t speak for almost twenty-four hours.

Instead, you scrubbed his blood out of his badge chain, boxed up his medals, and sat for hours in his worn recliner with your service pistol in your lap, staring into nothing.

The grief didn’t crush you. It carved you.

By the time you left the NYPD, you weren’t the same person. And maybe that was the point. You needed something new. Somewhere that didn’t hold his shadow in every alley, every precinct, every call sign on the radio.

The BAU wasn’t your first choice. Behavioral analysis wasn’t your strength. You didn’t have three PhDs or a mind built for chess moves and statistics. But they recruited you anyway. Hotch said your field instincts were unmatched, that you had a gut that couldn't be taught.

You were strong. Your suffering had hardened you into a diamond. But you did have a flaw. Sometimes, you rushed into things without strategy, relying on strength and impulse. You were more physically lead than others on the team, opting for the take-down rather than the talk-down.

This was what made you so different from the team's boy genius, Spencer Reid.

He wasn't the softest anymore himself. He was hardened by his abduction by Tobias Hankel, his drug addiction, his prison time, the loss of his first lover. But he didn't let it change him completely. He was still warm, like he'd been before. Still sweet. And he still did his job the same; in the same calculating, analyzing Reid way. He was more logic based than aggression based.

And that’s where you clashed.

Where you were storm and instinct, Spencer was method and measure. He needed answers before action. You needed action before the body count climbed. He quoted psychological journals; you trusted a gut that had never failed you. It was oil and water from the very beginning.

The team noticed it immediately — the sharp way you challenged his statistics, the way his mouth drew tight every time you went off-book, the way both of you refused to yield. Rossi called it "professional tension." Morgan called it "foreplay." Hotch just warned you both not to let it interfere in the field.

Of course, it did anyway.

It had been a difficult case.

A serial killer, targeting women, as was typical. It was a sensitive situation, requiring delicate action and careful steps.

The investigation went fine — smooth actually. It was easy enough to profile and find the man, but the hostage situation needed to be handled much softer.

He was holding a young woman in a cage, down below his house in a bunker. You, Reid, Prentiss, and Morgan were sent to do the confrontation.

The four of you approached the property quietly. The woods surrounding the cabin were thick and silent, the late afternoon sun bleeding orange through the trees. Reid had his tablet out, blueprints of the house and rough sketches of the underground bunker on display. You barely glanced at it.

“We can’t spook him,” Prentiss said, voice low. “If he thinks he’s cornered—”

“He might kill her,” Reid finished grimly. “He’s already escalated twice. He’s unpredictable under pressure.”

That was Spencer’s way — anticipate the worst, measure every variable. Your jaw clenched.

“Then we don’t give him time to react,” you said, cocking your weapon. “He’s not expecting a full team yet. We move fast, controlled. Get in, get her out.”

Spencer’s head shot up. “No. We stick to the protocol. We make contact, distract him, and—”

“There is no protocol for a man holding a girl in a fucking cage, Reid.”

Your voice was sharper than it needed to be, but you didn’t care. The thought of that girl locked up like an animal made your skin crawl. Every second wasted was another scar, another trauma she’d carry forever.

“Exactly. Which is why we don’t risk charging in blind,” he snapped back, stepping in front of you. “You go in there guns blazing and he could slit her throat before you even get your second step down that ladder.”

Morgan’s hand landed on your shoulder, a warning. “Both of you — not the time.”

But you weren’t done.

“Then what? We just talk to him? Offer him therapy? Hope he suddenly sees the light?”

Reid’s eyes blazed. “No. But we don’t rush in and make it worse. You want to save her? Then don’t be the reason she dies.”

It hit harder than you expected. Maybe because deep down, you knew he was right. Maybe because you hated being wrong in front of him.

The plan went Spencer’s way. At first.

You reached them. The man was sweaty, eyes wild. The girl moaned quietly in front of him, wrestling around in the heavy chains she was bound by.

Reid and Prentiss attempted a talk-down.

The unsub paced behind the girl like a panicked animal, holding a long hunting knife inches from her throat. His eyes flicked between Prentiss and Reid, twitchy and erratic, the delusion already thick in the air.

“I didn’t hurt her!” he barked. “I fed her, didn’t I?! She’s mine now — I chose her!”

You could practically feel the tension radiating off Spencer. He stood just a step in front of Prentiss, hands raised, calm as ever — but you knew him well enough to see the strain in his jaw, the slight tremble in his fingers.

“You’re not in trouble,” Spencer said gently, voice even. “You’ve been through a lot. No one wants to hurt you, we just want to help her. Let her go. We can talk, just you and me.”

The unsub twitched. “She loves me,” he muttered, jabbing the blade toward the girl’s collarbone. She whimpered again, and your own hand inched toward your holster.

“Reid,” you said quietly. A warning.

But he held up one hand. Not yet.

“You’re right,” he said to the unsub. “You did choose her. You saw something in her. That’s important. That means you care about her, right?”

The man’s breathing hitched — confused. Hopeful.

Then it happened.

She whimpered again — too loud. Too broken. Something in her tone must have snapped the illusion in his head. Because suddenly he screamed, pulled her tighter, and raised the knife.

You moved before anyone else could.

Gun drawn, aim steady, you crossed the space in two steps and tackled him. Your shoulder collided with his ribs, knocking him clean off the girl. You wrestled the knife from his hand and had him on the ground in seconds, arm wrenched behind his back.

You barely heard the girl sobbing as Prentiss rushed to her side. Barely heard Morgan’s footsteps pounding down the stairs. All you could hear was the pounding of your own pulse.

“God damn it,” Reid muttered from behind you. Not angry. Not even frustrated.

Worried.

The rest was a blur.

Back at the precinct, the girl had been taken to the hospital. The unsub was in custody. Everyone was safe.

But Spencer didn’t say a word to you until you were alone.

The motel hallway was dim and quiet, carpet patterned with decades of wear. You turned when you heard his door click shut behind him.

