#with all she was going through I'm glad she got to be paired with someone who cared for her and she could be at ease around

[ggidolsmuts]

Single's Inferno - ARTMS Choerry

"Hey man, you ready to get the pants scared off you?"

"Sure sure, where are the others?"

"There they are!" You join your group of friends—it was right before Halloween, and they wanted to get the full experience and go through a haunted house attraction. Begrudgingly you agreed—you're not the fondest of jump scares.

"Yah, where's your date?" One of them asks.

"Date?"

"Yeah, it's a good opportunity to get to know someone, having a joint experience."

"How would I get to know someone in the dark when we're going to be screaming?"

"Look at Mr. Scaredy Cat here, I see why you didn't want to bring someone now," your buddy teases.

"Yeah fuck you, be glad I showed up. Let's just go in." Your group gathers at the entrance of the house, and a usher calls out.

"Okay guys how we doing tonight? For the best experience for everyone, you should be paired up with a friend, so pair off as needed and we'll let you in two-by-two, okay?" To your horror, your friends have basically paired off already—they came with their girlfriends, or brought their own dates. You would be going into the haunted house alone!

You would be going into the haunted house alone... Fuck, rather than being scared you're more sad than anything.

"Hey guys—" Before you know it your friends are already in line, every pair already locking arms. Some friends, hmph. You steel yourself and join the line, trudging along solo. You're on your phone when you hear a bright voice next to you.

"Hi! Are you going in alone?"

"Yes." From her tone you assumed it was an overly enthusiastic employee, but no.

"Can I pair up with you then?" You turn to look at your speaker—she's dressed simply in a fluffy sweater and jeans, but her smile is absolutely radiant, her eyes round and hopeful.

"Y-You want to go in with me?" You wouldn't say no of course, but she's way out of your league, and you had to double check.

"Mmhmm, is that okay?" You nod and she slides in right next to you—more than that, she slips her arm between yours. "Thanks, I'm Choerry!"

"Nice to meet you Choerry, you came to this alone?"

"No, but my unnies are all with their boyfriends, so they kinda just left me alone." She pouts cutely.

"Really? Same here, my friends ditched me for their dates too." You shake your head and Choerry laughs.

"That's great, let's ditch them then!"

"Sure!" Her enthusiasm is infectious. But as you get closer to the entrance, Choerry's hugging you tighter and tighter.

"To be honest, I don't like scary things, I might be loud, sorry."

"Why come then? You don't have to do this."

"No the unnies will make fun of me!"

"If you say so. To be honest, I don't like scary things either, hate jump scares."

"I can tell."

"What? How?" You're a little indignant, how did Choerry already chalk you down as a scaredy cat?

"You've been holding on to me since we got closer." You blink and look down—you've had a hand on Choerry's arm this whole time, and now you're not sure if she's been hugging you tighter, or if you've been pulling her closer to you.

"Oh, damn, sorry!" You hastily let go, but she stays close. If anything, she's even closer now.

"It's okay, good to know we're both scared."

"Enjoy!" You shake your head at the happy staff as the two of you walk through a curtain of dangling chains, loudly drowning out the shouts and screams ahead. It's dark and there's manmade fog everywhere, but you see an eerie green exit light across the room.

"I think we go this way."

"Oh, okay." The two of you walk forward into the fog side-by-side.

"Ahh!" The door behind you slams shut with a loud bang and Choerry is shouting already. "Sorry, sorry!"

"It's fine, I'm here," you reassure, hoping you sound braver than you are. You walk forward with her, dodging the hanging pig corpses—you were in a slaughterhouse.

"RAAAHH!" A huge man makes his presence known, wearing a bloody apron and carrying a cleaver. His boots squelch wetly, as if walking in pools of blood. "GET OVER HERE!" Choerry screams, clinging on to you tighter and burying your head against you.

"Oh shit!" You shout, quickly dragging her through, away from the menacing butcher. "Fucking hell!" You curse loudly. You blink as your eyes adjust to the new room, and your crinkle your nose at the new smell—chlorine and chemical cleaner. A brief spark runs through you as you assess the situation—Choerry pressed tightly against your arm, and the only way to describe that sensation is soft. But you shake that thought from your head as you gently rock her shoulder.

"Hey, he's gone, we're in the next room."

"Huh? Really? Thanks for getting me through."

"We don't have to do this if you're too scared, I can exit with you?"

"N-No! I'm not scared! Well, I won't be, if you'll guide me through the rest!" A spark runs through Choerry as she grabs your arm—firm, comforting, reliable, hot. But she's jarred out of it as someone starts shouting.

"Help me, help me!" In the far corner someone is chained to a chair, various needles seeming to stick out of them, connected to pipes. You're in a mad scientist's lab! A voice booms in the room.

"Ah, new test subjects, are you? Excellent, excellent. Nurses, get them!" On each side you see nurses step out from the shadows, pushing a gurney towards you two, complete with straps hanging off the sides.

"We should keep moving!" Choerry pulls on your arm, and the two of you hurriedly dash through a maze of dividers to walk around and curtains to pull open. The two of you never knew what horrors awaited behind each—you cursed at a single "person", their hands and feet on all the wrong limbs; Choerry screamed at an oozing "corpse". Somehow you manage to drag each other through the demented maze and into the next room.

The room is dim and jaundiced yellow, and you see white sacs hanging from the ceiling—cocoons?

"Oh no no no no no..." Choerry's hiding behind you, and she's shaking. "I can't, I can't do spiders!" You look again and indeed see a large spider perched on its web in the corner, numerous eyes glittering back at you menacingly.

"Stay behind me, I can stay in front." You intended to leave an arm behind for Choerry to grab, but instead she wraps her arms around you, hugging you from behind.

"Please, thank you!" She's warm on your back, and your hand finds its way over hers, and she gratefully grabs it. With her hugging you tightly you waddle your way through the cocoon obstacle course. The large spider hisses and screams at you.

"Oh fuck!" "Ahh!" Choerry screams and you shout when a large spider leg bursts out from a nearby cocoon, swinging away wildly, and the two of you hurry forward. You reach the exit with her, and as you take a deep breath to calm yourself your own nerves are shattered as Choerry screams again!

"Help, help!" Choerry slumps against you, and you whirl around to find her covered in what looks like web, but you take a closer look and realize what it was.

"It's not real, it's just silly string!" you reassure her, and you have to hold her still as you get rid of the string all over her hair.

"Really? I thought the spider was going to trap me or something..."

"I won't let that happen, okay? Hold still." Choerry's heart thumps as you pick out the last pieces of silly string—maybe it's beating quickly from the scare, but she felt attracted to you, taken care of, protected. She felt you trembling against her when she was hugging you, but yet you powered on even if you were scared. The other part of her also felt your midriff as she hugged you—not ripped or shredded, but solid and strong, reliable. A new spark runs down her spine as you touch her hair, trying to remove an annoying piece of string.

"There, all gone." You brush the last piece of string from her hair, and you find yourself stunned momentarily when looking right at Choerry. She is exceptionally pretty, cheeks lightly flushed from the frightening experience. Your fingertips tingle as you brush her hair aside, feeling the light sweat on her hair. Your hand moves down, wanting to cup her face, but you realize what you're doing and clear your throat to shake that thought.

"W-We should move on," Choerry says, voice a little hoarse, husky even.

"Right."

"Wait!" As you make to move forward Choerry grabs your t-shirt. "Sorry, my legs are weak." She was scared silly from the "attack", and you realize what you had to do.

"I'll carry you, we're almost at the end I think."

"Are you sure?"

"You can't be that heavy," you try to joke as you kneel down for her to get on your back. She gets on you gingerly, and her hair tickles your neck as you get on.

"Thank you," Choerry whispers in your ear, and you pray she doesn't notice your tremble as you grab her legs and get up. Meanwhile Choerry's hoping you don't notice her rapidly beating heart—you've literally swept her off her feet, and she's thinking back to her conversation with her unnies.

-----

"Haseul unnie, how did you meet your boyfriend?"

"Oppa? It was during COVID, I had to quarantine, we were stuck together, and then things just happened?"

"What just happened? Like did he ask you out?"

"Pabo, we couldn't go out, we were in quarantine!" Haseul blushes and continues. "We just kinda, ended up doing everything during that time together, and we found things compatible."

"Compatible? You mean— Wait, by everything you mean—" Choerry blushes, she can't believe her unnie would do something like that!

"Yeah, we did everything together! I just let things happen... Naturally." Haseul shouts initially, but plunges on, face red in embarrassment.

"But that's so random! It could have been anyone else!"

"We just had chemistry, you know, so I initiated. Like there's no reason, but it felt right, felt good to be together."

"And he didn't even ask you out, you just asked him?"

"What's wrong with that!" Jinsol interjects herself into the conversation. "I also asked oppa first too."

"Really?" Choerry's shocked by her other unnie.

"Yeah, he saw me as his best friend's little sister, but I liked him, so I went up to him and kissed him! I'd say the results are quite good," she adds with a dopey smile on her face.

"You're texting him right now aren't you?" Haseul jokes.

"Mmhmm!" The two of them bicker, leaving Choerry to drift off on his warm back.

-----

"Oh fuck!" Choerry's startled out of her thoughts as she's spun around. "I can't, fuck ghosts, I don't do ghosts." She looks at the way they have to go and sees a long corridor, complete with a few Sadakos, long hair covering their face, dressed in white gowns and hands outstretched—some sort of haunted high school concept.

"Huh? They're zombies!" she tries to make you think of them differently, but it doesn't help.

"Zombies, ghosts, same difference, I don't like them!" you mutter in a rush. Choerry hurriedly comforts you, gently brushing your face.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you trust me?"

"Trust you?"

"Yes, just look down at your feet, okay?" Choerry has a hand over your eyes. "Whatever you do, don't look up, just make sure you don't trip, and listen to me." You take a deep breath and whirl around.

"I'm ready."

"Okay, just walk forward until I tell you to stop." Choerry encourages you as you go. 

"Yes, one step at a time, you're doing good."

"Take one step to the left, do not look up."

"Now like 3 steps to the right. Omo hello!" Choerry is surprised by one of them, but greets them happily.

"Choerry!"

"Sorry, sorry, we can just walk forward." You fill the images in your head from the sounds—the screech of nails on blackboard, the haunting laughs of children, the unyielding ticks of a loud clock. But Choerry's in your ear, noticing your fear and whispering comforting directions.

"We're almost there, just a few more steps." You only notice you're done when you feel Choerry tap your shoulder and tilt your chin towards her.

"We're done, we finished!" You're so thankful you could kiss her, and she's so pretty up close. Choerry notices the closeness too—you're pretty cute when scared and flustered, and kinda cute regardless. She's already moving closer when she catches hold of herself and blinks rapidly. "You can umm, put me down now."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." You let Choerry down, and when you think you can finally relax a booming voice is heard from behind you.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY? YOU BETTER NOT COME BACK, YOU BETTER RUN, RUN AND NEVER COME BACK!" It seems to grow in volume, as if getting closer and getting angrier, and you grab Choerry by the arm and run further away, clearing the fence surrounding the attraction. A generic voice comes through a much smaller speaker.

"We hope you enjoyed your time here, thank you and we hope to see you again!" The absurd contrast of the two messages makes you break out into laughter, and you hear Choerry's piercing laughter right next to you—you had pulled her along to the exit, and when you stopped you caught her momentum, wrapping her up in a hug. The two of you laugh and smile, happy to be done with the ordeal.

"Thanks for getting me through it."

"Thank you for carrying me through it," Choerry answers back, holding your gaze. The arms you have around her stay there, and she doesn't make any attempt to break out either. You feel your own heard pounding, or is that Choerry's? You meet her sparkling eyes, drawn inexorably to them, wanting to see them closer up. 

But the next pair comes barging through, shouting and screaming just like you two were earlier, and the moment is broken.

"Oh! Sorry!" You quickly get out of the way, only to find that Choerry has stepped in the opposite direction.

"So umm, thanks!" You call out lamely.

"Yeah, thanks!" she calls back. Out of habit she checks her phone, and a few messages pop up.

*Choerry are you out yet?*

*It shouldn't take that long, did she just chicken out and leave?*

*Do they not let her in if she's alone? Is she still back at the entrance?*

She turns to look at you still standing there, on your phone too, and quickly fires a white lie to her unnies.

*Yeah, they didn't let me in, so I just went back, don't worry about me I'm already back home!*

With that done she puts her phone away. As she goes to tap your shoulder you're also turning around, slipping your own phone in your pocket.

"Oh, hey, you're still here?"

"Yeah, my unnies, they ditched me."

"Yeah, my friends too, ditched me as well." From the knowing smile you give each other you both know it didn't matter if any of that was true or not. But the two of you hang around, unsure how to breach the real topic at hand, and more couples come running out until Choerry decides to take the initiative.

"Hey, do you mind coming home with me? I'm still a little scared, don't want to take a cab alone."

"O-Oh, sure, of course."

Choerry's hand felt hot as you helped her into the cab.

"Safely home," you add pointlessly as Choerry unlocks the door.

"Yes, thank you. Please, come in." Daringly she pulls you through the door, and as she holds you close her initiative is rewarded—you're looking at her intensely, her eyes seeming to shimmer again with the sparks that are flying between the two of you. Choerry's heart is racing as you get even closer, and as you lean in head tilted, her own eyes flutter shut, letting the moment take over.

You're kissing Choerry, and her lips are every wonderful adjective you can come up with—soft, rosy, plump, sweet, juicy. You capture her bottom lip, gently sucking on it and finding her absolutely delicious. A little gasp escapes her, and you're cupping her cheek, pulling her back to capture her lips again. You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer, hand playing with the hem of her sweater. A small hand on your chest stops you in your tracks.

"Sorry, I don't do this normally, or at all." Choerry can't meet your eyes, looking down at the floor.

"Right, I understand, sorry I thought— Yeah." You don't know what else to say, did you misunderstand the situation? Your hands fall away from her, abashed at your rashness. But immediately Choerry's pulling on your t-shirt and leaning into you, and you're feeling her lips on yours again. This time she is more passionate, throwing her arms around your neck, pressing herself fully into you, a hand running through your hair. When she pulls back both of you are breathless, and the spark in her eyes has become a fire.

"But it feels good, feels right, so..." Choerry takes your hands and has them rest on her hips. You press your forehead to Choerry's, watching her mouth hang slightly open when you move your hands slightly, going over the edge of her jeans and brushing circles on her bare skin. 

"Okay, we go as far as you're comfortable with." Choerry's losing herself in the moment, feeling the hairs on your neck stand—you're just as nervous as she is, and she overcompensates with bravado. She kisses you again before pulling away—she pulls her sweater up and over her head, revealing her toned midriff teasingly before her simple white top drops back in place. Her voice is heavy with desire, the words thick in her throat as she tells you how far she wants to go in the few words she can manage.

"All the way." 

You reply in kind, taking off your t-shirt, and your jeans get a little more strained as you see Choerry lick her lip subconsciously, eager eyes taking you in. You kiss her once again, hands sneaking under her thin top as her hands wander your shoulders and chest. Choerry parts her lips, sighing into the kiss, and you let yourself in, drawing a low moan from her. Your tongues dance and fight, and after a fierce battle both of you catch your breath—you take the chance to assure her of your intentions.

"Right there with you."

You're right there with Choerry, on top of her in fact, hungrily plunging your tongue into her mouth as she grips your arms. To Choerry her bed seems floaty, like she's barely laying on it—with how you're kissing her, sucking on her lower lip, it's like you're lifting her off the bed just off that alone! The muscles she feels on your arms only serve to turn her on even more, and the arousal is no more apparent than in the stiff nubs you feel as your hand brushes over her chest, making Choerry wish her top was removed already.

There is one thing Choerry wants to see removed more, and she reaches for your jeans, unbuttoning them and watching you kick it off, showing your desire for her.

"Your turn." Her breath catches as you reach for her jeans, right below her bellybutton. "Still with me?"

"Huh?" Choerry finds your questioning gaze, your fingers on her freshly popped jean button.

"You made a sound, like a squeak." Did she? Choerry's too engrossed in feeling you, unable to keep track of everything happening everywhere on her body, all at once.

"Just really sensitive, everything feels so... much."

"We can go slower." Choerry keeps her eyes locked on you, and you're looking right back at her as you slowly unzip her jeans—she has to remind herself to breathe, she's not sure she has ever been so turned on from such a simple act! You peel the tight jeans down her generous thighs and slim calves, revealing the simple black panties she has on.

"Wow." You let out a small laugh at just how lucky you are tonight, but Choerry tries to cover with her hands, long legs twisting, trying to hide from you.

"Don't laugh, I didn't think I'd be—" You shush her with a kiss, pulling her hands away and gently pushing her legs open with yours.

"No, it's a good wow, you're amazing." You push a knee up between her legs, and you grow even harder. "So sexy, so wet for me."

Choerry gasps, unsure which bolt of pleasure is stronger—your knee brushing against the apex of her thighs, or you saying that she's sexy. Soon it doesn't matter anymore as the constant friction between her thighs is becoming a burn, cauterizing and sealing off any idle thoughts. All she can do is focus on how good everything feels—your hot breath on her neck as you plant a mark on her, hands licentiously having their way with her underneath her top, your warmness both between her legs and on her lips as she leaves mindless hickeys all across your neck.

"Wait! No, don't..." You are halted by Choerry's breathless gasps, but it is a false alarm when you look down—her thighs squeeze around the one she's straddling, and she's openly grinding against you. "I-It feels good." Gone is the bright and cheery tone, replaced with something huskier, downright seductive.

"Okay, do what feels good." Choerry's hands are on your shoulders, and you watch her head sink into the pillow, tilted back as she loses herself in the pleasure. Her delicious midriff undulates as she writhes on your thigh, the little noises she makes causing you to stain your own underwear with precum.

"Mmph!" She's grabbing you by the neck, pulling you against her twisting body to use for leverage—she's bucking herself against you, and with your face pressed against her chest you hear her heartbeat spike, her lungs swelling to take in air—

"Nngh!" Any shout or scream Choerry wanted to make is snuffed out by the pleasure, but you feel her cum all the same, your thigh suddenly getting hot and wet as she rides out her orgasm. "Oh yes... Yes, yes, yes..." All she manages is a sigh followed by softer moans, her grip on you slackening as her entire body begins to relax. Your knee is sore from kneeling on the bed, and you slowly pull away, waiting for her to recover. Thankfully you're not left hanging for too long, and as she pushes herself up she looks at your own "wet spot" on your boxers.

"Sorry I took my time didn't I?" You don't even manage to reply as she takes off her thin white camisole before coming towards you. "I made a mess too, you felt so good." She wipes your shiny thigh with her top, cleaning it up and maybe ruining her top in the process. But both of you are too far gone to care as she discards the rag, fingers pulling on your boxers.

"Can I?"

"Y-Yeah, yeah." Choerry pulls your underwear down, letting your cock spring free. "Oh fuck!" you moan as she daringly wraps a hand around you, making a test stroke.

"Does that feel good?"

"Really good, really really good."

"But we can't end it early can we? We're going all the way." Choerry pulls away, propping herself up on her elbows as she looks at you seductively—for someone who's so bright and cheery, she sure knew how to entice you, and like a moth drawn to a flame you're on top of her once more, hands going straight to her panties.

"My turn?"

"Please." Your fingers tremble a little, but you get ahold of yourself and roll them down her hips, revealing her wetness, still swollen and pink from her orgasm earlier. Much like the rest of Choerry right now it looks delicious, and you're tempted to dive in, but she pushes you off with her feet, kicking her underwear off.

"All the way," she reiterates—Choerry wanted to go all the way, and she wanted to go all the way now.

"Stop me if I'm going too fast," you murmur, positioning yourself between her spread legs.

"No, I trust you." You start with just the proverbial tip, wedging yourself in her. "Wow, it's so big." Choerry blurts out, half-praise, half-concern. She's not wrong either—you feel just how tight she is right from the get go, see the way it must look to her, watching herself be split open. Yet she wants all of it, pushing herself down the bed, just enough to take another half inch of you.

"I want it all the way in me." Choerry holds you close, the pressure between her legs seeming to grow without end as you give her what she wants. Your groans are music to her ears, knowing that it's overwhelming for you too—just like the haunted house earlier, you're experiencing this together. A few seconds later you're pressed on her, and Choerry can feel you throbbing, in time with your heartbeat.

"All the way in... Fuck," you mutter—much like Choerry, you can feel all of her, how, despite her nerves, she's hungry for you, her body trying to draw you in, walls pulling at your shaft. You stay still, both of you breathing deeply, taking it all in.

Then she squirms. Much like she did on your thigh earlier, and it is your sign to move. You draw back, feeling Choerry shudder as you pull out, a balance of delicious friction and wistful emptiness. You push in, and this time her pussy yields easier, the slickness coating your cock making things smoother but just as delightful. 

Now one more time, but faster.

"Ah!" 

Choerry's yelp triggers something in both of you—she can't control herself, so you didn't need to either. This time you no longer stay composed, no longer measured in your movements; No, you're hugging Choerry and *doing what feels good*. With your face buried in her neck, you don't see much, but much like earlier, you don't need to—Choerry's whispering all the directions you need right into your ear.

"Harder, yes harder!"

"Faster, please go faster..."

"Right— Nngh right there, right there!"

Along with a few not-so-useful descriptions.

"You're so deep in me, no one's ever been this deep!"

"Y-You're stretching me, oh my god, please don't stop!"

"I'm so close, please, please!"

"Fuck I'm going to cum so hard..."

Your reply to Choerry makes her pop right away.

"Do what feels good."

"Oh oh oh I'm cumming, I'm cumming! Feels so— Mmm!" Choerry sucks on your neck hard as she combusts, wrapping her legs tightly around you. When she's done you're close yourself, and you need to do something to mix it up.

"You trust me right?"

"Mmhmm?" You sit up and get Choerry to sit in your lap. She thought you wanted her to ride you, but as soon as you're in her again you have her ass in your hands, and she's clinging on to your neck while you stand up.

"Oh god..." With gravity's help you're even deeper in her, and a jolt of pleasure goes through her when you make an experimental thrust.

"See, you're not heavy."

Choerry wants to say that that's not the point, that what is important to her is that you're fucking running your cock through her, kissing the very end of her warmth and making her toes curl.

"Mmph, hnngh... Ah, ah ah ah— mmm!" Yet that's all that comes out when you start thrusting, and Choerry dips her head, succumbing to the sensation of truly going "all the way" with you, your tip nudging against her cervix with every thrust. She's putty in your arms, hanging off you, powerless to do much more than cum, and she cums hard.

"Mmm, ah!" Choerry yelps and braces herself against you, unable to stem the tide of pleasure rushing through her. It starts as a warm wave of slick over your shaft, but as you keep thrusting into her it becomes a splatter against your crotch and your thighs. When she digs her nails against your neck you take that as your sign to stop, and like an awning after a storm Choerry's dripping all over the place, and her husky harsh heaves are loud in the room, the last howls of the storm that just ripped through her. 

"Feels good to trust you."

"I'm glad, but I'm close."