“You weren’t supposed to go in,” he said. Quiet. Low.

You crossed your arms. “And if I hadn’t, she might be dead.”

“She might be,” he agreed. “Or you might be. We all might've been. You can’t keep putting yourself in the line like that without thinking. You don’t get to be the only one who carries the risk. Not to mention what risk it puts on the other teammates.”

You blinked. Something about the way he said it — like you'd selfishly put everyone in danger.

Your eyes narrowed.

"How come you're always shitting on my busts, Reid? You ever think that one of these times, you might wait too long and get someone killed?"

He swallowed, his face tightening.

"Don't turn this around on me. You continuously stray from protocol like you're above the rest of us. If you just followed directions, I wouldn't have to complain."

You felt the flare of heat in your chest — insult, frustration, maybe even guilt. But underneath all of it, something deeper: hurt.

"Above the rest of you?" you repeated, voice low. Dangerous. "Is that really what you think of me?"

Reid held your stare, but there was a flicker of regret in his eyes now. He hadn’t meant to cut that deep. Or maybe he had. Maybe it had built up between you for so long, he hadn’t realized the blade was that sharp.

“I think you act like you don’t need us,” he said. “Like you don’t trust anyone but yourself. And in this job, that’s not just frustrating, it’s fatal.”

You laughed once, dryly. “Well, maybe I don’t trust anyone else. Maybe I learned a long time ago that trust doesn’t keep you alive.”

That landed. His expression cracked. Because if there was one thing Spencer Reid understood, it was the cost of trusting the wrong people. Or worse, not trusting the right ones until it was too late.

"You need to ease up. Trusting someone besides yourself might keep you alive one day," He hissed, leaning into your face. "You act like a stubborn, impulsive fool."

You scoffed, a snide smirk curling onto your face.

"That's better than constant fear and anxiety. I'd rather be too quick than too slow, Reid," your cold voice biting into him. "You're so busy tucking back into your turtle shell that you don't realize how much time you waste being afraid."

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something fierce igniting behind the calm intellect you knew so well.

“Being cautious doesn’t mean I’m afraid,” he snapped back, voice low but sharp. “It means I’m trying to think. Something you never do until after the damage is done.”

You stepped closer, your breath mingling with his in the tight hallway. “Yeah, well maybe it’s better to act first and think later than to be paralyzed by what-ifs. At least I move.”

You stood face to face, a silent snarl shared between the two of you. Spencer took another breath to snap back, but you were interrupted.

"Guys. Enough. The jet is about to take off." Prentiss said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged her off, slinging your bag over it instead.

"It's cool. I was done being questioned about my successful take-down anyways." You muttered, walking away.

Spencer watched you go, the frustration still simmering beneath his calm exterior. His jaw clenched as he ran a hand through his hair, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him. He wanted to say more; to tell you that beneath his caution was a desperate hope you’d be safe, that he cared more than he knew how to show.

But for now, he let the silence stretch, knowing this was just one battle in a longer war between you. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way to bridge the gap, if only you’d both lower your guards.

The jet ride was tense. You didn't even look at Spencer, opting to pretend he wasn't there. He couldn't help but glance at you, the brooding look always on your face no different than usual. He sighed, returning to his book.

Back at the office, you shoved your go-bag back into your locker. The photo of your father glinted at you, stuck to the back of the door. You knew what he would've said.

You traced the edges of the photo with a tired finger, the worn image of your father — a man who’d always been your anchor in chaos — reminding you of the rules he drilled into you:

"Protect others."

"Never back down."

"Trust your gut."

"I'm so proud of you, kid."

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, the weight of those words settling deep inside you. You’d carried his lessons like armor all these years — tough, unyielding, sometimes too sharp to wield without cutting yourself.

You stared at his image for a few more seconds, before turning away.

You jumped. Morgan, standing behind you.

"Jesus." You said, taking a deep breath. "Don't sneak up on me like that, dude."

Morgan chuckled, his usual easy grin softening the tension in the room. “Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

He glanced at the photo taped inside your locker. “Your old man sounds like a hell of a guy.”

You nodded, voice quieter now. “He was. Still is… in a way.”

Morgan leaned against the lockers, folding his arms. “You know, you don’t always have to carry all that weight alone. Not here. Not with us.”

You met his eyes, the sincerity there catching you off guard. For a moment, the walls you’d built felt a little less necessary.

"... Thank you."

Morgan nodded, leaning against the lockers.

"I heard you and Reid had a little spat in the hotel earlier."

You rolled your eyes, grumbling. Of course, Prentiss would've squealed.

Morgan’s grin widened, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, I heard. Something about Spencer getting a little too in your space?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “He’s got a knack for pushing buttons. Doesn’t know when to quit.”

Morgan shook his head, chuckling low. “That guy’s all brain and nerves. Sometimes he forgets there’s a person behind all that genius.”

You glanced away, feeling a mix of irritation and something softer beneath it. “I get it, but I’m not exactly easy to handle either.”

He leaned against the locker beside yours, eyes steady. “Look, I get it. You did what you had to do back there. You saved that girl.”

Your jaw tightened. “You think I don’t know that?”

Morgan shook his head. “No, I’m saying I see it. You’re a damn good agent. One of the best. But sometimes being the best means knowing when to slow down.”

You scoffed, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Slowing down gets people killed.”

Morgan didn’t flinch. “It’s not about slowing down all the time. It’s about picking your moments. You got guts, no doubt. But guts without control? That’s a problem.”

You finally met his gaze, raw and honest. “So what am I supposed to do, Morgan? Wait around for the bad guy to slit her throat? Let the clock run out?”

He studied you for a beat, then responded slowly. “No. But you gotta trust the team. Not just yourself. We got your six. We all do. Even Reid. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

You swallowed hard. The weight of his words settled in your chest. It was easier said than done. You were used to standing on your own — had been for as long as you could remember.

Morgan clapped a hand on your shoulder, solid and reassuring. “Your dad taught you to protect others, right?”

Your eyes flickered to the photo taped inside your locker, the man who was everything steady in your world.

Morgan smiled softly. “Yeah. And that means sometimes you gotta step back, watch the angles, think a few moves ahead. That’s how you protect the team and yourself.”

The tension between you seemed to ease, just a little. You weren’t used to advice that didn’t come with judgment, but this was different. It was real.

Morgan gave you a wink. “You’re a hell of a cop. Don’t forget, sometimes the smartest move is patience. Not just power.”

You nodded, the edges of your defenses softening just enough for a flicker of respect. “Thanks, Morgan. I’ll try.”

“Try?” He grinned. “No try. You’ll do it.”

You smirked back. “Yeah? You confident in me?”

“Hell yeah. Just gotta let the team catch up sometimes. And don't forget,” he said, nudging your shoulder. "We could all learn some things from you too. Even Reid, when he decides to get his head out of his ass."

You snickered, rolling your eyes and turning back to your locker, shutting it.

“Thanks for the reality check.”

“Anytime,” he said, before turning and walking away, leaving you with something you didn’t realize you needed — a little hope.

The next case came quickly. You almost weren't ready for it.

Your headphones blared into your ears as you trained in the sparring room, sweating as you bounced around a punching bag. Your gloves squeaked with every moment you made, punching into the bag with preciseness and toughness.

Your phone rang.

You yanked a glove off with your teeth and fumbled for your phone, the sweat on your fingers making it harder to swipe. The name on the screen — Hotch — made your stomach tighten. You were still riding the edge of your last conversation with Morgan, and now, here came another case.

“Yeah?” you answered, a little breathless.

Hotch’s voice was calm, clipped. “Briefing room. Twenty minutes.”

You wiped your brow with the back of your forearm. “Copy that.”

He hung up without another word.

You stood there for a beat, the bass of your music still thumping in one ear. The punching bag rocked gently beside you, evidence of your focused aggression. But the tension in your shoulders hadn’t eased. If anything, it pulled tighter.

Another case. Another town. Another family ruined. You loved this job but sometimes, it felt like it never let you breathe.

With a grunt, you unwrapped your gloves, tossing them in your gym bag. As you pulled your hoodie over your damp sports bra and headed for the showers, Morgan’s words echoed back in your head:

“Sometimes the smartest move is patience. Not just power.”

You smirked faintly to yourself, voice muttering under your breath, “Yeah, well... I hope patience works on serial killers too.”

You had no idea what you were walking into, but you knew this much: you'd face it head-on.

Just like always.

You pulled your work clothes on quickly and headed for the bullpen, tossing your hair into a ponytail.

The rest of the team was already there, relieved to see you walk in.

"Sorry. I was training." You said quietly, joining them at the table.

Hotch gave you a nod — his version of “no problem.” Reid glanced up from the file in his hands, his eyes catching yours for a moment before flicking back down. You weren’t sure what that look meant, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Victim number three was found this morning,” Hotch began, passing a photo across the table. “Female, early thirties. Same MO. Ligature marks, posed postmortem, and a red ribbon tied around the wrist.”

You leaned forward, studying the image. “Same as the others. No signs of forced entry?”

JJ shook her head. “Nothing. It’s like they let the killer in willingly.”

You crossed your arms, thoughts already sharpening like blades. “So he’s charming, disarming. Makes them feel safe… until he doesn’t.”

Morgan pointed at the map. “All victims lived alone, all in a five-mile radius. He’s hunting in a comfort zone.”

Spencer cleared his throat, hesitant but determined. “Geographical profiling supports that. He’s probably familiar with the area -- might even live or work nearby.”

You glanced at him again, this time holding the look for a second longer. “Then we start knocking on doors.”

Prentiss gave a wry smile. “I like it when you get fired up.”

You shrugged, grabbing a file. “Better than sitting on our hands.”

Hotch raised a brow. “Let’s keep it focused. Morgan, you and (Y/N) check in with local businesses. Reid, JJ, and Prentiss, canvass the neighborhood. I’ll coordinate with local PD.”

You nodded.

"I know that PD pretty well. My dad and I worked with them for a couple of years. I'll pitch in with the communications."

Hotch gave a curt nod, clearly appreciating the initiative. “Good. Familiarity could speed things up. Just make sure they loop everything back to me.”

You gave him a short, respectful salute. “You got it, boss.”

Morgan shot you a quick grin as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “You sure you’re not trying to take Hotch’s job?”

You smirked. “Please. I’d make a terrible brooding authority figure.”

Hotch didn’t even look up from the map he was marking. “I’m standing right here.”

You and Morgan exchanged a glance, both biting back laughter.

As the team filed out, Reid hesitated at the edge of the room. He glanced at you, like he wanted to say something, but then just gave a slight nod and walked away with JJ and Prentiss.

Your eyes lingered on his back for a second before you turned and fell into step beside Morgan.

“So,” he said as you headed for the SUV, “you and local PD go way back?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My dad and I used to consult on cases when I was younger. He was training me even before I joined the Bureau. Some of those officers were practically family for a while.”

Morgan nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a thoughtful smile. “That explains a lot.”

“What does?”

“You move like someone who’s been doing this their whole life. It’s in your blood.”

You paused at the passenger door, his words landing heavier than he probably intended.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It is.”

Morgan didn’t push. He just clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Then let’s go show ‘em how it’s done.”

You gave him a small smile. “Hell yeah.”

You slid into the seat, heart steadier than it had been in days. Maybe the next few hours would be hell. Maybe this case would crack something raw in you. But with Morgan’s support at your side and your father’s instincts still pulsing through your veins, you weren’t going in blind.

You were ready to hunt.

No sooner had you and Morgan hit the pavement than the scent of tension in the air thickened, like something dark had just passed through and left its mark. The PD station felt different now than it did when you were younger. Familiar faces looked more worn, more guarded.