"Good, I was wondering when I could make you feel good. Put me down." You let Choerry down, and she drops to her knees, grabbing your slick shaft and stroking you. You feel too good to notice the slight tremble in Choerry's hand—you had just given her the strongest orgasm she's had in a while, and yet she finds herself wanting more.

But she definitely wanted to repay your efforts first.

"Look at me." Choerry directs, and you listen. She's still incredibly pretty, but the large round eyes that twinkled as she laughed and screamed and whooped with you at the haunted house are now tinted with a shade of lust. Choerry looks innocent, but only innocent enough for you to stain. You're pointed right at her face, but you're quickly pointed to the back of her throat as she takes you in, distorting her beauty even more.

"C-Choerry..." you moan, meaning to tell her how good she feels or some such, but those thoughts fly out the windows when she starts ruining herself on you, tongue doing things that you never imagined she would do—around and under your shaft, swirling right over your tip. Your legs quiver and shake as it all becomes too much, and Choerry grabs your hips, pulling you deeper into her.

"Fuck!" The first two shots go right down her throat, and then you're out of her mouth. You're powerless in front of Choerry—eyes closed and hand stroking you furiously, all you can do is stand there and let her do it. You can't take your eyes off her, unable to hold back the surge of pleasure and cum that begins to cover her face. You let out a low moan of relish as she extends your orgasm, rubbing your tip and getting more makeup-ruining seed all over her as a reward. When she stops you're staggered and she's completely glazed, a particularly heavy blob sliding off her cheek.

"Oh shit... Uh hold on." You scramble to find her tissues, but given that you're in her apartment, she beats you to it with a soft laugh, beginning to wipe her face clean. The pretty and sweet Choerry reappears as she removes your load.

"There, all better."

"You umm— There's still a little bit." Choerry makes to wipe the little bit still on her lip, but she thinks better of it, smirking and making a show of licking it off, reminding you of what she can be just a moment ago.

"Mm, salty."

"Wow, you were amazing," you blurt out lamely—what else do you say when you've busted down their throat and covered them in cum?

"I'm glad you liked it, it was great for me too." She makes a show of cleaning up between her legs, slowly bringing the tissues up her creamy thighs and removing the slick shine off them. Cleanup is supposed to be awkward but necessary, yet Choerry makes it hot, showing you just how good you made her feel earlier. "I'll be right back."

As Choerry takes the soaked tissues to the restroom, her thoughts are a bit of a mess, much like the rest of her. She doesn't remember the last time she came that hard or that wetly, and as she flushes the tissues down she briefly brushes between her legs, gasping at her own findings—Choerry's still sticky, a gooey mess. She finally understands Haseul's drunken confessions.

-----

"How do you know oppa's the best you ever had? You haven't even been sleeping around! Or have you?" Choerry asks incredulously, not believing her unnie's declarations.

"Yah, of course I haven't!" Haseul looks around, and motions Choerry to get closer. "You know how when you do it alone, you're happy with one round?" Choerry blushes but nods, she knows what Haseul means exactly—the satiating satisfaction of getting herself off once is usually enough. "Well when I do it with oppa, I just... Want more. Want to be closer to him, want to, you know, receive more 'love' from him." Haseul replaces the crude 4-letter word in her head with something nicer. "But don't guys only do it once, how can you get him to do it again?"

"Choreo."

"Choreo?"

"Mmhmm, our choreo has sexy parts right? The ones where the fans scream because it's just a little too sexy but fine since it's only for a line or two? Just do something in those positions."

"I just bend over, it's mm... Easy to get him to do it again..." Jinsol mumbles, half-asleep already. Before Choerry could ask them more they both headslam the table, falling asleep in their drunkness.

-----

It is with those thoughts in mind that Choerry returns to the bedroom.

"You should umm, stay the night, it's late."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything."

"No, I wouldn't mind at all."

Choerry watches you put on your boxers and t-shirt, debating with herself how forward she wanted to be and what choreo she should use.

"Which side should I take?"

"Hmm? Whichever you want," she answers distractedly. It is a little later, when you have an arm around her, that she settles on Flower Rhythm.

Just as you are drifting into sleep, you feel the weight on your arm lessen. You take a peek and immediately start waking up—Choerry's holding a hairtie in her mouth, bunching up her hair behind before tying it off. Even that simple act is hot, and it gets even hotter when she bends over, getting on all fours right next to you. You're wide awake now, but Choerry only notices it when she pulls down your boxers and finds a half-stiff cock in front of her.

"Oh, you're up?"

"Only halfway," you manage to joke. "I felt you move, and then I saw you tie your hair and then now... Yeah, I'm awake."

"Let's get you all the way awake then." She takes you in her mouth again, but this time, more than her skills with her tongue it is the sight of Choerry bent over and wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and boy shorts that gets you harder than steel and eager to pump some of that iron into her.

"I'm wide awake, just stay there." Choerry reacts viscerally to your rasp—she felt just how hard you were in her mouth, and now you're going behind her to... She gets lower on the bed and curves her back a little more, pushing her butt a little higher—god she wants this so bad! All she can think about is you looming over her, grabbing her hips and—

"Ah!" Her shorts are yanked down unceremoniously, bunching at her knees—Choerry's forgotten that she's still wearing clothes, and in a flurry she pulls her t-shirt off and kicks her shorts away. She blushes a little at how eager and direct she's being, but she's grateful that you don't say anything; Or rather, she's grateful that you're already grabbing her by the hips, and that delicious pressure is growing between her legs immediately.

"Fuck yes..." you hiss, enjoying sinking yourself into Choerry for a second time tonight. Despite having stretched her deep and spread her walls once, she's just as tight as before, and you have to firmly push into her, drawing a loud moan.

"Ohhh yes! Ah..." Choerry's labored breaths give you pause, and you stop moving, letting her get used to you again, but she turns back to face you, beckoning you to lean over her. "Don't worry about me, you feel so good. Do what feels good for you." She emphasizes this by leaning forward and pushing back, making sure you feel her butt pressed against your hips. It's utterly unholy the way she's flush against you, urging you to hilt yourself deep in her.

Choerry braces as you grab her hips and pull back, but nothing prepares her for the sharp spike in pleasure when you snap your hips forward, and her arms give way immediately. She's wrinkling the bedsheet, biting it with her teeth and grabbing it with her hands as you pump into her. She's moaning into the bed, her muffled whimpers joining the solid smack of flesh on flesh ringing in her head. Each thrust leaves her gasping for more, and her body reacts with a mind of its own, pushing her cunt back against your rod, just to get you back in her faster, harder, deeper!

"Fuck Choerry... holy shit!" She feels like velvet and silk, trying to tug you deeper into her each time. The rest of her toned body is just as enticing—the way her shoulders flex when she pushes herself back at you, and you follow the slim line of her body to— Oh how her thighs ripple when you slam into her from behind! It's one thing to bounce her in the air on top of you, it's another to take her from behind, bouncing your hips off her ass, and you wanted more.

"Hnngh!" Choerry's moans grow louder in volume when she feels a hand on her lower back, forcing her to arch her back even more. You're taking charge now, and the new angle causes you to rub right against her g-spot, the pleasure tugging Choerry's eyes back, rolling them into her head. Her legs flex, trying to push her ass higher, to give you an even steeper angle to fuck her at. But no, you grab her hips and hold her down, seeming to fix her at the perfect height to pump down and forward into her.

Over and over you slam down on Choerry, striking at her g-spot repeatedly, numbing the rest of her body and replacing all of it with pleasure. At some point she begins to cum, her toes curling, teeth biting into the bedsheets to stop herself from screaming. A tidal wave of joy slams into her... And then another one, and then one more—there's no end in sight!

Now Choerry understands why Haseul does that move in Flower Rhythm so well, she must get fucked in this position so often, because it feels fucking amazing. Choerry doesn't even have to do anything, just lie there and take it and cum. And cum she does too, ecstasy consuming her thoughts as you fuck her silly. At some point she's no longer biting the sheets, and she's yelping and wailing, trying to swallow her screams and failing spectacularly. 

"Feels so good Choerry, I'm close!" She keeps getting tighter and wetter, you're not sure how long you can last.

"I-I'm cumming!" It doesn't even come out right, Choerry wanted to say "I've been cumming!" But she's been trapped in her orgasms the whole damn time, cumming her brains out and barely coherent, a mess between her legs and her ears. Yet you still fuck her, pounding her until her whole body feels like jello. You treat her words as approval to finish, and the bedsprings creak loudly, the bed rattling faster and faster as you chase your own peak.

A small groan escapes her when you pull out, and the slick that should be coating your cock comes out as a small squirt against your thighs. Both of you moan loudly when you cum, the hot jizz all over her back just as satisfying for Choerry as it is for you. You fire large spurts all over her, covering her pale skin with your thick load.

"Damn! Shit!" You're left speechless as your legs go weak, forcing you to sit on the bed. Choerry similarly slumps forward, sighing as she lands on the bed with a thump. "Are you okay?" Both of you are silent for a while, gasping deeply to catch your breath and process the fuck that just happened.

"Yeah, feels so good..." She tries to reach behind herself, and you quickly wipe the cum off for her. Choerry turns herself around immediately, pulling you into a passionate, almost desperate kiss. She's sucking on your lower lip, tugging with her teeth, trying to draw you in deeper. You reply in kind, tongue pushing past her lips, wanting to suck all the oxygen out of her, to leave her breathless once more. You're stirring for a third round, but you recognize the lack of sparkle in Choerry's eyes—not dimmed by lust, but dulled by fatigue. It's time to call it a night.

"We should rest."

"Huh? Sure... my clothes, where?" From the sleepiness and pleasure rendering her brain earlier Choerry makes just enough sense, and you grab her clothes, helping her slip them on before she bundles under the covers. You manage to find your own boxers and put them on before joining her in bed. As you sidle next to her under the covers she shifts herself closer to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Good night," You murmur, and a smile is all she manages before her eyelids droop, and she's off to dreamland, a hand on your chest feeling your heartbeat. You just hope it doesn't wake her up.

That amazing smile.

You fall asleep eventually. When you wake up, you unfortunately don't see Choerry snuggling next to you, but you do hear the clink of cutlery on dishes outside.

"Good morning!" Choerry calls out cheerily as you step out of the bedroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes and blink—you blink very quickly. Choerry's dressed simply in a white singlet and powder blue shorts, there's a bit of red on her neck from where you left your mark last night, but she looks otherwise flawless.

"Something to eat?"

"Sure, whatever you're having there I guess."

She quickly gets you a bowl of granola and yogurt. There is a quiet awkwardness to the whole thing, and you wonder if you should have put on all of your clothes before coming out rather than just your t-shirt. Choerry's eating silently next to you, both of you thinking about the same thing.

What do I even say?

"So umm, I have to go to work later." Choerry states quietly.

"Right, let me get out of your way, let you prepare—"

"No! I mean, there's no rush. Please, finish your food. Oh..." She notices a bit of yogurt on your lip.

"What is it?"

"You have a little—" She points to her own lip, but you miss it, because for a second she looks so pretty you can't tell left from right. "No, let me get it" She leans in—

She's kissing you again. Choerry's smudging the yogurt, tugging on your upper lip, cleaning it for you. She often joked about how her unnies were always finding chances to steal away and be with their boyfriends, but she understands their actions a little better now, now she's just like them. The attraction is magnetic, and as soon as she's close enough she wants to kiss you, touch you, feel you against her body— Fuck she's wet again. Choerry's shorts land in a pile on the floor and she swings her legs across your lap, straddling you. 

"One more time. Want to feel good again." Choerry murmurs. Now the passionate and desperate kiss from last night returns in full force. You drop your cutlery with a clang, and she's light enough that you can squirrel your boxers down just the right amount.

"Ch-Choerry!" Your tip is engulfed in her wetness almost immediately, and she's whining into your gasp, both reactions to just how needy and ready she is for you.

"Let me ride you!" She's asking, but not really, as Choerry's already starting to rock her hips back and forth on top of you. More and more of you slips into her, and her husky moans get louder and louder. You're buried in her neck, and Choerry let's her top slip down, an invitation for you to play with her chest. 

"Mmm!" She whines when you kiss along her bust line, hands on your head urging you to do more. You make her slow down, steadying her so that you can take a nipple between your lips, gently sucking and licking it. "Yes, just like that..." The frantic riding settles into a slower but no less intense grind, as if you playing with her tits has made her tighten around you, and she's savoring every inch of your cock she's taking even more. You play with both of her breasts, and her moans get quieter and faster, her lungs struggling to keep up with the sinuous and sinful exercise she's putting herself through.

"Mmm, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" Choerry flings her arms around your neck and crushes you against her. She buries her face in your hair to muffle her cry, the vibrations rattling you to your core. You help her along her orgasm, pulling her waist towards you each time she clenches around you, adding wave after wave of pleasure and extending her peak. When she finally recovers your connection is sticky, and Choerry is a bit of a wreck—top pulled down, hair mussed, a pale skin flushed with pleasure.

"J-Just one more..." she mumbles, beginning to ride you again. Choerry's not really "pent up", but her body's asking the question her heart hasn't put into words yet—"Where were you all this time?!" Now she's more surprised that the unnies spend so much time with the group—if she had a boyfriend like you she would be spending as much time as possible with you and not the group! She throws her head back and lets out a low moan, hilting herself and cumming again all over your cock.

"Fuck Choerry, I'm close, you need to get off!" You're throbbing hard inside her. If last night was Choerry losing it because of your fucking, today morning is Choerry taking charge, fucking you, and making you lose it—you're going to cum even harder than last night. She's sweating, her entire body just as hot and wet as her walls are wrapped around you. At your warning she seems to ride you even harder, her moans long and low.

"Choerry!"

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Just do what feels good, trust me." Choerry's holding your face in her hands, begging you to say yes.

"Yes, I— Oh fuck! Trust you!" You can't form a coherent sentence either.

"Just tell me when, tell me when you feel good, last one!" Your hands settle on her waist, trying to steady her, but Choerry's movements only get more intense, borderline violent—her knees dig into your hips and she's bouncing herself in your lap, your thighs taking a beating against the chair. 

"Want you to cum, please, please..." She's determined to drag you off the cliff with her, struggling to maintain eye contact with you as her chin dips down, her body bracing and holding off her own orgasm best she can. The way she calls out to you, moans for you, her walls clenching around you with raw need, it all becomes too much.

"Fuck, now!" you groan, and Choerry has a split second to decide if she should get off you or sink even deeper in your lap, but the only thought her in mind is—

Do what feels good.

"Fuck yes, oh yes, ohhh yes yes yes! Oh my god!" Her words and your moans ring loudly in the apartment. Choerry spreads her legs and lowers her hips, and your arm around her waist pulls her in on instinct, both of you making sure that she takes every last inch and every last drop of cum into her. The burst of warmth in her womb and surge of bliss rips through her body, tearing a scream from her as she loses control. Choerry tries to close her legs, as if it's too much to experience, but all it does is trap you in place, keeping you there as you continue pumping her full of thick seed.

"Ahh, it's so hot, so much..." And it quickly becomes too much, the flow of cum into Choerry seeming to reverse—a sinful mix of you and her leak out the sides, coating your shaft as the two of you tremble and shudder, tangled together in the heat of explosive intimacy. When Choerry manages to gather herself again she sees you still recovering, head tilted back and looking like a man totally drained. Only now does she wonder about her decision—was it reckless, was it safe, was it what she wanted? Yes, yes, and yes. But there is one question Choerry doesn't know the answer to—What would you think? Would you think less of her? She told you she doesn't normally do this, yet she just let you—

"Worried?" you ask, knocking her out of her reverie.

"Yes, I mean no, not about that, I'm umm, safe." How does she even ask a question like that? How does she even begin to phrase it.

Meanwhile you have your own worries. You wanted this to be more than a one-off, but Choerry is so far out of reach. From the waist up, blushing slightly as she fixes her top and hair, Choerry looked like a virtual angel. Yet she's in your lap, panties pulled to the side, with what's left of your morning wood leaking out of her freshly fucked pink pussy. What do you even say to someone like her, the perfect girlfriend and perfectly ruinable lover, to appeal to her? You settle for reassuring her for now.

"I'm with you all the way, whatever happens." Choerry opens her mouth to dispute, to tell you that's not what she's worried about, but as you brush her hair tenderly, she realizes you've answered everything she couldn't put into words. When she leans in, asking for a kiss with a pout, you realize you've said everything you needed to say, and you give her a kiss happily.

The magic ends when an alarm on her phone sounds.

"I need to leave soon, do you mind getting me some tissues?"

"Oh, yeah of course." You find her the tissues, and she does her best to quickly clean up. "Should I go first? I'll give you your privacy."

"No no, I'll be done quickly, the rest I can do at the salon. Here's your clothes." Choerry disappears into the bedroom as you get dressed in the living room.

"You go to a salon for work?" you ask her as she comes out fully dressed.

"Yeah umm for makeup, I'm an idol."

"Oh, so... we can't meet again can we?" You have a sinking feeling—after the best night of your life, you might be facing the worst day right after.

"No, we just have to be careful, go to less popular spots, or at odd times, stuff like that. I... hope that's okay?" Choerry holds her breath, praying that it isn't a dealbreaker.

"Yeah, no that's great, we can do that." Both of you breathe a sigh of relief internally as you enter the elevator. "I'd love to take you out somewhere quiet, one where we're not jumping out of our shoes every few minutes."

"Yes, no spiders and zombies."

"And ghosts," you remind her.

"Right, they're the same thing." Choerry realizes that the elevator is close to ground floor, that she's close to being in the public eye once again. She takes your phone and puts her number in, shushing your indignant sputtering about zombies and ghosts with a peck on your lips. 

"It's a date then, don't make me wait."

She feels her phone vibrate almost immediately after she leaves you, and she's smiling at your invitation for next weekend as she tumbles into the van with the other members.

"Choerry yah, did you get back okay yesterday? I'm sorry they wouldn't let you in, you could've just stayed home the whole time!"

"Oh no unnie it was fine, I'm glad I went all the way."

A/N: Haunted house fic a month after Halloween lmao. Anyways been wanting to write Choerry for a long while but didn't have the best setup for it until now, so I kinda overcooked it with scenes and pics XD Hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!

[drrav3nb]

CHYNA & EDDIE GUERRERO RAW IS WAR (June 05, 2000)

(cred to FullWithDivas for the videos, such high quality!)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,970 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. “I want to know why,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “why you left me there.” 

John shifts behind you, silent for a long moment. 

“I got too caught up in the big picture.” He finally says. “I thought that taking out Shepherd would end everything before it went too far. It’s the only way we’ll ever be safe, and I didn’t consider the lengths he’d go to, the lengths he’d let Graves go to, just to cover his own ass long enough for him to escape. I was wrong in making that decision. You’re not like us. You’ve never been left behind, tortured, had to fight your way out of an impossible situation. You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position. We all failed you. Every last one of us.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. “You left me.” 

“I know.” He says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. He was the only one that knew you were out here last night. 

You're not sure how that makes you feel. 

It's nice on one hand, that he saved you from the pains of sleeping on the floor. But at the same time it feels like an intrusion. There was a time you wouldn't have thought twice about it. There was a time it would have been normal and expected and you would have thanked him for it. 

Now...now you're not sure. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of betrayal still aches in your chest, as much as you still want to hate them, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you try to blink the drowsiness away. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, a lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for the middle of fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

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[landoughnut]

Dream Girl

��� masterlist - request!

♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader

♡ summary - when being interviewed, the conversation gets on the topic of you, lando's long term obsession crush, never in a million years did he think you would actually notice him

♡ warnings - obsessed/simp lando

♡ w/c & a/n - 0.85k | I hope you all are doing good! as usual send any requests xoxo

"Good afternoon, Lando! We're happy to have you here with us today," the interviewer smiles, sat across from the driver.

"Great to be here," he nods, putting his hands on his lap and leaning back into the chair, "Wow, nice chairs you've got here."

The interviewer laughs, "Glad you approve of them. So, let's get started with the questions, shall we?" Lando nods and the lady clears her throat, "First off, when racing at the high speeds you do, what are some things you're thinking about? Or maybe I should say, a someone?"

Let's rewind. If there was one thing, besides being a Formula 1 driver, that everyone knew Lando Norris for, it was having the world's most massive crush on you. In fact, pretty much everyone was aware of this; except for you.

You wouldn't call yourself oblivious, per se. You just weren't really one to be online, so you never saw all the drama surrounding Lando's infatuation with you.

He has been enamored with you for about three years now, and he made it everyone's problem. From liking instagram updates of you, to commenting on pictures and videos of you, to even reposting edits of you. His friends must have sat through hours and hours of hearing him just speak about your beauty and personality.

His friends teased him about it quite often, though he was never really embarrassed over it. He truly just found everything about you beautiful, you were his dream girl, everything he'd ever want in a woman.

"Well, uh, I think about, you know, winning. Also what I'm going to eat after, and uh.. my girl," he nods with a slight grin.

The interviewer raises her eyebrows, "I wasn't informed you finally got a girlfriend," she says, surprised.

He laughs and shakes his head, "No, no. She's not my girlfriend... yet. Although I'm not even sure if she knows that I exist, but I'm working on it."

"Ah, I should have known," the lady smiles at his flustered state, "I wish you luck with that. Now I believe we should move onto the more important questions, before I get in trouble," she taps on her clipboard.

The rest of the interview seemed like forever for Lando, now that he was thinking about you again, as he usually is.

You're in your bed, watching one of your favorite shows, How I Met Your Mother, when your phone starts to blow up with your friends messaging you and sending you a link to a YouTube video of some F1 interview.

You open the video is none other than the very cute, Lando Norris. Of course you knew who he was, you kept up with Formula 1 on your free time and enjoyed watching the races.

As the video is playing through, you open the comments and your eye go wide at everyone saying your name and commenting on how hot of a couple you two would make. You furrow your eyebrows at some comments talking about how devoted to you he must be for liking you for several years without a single interaction.

You continue to watch the video and your cheeks turn pink as he talks about, well you. You couldn't believe that he liked you like that, surely you were well-known, and you weren't too bad looking, but one of the best current racers in the world crushing on you?

After the video ended you messaged your best friend back, asking what you should do. She, of course, told you to message him on instagram.

You thought over the idea for a bit, before nervously clicking on his account and following him back before beginning to type.

Lando was hanging out with Oscar around the garage when he hears his phone ping with a notification. He glances at it and turns his phone off again before doing a double check to make sure he saw it right. You had followed him.

"OSCAR," he yells and turns to his friend, holding the phone in his face, "SHE FOLLOWED ME, LOOK," he waves the phone.

Oscars jaw drops, never did he see this day coming, "Wow! Mate, thats fantastic, and look! It seems like she just sent you a message!"

"What? I might faint, Oscar," the boys hands shake with excitement and nerves as he clicks on your message. "Hi! I saw your interview, and I must say, I'm truly flattered," Lando reads as his face turns dark pink, he didn't think you'd see it, guess he was wrong.

Oscar starts laughing, "Text her back!"

"I don't know what to say, I've never spoken to her in my life," he panics.

"Mate, she saw you call her your girl, it's a bit too late to be nervous," Oscar smiles, patting his friend's pack. Lando chews his lip and writes back, heart pounding.