“Agent (L/N),” one of the lieutenants greeted you with a surprised smile. “Heard you were coming in. Damn, you look more and more like your old man every time I see you.”

You gave him a short nod, your voice quiet. “Thanks, Lieutenant. Wish it were under better circumstances.”

Morgan stood back slightly, letting you take the lead. He watched as you moved through the room with purpose; calm, steady, authoritative in your own way. You weren’t trying to be your father, but his legacy lingered around you like armor.

“We’ve already pulled security cam footage from nearby businesses,” the lieutenant explained. “We can have it queued up for you in five.”

“Perfect. Let’s get started.”

Morgan leaned over to you as they set things up in the back room. “You’ve got them listening to you like you’re already in charge.”

You gave a tired shrug. “My dad never tolerated anyone doing half a job. I guess that stuck.”

He studied your face for a moment — sharp, focused, a little worn around the eyes. Then he said, “You know, you don’t always have to be the one holding it all together.”

You glanced at him, surprised.

“You said that already,” you reminded him.

He shrugged. “You didn’t listen the first time.”

You laughed under your breath, but your eyes softened. “I’m listening now.”

Before either of you could say more, an officer called you over. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

The footage was grainy but clear enough: a figure pacing outside a bakery at midnight. Twitchy. Darting glances. Then dragging something — someone — down an alley.

Morgan muttered under his breath. “Looks like our guy.”

Your expression shifted instantly. Calm became alert. You pointed to the timestamp. “That’s two hours before the last body was found. He was still escalating.”

The lieutenant nodded grimly. “He’s getting bolder.”

Morgan stepped beside you, already scanning the angle, escape routes, signage. “What do you want to do?”

You took a breath, already forming a plan.

“We start there,” you said, pointing to the alley. “We follow the trail. And this time, we end it before he escalates again.”

Morgan gave a sharp nod. “Now that’s the kind of leadership I can get behind.”

You smirked faintly. “Don’t get used to it.”

He grinned back. “Too late.”

You quickly phoned the rest of the team, getting them in on it. It was decided.

You'd be bait — the youngest on the team. The prettiest, Prentiss had claimed. But it would take something you weren't exactly versed in.

Patience. Calculation. Thought before decision.

You, of course, had too look like less than an agent. That night, you had to get prepared, dressing down from your usual slacks and dress shirt and opting for a more.. casual.. look.

Garcia, JJ, and Prentiss just couldn't wait to get their hands on you. It was a once in a life time opportunity.

You barely made it into the hotel room before the ambush.

“There she is!” Prentiss announced, arms crossed with a smug grin. JJ was already holding up two hangers, each with an outfit. Garcia was seated cross-legged on the bed with a massive makeup bag splayed open in front of her like a battlefield.

You blinked. “Did you guys.. Were you waiting for me?”

JJ smirked. “Garcia brought supplies.”

Garcia didn’t even look up. “Sweet cheeks, I have been dreaming of this day since you joined the team. And now… finally…” She lifted a compact like a weapon forged in heaven. “The day has come.”

“This isn’t a makeover montage,” you muttered.

“Oh, but it is,” Prentiss said, grabbing your wrist and tugging you into the middle of the room. “You’re going undercover as vulnerable, off-duty eye candy. We’re making sure you sell it.”

“Guys,” you sighed. “This isn’t Clueless. I’m bait for a serial killer, not a Tinder date.”

“Exactly,” JJ said, tossing a pair of stockings onto the bed. “So you need to look like someone who doesn’t know she’s being watched. Not like someone who could break someone’s nose with two fingers.”

The scene was a bar. Wasting some time inside of it, sipping on a few prop drinks all alone, before stumbling out into the alley where he'd most likely take his chances on you.

You had to look the part. The mysterious, lonely temptress who would go quietly if grabbed.

You were forced into a short, red dress, one that hugged your curves and showed off the length of your smooth legs. Your hair was curled, natural makeup on your already pretty face.

You were gorgeous. Not that you weren't usually. But this was much different than your slick-back ponytail and business only outfit, a gun hanging from your holster.

Garcia let out a dramatic gasp when you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Oh. My. God.” she breathed, eyes widening. “You’re not just bait, you're irresistible temptation. Marry me.”

Prentiss gave a low whistle. “Remind me to never stand next to you in public again.”

JJ smirked. “He won’t stand a chance. Poor bastard.”

You tugged at the hem of the red dress, fidgeting. It was shorter than anything you usually wore. Hell, it was shorter than anything Garcia usually wore. “I feel like a walking target.”

“That’s the point,” Prentiss said, coming up behind you to fix a loose curl. “But don’t forget. You’re still the most dangerous one in the room.”

Garcia handed you a tiny clutch with your wire and phone inside. “And just in case he gets any ideas before the alley, Reid and Morgan will be watching from the bar. Hotch and I are set up in the surveillance van. You’re never alone.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror again. It was surreal, like staring at a version of yourself that only existed in smoke and mirrors. A version soft enough to lure in a killer. A version smart enough to trap him.

You took a breath. Deep. Steady.

“I can do this,” you muttered.

“You will do this,” JJ corrected firmly, her voice resolute. “And when you bring this guy down, I want my red dress back.”

You laughed softly, the nerves settling into something colder, more useful. “You got it.”

As the three women saw you off, Prentiss stopped you with a hand on your arm. “Hey. You’re more than bait. You’re the one drawing him out. That makes you the one in control.”

You stepped outside, meeting Morgan and Reid at the undercover vehicle, a sleek black SUV. They stood talking by the passenger's door, only noticing you approaching when you got close.

Morgan was the first to look up; and his reaction was immediate.

His brows rose, a low whistle slipping out as he took in your appearance. “Damn. Remind me what we’re trying to catch again? Because I think you just stunned me.”

Reid, less composed, blinked rapidly. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Y-You, uh, wow. You look…” His brain clearly short-circuited.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Careful, boys. I’m armed.”

Morgan laughed, clapping Reid on the back as if to snap him out of his stupor. “You good, pretty boy? Need a second to reboot?”

Reid cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets and very intentionally looking at the SUV instead of you. “I’m fine. Let's move out.”

Without another word, Reid hopped into the car, leaving you and Derek in silence. You rolled your eyes as Derek opened the door to let you get in.

Morgan held the door open with a crooked grin. “You know, I’ve seen you break a man’s nose with the butt of your Glock… but somehow, this might be the most dangerous I’ve ever seen you.”

You scoffed, climbing into the SUV. “Save it for Garcia.”

In a few short minutes, you were at your destination. You got out, securing the wire into a hidden place as Reid and Morgan looked around. You tossed your curls behind your shoulder and cleared your throat.

"Alright. In the bar for fifteen minutes, twenty at most. If he approaches you, play coy. If he doesn't, we still have a chance to lure him in the back alley," Morgan explained, securing his own wire and tucking his gun. "We're more likely to see him out there. He's struck in that area quite a few times."

You nodded.

"Don't be afraid. We'll be right there with you, just at a distance. If you're ever too uncomfortable to stand it, call for us."

You made a gesture of agreement to Morgan before finally glancing at Reid, who cleared his throat.

"Just.. Don't jump the gun." He said. He somewhat failed to keep the entitlement in his voice. You wondered what was plaguing him, but nonetheless, you ignored it, rolling your eyes.

"I got it, Reid. Don't worry. Your teachings will be on my psyche the whole time."

Reid’s jaw ticked slightly, clearly unsatisfied with your response but unwilling to push further — at least not in front of Morgan.

Morgan, on the other hand, was watching the two of you like he was sitting court-side. “Alright, kids,” he said, breaking the tension with a raised brow. “Let’s not make this a pissing contest. We’ve got a predator to catch, not egos to babysit.”

You smirked, giving Morgan a thumbs up as you reached for the bar door. But before you could step out, Reid finally spoke again, softer this time, less sharp.

“Just… be careful. Please.”

You paused, turning slightly to look at him. There it was. Underneath all the attitude and irritation — the worry. The fear. The unspoken something that had been simmering between you both since that stupid hotel argument.

You gave a nod. “I will.”

And then you stepped out, heels clicking against the pavement, shoulders square, mask slipping into place.

You weren’t the agent now. You were the bait.

For a while, it was dead.

You sat at the bar, sipping on a "vodka soda," looking around. You tried your best to keep your emotions off from your face, opting for a more bored look. Your legs were crossed. People filtered in, people filtered out. The music changed. Drinks were poured, people surrounded you. A few approached, but not the one you needed.

You checked the time subtly, tilting your wrist just enough to catch the glint of the watch Garcia had modified for comms. Seventeen minutes. A little longer than planned, but not enough to call it yet. You could feel their eyes on you, Morgan’s and Reid’s from their respective vantage points, watching every shift of your posture like hawks.

The bartop was sticky, the lighting dim, casting sultry shadows that you knew looked calculated from afar. You took another slow sip, letting your eyes drift across the room again. A man at the end of the bar caught your gaze, held it for a beat too long.

But he turned away. Not him.

Your fingers tapped lightly against your glass, nails clicking in a slow rhythm.

Patience. Not just power.

You breathed out through your nose, subtle and quiet. You could play this game.

Just when your boredom began to feel a little too real, movement in your periphery made your eyes flick. A man near the jukebox — tall, late 30s, scruffy beard, not quite drunk but deliberately slow in his movements. Alone. Observing. Not playing music.

He looked at you.

You tilted your head slightly, uncrossing and recrossing your legs. Deliberate. Casual. Vulnerable.

He didn’t move.

But now you knew.

That was him.

And he was watching.

You cleared your throat, turning away and looking disinterested, until you felt his presence get closer and closer. Then, he was right beside you.

"Out here all alone?"

You didn’t look at him right away. You let the question hang for a beat, took a slow sip of your drink, kept your eyes ahead like someone unsure whether to entertain the voice or pretend they hadn’t heard it.

Then you turned, just a little. Just enough for your lashes to lift slowly, eyes finding his. Soft. Unassuming.

You gave a half-smile. “Depends who’s asking.”

He chuckled lowly, like he’d practiced it. Like he wanted it to sound charming but didn’t quite have the tone right. “Just someone who hates to see a pretty girl looking so bored.”

You glanced around the room lazily, then back at him. “Well. Not exactly a thrilling place to be alone.”

His eyes scanned you too thoroughly. It made your skin crawl, but you didn’t flinch.

He leaned on the bar beside you. “Maybe I could change that.”

You shifted, letting your knee graze his thigh — accidentally, on purpose. “Maybe you could.”

From the comms in your ear, you could barely catch Morgan’s low voice: “He’s on her. Stay ready.”

You gave the stranger one last smile before looking down into your glass. “Buy me a refill?”

He motioned to the bartender. “Vodka soda, right?”

You nodded. “Good memory.”

He grinned, and that time it reached his eyes. Just a flash. Something darker.

Bingo.

Your heart kicked up. But your face never betrayed it. You leaned in, just slightly, pretending to laugh at something he hadn’t said.

You held a conversation easily, as if you'd been doing this forever. You barely nursed your drink, immersing yourself into fooling him more than anything else. You crossed your fingers.

And soon, it came. The question you needed.

"You wanna get out of here?" He asked gruffly, a hand coming up to stroke your exposed collar bone. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to snap his arm, slam him to the floor and cuff him immediately.

But you thought about what Spencer had said.

Contemplation. Patience. The art of being cautious. It was just as useful as the fire you usually lit onto anyone you apprehended.

You took a slow breath through your nose, keeping your smile soft, a little shy. You let your eyes flick down, like you were considering it. Like you hadn’t just felt bile rise in your throat at the weight of his hand.

This was the moment. The danger curled just beneath your skin, thrumming like a second pulse.