After a few messages were exchanged and an anticipated Oscar waiting for an update clears his throat, Lando looks up from the phone with the brightest smile Oscar has ever seen on him, "Guess who scored himself a date with his future wife this Saturday?"

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late (I’m Still Glad I Met You)

pairings: grumpy!college student! Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 2/? (wc: 3.4k)

masterlist

001 | 01 | 02

- - - -

Chapter 2: Surprise, Surprise

Harry wakes up to the sound of his phone dinging and he grumbles as he sits up and stretches. He looks around and stops his tired gaze at the small window next to his bed. It's dark with just a hint of sunlight beginning to cut through the glass windows, this is definitely not the scenery he's used to when he awakes from his slumber. Groggily he grabs his phone with one hand and rubs his left eye with the other, turns on the phone and hisses as he squints. 

He quickly turns the brightness of the screen down to a manageable setting and mumbles under his breath when he sees it's a little past six in the morning. 

"Who the fuck is awake right now and why are they trying to talk to me. Someone better be fucking dying." The message is from an unknown number, the numbers staring at him tauntingly. 

///

Unknown: hey. it's y/n. i got your number from principal Oscar. lmk whenever works best for you and i'll do my best to arrange my schedule otherwise! :)

— — — 

He grumbles once more about the timing of the text and stares at the screen trying to think of an appropriate response. He could and absolutely wants to just leave her on read and never talk to her again. That seems like the most appropriate since she interrupted his sleep, why is she even up this early? But maybe he should show a sliver of compassion and reply to the text briefly before going back to sleep. 

He decides on not texting back, simply because all this thinking of replying, responses and times is making his head hurt, so he sets his phone back onto the small wooden table beside his bed and clambers back into the warm cocoon of his blankets. Wrapping himself  in the thick blanket, he sighs blissfully as his head relaxes into the soft cushiony bed. He begins to close his eyes and go back to sleep, the pleasant warm feeling of sleep very quickly approaching him. 

Just as soon as he gets comfortable and almost falls asleep, his phone dings once more. He grumbles as he throws the blanket off of him and grabs his phone once again. The same numbers teasing him as another text comes through. 

///

Unknown: this is harry right? i'm so sorry if this isn't! 

////

He rolls his eyes as he mumbles, his fingers typing away on the keyboard as he sends his response. 

Harry: Yes, it's me. In case you haven't noticed, it's five in the morning. I was asleep.

///

He gets a response almost immediately, as if she was staying in the chat waiting for a response.

Unknown: yes i know! why are you still sleep? i like to get my day started early!

Harry: Because no one in their right mind is up this early.

Unknown: sorry for waking you! just wanted to see what times and days work best for you. :)

Harry: Give me a couple hours.

Unknown: okay! have a good nap! :)

— — — 

He mumbles again as he sets his phone grumpily back on the table, wrapping himself back into his blanket just to find it's not as warm anymore. He mutters under his breath, silently complaining about her up so early and choosing to annoy him so early as well, and to top it off she made him lose the warmth of his blankets. He wraps himself up in the blanket and lays back down, resting his head on the soft pillow as he closes his eyes. 

Opening his eyes once more a couple hours later, he gets up and stretches once again. The muscles in his back pops smoothly and he groans softly. He gets out of his bed and quickly makes his bed,  wrinkles sit in the middle of the blanket as he sets his pillow on top, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels much better after getting another couple hours of sleep. 

He heads into the bathroom and relieves his bladder, sighing in relief as it empties. Shutting the lid down, he flushes the toilet and heads to the sink so he can wash his hands. After he's finished, he brushes his hair and puts it in a man bun.

Walking over to the small dresser where he keeps his clothes, he opens his needed drawers and pulls out an outfit. Settling on a white Rolling Stones t-shirt and some black skinny jeans, he gets dressed and makes sure he puts on his signature rings. Once he's done with that, he sprays his Tom Ford cologne and grabs his phone, responding to the very few notifications he does have and stares at Y/N's name in his message list. 

Her simple text stares at him, somehow politely demanding a response from a couple hours ago. He huffs and mutters 'fucks sake' under his breath as he clicks on it and begins to type out his response.

///

Harry: I'm available anytime

/// 

Not too long after, just long enough for him to set his phone in his pocket and slip on his brown Chelsea boots, his phone dings. 

///

Y/N: okay! um how about tomorrow around 6 at the library?

— — — 

Harry laughs dryly at her enthusiasm as he sends a plain thumbs up, the yellow emoji a stark contrast in the very one sided text conversation, and afterwards he heads out the small bedroom in his dorm and heads to the front door. He passes the various pictures of his roommate and his girlfriend and a couple of pictures showcasing his orange kitten, Delilah, in various moments. She was wrapped up in a soft towel from the day Harry brought her home, and other moments where he thought she looked pretty and decided to capture the moment. 

All the pictures are neatly hung in a long cardboard frame, colorful tacks adding a pop of color to the otherwise boring wall of pictures. The small hallway leads to a basic living room, a simple gray futon sits alongside the cream colored wall with a modern artistic sketch hanging above it, a dark brown bookshelf holding all their movies and the very few books and textbooks they happen to own is placed next to the futon, and a small dresser underneath a decently sized tv. 

In the corner of the living room area sits a small gray cat bed and Delilah lays there peacefully sleeping in a little ball, her tail twitching occasionally. The ends of Harry's lips begin to curl upwards at the sight as he slowly walks over to the small dresser designated just for her. He silently opens the top drawer and opens the small can containing her food. The smell quickly floods his nose and he grimaces as he walks over to her food bowl and pouring it in there, silently gagging as it squelches into the bowl. 

He throws away the now empty can in the small trash can and grabs her water bowl walking over to the dresser once again and fills it with a small water bottle sitting in the top drawer. He sets it down beside the food one carefully because he doesn't feel like cleaning up water right now and walks back to the dresser. He opens the second one and grabs a few of her favorite toys and sets them under the coffee table in the living room, allowing her something to do while he's gone and turns on the tv. Quickly pulling up her favorite tv show - Animal Planet - he walks over to her and very gently rubs the top of her head. He coos at her softly to coax the sleepy kitten awake. 

Delilah stretches and yawns as she opens her eyes, focusing on Harry crouching above her, she lets out a tired but happy meow as she nuzzles her face into Harry's hand. 

"Good morning, sweet girl. I gotta get to school but you got everything set up for you, just how you like. I love you and I'll be back soon." He says with a small laugh as he gives the small kitten a couple extra pets and gets back up, stretching slightly as he heads to the door, making sure to grab his signature leather jacket from the futon as he opens the door and heads out. 

— — — 

It doesn't take him long to head to the campus thanks to his dorm being a short drive from the campus. He parks his car in an empty space nearest the school and he sits in the car after he turns it off. He watches her as she walks to the bike rack, her long hair flowing gently behind her as she walks due to the wind blowing. She's dressed in an olive green sweater and dark blue Levi pants that flare at the end, she'd pair it with some white Nike Air Forces, a medium sized white tote bag and a matching olive green thin belt, he can see the small shimmer of her jewelry shine when the sun hits it as she ties her bike to the small rack. 

He turns the key to shut off his car and opens the door, slowly stepping outside the car as he puts on his jacket. He closes the door with a soft slam and locks it, the beep alerting the girl as she turns around, her hair briefly swishing in front of her face as she turns. He watches as she frowns in anticipation of a snarky remark but returns to normal when it doesn't happen. He slowly makes his way to the entrance, purposely avoiding eye contact with her as he grows closer. He hopes she gets the hint to leave him the hell alone, and wants to keep their interactions to an absolute minimum. 

"Hey!" He hears her voice ring out from behind her but his pace doesn't falter, he actually starts walking just a tad bit faster in an attempt to get inside before she reaches him. He makes it to the top of the steps before he feels a soft hand grip his shoulder and a tug, signaling him to turn around. He slowly turns around, face deadpanned and he takes a deep breath. 

"What?" 

"Any place specific you want to meet in the library?" She asks softly and he shakes his head as he turns around swiftly and starts his journey into the school once again. He can feel her presence behind him and his frown begins to form. 

He chooses to ignore her as they walk, the chatter of the other students in the hall filling their ears as they continue. One of Harry's friends, Alex, walks up to Harry with a big smile as he pays his shoulder and glares at Y/N. 

"How you doin' Haz?" He asks and Harry's frown only deepens at the unwanted conversation. 

"Not now Alex." He shakes his head as he heads to his locker. He can hear Alex scoff as he walks away but he can still feel her presence behind him. 

He scoffs lightly as he gets to his locker, one ringed hand reaching up to twist the little knob to the correct numbers and opens the door. He quickly grabs a textbook and slams it shut and he walks away, leaving a hurt and confused Y/N standing at the locker. 

— — — 

She can't help but frown at Harry's more than usual grumpy behavior as she heads to her own locker, true enough she was the main reason why he's so grumpy but honestly how was she to know he’d still be sleeping? It’s not her fault that she just loves helping people! She should know better than to assume they'd be friends simply because she's tutoring him, but she assumed they'd at least be better than this. She hoped he would be somewhat tolerable, a very silly thought of hers because when is he ever tolerable? She doesn’t know how it came to be this way. She can remember a time where the two of them were cordial and even dared to say the best of friends, but then something changed and she wishes she knew what it was.

She wishes she could just go back in time and watch the two of them under a microscope to see what went wrong, to figure out why he hates her. She misses him terribly, but that’s kept locked away in a box of her feelings and emotions never to be seen again alongside her favorite childhood memories. 

She huffs in frustration when she can't get the lock to open, her combination not seeming to work as she twists and twists. She swears it's the right one, so she tries once more and she's met with once again the lock not opening. 

"Come on!" She huffs as she stares at the lock intently. Beginning to think that maybe she changed the lock combination, she tries a different sequence of the same numbers and after a couple of tries she finally hears the satisfying click as the lock opens. 

She quickly grabs the textbooks for her first two classes and shuts it gently as she walks to her first class, her tote bag gently bouncing off her hip as she walks. She just barely makes it to her first class before the teacher closes the door, her hand pushing on the tall wooden door as she cries out 'wait please!' The door opens and she sees the teacher smile softly as he lets her in. 

"Just in time Y/N, have a seat." He says and she nods silently, with her head down she quietly makes her way over to an empty seat towards the back of the class. Grabbing her notebook and a pen out of her bag, she begins to write down the title of the notes she's gonna be taking and pulls her assignment due from the front of the notebook as well. 

— — — 

Time seems to fly in front of her eyes, the day taking not nearly as long as it usually feels like as she gets released from her last class of the day. With a smile on her face, she plugs her earbuds in her phone as she walks through the halls, stopping briefly to answer any questions from her classmates and to wave goodbye to her teachers. 

She spots Harry talking to a pretty brunette, one of more popular girls who also happens to be on the cheerleading team she thinks, her lips pulled back into a dazzling smile as she twirls her hair around her finger as she speaks. Hesitantly, she makes her way over and taps him on the shoulder, meekly saying 'excuse me' and she's greeted with a very nasty glare from the girl. 

"Um, we're talking." The girl says with a frown on her face. Y/N can't help the flush of embarrassment that begins to heat her cheeks up as she looks down. 

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to remind Harry of the library. It's at six, if you can't make it or gonna be late, just let me know." Y/N's voice comes out quietly as she speaks, her hands subconsciously moving to her front as she begins to play with her fingers. 

Harry lets out a very unenthusiastic 'uh huh' as his eyes never leave the brunette's and he begins to talk to her once more, completely ignoring the other girl behind him as the brunette smirks and plays with the collar of his t-shirt. When she realizes that he isn't paying attention, she frowns slightly before making her way out of the school building as music plays in her ears. 

She mumbles curses to Harry under her breath as she unties her bike and sets the cord in her bag. Hopping on her bike, she begins her ride back to her apartment. She smiles as she passes the cars and families out and about, their joy and love radiating off of them making her smile and aw. As she continues biking, she makes a quick stop at her favorite flower shop, propping her bike against the side of the store and she quickly walks in. The smell of all the flowers welcome her warmly as well as the bright smile of the lady standing behind the counter. 

"Y/N! So good to see you! How've you been?" She asks and Y/N smiles as she walks up to the counter. 

"Hi Tameka! I'm good, how are you?" Y/N asks and Tameka responds with great enthusiasm as she starts telling the younger girl about her kids and how the store's been getting along. 

Y/N loves coming to this flower shop because no matter how long she stays away, she's always greeted with a warm welcome, one that reminds her of her mother at a young age. The shop gives her a sense of family no matter what happens, and she's never been more grateful. After Tameka finishes rambling on about her life, she turns her attention to the younger girl as she props her head onto folded manicured hands and flashes her a warm smile. 

"Here to get the usuals? Anything new to update me on chica?" Y/N shakes her head with a small laugh as she leans on the counter. 

"Of course, you know I never stray. And no new updates unless you count having to tutor the boy who seems to hate my existence an update." She says and sighs, the thought of having to do so is a big damper on her happiness and a heavy weight on her heart — it’s not that she doesn’t want to tutor him, she just knows that it’ll be like pulling teeth with him. She’ll have to pry answers out of him and will more than likely be the worst tutoring session ever, she’ll be exhausted afterwards. 

She can't help but to wonder how it'll go, will he be the same as he is in school? Is he gonna spend the whole time mocking her and poking fun (he most definitely will, she’s sure of it. He won’t turn down an opportunity to annoy her and get under her skin), or will he be kind and listen to her (maybe in another universe, some alternate reality where they’re cordial. She’s silly to even think this was a suggestion, she should know him by now), asking questions whenever he's confused? Will the session end in a screaming match as he tests her limits or will it be calm as he complies and agrees to her help. 

As she pays for her flowers, she can't help but to ask herself those questions. She knows wondering won't help determine the outcome of the coming day, but she knows there's only one way to find out.

She makes her way home, her bouquet of flowers sitting neatly in her tote bag as she rides along. She takes pleasure in the feeling of the wind brushing against her skin and flowing through her hair as she pedals along. The sound of people chatting on the sidewalks and the sound of cars whirring by her and honking at others fill her ear and she just smiles. She enjoys the sound of her community while others might say that it’s too loud and there’s no peace in all of the noise, she says otherwise. She can’t imagine her city in silence, to not listen to the usual sound because it’s all she knows. 

She makes it home and parks her bike beside her apartment, tying it up and making it inside the building. She heads down the short hall and to her door, unlocking it and walks inside and smiles at the sereneness of her own space. She locks the door behind her and sits down on the couch with her notebook and her favorite pen, thinking of the best way to carry out these sessions with Harry. What would be the best approach and everything to do with it. She wants to make sure that he understands that she’s not going to allow him to just walk all over her and cheat his way through. 

She wants to actually help him, not just give him what he wants; she wants to give him what he needs and what he needs is someone to take time out of their day and work with him, cater the worksheets and lessons to how he learns best so he can actually learn the information. She can only hope for the best as she begins to write out a plan for the next few weeks, she just knows that she’s going to need all the luck dealing with Harry.

[svtiddiess]

Louder Baby

Synopsis: You're with Seungcheol again, but this time, you're putting on a show for someone.

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!stylist!reader ft. Jeonghan

Genre: smut, mini-series, fwb to lovers?

Rating: mature

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), mentions of body fluids, exhibitionism, voyeurism, oral (fem receiving), breast play, creampie, mean dom!Cheol, sub!reader, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is part of a three part series, reading part 1 and part 2 will help a lot with the context!

@tomodachiii she's here, I hope the ending is to your satisfaction. I'll miss this couple ngl.

@brownsugarbaybee wasn't expecting a part 3 were you baby?

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Why am I even here?

Was the first thought that rang through your mind as you stood outside, waiting for him to open the door. You tugged your hat lower and pulled your mask higher, paranoid that someone might recognise you. You shouldn't be here; you're not standing in front of some random person's apartment; you're standing in front of Choi Seungcheol's apartment. You shift from side to side, getting antsy.

This is a bad idea. I shoul-

Before you can finish your thought, the door swings open, and your heart skips a beat. There he is, the man who lives in your mind rent-free, Choi Seungcheol. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a black fitted T-shirt, which makes your knees go weak. You almost moan at the sight.

"Hey baby, sorry to keep you waiting. C'mon in," he says as he steps to the side, flashing you a lazy smirk. You quickly shuffle in, keeping your head down. You look around his apartment and are pleasantly surprised to find everything so neat. You jump when you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders from behind.

"Calm down baby, no need to be so tense," he softly says as he rubs your arms in an attempt to calm you down. "I don't bite," he whispers as he shifts to move in front of you. He leans in close, his lips next to your ear. "Unless you want me to," he purrs, then leans back with a lopsided grin painting his face. You blush furiously and look away from him.

"You can ditch the hat and the mask. It's safe in here, promise," he says as he steps back, giving you room to catch your breath and remove the clothing items. You nod and slowly remove your hat and mask; you don't notice how Seungcheol's breath slightly hitches at the sight of you.

"Beautiful as always," he says as his eyes rake your figure, making you blush. "I'm glad you came. I didn't want our guest to be disappointed."

Wait, guest?

Before you could ask what he meant by that he leads you to what you assume is his bedroom. As you enter, your heart stills at the sight of the so-called 'guest' Seungcheol mentioned.

Yoon Jeonghan.

He's sitting on a sofa placed in the corner of the room, legs spread and a smirk on his face. You look towards Seungcheol for answers.

"Jeonghan said ever since he saw you that day he couldn't stop thinking about you," Seungcheol states as he gets closer to you and cups your face. "He said he wanted to watch you get fucked by me, so let's put on a show for him, shall we, baby?"

He waits for your reply, but when he doesn't get one, his smirk turns into a frown. "Hey, if you don't wanna do this, you can go back home. No one's forcing you to be here," he reassures you, gently caressing your cheek. Your eyes widen, and you shake your head. "N-No! I want…this," you shyly state, blush dusting your cheeks. Seungcheol smiles and gently guides your lips to his. His lips capture yours into a gentle kiss, different from last time.

The kiss slowly got rougher as you allowed Seungcheol to take control. His hands roam your body as he sucks on your bottom lip. You moan as you relax into his hold. He takes his time in savouring the kiss as, unlike the last time, he has all the time in the world to relish you. He separates his lips from yours and then attaches them to your neck, leaving marks as he starts guiding you to the bed. You couldn't help but let out soft whimpers when his teeth started digging into your skin, marking you as his.

He guides you to lie down on the bed with your legs hanging off. He grins as he shifts to kneel in front of you. Your breath hitches, and you instinctively close your legs together. Seungcheol stops you and pries your legs wide open with ease. "Uh-uh, I wanna taste you baby," he says, then starts undoing the button of your pants. You sit up, resting on your elbows, and bite your bottom lip as Seungcheol undresses your pants. You make brief eye contact with Jeonghan and couldn't help but blush and quickly look away which makes Jeonghan chuckle softly.

You let out a soft yelp and look back down at Seungcheol, who looks at you whilst biting your inner thigh whilst pouting, if that was even possible. He furrows his eyebrows as if to say, 'Pay attention to me,' and goes back to placing more marks on your inner thighs. You let out soft whimpers of his name and plead with him not to tease. You feel him smirk against your thigh, then shift to move towards your core. He hovers right infront of it but doesn't do anything; he just looks at you with a cocky expression. You let out a whine of frustration and buck your hips up, but he holds you down with a single hand on your lower stomach.

"Seungcheol, please," you whine, getting frustrated with his teasing. "Please, what, baby?" He cocks his head and pulls away even more frustrating you even further. "Please. I…I need your tongue," you mumble the last part.

"Hm? What was that? I couldn't hear you baby," he teases with a shit-eating grin on his face. "I need your tongue, please!" You almost yell, which makes Seungcheol chuckle.

He dives in and licks a stripe up your panty-clad core, moaning at the taste. You let out a moan at the feeling of some sort of relief. He continues to lick you through your panties, making your already wet panties even wetter. "Seungcheol, please," you whine.

"What is it baby? You asked for my tongue, and I'm giving it to you," he teases. You throw your head back and let out a frustrated whine, which only makes him laugh. "Maybe if you beg nicely…" he murmurs with a grin.

You start begging with tears of frustration pricking your eyes. You can hear him and Jeonghan laugh, which makes you blush hard but also makes you wetter. He then peels off your panties, making you squirm. "Make sure to scream my name out loud, baby," he says with a wink before diving in. You gasp and moan as you feel him suck on your clit. You grab onto Seungcheol's hair and tug, which makes him growl, sending vibrations through you. You moan his name out loud when his tongue starts prodding into you, lapping up all your juices. You make eye contact with Jeonghan and can't help but moan even louder; somehow, him watching you brings you closer to the edge.

Seungcheol noses your clit, and you cum, hard, legs closing around him, but he holds it open and continues to lap you up, driving your body into overstimulation. You whine at him to stop, and after a few more licks, he sits up; you almost cum a second time just looking at him, hair dishevelled and your juices dripping down his chin. He shifts to move on top of you and kisses you messily, making you taste yourself.

He separates from you and quickly discards any remaining clothing items separating the both of you. Your breath hitches at the sight of him fully naked. You run your hand down his well-built torso, almost drooling at the sight, making him smirk. "Like what you see, baby?" He asks cockily, causing you to blush.

He dives in, savouring your breasts, kneading and marking them, causing you to arch your back and moan his name. You moan and roll your eyes back when he slowly enters you. He gives you a moment to adjust to his huge size before starting to pound into you. You moan his name and grab onto his shoulders, digging into his skin and earning a hiss from him.

"Go on baby, tell Jeonghan how good I'm making you feel," he purrs in between thrusts. "So good, feel so full," you manage to whimper out, fuelling Seungcheol's ego.

"I'm the only one who can make you feel this way, right baby?" He asks, to which you attempt to answer but can only respond with broken moans.

Your eyes drift to where Jeonghan is sitting, and you can see his hard-on straining against his pants. You moan at the thought of the lewd scene taking place in the room, you getting ruthlessly fucked by Seungcheol as Jeonghan watches, the sounds of wet squelching and the smell of sex filling the room; it all brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm close," you pant out. Seungcheol sneaks his hand down to your clit and rubs it in circles, tipping you over the edge. You squeeze around him, and your juices drip onto the bed. He continues to pound into you, chasing after his own high. He cums with a growl filling you up to the brim, your mixed fluids soaking the sheets below you.

You both take a minute to catch your breath. He looks into your eyes and gently caresses your cheek before leaning in to capture your lips into a tender kiss. You melt into the kiss, savouring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. He separates from the kiss and stares into your eyes, searching for something. Silence drapes the room; it feels as if the world has come to a pause to allow you to admire the man on top of you for just a little bit longer. You don't want to let go; you don't want this to end; you want to stay in his arms forever. Finally, he breaks the silence.

"Go out with me?"

[sceletaflores]

"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.

word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.

author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.

It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 

Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.

To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.

You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.

You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.

You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 

She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.

Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.

Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.

When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 

At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.

Knowing all that was fine.

You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.

You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.

You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.

“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”

Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.

It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 

Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.

“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”

You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.

You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 

You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.

You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.

You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.

You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 

It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.

You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 

It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.

Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”

Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.

Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.

Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.

You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 

Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.

He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.

Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.

For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 

You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 

“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”

Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.

It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.

He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.

Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?

“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 

You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 

Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.

You don’t need to ask who “them” is.

You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 

You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.

You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.

Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 

Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.

They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.

She sent you flowers. You threw them out.

Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 

“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”

It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.

He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”

Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”

You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.

“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 

“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”

Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.

You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”

Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 

Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.

Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.

“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”

The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 

Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”

Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 

He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.

A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–

“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.

His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.

Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.

His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.

He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”

It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.

Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”

The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 

You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.

“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.

Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 

He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.

Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.

You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 

It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.

It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.

Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.

He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.

You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.

“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 

You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.

He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.

“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.

“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.

Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 

Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”

Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.

His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.

“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.

“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.

You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.

“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 

Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.

The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 

“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.

He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”

The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.

The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 

Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.

The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”

“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.

“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.

You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”

His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 

You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.

Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.

The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.

“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 

Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 

If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.

Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 

Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.

Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.

You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.

“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.

Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”

“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”

You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.

Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.

When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.

“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 

Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.

It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.

You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 

You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.

"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."

You hope to God that she's right.

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[fayes-fics]

Textual Encounter

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Text fic. Wrong number meet-cute over text.

Warnings: none... this is fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Fic request fill for Anon (HERE). I kept it fun and fluffy, but yeah, I can see a sequel where they sext. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy! <3

Y/N: Hey Liz, it’s y/n y/l/n. Kindle Spa gave me your mobile. Said you had moved to another salon. I don’t trust anyone else to wax me tbh. Big date this week, kwim 😉 Can I get an appt? I’ll come to you. Doesn’t matter where. 

BB: Errr, I think you have the wrong number…

Y/N: Not Liz?

BB: Nope, Ben here. 

Y/N: Not a waxer, I presume?

BB: I may have waxed lyrical in my time, may even have lit a few candles. Have not waxed anyone no - my own body or anyone else’s. Yet. But I’m game to try anything once...

Y/N: Lol.

BB: Big date, eh?

Y/N: ….Yeah. Not that it's any of your business, stranger Ben.

BB: Fair. BB: Does it hurt?

Y/N: ??

BB: Getting waxed.

Y/N: Oh. Yeah. Like a motherfucker. But you sorta get used to it, tbh. And it’s so much less itchy than shaving regrowth, especially in sensitive areas… Wait, why am I having this convo with a complete stranger?!

BB: We don’t have to be strangers. BB: I’m Ben, 33, London. BB: I have no strong opinions on hair removal methods.

Y/N: lol. K. I’m y/n, 28, also London. Y/N: I, as you can see, do have some opinions.

BB: Hi y/n 👋 BB: I hope you can find Liz. Or someone else to assist with your hair needs.

Y/N: I would like it stated, for the record, I’m not hairy like a troll. I just like to keep things neat.

BB: The lady doth protest too much…

Y/N: You are cheeky for a stranger.

BB: Hey, I thought we agreed. Not strangers. Me Ben. You hairy troll.

Y/N: BLOCK.

BB: Just typing it doesn't work, you know.

Y/N: You should work at the Apple Genius Bar.

BB: Hmm, possibly. I do look good in blue. Or so I've been told.

Y/N: Always glad to provide career counselling.

BB: 🫡

4 days later.

BB: How’d your date go?

Y/N: That's odd. I don’t see a Genius Bar appt in my calendar…?

BB: iCal is a lying bastard. BB: I also assume you now can move faster through water.

Y/N: ??

BB: Waxed smooth like a dolphin…?

Y/N: 😆 Y/N: Entirely none of your business, but yes, actually. Well mostly. I leave some. Why am I telling you this?! Y/N: The guy was such a dud tho, I didn't get to show it off 🙁

BB: Please don't stop on my account. This is just delightful.  BB: I apologise on behalf of all men.

Y/N: For what?

BB: Having 4 sisters, I find the safest answer here is usually… everything, of course.  BB: But specifically, your rubbish date.

Y/N: Apology conditionally accepted. Y/N: 4 sisters?! 

BB: Only conditional? What do I gots to do to make it unconditional? BB: Yeah, I know… I’ve got 3 brothers too. My parents were really into each other. 

Y/N: IDK, serve a mean martini? Y/N: Understatement.

BB: That could be arranged. I took an online mixology course during lockdown.  BB: My sister El declared I'm better than Stanley Tucci. Admittedly, that was after 4 espresso martinis… but I'm taking it. She's opinionated but the best one. They are a weird bunch tho 🤔

Y/N: WOAH WOAH WOAH. That's a bold claim.

BB: Well, there’s only one way to dispute it: try one for yourself…

Y/N: Smooth, Genius Bar, smooth.

BB: I do my best 🤷

1 day later.

Y/N: I can't get my AirPods to work.

BB: You do realise I didn’t actually follow your career advice?

Y/N: Urgh. Inconvenient. What use are you then?

BB: As I said. Cocktails. I’ll try my hand at waxing if you want.

Y/N: Best stick to the day job. Which is…?

BB: Graphic design.

Y/N: Oh, that’s quite cool. 

BB: It pays the bills. You?

Y/N: MI-5

BB: Wow, you're a shit spy.

Y/N: It could be an excellent double bluff…

BB:

Y/N: Oh, we’ve graduated to memes now, have we, Genius Bar?

BB: It was called for.

Y/N: I’ll take it. Purely cos it's a Hemsworth.

BB: I would too, tbh.

Y/N: Bi?

BB: For a Hemsworth? Always.

Y/N: Anyone else?

BB: I’ll keep you posted.

Y/N: I'm on the edge of my seat.

3 days later.

BB: Oscar Issac.

Y/N: Good non sequitur evening to you, too, Genius Bar Ben.

BB: For the bi thing.

Y/N: Ahh. Got it. I can respect that.

BB: This is me, btw: www.instagram.com/benbridgerdesign.  BB: Figured you can decide for yourself if I'm a creeper.

Y/N: Appreciated.

3 minutes later.

Y/N: You paint?

BB: I dabble

Y/N: Modesty will only make me like you more.

BB: You like me?! 🥹

Y/N: You didn't mention you were handsome.

BB: There is no way to respond to that without me sounding like a twat.

BB: But thank you 😊

Y/N: This is me: www.instagram.com/ynhandle 

7 minutes later.

BB: Oh, Amalfi is so beautiful, isn't it?

Y/N: Wow. That's a deep cut. How far did you scroll back??

BB: 👀

Y/N: Yeah, it's beautiful. Shame it's tainted for me now. Was there with an ex.

BB: I saw. Very handsome.

Y/N: Are you sure you're not just into men full-stop?

BB: 🤷 BB: You’re very pretty, too.

Y/N: I’d believe it if you didn't mention my “very handsome” ex first…

BB: I call it like I see it. BB: I have had 4 whiskeys, tho, so make of that what you will.

Y/N: On a school night?!

BB: It’s my brother Ant's birthday. This is like non-optional drunk, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Happy birthday to him. 

BB: He says thanks. He’s also told me to get off my fucking phone. Which is rich. He is texting his wife nonstop.

Y/N: Hah! Safe travels through Whiskeytown, BenBridger 🫡

BB: I kinda miss Genius Bar…. 😞

Y/N: I can't win…

2 days later.

BB: Settle an argument for me.

Y/N: 🍿

BB: Col, younger brother, never stops eating... He claims Katz Deli is overrated. I argue it's touristy but still good. You’ve been. Where do you sit on this matter?

Y/N: You really did go thru my Insta, didn't you?? Y/N: Thanks for the follow, BTW.

BB: It's a compliment, I assure you. BB: Welcome. And same.

Y/N: Not complaining. And yeah, I agree with you, actually.

BB: Hah! Excellent!!

Y/N: Wait… your older brother is Ant, and your younger brother is Col? You’re Ben. So, like ABC?

BB:  … I already warned you my family was weird.

Y/N: You did. You did.

BB: Now, please excuse me while I go gloat.

Y/N: 👍

5 mins later.

BB: Hi. This is Col. You must be the famous y/n. Ben’s in the bogs, and the mug left his phone on the table unlocked, so this is on him.  BB: He like really likes you. Like a lot. Will you go on a date with him pls? 

Y/N: Err, ok, hi Col. Y/N: Umm, I think Ben should be the one to ask me that. Don’t you?

BB: He’s too scared you’ll say no.

Y/N: I won't…

BB: EXCELLENT.

2 minutes later.

BB: I am so SO sorry about that 😬 He’s such a shit. BB: But… do you mean it?

Y/N: Ask me properly…

BB: Would you, y/n, like to go on a date with me? Please?

Y/N: I would be delighted to Ben. 😀

BB: 🙏 BB: Are you free on Thursday? Could I take you to dinner?

Y/N: Sounds wonderful. 

BB: 7pm? Meet at Picadilly Circus? By Brasserie Zedel?

Y/N: I’ll be there 😀

BB: 😀

10 days later.

BB: I think you should know… Liz is an artiste 😮‍💨

Y/N: Stop texting me from my bed, you dork. 😘 Y/N: How do you take your coffee?

BB: I'm like 10 meters away. Why not just ask me?

Y/N: You started this, Genius Bar…

BB: Come back to bed, Mostly Hairless Troll.

Y/N: I asked for that, didn't I? 🤦

Benedict taglist, pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[nena-la-fresa]

can i ask u a Josh Washigton x reader request? I would love to read an scenario were its the reader's birthday🥹

Keep It Warm

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Pairing: Josh Washington x f! Reader

Warning: Fluff | A tiny bit of Angst | Mental Institution Mentioned | Birthday |

Word Count: 685

A/n: Hopefully this is okay. I feel like I can’t make a Josh fic without some sort of angst. Sorry it's super short. I have a lot of class assignments due this week so my focus is on that rn. Off topic but I'm thinking about making a Mr.Robot fic. Im back in my Rami Malek era.

“You are receiving a call from Ocean View Hospital. Would you like to accept?” 

“Yes.”

The line was then connected. 

“Hey sweetheart. How are you?” You could hear his sly look through the phone. 

You leaned against the wall fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

“I’m good. How about yourself?” You missed hearing his voice. 

“I’m good now.” 

“Oh are you really?” 

“Yeah. I’m just glad I get to hear you talk. It’s a good distraction from all this.” 

“I’m glad I can distract you for a bit.” 

You had been friends with Josh since you both were little. You had always known something was a bit different with him. But it wasn’t until you both started dating that you had fully known the extent of his condition. Josh would wake up during the night screaming, he’d have a hard time recognizing you at times.

“So my birthday’s coming up.”

“It is, isn't it.” 

“Do you think you’ll finally be out by then?”

“I’m not too sure babe. But if I’m doing better by then you'll be the first to know.” 

You felt slightly disappointed but you knew he was in there to get the help he needed. 

That was 3 weeks ago. 

You hadn’t heard from Josh since that last phone call. He hadn’t been returning your letters or phone calls. You had begun to assume the worst. What if he didn’t want to talk to you anymore? Or what if he regressed? What if his meds stopped working. Even when you asked Hannah and Beth they hadn’t been able to contact him either. 

All you could think about was the day you found him. You could still see it. He was passed out on the floor. He was unresponsive for a good minute before you had to throw cold water on him. He was sobbing, saying how he wasn’t good enough for you. Saying that he didn’t deserve you. But those sobs quickly turned to anger, not at you but to whatever was talking around him. He swatted trying to get the voices away from him. But what really did it for him was when he accidentally hit you. The guilt that he felt, he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t aiming for you. He couldn’t even see you with his delusions tormenting him. That was what really made him commit himself. 

Hannah knew how upset you were but she thought it would be a good idea to take you to the cabin for your birthday. You had always said it was your favorite place to go. 

You and Hannah were already making your way to the cable cart, “Didn’t you say Beth was going to meet us here?” 

Hanna turned slightly to you, “Yeah, she got cold and just texted me that she was going to go ahead to the cabin.”

You nodded. After the walking you could finally see the cabin in sight. It was just as beautiful as you remembered it. Hannah held the door open for you as you walked in first. You felt your body jolt from the yelling. 

“Surprise!” Little poppers and kazoos echoed through the room. 

“Aw you guys.” You felt your eyes tear up a bit. From the excitement but also from the disappointment. Out of all the faces there, the one you wanted the most wasn’t there. 

You let out a surprised scream feeling someone picking you up from behind. As soon as you were set back down you saw who it was. 

Until you felt someone pick you up from behind 

It was him. 

“What did you think I forgot?”

You felt the tears run down your face. You nodded slightly.

"Now why would I forget about you."

You hugged him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around you.

“When did they let you out?”

“About three days ago.”

“Why didn't you tell me”

“I wanted to surprise you. I'm sorry”

“No, I'm just so happy. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I promise I won’t miss another one.”

He wiped your tears, “I missed you so much. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise.” 

[sourbinnie]

☆ regrets & replacements ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst again yes sir ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> maknaeline!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> did he actually forget? or did someone make him forget? ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

a/n -> here's the maknae line version! and if soohee was bad on the first one, i'm sorry she's even worse on this one.

hyung line

jisung ✉

he was the most forgetful person you knew, so was it a surprise that he wasn't here? not really. did it sting? of course it did, you wanted to spend the day with your boyfriend and your friends. it looked like you were gonna have a change of plans as you looked at your phone and you also didn't register any messages from jisung. you still had a whole day to hope he remembers so you weren't worried.

but the hours seemed to pass and there was no sign of him returning home. this took you to message minho and ask him where your boyfriend was. he responded saying he locked himself up in the studio and that he thought it was gonna be a surprise for you but he wasn't sure. a tiny bit of hope grew in you as you grabbed your things and headed to the jyp building.

"oh i'm glad you're here! happy birthday (y/n)." minho said as he hugged you and you received the hug as you smiled. you had a really good relationship with your boyfriend's best friend and it transformed quickly into a friendship of it's own. you knew they were preparing for a comeback so bothering them wasn't really what you wanted to do but seeing jisung would light up your day even if it was just a few seconds, just to know when he was coming home. "i don't know what the hell he's being doing there, can't get him out so i'm guessing it has to do with you."

"i'll be surprised if he remembered to be honest." you said and minho laughed as he recalled the times where jisung forget his birthday and the other members' too. 

"i better let you see your boyfriend but we're going out later!" minho said as he walked to the dance studio and you nodded as you went to jisung's studio.

standing in front of the door as you typed in the code, you felt uneasy for some reason. it's almost like you were hoping that everything would turn out good but there was just something making you anxious. it was beyond him forgetting, you didn't really care about that as long as you got to see him. you took in the scene of him on his laptop but next to him there was someone and that was no one other than soohee. okay that was odd but you weren't gonna question it.

"babe? what are you doing here? ah damn i forgot to text you!" he said as he facepalmed himself and you just gave him a little smile as you hugged him. you could feel the piercing stare of soohee burning through you and it wasn't weird since you've never had the best relationship. 

"it's okay sung, i just wanted to see you and ask you if you're coming by today?" you asked as he grabbed your hands and he looked so happy but then his smile faded and he looked at soohee.

"actually i had plans with soohee, that's why i invited her so we could head out together in a bit." he said and ouch if that didn't sting, you didn't know what would. even if you wanted to say that you wanted to have your birthday with him, that you didn't want him to go out with his best friend, you didn't say anything. 

"okay! i'll see you tomorrow baby." you said smiling with teary eyes which concerned jisung immediately as he nodded and kissed you to then let you go. he thought he didn't say anything wrong, maybe you were just unhappy that he was gonna hang out with soohee but she was his best friend after all and he made plans with her.

"i never would've thought you would choose me today but thank you jiji, i'm sure we'll have a good time." soohee said as she got up to go out and that had jisung so confused. what was she referring to with "today"? he suddenly felt the urge to check the date and when he saw it crystal clear on his phone he felt like disappearing. he literally chose to spend his partner's birthday with someone else and you're so kind hearted that you let him do it. he felt like he didn't deserve you at all.

felix ✉

unfortunately you had to work on your birthday which wasn't uncommon but you were kind of excited to spend it with felix. you tried to not look at the clock as time went by but it seemed impossible because you only wanted to get out of there and go to your apartment and celebrate the rest of the day. yet you were glued to your desk chair as you went by all the messages on your phone and also the endless emails that seemed to arrive when you wanted to leave the most.

it was an incoming call from australia that startled you and made you get out of your office to pick it up and when you heard who it was, you couldn't help but smile.

"(y/n)? i hope felix gave me the right number. happy birthday! i miss you." olivia said on the other side and you could hear rachel say happy birthday as well. you had a really solid relationship with felix's sisters when you visited them in australia to meet the whole family. so hearing them say nice things to you even if you were miles away from each other was really heartwarming.

"thank you so much, i miss you too!" you said and you continued to talk for a while until a sudden question popped you out of your bubble and took you by surprise.

"what did my brother get you?" rachel asked and then you realized that you haven't seen felix all day. he hasn't even texted you yet and you could understand if he was busy but he usually made time for that and sent a text or two.

"we haven't seen each other yet but i'll be happy with anything." you responded and they both were happy to hear that but since felix hasn't stopped talking to them about getting you something, they were taken by surprise as well. 

as you hung up after a while, you looked at the clock again to see work time was over and headed back to your apartment. you were expecting felix to be there since work would usually be over for you at the same time but you opened the door and it looked just like you left it. you sighed disappointed but you didn't let it ruin your day as you responded to the rest of the texts that were coming your way and as you opened instagram, you were greeted with something or rather someone.

you followed soohee mostly because she asked you to when you first met. she stopped following you a while after but you still followed her because you just didn't wanna seem rude. but here she was with your boyfriend, hanging out and just having a great old time together. to any other person it would seem like they were on a date even from how close they looked and that made you feel a level of insecurity you didn't know you had in you. the caption being "with my best friend, my everything<3" and you shut down your phone.

you felt so stupid for crying over this and as you sent a text to felix asking if he was having a good time, you felt like you were being immature. but then a side of you was saying it wasn't fair that he did this to you and was hoping he would realize his mistake.

felix got the message as he was going to soohee's apartment and he responded that he did indeed have a good time. he really wanted to see you at night though and he was excited to just drop by, have a cozy evening with you and hold you most of all.

"ugh they're texting you? i can never get you all to myself." soohee said as she took a look at felix on his phone and a frown formed on felix's face. he knew you two didn't get along but she was never really vocal about how she felt about you. "they're probably pissed that you decided to spend their birthday with me."

"that wasn't today." felix backfired and soohee just raised an eyebrow. he checked his phone again to see messages from his sisters saying that they called you to say happy birthday and that he should give you the present soon. that was only from hours ago and he stood still like a statue as he couldn't walk anymore to his friend's apartment and as he saw it was night already, he felt the tears come in because he made a huge mistake. he turned around and headed to your apartment, hoping he wasn't too late and ignoring soohee calling out for him.

seungmin ✉

you weren't sure if seungmin forgot or was acting out because he was planning a surprise. he woke up that day and kissed you on the cheek as he told you he was leaving for the day. you didn't think much of it but it was certainly uncommon for him to act that way and not even drop a "happy birthday". it didn't stop your excitement though 'cause the day just started and you didn't know what you were in for.

time was going by in a flash as you spent the day answering all the messages. no sign of seungmin though and to be honest that's the only person you wanted to see was him. you decided to go out and clear your mind, maybe visit a friend or a family member since you didn't really plan anything for the day. 

as you were outside you got an incoming call from jeongin and you picked it up as soon as you saw it.

"happy birthday (y/n)! i hope hyung planned something nice for today." he said cheerful and it had you smiling until the last part as you looked around and remembered there was still no seungmin next to you. you didn't even care about presents or having a big party, you just wanted to spend the day with your loved one.

"i think he forgot innie and i don't know how to feel." you responded and that had jeongin worried. his hyung forgetting his partner's birthday? it was possible but where could he be if he wasn't with you? especially right now since they had free time.

"i hope he's planning a surprise because i will kick him if he doesn't show up." that made you chuckle a little bit but it was gone in a second as you really hoped this was just part of a plan. "if you're feeling lonely though, drop by the dorms and we'll keep you company."

"that's okay, i'd rather not bother you during your break. besides he will probably show up, well that's what i'm hoping for at least." you said and you continued to talk for a while. you hanged up because you didn't want to bother your boyfriend's bandmate with your negative thoughts right now and wanted to head to one of your friend's houses. but something stopped you from doing that and it was the image of seungmin being not so far away from you as he talked to someone, as you got a closer look you could tell who it was. soohee and you were never gonna be friends and you accepted it, right now though it seemed like she had it all planned out from the start and it made you incredibly upset. he was too oblivious to say no and she was too persistent to give up. you headed back to your apartment 'cause that sight ruined your day alone.

when seungmin got to the dorms late at night, he saw that the maknae was still awake and on the phone with someone. he didn't pay too much attention to it but then he heard jeongin comforting someone who seemed very upset on the other side. but when he heard who it was, it all crumbled.

"(y/n) hyung/noona, it's okay. i'm sorry you had to witness that, i wish you didn't choose to spend your birthday alone and you dropped by. you're never a bother to us!" he said and seungmin couldn't hear what you responded but he heard jeongin end the call. he took in what happened today and he didn't know what was gonna happen next. "hyung you really messed up this time..." jeongin said as he saw his friend's figure standing by the door.

"i'm such a fucking idiot." seungmin said and as he looked at the time, he knew he was too late. your birthday was gone and there was no way of turning time around to make it up to you.

jeongin ✉

you woke up to an empty bed. it was okay because you remembered you had plans at night for your birthday and you knew jeongin was working today. looking at your phone, flooded with messages from the boys, your friends, your family, everyone you knew. yet there was no jeongin, maybe he was waiting to see you to tell it to you in person, yeah that was the conclusion in your head.

night time arrived pretty quickly and before you knew it you were getting dressed to go to dinner. your reservation was made by you and it was for the both of you to have a good time. you would eventually celebrate your birthday with your friends and family on another day but tonight was just for you and innie which made you smile. just thinking about seeing him made your heart beat faster, it's like you kept falling in love with him all over again every time you had a date.

when you arrived, jeongin still wasn't there and you spent the time texting seungmin back and forth. he told you that jeongin had already left practice earlier and he imagined it was because he wanted to prepare for your birthday. you hoped it was but it didn't really make sense that he wouldn't be here then if he got out of work a bit earlier. 

30 minutes passed, no sign of your boyfriend. it had you quite concerned as you looked at the door every time someone walked in but it was never him. disappointed but still with hope, you called seungmin just to keep you company for a bit.

"that's really weird. usually he's on time for everything and i'm pretty sure he told me about dinner with you like two days ago?" seungmin said and it felt like you were preparing for the worst as you took in his words. he was right though, he usually would be the first to arrive all the time and today he didn't even text you. "we should give it time though, let's just hope he's getting you a gift or something."

"he does tend to forget to buy gifts so it does seem possible." you respond and seungmin laughs as he remembers the time jeongin showed up to his birthday party, rushing from getting him a last minute present. 

seungmin had to go to your dismay and then you looked at the clock. an hour and thirty minutes had passed, you were sure you were getting kicked out if you hit the two hour mark. you grabbed your phone again and doubted if you should call your boyfriend or not but decided to give it a try. you just wanted to know if everything was okay and if something had happened. you weren't prepared though when you heard that voice on the other line.

"(y/n)? what do you want?" soohee responded to your call and you didn't know how to feel about many things. one why was she using your boyfriend's phone and two why was she there in the first place. 