“Yeah,” you said, voice a little breathier, like nerves. “I could use some air.”

He smiled — victory, hunger, maybe both — and slid off his stool, his hand brushing down your arm as if he had the right.

Morgan’s voice was calm but firm in your earpiece. “She’s moving. Everyone hold position. Reid, keep visual.”

You followed him toward the door, a little slower than necessary, stumbling just enough to play into it. “Sorry,” you muttered with a nervous laugh. “Maybe I had one too many.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, holding the door open. “I’ll take care of you.”

The night hit you like a slap of reality — cold, quiet, real. Your heels clicked against pavement as he guided you down the sidewalk, toward the alley behind the bar.

Your breath hitched. Not from fear. From instinct. The part of you that was still an agent. Still ready to fight, to break him, to stop this before he could touch another woman.

But you stayed in character. You stayed the part.

“Reid,” Morgan’s voice came again. “Do you have eyes?”

There was a long beat before Spencer replied, voice low, strained. “Yes. He’s guiding her down the alley. Don’t move yet.”

You felt it in his voice. You'd felt it since your argument. The tension. The fear. The anticipation. There was something different about the way Reid talked to you, talked about you, ever since your moment in the hotel.

You turned to the man, letting yourself wobble just enough, brushing against him like you needed balance. His hand found your waist too easily.

“You okay?” he asked.

You gave him a soft laugh. “Yeah. Just… a little dizzy.”

“Don’t worry.” His grip tightened. “I’ve got you.”

And then, just like that, he started to lead you into the dark.

Any second now.

Then, moments later, his grip on you became stronger. More direct. Less friendly.

"What are you—"

Without another word, you were slammed up against the brick, his dirty hands all over you. Frantically searching for something. Pain echoed through your body as he continued ruffling your clothes, pulling at your hair.

You frowned, struggling.

"Please, don't—"

"Shut up, bitch! I know you're a cop." He snapped, jerking you slightly.

Your jaw dropped. You felt as though you had cold water thrown over you, dripping down your spine into your heels.

"But I'm not." You attempted meekly.

Cautious. Don't fight yet. Contemplate your choices.

He snickered snidely.

"Officer L/n. I know your father, sweetheart. Or knew him," He said, his clammy breath fanning into your face. "He got my friends put away for life. And then there you were, following right in his footsteps."

He dragged you away from the brick wall, grabbing you by your face. A knife glinted in his other hand.

The cold edge of the blade caught the faint glow of the alley light, flickering like a warning. Your breath caught in your throat. Your hands were still raised — not in surrender, but in precision. Timing.

"Where's the fuckin' wire? Tell me or I'm slitting your throat and dropping you right here."

You swallowed hard, keeping your voice steady despite the pounding in your chest. “I don’t have a wire on me.”

His eyes flashed with suspicion, narrowing dangerously. “Bullshit.”

"Please.." You muttered.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

"Where. Is. The. Wire?!" He snapped, pressing the knife into you.

You froze for a heartbeat as the knife pressed sharper against your skin, a searing line of cold fire that threatened to break through your calm. Your breath hitched but you forced it back down, steady and slow, every nerve screaming for you to act.

“Wait,” you whispered, eyes locking with his — steady, unflinching. “You want the wire? I'll give it to you. I'm begging you not to do this.”

His grip tightened, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, just a flash. Then, the knife pressed harder, enough to nick you, enough to cause a drop of blood to drizzle down. You hissed, tears collecting in your eyes.

Before the knife could press deeper, Reid sprang forward in a sudden burst of strength and precision — the kind of controlled force you usually wielded yourself.

He grabbed the man’s wrist, wrenching the knife away in one smooth motion. The blade clattered to the ground.

Without hesitation, Reid twisted the man’s arm behind his back and slammed him face-first against the brick wall with a sharp grunt.

The attacker struggled, but Reid’s grip was ironclad. He never did take-downs. He never felt like it was time. He valued a talk-down, a chance for the Unsub to see the light without an altercation. But something had snapped.

Reid’s breathing was heavier, eyes sharp and fierce — something you’d never seen in him before. The usual hesitation and quiet intellect gave way to raw, unyielding force. It was like watching a different side of him come alive, the side you’d been expecting all along but had never truly witnessed until now. The others had claimed to see it since he'd come home from prison, but it had never been revealed to you.

He hissed quietly, “Don’t move.”

You slumped against the wall, breathing heavily with a hand clutched to your neck. Blood flowed steadily, but not at a dangerous rate. Just enough to need a med team, but not enough to be scared. You stared up at the sky, frowning.

Morgan and Hotch came after, taking the Unsub from Reid, who was pressing him harder and harder against the wall every second as if he'd personally offended him with his existence.

Hotch immediately stepped in, his voice calm but authoritative. “Easy, Reid. Let him breathe.”

Morgan was already pulling out a medical kit, kneeling beside you quickly. “You good? That cut’s nasty, we can’t patch it up on-site.”

You gave a stiff nod, biting back the sting. “I’m fine. Just… keep him away.”

Reid’s jaw clenched, but he finally loosened his grip, stepping back reluctantly as the cuffs clicked shut around the Unsub’s wrists.

Your eyes met his, a quiet understanding passing between you both— raw tension still lingering, but also something deeper. You’d both taken a page from each other’s book tonight: your strength and resolve, his patience and calculated caution.

Morgan glanced at the three of you, breaking the moment with a grin. “Alright, bait and backup — that’s how we bring down monsters."

You rolled your eyes as you pressed the gauze to the side of your neck. "All in a day's work."

Morgan hummed.

"You need a hospital. I can drive—"

"I can do it." Reid interrupted quietly, looking at you more than he was Morgan.

You cleared your throat, nodding.

Reid’s eyes softened just a fraction as he reached out, carefully taking your hand to steady you. “Let’s get you patched up properly.”

Morgan gave you both a teasing smirk, but wisely kept his distance as Reid helped you into the SUV.