"can i talk to jeongin?" you said ignoring all the red flags for now if you could only hear your boyfriend's voice justifying this even though there was no way of doing so. you already wanted to cry thinking of all the scenarios in your head but you shook them off.

"he's busy right now but i can send him a message if you want?" soohee said with the most fake tone you've ever heard and you nodded as the tears spilled. you grabbed your things preparing to leave because you just couldn't be there anymore.

"tell him to go fuck himself." you said as you hanged up and it was kinda dramatic but you felt in every right to do so as you left a tip for the waiter and stepped out of the restaurant. 

jeongin looked at soohee as he asked her to pick up the phone for him but then realized it was a big mistake because he didn't think of the possibility of you being on the other line. he knew you two didn't get along but he tried his best to make you two avoid each other.

"who was it?" jeongin asked because he was indeed busy as he was in the kitchen and soohee was sitting in the couch. she laughed as she recalled how mad you sounded on the other line and said your name. jeongin froze as he thought about you hearing his friend's voice in the other line instead of his. "what did they say?"

"that you should go fuck yourself which was kind of rude but then i suddenly remembered it's their birthday." soohee said and jeongin took a deep breath as he remembered the dinner reservation. of course you were fuming, of course he deserved to go fuck himself and of course this would be the end if he didn't make it up to you. he was panicking as he grabbed his things and tried not to cry all the way to your apartment. he needed to fix this mess that he created.

[wolfstardaughter-jj]

DENSE

Summary: Yule Ball is right around the corner and you still haven't found a date. Or at least decided on asking someone as a date. But your heart is set on a certain redhead who just isn't taking a hint and is as dense as a rock.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Song: Must be Love by Laufey

Warning: fluff, anxiety rant (reader stressed with school)

Word count: 4.8k+

A/n: honestly I started this around February this year and forgot about it... yeah that bad. I wanted to get it out of my system since it's been there for a while. This was actually meant to be part of my serendipity book but i still havent written the other chapters but I really like this chapter. Either way I hope you lovelies will enjoy it, Happy holidays<3333

~~~~~~~

Everyone was ecstatic from the announcement of the Yule ball. It was the first ever dance they were to have at the school and everyone was already starting off their plans on what to wear and who to go with. With the Triwizard tournament at hand, you were glad there was something to take your mind off the stress.

Training and helping Harry through all of the practices were starting to wear you out.

At the moment, all of you were in the Great hall simply studying. You were nearly done with your assessment when from the corner of your eye, you spot Fred throwing a piece of paper towards his younger brother.

Ron raised his head up in annoyance, wondering why his brother would want to disturb him. He opened the ball of crumpled paper and read the words "you better get a move on or else there won't be any girl to ask to be your date." Or something like that, he only skimmed through it.

Ron gave Fred an annoyed stare, "Who are you going to the Yule ball with then?"

Fred crossed his arms and sent Ron a smirk, "Well, I still have to ask them. I’m thinking on doing it really soon,"

Your ears prick up at his words. He's planning on asking someone else to the ball? Of course he'd be going with someone but you had always hoped it would be you.

Your heart sank at the mere thought he was going to ask someone else to the Yule ball.

Ron looked surprised, he thought that Fred had already asked you but he was wrong. He looked towards you, seeing you leaned over your assessment, looking like you didn't care to pay mind to what he and Fred were talking about. But in truth, you did care, you cared a whole lot.

"How about you Y/n? Who are you going with? Lots of guys have been asking you lately, it shouldn't be too hard to choose one." Ron asked, not knowing that this was sparking a little jealousy in Fred.

You looked up from your paper and looked at Ron. You saw the worried glances Harry and Hermione were sending your way.

"I won't tell you cause it's a surprise." You whispered back with a wink before looking back down on your activity.

Fred tensed up at your words, it sounds like you already accepted to be someone’s date. He didn't want to pry on who it was in case he might get his heart even more broken, but of course, curiosity got the best of him.

"Really? Why am I only hearing of this now?" Fred asked.

"Well technically they haven't asked me yet so I'm going to ask them instead." You replied courtly.

Fred seemed perplexed. They haven't asked her to the ball yet? What an idiot. Oh god wait, is she planning on asking that Beauxbatons girl? No she wouldn't, she would have told me.

"...so who's the lucky girl- or guy?" Fred stumbled on his words as he leaned in. He really wanted to know who it was, even if it was at the expense of his own feelings.

You look at him with a grin, trying to mask the slight nervous breakdown you were having within. It was ironic that he was asking about this especially since it was him you were talking about.

"I'm not telling you who it is, Freddie. Like I said, it's a surprise." You state as you finish up your assessment.

"Oh come on, you don't need to tell me their name. Maybe give me some clues? Like which school they're going to-"

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing how stubborn he was going to be about this. "Well that would just narrow down your possible choices."

He started shaking your arm like a child asking their parents for a sweet in a sweet shop. "Come on, just tell me."

You shook your head and laughed at his dramatics. "Fred, you should finish up your activity."

"Hey, don't change the subject." Fred pointed out.

"You're not gonna do it till I tell you, huh?" You said with an unimpressed stare.

"Nope. Now can you at least tell me one thing?" He urged on.

You let out a sigh as you went deep in thought. Do you really want to help him in finding out who it is or leave him to his madness. You decided on the first choice. It wasn't like he was gonna figure out it's him.

"They're studying here at hogwarts."

"...Yeah, that totally narrows down the choices." Fred sighed. "Which house are they in?"

You chuckled, "like I'd tell you that. That would make it too obvious."

Hermione laughed from the other side. "Y/n, even if you say what house they're in, I don't think they'll be able to figure out who it is."

You thought about it for a second and realized she had a point. "Huh, you're right." You agreed with a chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mea- you know what, I don't wanna know. What I do wanna know is, who this person is." Fred was adamant at finding out who the mystery person was, and it was starting to make you nervous that he might actually figure it out.

He sat up once he found an alternative solution to his predicament. "Oh, I know, I'll name a bunch of people, and you tell me if they're the person. Okay?"

"What if I lied and said no even if they were the person I was going to ask to the ball?" You smirked, which was only returned with an unimpressed glare.

Fred was about to say something but decided against it. "I'll just do it anyways… is it Diggery."

You shook your head a no.

"Draco?"

You cringed at the thought, no offense to Draco. Besides you knew he had his eyes in a certain Gryffindor. "Godric no, he's already planning on going with someone else."

Both Harry"s and Fred's eyes seemed to widened at the statement, Harry seemed even more surprised.

They both yelled out in unison, "He is?!”

Snape went in to scold the two for their outburst. Removing 5 house points from each of them. Causing the surrounding students to send their glares towards the two.

“Yes he is! Now hush the both of you!” You scolded as you continued with your work.

“Right, I shouldn't get distracted… How about that Freya girl?" He spoke her name in doubt, scared that he might be right.

You chuckled at the mention of her name, "No, she's going with her girlfriend."

Fred's heart settled at the realization, abit shocked by the new information but he was delighted to have that thought settled in his mind. That means you weren't going to act on your childhood crush. But then the thought entered his mind that it meant you were planning on going with someone else, someone he wasn't aware of.

"How about… Neville?"

"Already going with someone."

"Dean?"

"He plans on asking someone else."

"Zabini?"

"Nice guy but no."

"Nott?"

"He's going stagg."

"I don't know why I'm even asking this but, how about Lee?"

You immediately shook your head a no.

Lee perked up from his seat at the mention of his name. "Huh? I heard my name, what's going on."

George leaned over and told Lee about the situation.

"Ohhh, I see." Lee chuckled, "this is going to be fun." He whispered back.

"Godric...well uh, is it Louis?" Fred guessed. At this point he didn't know who else could be the possible match.

"No. He is a good option but no." You simpered on, wondering where this conversation was going to take you.

"I give up on doing this, just answer my questions." Fred continued. "Do you talk to them everyday?"

The question seemed vague enough for him to not know who so it didn't hurt to answer him. “Yes,”

Fred went deep in thought, why did he even choose this question? "Who would you be talking to that I wouldn't know about...

You all chuckled to hear his words, he may seemed to be really observant when it came to you but completely oblivious at the same time.

"Oh wow Fred, you take note of who y/n talks to everyday?" George teased, though Fred didn't really see it that way.

"So what? I'm with her almost all the time, I would know who she'd be talking to." Fred explained.

"You aren't with her all the time. What about during class hours?" Hermione stated.

Fred looked dumbfounded, he didn't think of that.

Harry leaned over to you, making sure no one else heard him other than you, "I wonder how long it's going to take for him to realize it's him."

"Give it 2-3 business days." You replied with a chuckle.

Fred turned back to you with another question in mind. "What does their name start with?"

You shook your head with a chuckle. "I'm not going to answer that."

"Ugh, fine. Are they taller than you?"

You laughed at his question, "Yes." By a lot.

"That question doesn't even help. Lots of people are taller than Y/n." Harry commented earning a smack on the head from you. You caught Fred laugh at his joke which you used to your advantage.

You gasped and feigned an insulted look, "Okay, ouch. I was just thinking about telling you who it was but I changed my mind." You scooted away, with a false pout.

Fred laughed, trying to pull you back to him by pulling you by the waist. "I'm only joking, love."

You replied with an eye roll, trying to conceal the grin that slowly crept onto your lips.

You began packing your things before facing Fred again, "Seeing as you're not doing the activity, I'm going to go and spend the rest of the period outside."

“Oh come on, tell me who it is.” Fred stated with a pout as he theld onto your hand to keep you from leaving.

“Like I said before, no.” You replied with a teasing grin before grabbing the rest of your things.

You stood up from your seat and handed in your paper to Snape. He seemed to have been listening in on your conversation. He seemed to find your conversation quite amusing.

"If that Weasley boy doesn't ask you soon, I think it's better you accept Diggery's offer." He suggested in his usual monotone voice but there was this spark of interest in his eyes on the topic which surprised you.

“Professor Snape!” You laughed, surprised by this side of your professor.

“I'm just saying,” He simply shrugged before walking off with your work.

~~~~~~

The following day was hectic, more so than usual.

Most of the classes were finishing up their lessons so that during the holiday break you'd all be free from the burdens of school work. But it didnt help when they just piled more school work over the other to cram everything in one go.

Things seemed worse for you since you had decided to take up more classes this year. Not just that, but you somehow tangled yourself into becoming a some sort of charm fixer for the younger years whenever they'd mess up a spell.

And because Harry got himself stuck with being a triwizard champion for Hogwarts. You had to help him with spells and charms just so he could survive the challenges. You wouldn't be able to to live with yourself if anything were to happen to him under your watch.

As the holiday's were approaching, the only decent things about your schedule was the dance classes in between subjects. You had already learned how to waltz when you were a girl. Your parents weren't ones to host glamorous balls but your grandparents were. You had fond memories of your dance classes during your summers spent abroad. Twirling endlessly in studios till your head wouldn't stop spinning.

McGonagall appeared at the front of the hall and cleared her throat to call the attention of the crowd. "find your partners everyone, we will begin shortly."

Everyone began scattering across the room searching for their partners. You had the tendency to switch partners every now and then since the boys kept asking if you could show them the steps to the dance. You didn't mind, even if it meant getting your toes stepped on every now and again.

As you looked across the room, you wondered who you would be dancing with this time. Your own question was answered when your hand was suddenly grabbed and you were twirled around to be flush against someone's chest.

"Freddie!" You laughed, the wind was nearly knocked out of you from the sudden turn.

"You don't mind having this dance with me, do you love?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

You shook your head with a grin, "No, I don't mind at all."

Your hands were intertwined as your other hand rested on his shoulder and his hand grasped your waist. There was no tense atmosphere compared to the other boys who always seem to stray away from their confident selves when around you. But not Fred, no. He was always his true self around you.

The music began playing and echoed through the hall. Light footsteps pattered across the floor as people tried to find their footing. Some seemed to struggle more than others but that wasn't the case for you and Fred.

The two of you danced across the floor in sync. The two of you paid little mind to everything around you as you both were lost in your own world. Like your heart harmonised with the beat of his heart and that was the only rhythm you guys needed to dance.

"You've improved since the last time we've danced." You teased as you continued your steps.

Fred rolled his eyes at the memory of his poor attempt at trying to dance the waltz with you during one of your grandparents balls. He didn't exactly want to be there in the first place let alone dance a waltz he's never learned. But he didn't want to leave you there alone either. You wanted to dance, so he danced with you.

"Careful, I might step on one of your toes again." He taunted as he went along with your teasing.

You shook your head with a laugh. You had hoped that he would be your date for the ball. When he accompanied you to your grandparents' ball, it was like something out of a fairy tale. Though he stepped on your toes once or twice, it was all worth it. Especially when around the end, the two of you were left alone out in the gardens to stargaze the rest of the night.

Maybe, just maybe he would ask you to the ball.

Fred knew from your silence, you were stuck in thought. "You're still not going to tell me who it is?"

Your eyes snapped back to him, "Who?"

"The one you're taking to the ball." He replied almost in a whisper. At this point he wondered if he should still be asking about who it is. Is he really going to subject himself to this hurt?

Your eyes softened at his question. "Freddie..." you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that the guy you most desperately want to go to the ball with was him. But you were too scared to do so. Godric forbid you had any bravery left in you to tell him your true feelings.

You could casually ask him to the ball. Make nothing of it. To go as friends. But something in your gut told you that if you went together, things would be different. Things were different.

You weren't just little kids anymore. You were both at that stage in your life where love and relationships were the main focus of everyone's lives. If you screw up things with Fred, you'd probably spiral into a mess.

"You don't have to tell me. Just make sure to save me a dance, alright?" You could feel the defeat sink into his voice. But before you could do anything about it you were pulled away by another person to continue the waltz.