The ride was silent. The quick treatment in the hospital was silent, too. You allowed them to clean and stitch you up, flinching every few moments, before your eyes met Reid's again.

There was something different. There was no irritation or arrogance in his brown eyes like what he normally directed towards you. It was only softness. Just simply watching you, like it was a normal habit of his that he could do all day. Thick with tension. Words unsaid.

You couldn't lie. It made you blush. You looked away.

The conversation didn't ensue until the ride back to the hotel.

The engine hummed low as the SUV slipped down the dark road, headlights casting long, sweeping shadows across the pavement. Reid drove slower than usual: cautious, thoughtful. His fingers gripped the wheel with a quiet intensity, knuckles pale.

You sat beside him, your body angled slightly toward the window, but your eyes drifted, again and again, to his face. To the way his jaw tensed and relaxed like he was chewing on words. Like he couldn’t hold them in much longer.

He broke the silence.

"You did perfectly." He said quietly.

Your eyes flicked to him, surprised by the softness in his tone.

“Didn’t feel perfect,” you muttered, fingers brushing the gauze at your neck. “I let him get too close.”

“That was the point,” Reid said, glancing at you before returning his gaze to the road. “You had him completely. You waited. You didn’t react too soon. That’s what saved your life.”

You gave a small, dry laugh. “I thought I’d be the one snapping his wrist and pressing his face into the wall. Guess we traded roles.”

Reid’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, something more fragile. “You’ve always been better at brute force. I just never thought I’d actually need to use it.”

You leaned back in your seat, watching him. “So what changed?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept driving, eyes steady, lips parted slightly like the words were there, just hesitant to form.

Finally, he spoke, voice barely audible. “The second I saw him touch you, I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh the risk or the outcomes. I just… moved.”

Your throat tightened. “Why?”

He inhaled slowly. “Because if something had happened to you, if I had waited even a second longer, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself. It's hard enough to accept that you were hurt at all.”

You looked down at your lap, quiet for a beat. “I didn’t think you liked me that much.”

Reid frowned, squeezing the wheel.

"Name.. I don't dislike you." He said hoarsely. "I admire you, to be truthful. You're brave. Strong. Everything I want to be and have struggled to be my whole life," his voice was just above a whisper as he stole a glance your way.

"But I worry. All the time. I worry that something will go wrong and I'll lose another person. Another member of the team. And someone that I.." He trailed off.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

“Someone that you…?” you echoed gently, coaxing the rest out of him.

Reid’s jaw clenched. He exhaled shakily through his nose, like the truth physically hurt to say aloud.

“Someone that I like. Someone I care about,” he said at last, voice quiet but unwavering. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t want it to. You make me insane, half the time. You drive me completely up the wall.”

You smiled faintly, despite the tension thick in the car.

“But then I watch you work. Or I hear you laugh. Or you look at me like I’m not broken, like I’m not damaged goods. And I—I can’t unfeel it.”

Silence blanketed the car once more, but this time it was full of unsaid things that didn’t need words. It buzzed with the gravity of what had finally cracked open between you.

He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, putting the car in park. His eyes slid over to yours again.

You reached out slowly, resting your fingers gently over his. He looked down at your hand, then up into your eyes, as if trying to make sure this was real.

You gave a soft, knowing smile. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

Reid huffed a breath, almost a laugh, though his eyes were still glassy with everything he hadn’t said before tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

“I thought you were too good for me.”

His gaze flicked to your neck, then back to your eyes. “No one’s too good for you.”

"You are." You snorted. "I'm mean. Closed off. I don't listen."

Reid shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re protective,” he corrected gently. “You carry the weight for everyone else so they don’t have to. And you listen more than you think — not always to words, but to people. To their actions, their patterns. That’s why you’re good at this.”

You looked away, swallowing hard, your throat tight. “Still. You’re… kind. And soft. And patient. You make people feel safe just by being in the room. I make people flinch.”

Reid’s hand turned beneath yours, his fingers slipping between yours with quiet certainty. “I don't flinch.”

Your eyes snapped back to his, caught off guard by the quiet conviction in his voice. There was no teasing, no hesitation, no irritation in his tone — just truth. Solid and unwavering.

You stared at him for a beat, breath shallow. “No,” you whispered. “You don’t.”

Reid tilted his head slightly, his gaze dipping to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes. “I see you. All of you. And I don’t flinch.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest like an anchor: grounding, calming, terrifying in the best way. No one had ever looked at you like this. Not with fear. Not with judgment. But with… something gentler. Something that threatened to undo every wall you’d ever built.

“You’re not scared of me,” you said quietly, like you were still trying to convince yourself.

“I’m scared for you, every time you throw yourself into harms' way,” he admitted, voice barely above a breath. “But never of you.”

There was a pause. Heavy. Electric.

And then, in the dark hush of the SUV, with the sounds of the city and the glow of the streetlights casting soft shadows across his face, you leaned in.

"Reid?"

"Call me Spencer."

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes.

"Spencer?"

His name lingered on your tongue, warm and unfamiliar in that intimate kind of way, like a secret finally spoken aloud.

He gave the faintest nod, eyes flicking down to your lips again, and this time he didn’t look away.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges, like he already knew what you were going to say but needed to hear it anyway.

Your breath caught, lips parting slightly. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

He blinked. “What?”

You tilted your head, your smile barely there. “The staring. The tension. The way you act like I’m a walking risk assessment.”

Spencer’s lips tugged up, sheepish but unrepentant. “I didn’t want to cross a line.”

“You didn’t.” Your voice softened, fingers still tangled with his. “You didn’t cross anything.”

He leaned in a little closer, enough for his breath to ghost across your cheek.

“Then can I?” he whispered.

Your heart thudded once, hard, before you nodded.

“Yes. Please.”

And then, he kissed you.

Slow. Intentional. Like he’d waited a lifetime for permission.

And you, well, for once, you didn’t think. You didn’t fight.