You caught a glimpse of Fred and you could feel your heart start breaking. You wanted to tell Fred but was it really worth the cost?

~~~~~~

It had been two days since Fred had questioned you about the mystery guy and you thought he just dropped the topic and forgot, but you were wrong.

Truth was, it was all he could think about. He didn't even try to ask you to go with him to the ball that day because he was scared he was going to get shot down.

And if you were being honest, he was all you could think about too. Not just on the fact that he was so adamant at knowing who the mystery person was, but also because he too had someone on his mind on who to ask for the ball.

If there was already someone he planned on asking, why even bother asking him to be your date to the ball? You felt hopeless and most of all, stupid for ever thinking you had a chance at asking Fred to the ball.

These thoughts consumed you to the point you didn't even want to try to sleep anymore. You just laid there on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Eventually you got hungry and tired of your own thoughts.

You got up from your bed and slowly crept away from the girl's dormitory, being careful not to wake anyone up, especially Stark. Godric knows how grumpy that cat gets when he gets woken up. You didn't currently have the map with you since it was with Harry but you didn't mind. You've basically engraved the school's layout in your mind.

You eventually reached the portrait and got out. It wasn't totally pitch black but it would help to have a little light help guide your way.

As you walked through the empty hallways, you couldn't help but think about all the things that were troubling you these last few days. I guess lots of things have been bothering you lately. You didn't exactly know where to start.

The thought that Harry was constantly being placed out into the line of danger and you not being able to help him is killing you. You have always been there to protect him and help him out but with the stupid Triwizard tournament rules getting in your way, you can't do anything about it.

Your stroll eventually led up to the kitchens, quickly grabbing a few snacks and bidding daisy and the other elves goodbye before going around the castle again. You missed these peaceful silences.

In all honesty you were suffocating from all of the school work and activities brought by the Triwizard tournament. You may not have been part of them but your professors seemed to have the impression that you were capable of handling lots of extra school tasks.

Like helping lead the class in dance classes in preparation for the Yule ball since you had experience in ball dancing. Assisting in charms classes in the lower years in your free time. Being a sort of ambassador for the foreign students seeing as you can speak French and russian. As if already having to deal with your normal studies and Quidditch wasn't enough.

You liked that they thought of you as a responsible student but you were juggling so many things that you rarely had the time for anything fun anymore. While your friends were off pranking, you were stuck helping second years undo charms that went wrong. While Kayla, Pansy and Mione were doing their usual "book club" sessions, you were busy helping Harry figure out how to do certain spells.

Your mind was so wrapped up in all your worrying that you didn't even realize that your footsteps led you to Monty. You grinned at the sight of the tree.

"Hello old friend." You greeted as you sat at the root of the tree.

You snacked on your food as you contemplated in silence. Though the tight feeling was still present in your chest, it felt comforting to be in a place that made you feel safe.

You leaned your head back on the tree and looked up at the star covered sky. You missed star-gazing. With all of the chaos, you haven't been able to star-gaze in a while.

Like a gush of fresh air passing you, you knew a presence was nearby. One that you were all too well familiar with.

You turned your head to look at him with a light grin. There he stood in his plaid pajamas and initial sweater.

"How come you always manage to find me?" You asked, tilting your head with a chuckle.

"I should be the one asking why you're always wandering off, in the middle of the night no less." Fred replied as he sat down next to you.

You both sat there quietly; looking up at the stars, mostly lost in thought. That was until Fred decided to break the silence.

"Why are you up so late? I know you don't usually sleep early but even 3 am is a stretch for you.” Fred stated as he pointed at his watch. ”What's on your mind, Carrington?"

A concerned look fell on your face, you didn't realize that much time passed already. You let out a sigh, you knew you were going to end up exhausted the next day.

"Honestly?" You inquired.

Fred nodded at you with sincerity, he had all his attention focused on you.

You sighed and suddenly the words just poured out of you, "it's just… so much is happening and I don't know how to deal with it all. I have to assist the younger years in charms, quidditch training, normal classes, foreign students and- il se passe trop de choses et j'ai l'impression que je vais pleurer et crier mais-" (too much is happening and i feel like I'm going to cry and scream but-). You paused, forgetting that Fred didn't know a lick of French.

"Fuck sorry, I didn't mean to do that." You apologized as you sunk your face into your hands.

"No, no, it's okay. Just keep going. I'll listen, even though I don't understand a single word of french. I'll be here to listen." He replied as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him.

You nodded as you continued on in your rant, the words were all coming out like a broken dam. "It's just that so much is going on and pour l'amour de la merde, you'd think they'd give a 4th year a break. I feel like I'm on the verge of breaking down every minute but I won't let myself go because there's still so much meant to be done."

You haven't really told anyone about how stressed you've been feeling lately and it felt so great to actually tell someone. Fred nodded along as he listened to you. There was this look on his face, as though he hung on every word you said, regardless if it was in a foreign language.

"Oh darling, I'm so sorry you've been doing all that work. They should be paying you at this point. Is there anything I can do to lessen the load?" Fred asked as he brushed and stroked your hair.

You sighed and closed your eyes, "unfortunately, no."

He tilted his head, as if not believing what you said. “Are you absolutely sure? Cause you know me, I can give Minnie and Alby a piece of my mind.”

“Thanks for the offer but I'm sure I can handle it." You leaned your head on his shoulder in defeat.

"I know you can, but it doesn't mean you have to." He replied, rubbing his hand over your arm.

All these years, he's been by your side through it all. Through all the Voldemort nonsense, through the injuries, through the nightmares, everything.

"Freddie." You whispered.

"Yeah, love?" He replied.

"Thank you."

He faced you with this puzzled look, "For what?"

You gave him a simple shrug, thinking the answer was already obvious. "For just being there for me."

Fred's features softener and pulled you in closer to his side. "Anything for you, darling. You know that."

“I do…I hope you know the same applies to you.” You replied as you looked up at him.

“I do.” He nodded as he looked up at the stars. They were incredibly bright tonight, he wondered if you always wandered out here just to look at the stars to clear your head. That would explain why he would always find you here.

“When was the last time we went stargazing together?”

You grinned at the memory, “last summer when we went camping on the reserve.”

“We should do it again.” He replied, his eyes still glued to the stars.

You look at him with a cheek aching smile, “yeah, we should.” He may have meant the stars in the sky, but to you, it meant the freckles that were scattered across his cheeks like constellations. Those were the stars you were willing to spend endless nights studying.

“Can we just look at the stars while they're still out?” He laced his fingers between yours, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Okay.” You replied, snuggling yourself closer to Fred to get comfy as you looked up at the sky.

And that's what you both did till dawn came. The sky twisting in colors of peach and purple as the sun slowly rose over the grounds of Hogwarts. It was a quiet morning, and for once your mind was quiet too.

Maybe it had something to do with the boy whose shoulder you were resting your head on or the peaceful ambience the morning brought you. You didn't really care, you were happy and that was it.

You couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of confidence flow through you. It could have been your mind lacking sleep but everything that was holding you back from telling Fred about your feelings just flew out the window.

You wanted to tell him, and you wanted to tell him now.

You sat up and turned to Fred in a rushed motion. Your movements startled the boy but he was left waiting for whatever you were about to do.

“What's wrong, love?” He asked you, surprisingly not as sleepy as you expected him to be.

“Remember what I said about that person I was going to ask to the Yule ball?” You hesitated with your words. You weren't even sure if you were thinking straight. You prayed that whatever words formed in your head would be the right words to say to Fred.

Fred tensed at your words. He nodded slightly, hoping that the next words that would leave your mouth wouldn't hurt too much.

“Well…” You felt your throat go dry but you were already in too deep, you had to commit. “To tell you the truth, they're really really really dense. And honestly I don't even know why they would even want to go with me if the opportunity presented itself but-.”

Fred's forehead creased at your words, who wouldn't want to go with you to the ball? That would be like turning down the chance to enter heaven. “Why'd you think that, love? Anyone lucky enough to even be in your sights should be thanking God or whatever force for putting you on this earth.”

You felt your cheeks go bright red and your heart beat ten times faster. You weren't even sure if you could have controlled it with Fred's words just pouring out of his mouth like they just came to him naturally. He didn't even stop there. Once he started he couldn't stop.

“I mean look at you, I don't think I can think of anyone else in the whole entire world that could even come close to how perfect you are. I mean sure, you're basically a night owl with how little you sleep because you'd rather read than have a decent amount of sleep,”

You laughed at his little comment, shoving him slightly in the shoulder, but that didn't stop him from continuing his rant.

“You literally land in the hospital wing every week or so because you'd rather put yourself in harm's way than others. And you don’t even like sharing your cookies but you still do. You even ask your grandmother to send more cookies just so you can share more of them. All these things I just listed down are just more reasons why you’re perfect- and why I love you.” He let those words slip past his lips so quickly he barely even registered them. By the time he realized what he said he knew he couldn't take them back, nor did he want to.

“And yes, I love you… and not just in a friend way but the “I love you so much that if you're not around I can't breathe and the mere thought that you probably like someone else is killing me”... way.”

You were left speechless. You felt like a complete idiot at that moment. You both were fools from the start. How couldn't you have seen the signs?

He was the only one there for you when no one else was. That time you landed in the hospital wing after a full moon incident from helping your uncle moony, he was the one who stayed by your side all those nights.

When you got a cold after a snowball fight with the Weasley’s over the holidays, Fred visited you nearly everyday at the Manor to check on you before he too caught a cold. Then it was your turn to take care of him.

When you got detention from getting caught for a prank you pulled, Fred got himself detention so you wouldn't be alone.

Fred felt his chest tighten at the silence, you haven't said a thing in the last few seconds and it was terrifying. “I know you probably don't feel the same-”

Finally, you snapped out of your self inflicted scolding and reached over with one hand to keep you up and the other on Fred cheek. “My god you are dense.” with that, your lips crashed into his and suddenly everything fell into place.

All the years of pining. All the endless hours of you avoiding and hiding your feelings when all along, the both of you were just too scared of saying how you felt.

His hand slipped over to your cheek while his other hand gripped your waist. He couldn't even process his thoughts about what was happening. Was this actually real? Was this a dream? Was he even awake?

His thoughts were silenced when you pulled away just slightly to let out a small whisper, something that was meant for him and him alone, “I love you too.”

A grin grew on Fred's lips, going up ear to ear. It felt like hearing your favorite song for the first time. You loved him. He couldn't believe it. Fred pulled you in for another kiss but it was difficult from how he just couldn't stop smiling.

“Really?” He asked, his voice heavy with bliss and giddiness. It was like the whole world just lit up for him. He really couldn't believe it.

You let out a light laugh at the sight, “Yes, really.” Before placing a peck on his lips.

“Are you absolutely sure?” He asked again, this time with a smirk and his usual tone of arrogance. Sure he still couldn't fully wrap his head around the thought that you, the girl of his dreams, actually loved him back. But that still didn't stop him from teasing the living daylights out of you.

You pondered on the question further, knowing how Fred loved to play this game. Your silence only furthered the fun when Fred began to grow impatient. “On second thought…”

Fred let out a chuckle before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up to his lap, “Nice try love. You've already said the words. You can't take them back.”

You rolled your eyes jokingly before facing him with a cheek aching grin, “oh no, what shall I ever do?” You replied with feigned fear before letting out another laugh.

Fred leaned over to your cheek, his nose barely grazing over the surface of your cheek. “How about I take you to the ball as…your boyfriend?”

You pulled away with a grin, "Are you sure?”

Fred looked off into the distance and tapped his finger over his chin, “Hmmm, you know on second thought-”

You let out a laugh before resting your hands at the back of his neck, “Nuh uh, you already said the words, Freddie. You can't take them back.” You repeated his words back to him with a smirk.

He pulled you in for another kiss to wipe away that smirk. But he then pulled away, just slightly, “You have my heart, love. I don't think I'll be able to take that back either.”

Feeling the blush rush up to your cheeks, you could only hide your flustered state in the crook of his neck. Now it was his turn to smirk.

“Don't get shy on me now, love.” Fred spoke as he hugged you tight. He thought that this was just too good to be true. He thought that maybe if he didn't hold on tight enough, all of this would cease to exist and reveal itself to be a dream.

You lifted your head out of the crook of his neck, only to feel the heat rush back to your cheeks. Seeing as the sun was rising up already, the blush was much more evident on your cheeks.

Fred looked at you with a soft smile, it was finally sinking in. He was finally yours, and you were finally his. And though the two of you may be dense, Godric knows Fred is never going to let you forget he loves you.

"I love you so much."

[confused-pyramid]

There Is More When You Let Go | s2

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 18.8k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, kidnapping, torture, drug use, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 2x01, 2x05, 2x06, 2x13, 2x14, 2x15, 2x16, 2x18, 2x23

a/n: here's season 2 of the anchor series! I had a lot of fun writing this one (hence why it got so long lmao), and I included a lot more direct show content in this part, so I hope you like it. Also more flashbacks:) Title is from Benediction by Luke Sital-Singh

series masterlist

A gunshot. That's the last thing you hear before Elle's front door flies open, almost throwing you back onto the stairs. The shock of seeing the Fisher King standing right in front of you almost makes you miss the puddle of blood that has started seeping across the floor to your feet.

"Elle," you gasp, your moment of distraction enough time for the man to push you behind him and make a break for it. You fall forward with the force of his shove, but he's much slower than you are. If you ran after him now, you could almost certainly catch up to him, but the sight of Elle bleeding out in front of you makes you immobile.

Making the split second decision to abandon the chase, you throw yourself forward and press your hands against her wound to control the blood flow.

"You're gonna be okay," you tell her, even as her blood trickles out from below your palm. "I need to call for help."

Pressing one hand down harder, you try to ignore the sounds of her gasping in pain as you reach behind you for her house phone. After dialing 911, you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder and bring your hand back to apply more pressure.

The paramedics arrive within five minutes, and they pry you off of her as they pull out a defibrillator. You had been so focused on stopping her from bleeding out that you hadn't even noticed she had stopped breathing. How could you have missed that?

"Charging to 200."

You lean back against her couch as tears leak from the corners of your eyes.

"Clear!"

***

"They took her into surgery," you say when Hotch meets you at the hospital. Your eyes keep darting around, like you're looking for something, but you don't know what.

"What happened?" he asks, placing his hands on your shoulders to regain your focus. The pressure calms you down.

"I think he was waiting for her," you whisper, your throat tightening. "He had to have been. It all happened so fast."

His eyes stay on yours, as though trying to predict your next movement. "I'm glad you're okay."

More agents filter into the hospital and he begins to turn away to talk to them, but then you stiffen under his hands. "I had him, Hotch."

"What?" he frowns, looking at you again. "What are you talking about?"

You lift your hands to your face to brush away a strand of hair, barely noticing the stains all over your skin. "He was right there. The unsub. I could've grabbed him...but I didn't."

Anderson walks over with a question, but Hotch doesn't take his eyes off you. "You went to Elle. It's okay, you made the right choice."

"But the girl he took," you protest, shaking his hands off, "this could have lead us to her, but she's still-"

"You did the right thing," he cuts you off, waving Anderson away to speak with someone else. "It's not your fault."

You grit your teeth, your voice still tinged with guilt. "How do you know?"

"Because," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "it's mine. I sent her home."

You open your mouth to tell him how unfair that is, but he cuts you off with an order to go wash up before he leaves to explain the situation to the other agents.

The only bathroom on that floor of the hospital is at the end of the patient ward, so you trudge down the hallway and into the single family restroom, trying to avoid the worried glances from all around.

You haven't seen your reflection since before leaving with Elle, and you know it can't be a pretty sight, but the face staring back at you in the mirror is still a shock.

The bottom of your shirt is matted to your skin, and your hands are covered in now-dried blood that looks flaky and dark. When you look up, you see a streak of blood smeared over your nose from when you swiped at your face earlier.

Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, you run them under the faucet before scrubbing at your face and peeling your button down off to rid them of any trace of Elle's blood. When you're sure there isn't anything left, you turn the faucet back on and stretch your hands forward, watching the warm water turn a muddy red color as it swirls around the drain.

Eventually, the water runs clear, but you can still see the blood in your mind. You are suddenly ambushed by a memory you thought you had pushed down long ago. Red blood, cold skin.

How was there so much blood in the human body?

Your department-mandated therapist told you at the time that you would be in denial for the first few weeks, but you weren't denying anything. You had seen his body, seen the blood pooling around him as the coroner snapped photographs for the crime scene report. You knew he was dead. You just couldn't get that question out of your mind.

The memory shifts and suddenly you're seventeen again. You're seventeen and you are reaching for your first aid kit for the second time this month as Hotch sits on your bed with what feels like a permanent wince fused to his lips.

"Hold still," you whisper as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and press it into the cut on his hand. There's also blood under his nose and in his teeth, but he doesn't seem to notice.

He hisses as the alcohol makes contact, but he doesn't pull away. He's used to this routine now. You both are.

"I'm sorry I came by so late," he whispers through gritted teeth as he watches your fingers peel open a bandage. You want to berate him for apologizing, for feeling so much guilt all the time, but it's fruitless. It's like he was born with it inside of him, always clawing its way out at the slightest inconvenience.

"Don't be." You shoot him a look that he knows to mean 'be quiet and let me finish this'. He heeds your unspoken order, but after a few minutes, it's you who breaks it. "How did this one happen?"

He looks down and you immediately want to take it back. "You don't have to answer."

He's quiet for a beat. "He was drunk and I cleared his bottle away before he was finished with it."

Your lips thin and you press your hand to his knee, desperately needing to connect yourself to him in some manner.

"I tried to keep him in the kitchen, so Sean wouldn't hear, but I guess the noise woke him up." He takes a deep breath, and you can almost feel the determination entering his body as he sits up straighter. "I couldn't let him get to Sean, so I finally did it. I fought back."

He looks down at his bandaged hand then, and you can see pride accompanying the blood etched into the lines of his face. "I finally fought back."

Your eyes refocus and when you look at yourself in the mirror again, there's no trace of Elle's blood on your body anymore.

***

When Elle is discharged from the hospital, you spend the rest of the break helping her move out of her house and into a new apartment. When you drove her back home, the blood had been cleaned off of her floors, but you could see in her expression that it wasn't enough. This place would always be a reminder of what had happened to her.

The apartment search was quick, only a week between finding a place she liked and signing the new lease, but she saved the actual move out for the last few days of your break, instead hopping between sleeping in your guest room and a motel in town.

That's why you find yourself in Elle's old bedroom on the final Saturday before you're due back at work, packing some of her clothes into a suitcase while she works on clearing her bathroom. She tossed out almost everything she didn't absolutely need, only packing up her basic clothing and a few other sentimental keepsakes from her past.

"What about these?" you ask, holding up a pair of dark wash jeans that you remember her wearing to the bars with you a few months ago. God, has it really only been a few months?

She peeks out of the bathroom for barely a second. "I told you, I don't care. Keep it, toss it, your choice."

You don't know how you feel about being in charge of her future wardrobe, especially since you tend to live in loose jeans and old tee shirts when you're not at work, but you can understand where she's coming from. The instinct to hand off every decision to someone else.

You remember how hard it was for you to even decide what to eat for dinner after Jeff died. You also remember Hotch slipping pre-packed meals into your fridge whenever he came over to keep you company.

It takes you a couple of hours to clear out her house, and another hour to drop her and her stuff off at the new place, with promises to visit whenever you can over the next months of her leave.

You don't realize how exhausted you are until your front door shuts behind you and you collapse onto your couch, still in your dirty clothes. The summer sun is completely below the horizon as you lean back into your throw pillows and grab the tv remote. You haven't used your tv in months, and you figure that a vacation from work is the perfect opportunity to dust it off.

The screen comes to life on a local news channel, where a young reporter with teased-up hair is announcing a recall on a vacuum cleaner brand you've never heard of. She finishes her spiel before handing the mic off to an older woman who starts reporting the details of a car accident that took place in a neighborhood a few miles from yours.

These reports don't usually get under your skin - you have seen enough to know that it happens everyday - but suddenly, you can't stand to look at the crime scene tape flashing on your screen. You don't wait long enough to see what caused the accident. Whether it was a simple mistake, or if it was a drunk dri-

Grabbing the remote, you turn the television off and stand up, shaking your limbs out in an effort to rid yourself of the anxious feeling that's been growing inside of you.

You make yourself a quick microwave dinner and wolf it down in a few minutes, before trudging upstairs and hopping in the shower. You take your time washing the dust off of your body, and only emerge when the hot water runs out.

Even after cleaning yourself off and climbing into a fresh set of sheets, sleep doesn't come easily. The minutes tick by slowly as you stare at the ceiling, and before you can overthink it, you grab your phone off your nightstand and hit the first number on your speed dial.

It rings twice before the line connects. "Is everything okay?"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you ask, huffing out a laugh as you sit up in your bed.

Hotch grunts quietly. "Hello." You can hear the tiredness in his voice, but he sounds alert. You didn't wake him up. "What can I do for you?"

"So I have to need something to call you?"

"Y/N."

"Sorry for wanting to talk to my friend-"

He sighs so loudly, you can practically see his eyes rolling. "Are you going to tell me why you called or not."

"I helped Elle move out today."

That gets his attention. "How is she doing?"

You shrug, even though he can't see you. "As good as can be expected. We threw out almost all of her stuff, you know. She ended up with just a suitcase and three boxes at the end."

"That's just her way of coping, I guess."

"When we got to her house, it was..." You pause for a beat. You don't know the correct way to bring this up. "Well, it was clean. The blood was gone."

He doesn't say anything, and you know you were right. "Hotch, it was you, wasn't it."

He exhales quietly, as though he's trying to control his volume. Shit, maybe Haley's sleeping next to him. This is why you don't call someone after midnight.

"She didn't need to see a crime scene in her own home."

You wonder if he knows how he sounds right now. How caring and compassionate he can be when he doesn't try to tamp down that side of himself.

"You're a good unit chief," you say, leaning your head back against your wooden headboard. "I don't know why you keep things like this hidden."

You do know why, but that isn't what's important right now. There's a small creaking sound over the receiver and you imagine he's getting out of bed and crossing the room. Then the click of a door closing. "All that matters is that it's done."

You can't control the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. "Who are you trying to kid, Hotch? This is me you're talking to. I know how you worry that you aren't setting a good example for the team, but it's things like this that go a long way. It really wouldn't hurt for the team to see you showing some emotion."

"That's what they have you for," he says, his voice tightening the slightest bit. "They don't need that from me. When my emotions get in the way, I can't do my job properly."

You scoff. "And what job is that, exactly?"

"Keeping you safe."

He doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel his anger. "If I had kept my emotion out of it, I wouldn't have sent her home. I wouldn't have let you accompany her, and I wouldn't have put both of you in danger."

Your hand comes up, rubbing circles into the skin above your chest. "Aaron...that wasn't on you." You can sense his protests coming, so you try a different tactic. "It wasn't on me either. No one but Garner deserves any blame for what happened."

The line is silent for a few moments, and you take the little victory. "I'm sorry I called you so late."

"Oh, it's alright," he chuckles. "You know I was up anyway."

***

She came back too quickly. You can't get the thought out of your head as you watch Elle restlessly tap her foot on the ground as she waits for the final word on whether she will be acting as bait for the serial rapist.

You don't think she's ready, and you've made your opinion known to the team, but Gideon made up his mind quickly.

"You think Elle's ready for it?"

"We'll be there for her."

You watch her vigilantly from Hotch's SUV as she enters the house and drops her keys on the table by the window. She's wired, which is a small relief, but Gideon's instruction not to have her gun on her has you more anxious than you'd like.

"Why isn't she leaving?" Hotch says from next to you, echoing your thoughts.

A car driven by a man fitting the profile pulls up on the opposite side of the street and you hear Morgan dialing Garcia. After a few seconds, he's back on the line. "William Lee. It's him."

"Bingo," Gideon's voice exclaims through your earpiece. "She's on the move."

You turn away from the car and see Elle exiting the front of the house. She glances at the man on her way to her car in the driveway, and it's only then that you notice the gun stuffed in her waistband.

"Her gun's out," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "What's she doing?"

"She's panicking."

"We've got no reason to bring him in."

"Don't blow it, don't blow it."

A chorus of yells echo through your earpiece as Elle stomps down the drive and points her gun at the unsub. "FBI, put your hands where I can see them!"

You throw open the car door and run over to apprehend the man as he fervently denies all of her accusations. "I was just stopping to look at my map."

The police put him into an interrogation room back at the station, where Hotch and Gideon try to get him to confess by showing empathy for this motive. It seems to be going well until his lawyer shows up, putting an end to the conversation.

She's been tense all day, so you're not surprised when Elle blows up. "You're letting him walk?"

Gideon is the first to step in. "Back off, Elle."

"You don't know what he's done," she yells, as though trying to reason with the police. The pain in her voice is palpable, but you can't deny the truth, even if you aren't able to voice it to her.

Hotch doesn't face the same issue. "The only reason he's walking is because you panicked."

"I'm supposed to believe that you've got my back?" she fires back, her anger redirecting to fly in his direction.

"What are you saying to me?"

"The last time you sent me home, Hotch, it got me shot."

All of the air leaves the room. You grab Elle's arm and pull her back, expecting more resistance than you get. "Walk with me."

She follows you across the hall and into a little meeting room that's scattered with evidence bags and files from the case. You let the door click shut behind her before you start speaking. "You need to take a breath. I know you, Elle. I know exactly what you're capable of. You just need to give yourself time to heal."

The fury in her eyes hasn't abated since you apprehended Lee a few hours earlier. You're not sure it will in this environment. "Take a walk. Get some air, and then come back."

She doesn't meet your eye as she pushes past you and storms out of the station.

***

"There's no reason for us to stick around anymore, is there?"

Gideon shakes his head and you purse your lips, glancing at the doors behind you. You haven't been able to shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen, but you suppose that's a common notion on this team.

"Wheels up at noon tomorrow."

You're walking out to the parking lot with the team when the feeling hits you again. The last time you felt this level of dread was right before you got the call from organized crime just over two years ago.