You just let yourself feel.

You knew your father would've liked him.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Long distance girlfriend surprising Rafe

Request: Reader going to college on the east coast and being stuck there because of snow + Rafe being sad

—

‘’Thank you for choosing Cameron Development for your project, Mr. Phillips. Our secretary will email the documents shortly,’’ Rafe said in his polished, customer-service tone. ‘’Happy holidays.’’

The second the call ended, his forced smile vanished, leaving his face set in a grim scowl. He’s never been a fan of Christmas, but for the first time, he had been looking forward to it — his first Christmas with you. But that changed when a snowstorm hit the East Coast, forcing all flights in New York to get cancelled. 

Rafe leaned back in his leather office chair, running a hand through his buzzed hair in frustration. It was only 3pm, but he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was you, alone in your apartment in New York, and most importantly, miles away from him. He thought of driving to you, but Topper resonated with him. If flights were cancelled, some roads would be closed too. 

Why must you go to college so far away? With a sigh, Rafe picked up his personal phone for the tenth time today, and re-reading your last message. He was hurting himself by doing this, but reading your message also brought him some comfort. 

I’m so sorry I can’t make it to you, baby 😢💔 I’ve been keeping track of the flights, but everything is still cancelled… This snow really wants to sabotage our first Christmas! 😠 In case nothing changes, I’m gonna video-call you on Christmas morning…in my sexy lingerie set I got just for you. Wish you were there to unwrap me 🎁🤭

Before he could finish reading, Wheezie’s face filled his screen with an incoming call. 

‘’Wheezie? Why are you calling me?’’ Rafe frowned, leaning back in his chair. She never called him at work unless it was important.

‘’Rafe! Thank god you picked up! I tried calling Sarah, but she didn’t answer.’’ Wheezie's voice was high-pitched and panicked, words spilling out in a rush. 

‘’Wheezie, what is it?’’ he asked. 

‘’I tried making gingerbread cookies, but I guess I left them in for too long...’’

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache coming on. ‘’Just throw them out if they’re burned. It’s not worth breaking a tooth over.’’

‘’No, you don’t understand,’’ she cried, her voice breaking slightly. ‘’There’s smoke all over the kitchen!’’ A coughing fit punctuated her sentence, and Rafe’s heart dropped.

‘’What? Wheeze, are you okay?’’ 

He was already standing, grabbing his keys. Fuck work. 

‘’Can you come home? Please, Rafe. Dad is gonna be so mad if I burn the house down—’’ 

He didn’t even wait to hang up properly before he was out the door. ‘’I’m coming, Wheeze. Just, stay away from the oven, okay? And get outside if it gets worse. Do you hear me?’’ Rafe’s tone sharpened, his protective instincts kicking in.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of Tannyhill, tires screeching as he parked quickly. His jaw was tight, still on edge from Wheezie’s frantic call. The house seemed calm from the outside, which was strange because she said there was smoke all over the kitchen.

He opened the front door. “Wheezie?” he called out, stepping into the house, his eyes scanning for signs of smoke. ‘’Wheezie, I’m here. Where’s the damn smoke you talked about?’’ 

The kitchen light was on, and as he stepped closer, his stomach dropped. Instead of finding his little sister panicking, he found you standing in the middle of the kitchen, grinning at him. 

‘’Hi.’’ 

For a split second, neither of you moved. Then, you ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. Rafe’s brain scrambled to catch up. Then it clicked. The familiar scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your arms — it was really you. His arms locked around your waist like he was afraid you might disappear, and you buried your face in his chest, clutching him like you’d never let go.

‘’What the—’’ He pulled back just enough to grab your face, his blue eyes searching yours, wide with disbelief. ‘’You’re here? Really here?’’

‘’Surprise, baby,’’ you murmured before pressing your lips to his, cutting off whatever string of disbelief he was about to voice again.

The kiss was soft at first, but as the realization sank in, Rafe pulled you closer, deepening it, one hand sliding to your back while the other tangled in your hair. It was desperate and relieved, like he couldn’t believe you were actually there, standing in his kitchen, and not miles away in New York.

He hadn’t seen you since his weekend visit for Thanksgiving, he couldn’t settle with a peck. 

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, faces inches apart. 

Rafe’s forehead pressed against yours. ‘’But you were in New York. The flights—’’ He blinked, still trying to process, his grip on your waist tightening. ‘’How are you here? I mean…what—? Wheezie called me about some fire in the kitchen.’’ He glanced around, half-expecting his sister to pop out from somewhere. 

You laughed, guilt flickering across your face. ‘’Yeah, that was her idea. There’s no fire. I told her to find something to make you come home. It worked, didn’t it?’’ 

His eyebrows shot up. ‘’She knew about you coming here and didn’t tell me?!’’ 

You nodded. Flights being cancelled was not a lie, but you were able to take a train to another state — where the snow was not as bad —, and take a flight there. You texted Wheezie during your flight, asking for help to surprise Rafe. Why would she not help the girl who brought smiles on her brother’s moody face?

‘’Sorry, baby.’’ You looked up and rubbed your hands over his work button up, feeling the planes of his muscled chest and the warmth of his skin underneath. ‘’I just… I couldn’t stand hearing how sad you sounded yesterday. I had to get here, I tried everything in my power to get to you. Don’t be mad at her, okay? She just wanted to help me.’’

Rafe shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you close as he tilted his head. ‘’You’re lucky I love you,’’ he murmured, his voice absentmindedly falling into your relationship bubble where it was just you and him.

You stayed like that for a moment, bathing in each other’s embrace, until a thought crossed your mind. ‘’Rafe? There’s one other thing I need to tell you: I left your Christmas present in New York…’’ You pulled back, guilt filling you again as you continued and explained yourself. ‘’It was on the table so I wouldn’t forget it, but—’’ 

But Rafe couldn't care less. 

‘’That’s okay. There’s only you on my wishlist anyway.’’ 

—

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