Your fears are confirmed when Hotch's phone rings with a call from the local PD that they have Elle at Lee's address. The drive over is silent, and even though you're always the first to call Hotch out on his guilt spirals, you can't get the thought out of your head that this is all your fault. You knew she had come back too quickly. Never mind that it wasn't your call. You should've fought it harder.

Lee's bullet-riddled body is like a beacon of your guilt as Elle insists it was cut-and-dry self defense. "I was having a conversation with him and he drew his weapon and I fired."

The police don't let any of you talk to her as they load her into the back of their cruiser, but you know what you have to do if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

"I'm going to the station," you tell Hotch before flagging down another one of the officers on the scene. He moves to stop you, but you sidestep him and level him with a glare that high school you would have been proud of. "I have to do this."

The station doesn't finish processing her until halfway through the night, but you couldn't fall asleep even if you wanted to. When they finally remove her cuffs and bring her out, you stand up from the plastic chair you spent the last four hours in and stretch out your legs.

She doesn't spot you immediately, but when she does, her body almost deflates. "I'm fine, L/N. You didn't have to come here."

She stops in front of you, her jacket hanging over her arm as she stuffs her badge back into her pocket. If you didn't know her so well, you would be surprised by how relaxed she looks. You wouldn't recognize the front she has had up since she stepped off the plane.

"What happened, Elle?"

That catches her attention, and you watch as the mask slips by a hair. "You don't believe me?"

You don't want to accuse her of something you have no evidence of, but you also can't ignore all of the signs in front of you. "Can you really look me in the eye and say you didn't go there hoping Lee would provoke you?"

She just looks at you, and you watch in real time as the mask slides back into place. Without another word, she turns around and walks out of the station.

***

The next case doesn't come until a few days later. Elle gets cleared by the bureau's internal investigation, but you can't imagine Hotch won't tack on a psych eval just to be safe.

"Nicholas Faye of Ozona, Texas, was beaten to death roughly 13 hours ago."

JJ clicks her remote and the screen in the conference room changes, displaying the crime scene photos.

"God," you curse, averting your eyes for a moment. "He's just a child."

"Blunt force trauma to the head," she continues with a forlorn sigh. "He's the second young boy in Ozona to die the same death in the last 2 months. Local hunter found his body in the woods."

Morgan looks down at the case file. "First victim's name: Robbie Davis. Are these boys connected somehow?"

JJ shrugs. "Ozona's population's roughly 2, 500. Everyone has some kind of connection."

"Well if they weren't linked before, they most certainly are now."

Hotch and Gideon's absences from the conference room don't escape your notice, so you keep an eye out for them upon leaving the briefing.

You spot them discussing something in hushed whispers by the coffee station, and you wait for them to finish before you approach Hotch.

"You missed the briefing."

His eyes pinch, and you notice that the lines in his forehead are more prominent than usual. "What is it?"

"Elle missed her evaluation."

Your breath releases like a sigh. "I can check her apartment."

"No," he says matter-of-factly, with a shake of his head. "Gideon wants all of you in Texas for this one. I'll go look for her."

You would normally argue, but the horrific images from the briefing are still imprinted on the backs of your eyelids. "Okay. I'll see you soon."

He leaves you with a nod, and you grab your go-bag before following the rest of the team to the jet.

"You guys see Elle's cleared?" Reid pipes up as soon as the plane takes off.

Derek nods, his lips thinning. "Self defense."

"So it was a good shot."

"She hit what she was aiming for."

Reid frowns. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"If they cleared her how come she's not here with us?" You glance up and realize Reid is looking at you. "Or Hotch?"

You don't want to reveal more than is necessary, especially when the situation is this precarious and personal, but you're saved from responding when Gideon turns around and yells, "Focus on the case!"

JJ turns the conversation back to the unsub's motivations, and you all discuss a possible profile until a new female victim emerges that strays from the previous victimology.

Gideon doesn't waste any time delegating tasks. "When we land, Morgan and Reid, go to the new crime scene. The little girl."

He turns to you. "We'll look at the scene where Nicholas Faye was found."

The murder site is so far into the woods, that you can't help but imagine what it would've been like to be the little boy who was brought all the way out here with no hope of return. You can't believe that a young child would come this far out of their way unless they trusted the person they were following. "I think the victims knew their killer."

Gideon seems to be on the same train of thought. "They followed him to this spot."

"What makes you think that?" the local officer asks.

Gideon looks at you expectantly, and you take the invitation with a grateful nod. "Well I guess they went this deep into the woods because they trusted him. He probably stashed his weapon here beforehand. This means we're looking for someone intelligent, methodical."

The police officer accompanying you doesn't look sure of your assessment. "He bashed the kid's head in, it looks like a moment of rage to me!"

"I agree," Gideon muses, turning away and looking further into the woods. "It doesn't make any sense."

After informing the town's parents of the five PM curfew, and the children of the new buddy system in place, you excuse yourself to go call Hotch for an update.

"Anything new?" you ask when he answers the phone.

"I went to her appartment to talk to her," he explains, "but she was leaving with an overnight bag."

Your heart collapses in your chest. "She's running."

"I don't know, I hope not." He pauses for a beat. "I'm following her."

"All right," you sigh, wishing there was more you could do from here, "I really hope I'm wrong about this."

He's silent for a second, and you realize your slip up. "I just mean, I don't want to- I mean, fuck."

"I know," Hotch whispers. You can hear his car starting in the background. "But Gideon's right. She's innocent until proven guilty."

He ends the call with a promise to keep you updated, and you head back to the station, where another child has been reported missing. The missing boy's little brother draws your attention to a local legend that leads you to a Mr. Fennigan's so-called "haunted" house up in the hills.

***

"Garcia," you say into your phone before putting it on speaker and setting it down at the table you're sitting at. After establishing that Finnegan's house was empty, you and team have been searching the property for any indications that he's the unsub. "You got anything for me?"

"Only that Fennigan's house on the hill is like the Bates Motel of Ozona, Texas."

You roll your eyes, even though she can't see you. "We heard the legend from that counselor, Charles I think."

"Be careful, though," she says, her voice going lower as though she's telling a campfire story. "People that go into that house supposedly never come out."

"Garcia."

"But then there is that matter of his missing wife."

Deciding to humor her, you clear your throat and whisper, "Do you think she's still on the premises?"

"I got two words for you, my friend: 'rear window'. That guy probably chopped that lady up into delicious bitesize pieces."

You suppress a laugh. "Pen, do you really think that's gonna scare me?"

She huffs and you grin, tugging open one of the drawers next to you and peeking inside.

"You're no fun. Reid was scared shitless."

"He's just afraid of the dark," you smile, before your eyes catch on something bright under the table beside you. "Garcia, I gotta go. And cut Reid some slack."

"No promises, Mama."

You tuck your phone away and reach below the table, where you find a small pink backpack with the last victim's name scrawled on top in Sharpie. "Guys! I found something."

The clues from Finnegan's house lead you back to Charles, the town's guidance counselor, and then to his son, who the police are able to catch in the act of luring away Tracey Belle, another young girl. You don't relax until she's back with her parents, and even then, there's still a tension in your shoulders.

Cases involving children never get easier, but you can't help the kinship you feel to little Tracey Belle, who had the same look in her eyes that you recognized in yourself when you were ten years old. You don't remember your mom's funeral much, mostly because you were so young, but also because the whole day was a blur. The few flashes that come back here and there are your father's eyes, red from crying, and the cold gray of the headstone that you visited with him every year on the anniversary until you graduated.

The plane ride back is morose, and no one looks up from their reading material until it's time to disembark. Hotch isn't at the office when you drop off your case file, so you rub the exhaustion from your eyes and drive home.

There's a figure sitting on your porch when you pull into your driveway, and you're a moment from panicking when her face comes into the light.

"I turned in my badge," Elle says after you lock your car and walk up the steps.

Something twists in your gut, but the one emotion you aren't feeling is surprise. "Do you want to come inside? How long have you been waiting?"

She shakes her head, and you give her some time to formulate her thoughts. After a minute, she meets your eye again. "You were kind to me."

You don't know what to say, but you can see the change in her since just last week. She already looks lighter, and you can't help but think about how heavy the job can be. It's a weight on each of your lives that never seems to let up, and while you're going to be sad to see her go, you understand. It's the right choice.

Elle presses her lips together before curving them into a small smile. "You supported me after...after Garner. I'm gonna miss you."

You smile at her, even as your heart fills with sadness. "i'm going to miss you too."

Her body shifts like she's making to leave but then she turns back one last time. "You're too good for him, you know."

You get the sense that you know what she's referring to, but it's not something you can acknowledge without sending a flare shooting up your spine. She nods once, like that's all she wanted to say, and turns away into the night. You blink your eyes closed, squeezing them tightly as though it will somehow make the last few months a nightmare you can wake up from. But that's not how this works.

You give yourself a minute to pretend, but when you open your eyes again, she's gone.

***

The case that takes you to Golconda, Nevada feels almost unique to Gideon, as he takes each of the unsub's decisions personally in a way you haven't seen before.

Once you give the profile to the local police, the sheriff, Georgia Davis, leads you to a woman with a story to match the previous victimology.

"Jane," she says softly as she walks into the holding area at the back of the station. "These people are from the FBI. I'd like you to tell them your story."

Her story takes you through a tale of alien abductions and young love, but the kernel of truth underneath sounds awfully similar to the unsub's M.O. Her eyes still shine with a childlike tenacity that you don't usually see in other victims of such prolific and disturbing killers.

"Her subconscious mind has created a delusion that she was abducted by an alien," Gideon sighs after Sheriff George sends you all out of the room to let Jane rest. "She didn't show him the fear he wanted, so he let her go."

When it becomes clear that he is still in town, you disperse around the local R.V. park in search of his vehicle.

Hotch pairs you with Emily Prentiss, the new agent who joined the team after Elle left, and you welcome the opportunity to speak with her more than you've gotten the chance to since she arrived.

"How have you been settling in?" you ask her as you both stroll along the edge of the R.V. park.

"The team has been very welcoming," she says as she continues to scan the vehicles around you. "I'm just glad to be joining such an accomplished unit."

"That's kind of you," you smile, noting the extreme focus in her eyes. Her intelligence and intense concentration on each of the cases you've worked made much more sense when you learned about her history. Her background must have sparked more than a few nepotism claims over the years, so you don't mind letting her overcompensate, if it means she will prove to herself that she deserves to be here. "Everyone seems to like having you around. I certainly don't mind."

She shoots you a smile that you return by patting her forearm comfortingly. You were worried it would be hard for another agent to settle into the space Elle left on the team, but Prentiss has made easy work of it. She has the same humor as Derek and Penelope, and you've seen how well she gets along with you and JJ. Even Reid has welcomed her with open arms.

"This team is kind of famous," she says after a moment, piquing your interest.

"Oh?"

She shrugs, turning into another row of vehicles. "You've all been through so much, but it just seems to have made you more of a family."

When you first joined the team, that was all you wanted. You were by yourself, completely alone, and the team had become your family in the blink of an eye. It was exactly what you needed. These days, you're not so sure anymore. More family just means more people to lose.

"Can I ask you a question?"

You look at her with a nod. "Yeah, of course."

"It's about Agent Hotchner."

You should've figured. Every new agent tries to vie for his approval, until they realize it's not something you can force. "Yeah?"

She sighs, and you can tell this isn't something she wants to be talking about. "I don't know if I understand him. You're the only person who seems to have his ear. I guess I'm just wondering how I can do the same."

"I got his attention and respect through decades of friendship," you say, watching her eyes widen as you speak. "But he's not the enigma you may think he is. Showing off won't help your cause, but working hard and doing your job well is all you can really do."

She nods, taking in your words. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

You smile, bumping her shoulder to lighten the mood. "Don't worry about him. He knows your worth, I can tell."

Prentiss leans against you for a moment before shaking out her legs and turning back to the lot. "I don't think the unsub is here. We should meet up with the rest of the team."

Once Gideon puts it together that the unsub is hiding out somewhere in town, Hotch suggests that you all turn in for the night, but the older man doesn't want to listen.

"We could wait till first light, Gideon," he stresses, turning his body to stand between him and the officers. "It's gonna be dark soon."

"Do what you like," Jason grunts, shoving past him. "I'm gonna find him."

Hotch starts to go after him, but you step forward and put your hand on his shoulder. "Let him go. Maybe the walk back to the station will help clear his head."

He sighs heavily, and you know it's all the agreement you're going to get right now. "Let's head over there too. He needs our help if he wants to crack this before morning."

The stress lines on his forehead are almost as noticeable as they were the day Elle left the bureau, and you grab his wrist as he tries to turn away. You raise your eyebrows, knowing he'll be able to read the question written in the ridges of your face. How are you holding up?

Hotch rolls his neck to the side, stretching it out after what has been a very long day. When he looks back at you, you wait for a nod that comes after a moment. Alright. Been better, but alright.

Back at the station, the work is slow going, and you don't feel like anyone is helping with how uptight Gideon is acting. The air inside the small building has started to feel suffocating, and you finally get your chance to escape when Sheriff George grabs her car keys.

"I'm gonna take Jane home," she tells you when you approach her at her desk. "It's been a long night, and she needs to sleep in her own bed."

"You need to rest too," you say, noticing the droop of her eyes from sheer exhaustion. "Go home, Sheriff. I'll take her back. I remember her address from earlier."

She doesn't look convinced, so you lean in with a smile. "It's getting really stuffy in here. I need some air too."

That's all it takes to satisfy her, and she pats your arm with a nod before handing you the keys to the cruiser and walking to the exit.

You only see Morgan as you pick Jane up from the holding area, so you tell him you'll be back in a half hour and head out to the back lot.

"How long have you been living in this town?" you ask Jane as you make the short drive to her house.

"Since I was a teenager," she says dreamily, her eyes gazing out the window.

"You never wanted to live anywhere else?"

She shakes her head profusely. "Why would I? This is where I can be found."

You frown at her words, but it's not the oddest thing she has said today. When you arrive at her house, you park the cruiser out front and lead her up the porch steps, where she slowly unlocks the front door. "Do you want to come inside?"

You figure it wouldn't hurt to scope out the place, so you accept her invitation and follow her inside. "This is a beautiful home, Jane." Trinkets are scattered everywhere, and rudimentary sketches cover the walls.

"Thank you," she responds from another room. "You're very nice." You follow the sound of her voice to her kitchen, where she is struggling to lift a pitcher of juice from her fridge.

"Here, let me help you," you say, taking it from her and setting it down on the little breakfast table in front of her stove. "Do you have any cups?"

She walks over to a cupboard across from you, and you unclip your side-holster and set it on the table until the sound of a footstep behind you makes you spin on your heels.

You're assaulted by the sight of a tall, white man, who you immediately recognize from Gideon's profile earlier that day.

"Jane!" you yell, inching toward the table where your gun is. "I need you to run."

"Come with me, Jane," the man says, ignoring you completely. You use the moment of distraction to reach for your gun, but he's quicker than you. A sharp pinprick of pain shoots down your neck as your hand knocks over the pitcher of juice and your limbs suddenly feel like they weigh a million pounds.

"Jane, he's a murderer," you yell, hoping your voice doesn't sound as quiet as it does in your head. Your vision is already blurry, and you wish Reid was here to distract you by spouting off a list of fast-acting drugs from memory. "Jane, run!"

The last thing you hear before you black out is the sound of hurried footsteps receding into the background.

***

None of this makes sense. As each minute ticks by, he can't shake the feeling that they are missing something that's right under their noses.

"JJ just called," Morgan says, walking back into the station with his phone waving in his hand. "Apparently an anonymous caller called the tip line and claimed they saw an R.V. driven by a man who fits the description we gave to the media."

Hotch frowns. "Claimed?"

"Well, not a single R.V. or trailer has passed through any of the roadblocks."

Morgan's words click in his brain, and he instinctively glances beside him as an idea forms, but you aren't there. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn't seen you in over an hour.

"Who does the number belong to?" he asks, shifting his focus back.

Morgan is about to respond when Deputy Silo runs into the office, shoving past the other cops in his way. "We got a call from outside Jane's house. I think it was from the unsub."

Hotch stands up immediately, grabbing his jacket and gun, but next to him, Morgan stills, his face going slack.

"We need to head over there now," Hotch says, listing off a few instructions to the deputies nearby. Where are you?

"Hotch."

"And have some of your guys check in town," he continues, "in case he took her with him."

"Hotch."

He turns around. "What is it?"

"L/N drove Jane home."

His heart drops.

***

Just stay for a few more minutes, Jeff implores, his fingers dancing over your arm as you try to sit up.

You laugh as he tries to pull you back into the bed. I can't, I have to go into work.

Just five minutes, I promise. He pouts as you slide your legs out from under the covers. Three. One. One minute, please. I miss you.

I miss you too, you sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips. I'll see you tonight.

His hands reach up to caress your face, like he always does in the mornings. Cupping your cheek with his palm and running his fingers through your hair.

You settle into the feeling, wishing you had more time to just lay in bed with him. But you don't. Because Jeff's not here anymore.

Your eyes snap open right as the unsub tapes your mouth closed.

***

His hands grip the steering wheel as his SUV barrels up the small country road leading to Jane's house. He can't seem to press the gas pedal hard enough, and Reid's incessant foot-tapping in the backseat is driving him crazy, even though he understands the anxiety coursing through his body.

He beats Deputy Silo to the house, and flies out of the car without waiting for the other agents to open their doors. He's not sure what he's expecting to see inside as he pulls his gun from his waist holster, but he doesn't give himself a chance to think about it before kicking the door in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Morgan yells from behind him as he checks around the door and makes his way through the small hallway. The house is silent, aside from the footsteps of the agents behind him, but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears is almost deafening.

"Clear," he shouts after checking each room up to the kitchen. When he steps inside, there's juice all over the floor, and he spots the pitcher on its side beside the fridge. Juice, not blood.

His eyes flash to the table and his breath catches in his throat. He would recognize your holster anywhere, especially since he was with you when you bought it.

What do you think? It's not too bold, is it?

I definitely wouldn't mess with you.

"Why didn't she reach for her gun?" he wonders out loud.

"Because she couldn't." He turns around to see Reid holding up a large, empty syringe he found under the table.

He can't take his eyes off the juice on the floor, splattered everywhere as though someone had knocked it off the counter. The image of Elle's blood spilled all over her living room is still fresh in his mind, and he can't get over how easily the dark red cranberry juice seeping into the floorboards could have been yours.

Growing up, it was a common occurrence for you to patch him up and wash the blood off his skin, but there was only one time when he had to return the favor.

He still remembers the proud glint in your eyes after you had literally head-butted a man who had grabbed you in a college bar by Georgetown. Already a year into law school, he would've thought you'd have more forethought than to injure yourself in the hopes of getting back at the jackass, but once he saw your bloody grin, his annoyance had fizzled away.

"What on earth were you thinking?" he had asked as you stuck a scrap of napkin up your nostrils to control the flow after the head-butt broke a few blood vessels in your nose. He hadn't seen you much throughout undergrad, but he was glad that you hadn't changed too much, even if it meant you were just as wild as before. "I'm getting you ice."

A few minutes of angry haggling later, he returned to your side with a small bag of ice that he held to the bridge of your nose. Nothing he said could have ruined your mood that night, especially since the man had been kicked out of the bar and banned for life.

"Did you see the look on his face?" you had asked, your eyes twinkling behind the quickly melting ice.

"I did," he sighs, before breaking into a grin. "I'm just glad that your future law degree will give you another method of retaliation against scumbags like him."

You had laughed then, causing a few drops of blood to spray out of your nose, but all he could think about as he jerked back to avoid the mess was how happy he was that you were back in his life again.

Hotch flies back to the conversation happening around him, his brain refusing to let him imagine the worst case scenario.

"Those footprints," Morgan is saying as he starts listening again, "they got to be Jane's."

Reid nods, following along. "They go to the back."

"She escapes. The unsub knows the ketamine's gonna wear off, so he's got to act."

"No," one of the deputies says. "He hasn't got what he came here for."

His voice returns to him all at once. "So he took Y/N for leverage."

"He thinks we have Jane. Which means he wants a trade."

"Whatever he wants, we need to find Jane and your agent fast."

His agent. He feels sick at the thought of whatever that man is doing to you. "Garcia can track the phone number from the anonymous caller. You go to town, we'll find Jane."

***

Your eyes are blurry as you try to clear the fogginess in your head from whatever he injected you with. You can see the shape of the unsub moving around the room, and you squint your eyes to get a better look at the anatomical posters and drawings on the walls.

When your vision begins to focus again, the man comes toward you with a smile. "You're awake." He reaches forward to check the tape on your wrists and you try to jerk away from him, but your body is still flowing with the drug. You can't move as he brushes your hair behind your ear and smiles down at you, a sinister lack of emotion in his eyes. You stop trying to move, realizing it's no use. He's been doing this for years. Mutilating women. Cutting them to pieces.

You can feel your heart rate increasing, and you try not to look at the knives and saws littering the tables around you in an effort to keep yourself calm. Your team is looking for you. Derek knows where you went.

When he grabs your arms and starts lifting you off the makeshift operating table you were lying on, you try to scream, but the tape just pulls at your lips, tearing at the thin skin underneath.

Your eyes widen as he drops you into a metal coffin-like box, but he just looks at you with a shake of his head. "No need for that," he tsks before closing the lid over you, enveloping you in eery darkness.

***

Reid and Prentiss help him inspect Jane's house further for clues as to where the unsub could've taken you. The wind chimes of rib bone blowing in the breeze on the front porch catch his attention almost immediately.

His chest feels tight and he clears his throat. "He's obviously been here before and left these gifts for her."

"How romantic," Prentiss grimaces.

"Well, his version of romance."

Prentiss frowns. "What, are you trying to say you think he keeps coming back here because he's in love with her?"

"That's impossible," Reid interjects. "A sexual sadist can't feel love."

"Well," he says, "define love." He doesn't know if he can. He knows he loves Haley and Jack. He likes to think he always wants to be with them, but when a particularly excruciating case arrives on his desk, his desire to catch the bad guy trumps everything else in his mind. He knows he will always try to protect them from anyone or anything that wants to do them harm, but is that love?

It must be, because he feels the same instinct to protect you, but it manifests in him differently.

"Chemically, it involves surging brain elements called monoamines, dopamines, norepinephrine, and serotonin."

Of course that would be Reid's answer.

He continues rattling off a list of foods that contain these chemicals, and Hotch tunes him out, turning back to the house. They're missing something, they have to be. It's not until they spot a small trailer out back that it clicks.

***

You don't know how much time passes until the effects of the drug finally wear off enough for you to rub your wrists together to loosen the tape around them. The noises outside the coffin stopped a while ago, and you assume the man has left, likely to resume his search for Jane.

When the tape finally breaks, you let out a relieved gasp and let your arms rest for a few moments, before you begin slamming your fists into the bottom of the lid. It doesn't budge, no matter how hard you pound at it, so you change tactics, instead clawing your fingers at the seams in search of a hinge or screw you can loosen.

You're still trying to pry open the lid when you hear a muffled voice speaking outside the coffin. Despite your determination to stay calm, your heart squeezes in your chest as you bring your hands up to fight back in case he opens the lid. You feel someone slide your box across the floor, before opening the top and flooding your eyes with light.

When you adjust to the brightness, you see the familiar faces of Hotch, Reid, and Prentiss standing above you, and you almost cry with relief. Hotch reaches down with a small "thank god" and pulls you up and out of the coffin. Prentiss carefully peels the tape off your mouth, wincing as some of the skin of your lips comes away with it.

When you're standing up again, your legs give out as the fear leaves you, and you collapse into Hotch.

He catches you easily, holding you against him tightly as you shake from the sheer relief of being found before something irreversible happened. You're acutely aware of your teammates watching you hang onto your unit chief as though your life depends on it, but you can't bring yourself to let go.

It's only after your hands stop shaking that he finally pulls away.

***

When you return from Texas, most of the team heads straight home, but Gideon hangs back, calling you into his office.

"How are you doing after today?" he asks as you shut the door behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"Fine," you say simply, looking him straight in the eye. You're not sure exactly what you're feeling, but it definitely isn't fine. The few times your eyes fell closed on the flight back, you could still feel Frank's fingers pressing the tape onto your face.

Gideon scrutinizes you for a moment, his brow crinkling as he waits for you to elaborate. You can appreciate his intention, but you really don't feel like talking about it right now. Not when the memory of the cold metal on your skin is still fresh.

"Okay," he concedes after a minute of silence. It's not really a concession - you can already hear him recommending you for a psych evaluation - but it's enough for the moment. "You don't have to do it right away, but you need to eventually fill out an incident report. I can get you the paperwork now, but I mean it, take your time."

He reaches into his accordion file folder and pulls out a sheet of paper that's mostly blank, except for a few lines at the top. "Just hand it in to me or Hotch when you're done."

You accept the paper and leave his office, with a promise to head home soon. You heard his suggestion to finish it in your own time, but you can't imagine coming back to this at a later date.

Dropping into your chair, you lay the paper down on your desk and read over the form. The first section is the same as every other form you've had to fill out at the bureau: name, date, badge number.

The second half is just one line of instruction before a vast sea of white space. Describe the incident in detail.

Images from Frank's workshop flash in your mind. A roll of silver duct tape. A bloody washcloth. A rusted scalpel. Nothing you can effectively put onto paper.

The words don't come, even as the lights in the hallway automatically turn off, and the hushed voices from the nearby offices go silent. You eventually stand up to shake out your legs and get another coffee, not because you need it to stay awake, but because it feels like the normal thing to do. The idea of sleeping just takes you back to the darkness of the coffin, and a shudder runs through you as you pour yourself a cup and dump the muddy remains of the pot in the sink.

You're about to head back to your desk to fruitlessly stare at the form for a little while longer, when your eye catches on a small lamplight from Hotch's office at the top of the stairs. Gulping back a mouthful of stale coffee, you toss the rest in the trash and grab your report before hiking up the stairs.

"You're still here?" he asks when you knock on his door and push it open. "I thought you left hours ago."

The same question Gideon asked you earlier is etched into his face, but you know he won't voice it just yet. He was always good about knowing your boundaries (and when to push them).

"I could ask you the same thing," you smile with a shrug, before flopping down into the chair by his desk. "You really need to replace this chair, by the way. It's horribly uncomfortable."

He snorts quietly. "It's a perfectly fine chair."

You laugh, the sound quickly turning into a yawn.

"Go home," he stresses, dropping his pen and fixing you with a pointed stare.

"You first."

"I have work to do."

"So do I."

He looks down at the paper in your hands. "Gideon gave you the form already? I was going to give it you in a few days."

"I'm glad he gave it to me today," you say, before dropping your eyes with a sigh. "I've just been having some trouble finding the words to describe what happened."

"You don't have to do it now..." he starts, but you cut him off.

"I do. I don't want to come back to this later. I need to finish it now, while I still can."

"Okay," he accepts after a moment. "Then take your time. I'll be here."

You fall into a comfortable silence as you bring your pen back down and start writing.

***

He doesn't finish his own paperwork until well after midnight. When he looks up from his reports, you're asleep, your head resting on your crossed arms over his desk.

He would normally wake you and tell you to head home, but you look so peaceful for the first time in too long. Haley and Jack would have gone to bed hours ago, so he figures it won't hurt to stay with you for at least a little while as you get some much needed rest. He can't imagine that sleep has been coming easy - he saw you shaking yourself awake each time you closed your eyes on the plane - so he lets you slumber.

He still hasn't gotten the image of you with your hands and mouth taped out of his head, and he doesn't know if he ever will. When your legs had given out, his arms had instinctively shot forward to grab you before his brain could catch up. He can barely look at the bandages on your wrist now, where the tape rubbed your skin raw.

Standing up from his chair, he slides his suit jacket down his arms and steps around his desk. Being extra careful not to wake you, he drapes it over your shoulders and lets you sleep.

***

Hotch gives you the next week off, but the quiet solitude of your house is too much to bear with all of the memories swirling through your brain. You know he would have called you if there was a case out of town, so a few evenings later, you find yourself in your car, driving over to the Virginia field office.

When you walk into the bullpen, it's empty aside from Reid at his desk and Prentiss at the coffee station. It's late, and you assume Reid is just taking some notes down from the last case, but you aren't sure why Emily is still here.

"Hey," she says when she sees you sit at your desk. "Don't you have the week off?"

She looks exhausted, but you understand where she's coming from. The urge to overcompensate for being new. For not being the agent you're replacing. You felt it with Gideon when you were transferred here. She likely feels it with Elle.

"I needed to get out of the house," you explain, adjusting your seat and settling back.

"I hear that," she says, before putting a lid on her coffee cup and grabbing her bag. "I should actually go home for once, but I'll see you in a few days."

Spencer doesn't look up from his notepad until the sound of the door closing behind Emily jerks him from his stupor.

"You're here," he states, as though he's not sure if he is supposed to be asking a question or not. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug, smiling at him. For a genius, he can be kind of clueless sometimes. "I wanted to see you guys."

"Oh," he says, placing his pen on his desk, "well, it's just me here."

You grin. "Works for me."

That makes him smile slightly, but it falls in an instant. "I'm glad you're okay."

Your heart leaps into your throat. "Thanks, Spence, me too."

You expect him to return to his notes, but he just looks down and back up again. "Are you? Okay?"

You frown, more out of a lack of understanding, but he starts backtracking immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't press-"

"It's fine," you reassure, pressing your lips together. "It's what everyone's thinking anyway."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, so you continue to fill the silence. "You just can't let the stares get to you."

"How, though?" he says after a beat. You're not sure what he's asking, but the confusion you're feeling must be mirrored in your expression, because he elaborates. "Ever since my mom came here for the Garner case, I feel like everyone has been looking at me, with all this...pity."

Your chest squeezes as you think about all of the lingering stares that followed him around in the week after Garner killed himself. Even Morgan couldn't hide his shock when Mrs. Reid showed up at the field office. "Have I?"

He shakes his head, and your chest relaxes with relief. Spencer glances up at you, and he looks so young for a second. "You're one of the few who hasn't."

"I guess I just understand the stares better than anyone," you sigh, feeling the familiar ache as your memories return to you in flashes.

You hear him suck in a breath as the realization dawns on him. "Agent Adler..."

You nod and Reid gives you a second to take a breath before he continues. "He was my instructor once, you know. At the academy."

You smile as your eyes shine with unshed tears. "Yeah, I know."

There's this kid in my hand-to-hand combat seminar.

Kid?

He can't be more than 20, maybe 21 years old. But the kid has guts.

You remember those nights before Jeff joined organized crime so fondly these days. The calm before the storm.

"He never treated me differently."

You look up with a sad smile, the memory receding as Spencer shares his own. "Hotch made me take a few physical training classes at the academy after I joined. All the other instructors acted like I was a joke, or a prank being pulled on them...but he never did."

That doesn't surprise you. Jeff was so nurturing and kind, much better than you ever were before you met him.

"I really miss him sometimes," he whispers softly.

You reach forward and press your hand on top of his. He doesn't pull back. "Me too, kid."

***

You can't remember the last time the team went out together. There was one night, what feels like years ago, when you all got dinner together after an especially cut-and-dry case that ended within the first day you arrived on scene. When the cases are long and hard-fought, it's not the same; everyone bolts the minute the jet hits the tarmac.

Tonight, something feels different. There hasn't been a new case in a couple of weeks, and everyone seems lighter.

"I'm back," Haley smiles, carefully setting two drinks down on the little high top table you are crowded around. "Spicy marg for Emily, and mojito for me."

You're still nursing the old fashioned you ordered a half hour ago, and Hotch is only halfway through his pint of Guinness.

"How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?" Haley asks, before putting the straw in her mouth and taking a large sip.

"She means is he being nice to you," you grin, cocking your head at Hotch as he shoots you a look of mock-offense. You know I'm right.

He flashes his eyes. And?

"Everyone has been incredibly nice," she says with a smile as a waitress approaches you with a drink in her hand.

She sets it on the table in front of you and glances behind her. "That man over there bought this for you."

Haley starts hooting before the waitress has a chance to leave the vicinity. She's definitely starting to feel her mojito, but you would never judge her on her one night away from the baby.

"That was weird," you say, hoping you don't look as awkward as you feel.

Haley leans forward and grabs your hand, an earnest smile on her face. "You should go talk to him! Only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah, it's your night off," Emily agrees, shooting you a smirk over the rim of her margarita.

"I don't know, guys," you say, sliding the drink to the center of the table.

You can tell Haley isn't done encouraging you to have a wild night, so you brace yourself for the pounce, but thankfully, Hotch stands up just as she's opening her mouth, and takes her hand. "Come on, honey, let's go show them how it's done."

"Oh!" she smiles, her face lighting up as she follows him onto the dance floor. "You ladies don't have too much fun without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," you grin, before downing the last of your original drink.

Emily watches them shimmy into the crowd, her chin resting on her palm. "They are so sweet."

"They've been that way forever," you agree, glancing back over at them as they dance lazily in the center of the dance floor. Haley's movements are a bit looser as she slides through his arms, but he keeps a firm grasp on her hand, keeping her upright even when it looks like she may fall.

He still looks at her the same way he did in high school, when he saw her at that first rehearsal for Pirates of Penzance. There's so much wonder in his eyes, like he's seeing her for the first time, every time.

***

You should be happier right now. You're done with high school, sitting in a sea of green caps and gowns with all of your friends, but all you can think about is how soon he's going to be gone.

You're going to be at different schools next year. Him at Harvard, you at UCLA, opposite ends of the country, for four years. The gravity of what that means didn't sink in until this very moment, the worst possible timing, because you're supposed to be happy right now.

"High school couldn't end fast enough," the girl next to you grins, her cap decorated with the glittery letters of the school she will be attending next year. "I'm so ready for all of this to be over."

You're not. You force your lips into a smile and let yourself glance a few rows up, just for a moment. When it's just the back of his head, you aren't confronted by the confusing emotions that have been swirling around your brain for the last few months. Of course you would realize you're in love with your best friend a semester before school ends. But that isn't the only reason your timing couldn't be worse.

You wave at your dad in the crowd, you is wearing more school colors than even you are, and he waves back enthusiastically. It distracts you for a moment, but then you face the front again, and your eyes are drawn back to the same place.

He turns back then, with a grin meant just for you, and your heart flutters like it's in a butterfly enclosure. You smile back, more genuine this time, but his attention shifts behind you after a quick nod. You don't have to turn back to know who he's looking at in the stands.

You shouldn't be surprised they got along so well, you practically set them up. After their first date, he seemed lighter than air, giddy with the impatient brush strokes of a first love. The look in his eyes now is the same as it was that day.

How did it go?

I'm gonna marry that girl one day.

You don't know why you had just assumed he was joking around. Hotch never joked about things like this.

Eventually, he turns back around in his seat, and you stare at your hands as you clasp and unclasp them over and over and over again until you no longer feel the cavity in your chest where your best friend used to be.

***

The next case comes in as you're working on your second drink. JJ corrals everyone at the bar into taxis, and sends you all off to the airport where the jet is already fueled and waiting.

"You missed a fun night," you note as Gideon climbs into the plane, a few minutes after the rest of you arrived.

"I had a good time," he says simply, before sitting by himself a few rows over. He hasn't spoken to you since he gave you the incident report, but you know it's not about you. Being forced to let Frank get away was hard on him, but you don't know how to assuage his guilt about your kidnapping if he won't even look at you.

Derek flips open his case file and huffs out a breath. "Well, good time's definitely over."

"The Kyles," JJ says, beginning the briefing as the plane takes off, "Dennis and Lacy were murdered an hour ago in their suburban Atlanta home."

You look up, assuming you heard her wrong. "Only an hour ago?"

"Police were on scene unusually fast," she nods.

Derek frowns. "Why?"

"One of the unsubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims."

Prentiss lets out a humorless laugh from across from you. "You're kidding."

"From inside the house."

JJ scans the file again. "According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there."

Gideon enters the conversation with a confused frown. "Sinners?"

"Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed." She holds up a photo of a page that looks torn out of a book.

"Revelations, chapter 6, verse 8."

Gideon sighs. "They're on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing."

***

Gideon was right, as he usually is. The killings don't stop, and videos of the murders are posted online, spreading the killers' message for them.

"JJ, why don't you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr. Hankel and see if he remembers something."

"On it."

Garcia calls almost immediately after they leave. "There's a new video from our psycho."

Hotch stills. "Get it on the monitor here as soon as you can."

The police officer you met at the first crime scene joins you, Hotch, and Morgan in front of the computer as the video appears on the screen. The first thing you see is the dirty mattress. Then come the dogs.

You avert your eyes as the woman's screams for help fill the room.

"Jezebel's death," Hotch whispers, almost to himself.

"My god," Morgan grimaces. "You can turn it off."

The officer suddenly leans forward. "Oh, wait."

"You haven't seen enough?" Morgan asks, disgust coloring his tone. He has two sisters, both of whom he protects fiercely. You can't imagine what he's thinking about as he watches the screen.

"Those dogs," he says, his voice growing in strength as he speaks. "Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago. I would have had them impounded, but the victim knew the owner."

"You have the owner's name?"

He checks his notepad, flipping through it rapidly. "Hankel."

Your blood runs cold. "Hankel?"

"Tobias Hankel."

You're on your feet before he can finish saying his name.

***

The drive to the Hankel farmhouse is filled with hand wringing and nervous leg bouncing. You keep catching Hotch glancing over at you, but you don't care. You just need him to drive faster.

When he pulls up in front of the house, you and Emily throw your doors open before he can come to a complete stop. Hotch and Gideon head toward the house, so you lead Prentiss and Morgan over to the barn, where you can hear the faint sound of panicked breathing.

Lifting your gun and flashlight, you push open the barn door and are greeted by the sight of JJ pointing her gun at you. "JJ, it's L/N, Prentiss, and Morgan. You're okay."

She looks frenzied, her hair and clothes covered in a layer of sweat and grime. When her flashlight comes down, you notice the dead dogs on the ground.

"Tobias Hankel is the unsub," she gasps, stumbling over to you.

"We know, honey," you whisper, taking her arm and leading her outside, before glancing at Emily behind you. "Call an ambulance."

She nods and rushes over to the clearing in search of better cell signal as Derek steps forward, his face still twisted into a worried frown. "JJ, where's Reid?"

"They just completely tore her apart," she babbles, her eyes still frantic even as you put your hands on her shoulders to steady her. "There's nothing even left-"

"JJ, look at me."

Her eyes snap over to Morgan, and he brings his voice down again. "Where's Reid?"

"We split up," she says, her voice still tight, but slightly calmer. "He said he was going to go in the back."

"House is clear," Hotch calls from behind you, making you spin around, your mouth twisting with dread.

"So where is he?"

JJ's eyes glance back at the cornfield behind the house, and suddenly you're running. You can hear someone calling your name, but all you can think about is Spencer with an unsub who's idea of torture is biblical and cruel.

There are two sets of footprints in the dirt by the edge of the field, but after a few feet, they turn to drag marks. Oh no, oh god no.

***

The whole team - except for Reid, your brain keeps reminding you - sets up in Hankel's house, with even Garcia joining you on the scene to limit communication time.

You can't sleep as you alternate between reading Hankel's journals and hovering over Penelope's shoulder as she pores through his downloaded images and videos. Even as exhaustion pulls at your eyes, you periodically splash your face with water from the bathroom to keep yourself up. If anyone can understand how terrifying it is to be taken by a psychotic killer, it's you. Succumbing to sleep feels like a defeat, like you've given up on him.

You don't find anything useful until after Emily and JJ return from meeting with Tobias's N.A. sponsor, but in the sixth hour of scouring his journal, your brain clicks with a realization. "Guys, some parts of this journal match his father's handwriting. But they were written after he died."

"The bedrooms upstairs..." Gideon mutters, his eyes shifting up like they do when he's thinking. "One of Tobias's personalities may be his father."

Your brow furrows and you look down at the journal in front of you even as your eyes burn with fatigue. "Then who is Raphael?"

"My guess," Gideon sighs, "a mediator between the two."

Hotch looks at you, and you can see the concern etched into his face. "We need to start profiling Tobias's father. He may be the one who chose where to take Reid."

Morgan nods. "I'll get Garcia on it."

He leaves the room and Hotch comes over to the table, where you're still staring down at one of the journals. Your hands are covered in pink half-moon indentations where your nails were pressed, and he fights the urge to take you away from here, to save you from this hurt. "You should get some rest."

"I'm fine, Hotch," you whisper through gritted teeth. He can hear the worry in every word that leaves your mouth. The terror at the prospect of losing the team's youngest profiler.

"You didn't sleep at all last night," he points out gently.

"Neither did you."

You're not wrong. He didn't get a chance to shut his eyes either, but he's used to the sleepless nights. He supposes you are, too.

Your focus returns to the journal, and you don't notice as he slips out of the room and finds Gideon by the front of the house.

"Reid's brilliant," the older man sighs when he notices Hotch, almost like he's trying to convince himself. "He'll make it."

"I take advantage of Reid for his brain," he says softly, "but I never teach him how to handle things emotionally."

Jason shrugs. "Lead by example."

"What kind of example is that?"

For a bunch of criminal psychologists, you all still have no idea how to truly deal with losing people. Maybe that's just how life works. He thinks about the weeks after Jeff's death, when he wasn't sure if you would ever be okay again. Even as he held you while you cried, and promised that you would feel okay someday, he's not sure if he ever actually believed it.

But then one day, your eyes stopped shining at the mention of his name, and you no longer fell apart after each time you had to question a victim's widow.

Even after your mother's death, you were stoic. He remembers holding your hand at the funeral, but your grip was almost stronger than his, like you were holding him up with your sheer willpower to stay upright.

Seeing you now, he's not sure what will happen if Reid doesn't come back. He just knows he doesn't plan on finding out.

He and Gideon rush back inside when Garcia's voice frantically calls for everyone to look at Hankel's monitors. His eyes squint inadvertently as the video feed of Reid tied to a chair lights up the screens in front of them, almost like his brain is trying to block out the image.

Your hand flies to your mouth, but not before a small anguished sound escapes. "He's been beaten."

"This is for us," Garcia whispers, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He knows we're here."

"I'm gonna put this guy's head on a stick," Morgan spits out, before turning around and slamming his fist into the room's wooden door.

Gideon leans closer to the screens, clearly trying to take in any detail he can from the scene. "Why can't you locate him?"

"He's rerouting to a different I.P. address every 30 seconds," Garcia explains, her voice thick through the tears. "I can't track him."

***

The screens shut off and the video feed of Spencer is gone. Penelope starts frantically typing away at the keyboard, likely in an effort to regain the signal, but it doesn't seem to be working.

Your body feels heavy, like there are weights on all of your limbs. Realistically, you know it's mostly the stress and exhaustion, but you can't stop thinking about the frightened look on Reid's face and how he must be feeling.

When you walk back through the house, the sound of a hushed argument in the kitchen catches your attention.

"JJ, what do you want from me?"

You recognize Morgan's voice, and you almost turn away to give them some privacy, but something in JJ's voice as she responds keeps you at the door.

"I just...I want someone to tell me the truth."

"The truth is one of you is here, and one of you isn't. You gotta figure the rest out for yourself."

You're walking inside before you can stop yourself. "Morgan, go help Penelope with the video file."

He looks surprised when he sees you, but he doesn't argue before leaving the room.

JJ rakes a hand through her hair as you approach her slowly. She doesn't shy away as you stand next to her, so you reach out and squeeze her forearm once before pulling back. "I was terrified when Frank took me in Texas."

She looks up with a shocked expression, her eyes finally meeting yours for the first time all day.

"I was terrified," you repeat, "but I never lost hope, because I knew you guys would come for me, no matter what."

Her eyes crinkle with sorrow and you pat her arm again, almost as much for you as for her. "I didn't blame anyone for what happened to me, JJ. Reid isn't blaming you either."

Her lip trembles, and you pull her into a hug as the tears finally come.

***

"Your team members...choose one to die."

Spencer gasps on the grainy computer monitor. "Kill me."

"Tell me who dies."

"No."

The back and forth continues as Hankel stalks toward him and lines his revolver up with Reid's forehead. "Choose."

"I-I choose Aaron Hotchner."

The room stills.

"He's a classic narcissist. He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4. 'Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense. In emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.'"

Reid's words sink in and you unconsciously reach towards Hotch, but he's already walking out of the room. You follow him into the other room, the rest of the team on your heels.

"I'm not a narcissist," he says, his voice lighter than you're expecting. He grabs a Bible from the table and quickly flips through it, landing on the verse Reid mentioned.

"Come on, look," Gideon urges. "You can't think anything from that. He's not in his right mind, Hotch."

He waves away everyone's concern. "No. Stop. Stop. All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?"

No one says anything. You can feel Morgan revving up, so you jump in to start things off. "You're a workaholic."

Your mind flashes back to your hometown's library, all the late nights where you would fall asleep in your chair as he worked away into the early hours of the morning. His home was a trigger after his father died, and you could see the guilt eating away at him as he realized he didn't miss his dad as much as he was supposed to. As much as Sean did. The guilt that wore him down as he struggled to figure out how to be there for his brother, when he couldn't understand his pain.

He nods at you then, and there's nothing but determination behind his eyes.

"You're a bully," JJ chimes in.

Morgan adds, "You can be a drill sergeant sometimes."

Hotch is still nodding. "Right."

"You don't trust women as much as men," Emily says, her voice wavering slightly.

"Ok, good," he says, tapping the page with his finger. "I'm all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever."

"Hotch, what's your point," you whisper, chewing your lip as you anxiously glance back at the screen.

He shushes you with a wave of his hand. "Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted Genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it."

You lean forward, taking the book from him. "'I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.'"

"He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose."

"Bury my dead," Morgan repeats, his eyes widening. "He's in a cemetery."

***

Hotch heads to the nearest cemetery with Morgan and Gideon, while you follow closely behind, with JJ in the seat next to you and Emily in the back. The drive is short, and you all throw yourselves out of the SUV when you park, as everyone spreads out to search the cemetery.

"Come with me," you tell JJ when you see her eyes flit around the darkness, a slightly panicked expression on her face. "We'll find him."

The wet mulch of the graveyard sinks under your quick footsteps, and you keep your eyes peeled as his name choruses around you, from all of the officers milling around.

The search ends with the sound of a gunshot, and when you get to the source, you nearly collapse with the relief of seeing Hankel on the ground as Reid kneels beside him.

"Spencer," you gasp as the other agents examine Hankel's body. He looks up at the sound of your voice and his face contorts for a second as you kneel in front of him.

A small sound leaves his mouth and suddenly your arms are crushing him to you, your panic ebbing away with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "You're okay. You're okay."

Hotch reaches out when you break apart and helps him up before Reid pulls him into a tight hug that surprises everyone. "I knew you'd understand."

Hotch tightens his arms for a moment, before they both pull back and JJ throws her arms around Reid. "I'm so sorry."

He pats her back, and for a split second, you can almost imagine he's comforting her, instead of the other way around. "It's all right. It wasn't your fault."

She steps away from him and he asks for a moment alone, so you all move back a few paces, allowing him the time to come to terms with the death of the man who somehow both tortured and saved him. You use the second of space to catch your breath as you will yourself not to let the tears of relief fall.

When Spencer finally stands up, you grab onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you, and you help him over to the ambulance that is waiting by the edge of the cemetery.

"Thank you," you gasp as he sits on the edge of the vehicle, suddenly unable to help yourself.

He frowns, his hair hanging in sweaty pieces in front of his face. "For what?"

"For staying alive."

***

The next case takes you to New York, where you find yourself hyper-vigilant as you watch Spencer try to acclimate to the job again. You can't help but notice the small changes in his demeanor, including the snappiness in his tone as he responds to everyone's questions, but you attribute it to the shock of his kidnapping.

After returning from the city, you decide to take some time to complete the paperwork you've been letting slide. Hotch managed to head home at a decent hour for once, and JJ and Prentiss are no where to be seen, but you spot Morgan twiddling his thumbs at his desk, his eyes darting over to peer at Reid almost as often as yours do.

An hour into scribbling out a case report, you head over to the coffee station to refill your mug. It has cooled down since you made it a couple of hours ago, but it still tastes just how you like it.

Burnt, Hotch's voice grumbles in your head. Even when he's gone, he won't leave you alone.

Topping off your mug, you turn around to get back to work and end up bumping into Reid, who looks worse for wear than he did on the jet.

"Shit, sorry," you smile, trying to get him to meet your eye. "I didn't see you there."

"Watch where you're going," he snaps, before stepping around you.

You don't let him get away that easily. Grabbing his arm, you hold him in place as he tries to wriggle away. "Spencer, don't do that. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I'm fine," he says simply, his expression almost emotionless as he glances back at you over his shoulder.

"I'm serious," you say, putting extra emphasis on your words. "I know what you're feeling. I can help."

His expression shifts into one of animosity and something else you can't place. "You don't know anything about what I'm feeling."

His words are like a slap to the face, and he uses your break in focus to tug himself out of your grip and stalk over to the bathroom around the corner.

You press your lips together, willing yourself not to take it personally. He's just been through a horrifying ordeal. No one can expect him to continue on like normal, at least for a little while.

"Something is up with him," Morgan says from his desk, before spinning in his chair to look at the spot where Reid walked away. "He's acting...hostile."

"He's just adjusting," you say quickly, your protective instinct coming out in full force. You close your eyes for a moment to calm your voice down. "This is a normal reaction for what he went through."

Derek doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press the issue. You don't even know if you're convincing yourself, because you know why this kind of hostility and irritation manifests: when you're hiding something.

You weren't a particularly crazy teenager, so you didn't have much to hide from your parents, but there was one secret you held until you left for college that manifested in your daily interactions. One secret that changed how you acted around your best friend, how you spoke to him, how you even looked at him.

You push the thought away before turning to stare at the bathroom door as it falls shut behind Reid. You know Morgan's right. You just don't know what to do.

***

"Hey, Reid," Derek says, looking at him with a small smile. "What's going on up there?"

He shrugs. "Just thinking of this old friend of mine from Las Vegas, Ethan. Pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now."

JJ called you at home a few hours ago with the briefing and an instruction to pack for warm weather. Wanting to pack light, you threw on the tank top you planned to wear, and a button-down for the flight. A few cursory glances around the jet tell you that almost everyone else had the same idea. Of course, Hotch is still in his suit, and Reid has on a sweater vest that you're sure he won't take off, even if the temperature skyrockets.

"Really?" Derek asks. "You going to give him a call?"

Reid shrugs again, and you absentmindedly wonder if his shoulders hurt from the number of times he has used that motion over the past week. "We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything. Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the Bureau but first day at Quantico he backed out."

Emily, who is sitting next to you, looks up with a grin. "He probably just couldn't take the heat."

"It's not really for us to judge, is it?" Reid states, and her face falls immediately.

"Right. My bad."

He hasn't been as irritable in recent days, but sometimes a random response will rub him the wrong way. You find Emily's hand on the armrest and squeeze it once. She looks down at her hand and then at you, a grateful smile on her face.

JJ directs everyone back to the images that were recovered as you approach Louisiana.

"A slaughter like this takes time," you note as you examine the depth and shape of the wounds on the dead man in the photos before you.

"Andrei Chikatilo fantasized that the men he killed were his captives," Reid adds, chiming in from across the cabin, "and that torturing and mutilating them somehow made him a hero."

Gideon nods, looking up from his file. "This city's barely back to life. Something like this could cripple its psyche."

"So," you say, looking at JJ. "Where do we start?"

She sighs. "All of the records were washed away in Katrina."

"With no case files, there's only one place we can start," Hotch says, drawing your attention. "Square one."

The plane lands soon after, and you disembark into the midday heat, heading to the latest crime scene immediately after dropping your bags off at the station.

Instead of a body, there's a very alive man waiting for you all at the scene.

"You must be BAU," he says, reaching out to shake JJ's hand. "Will Lamontagne."

She smiles at him, accepting the handshake. "Hi, Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone."

The detective is looking at her so intently, you almost feel like you're interrupting something by bring here. "Okay, then. I pictured you different."

You glance over at Emily, who is already looking at you, a smirk on her face.

"These are Agents Gideon, Morgan, Prentiss, and L/N," she introduces. "This is Detective William Lamontagne Jr."

He nods at you. "Appreciate you guys being here."

"Of course," you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you shake his hand. Beside you, JJ has turned a light shade of mauve that you presently allow her to pretend is just from the heat.

***

"Morgan called," Hotch mentions when you finally meet him back at the station. He hasn't seen you since you got off the plane. "He and Prentiss think the unsub is a woman."

You ponder the idea, your eyes lighting up as the gaps in the profile get filled. "All straight male victims, killed while on a night out at the bars. Always in groups of other men, drinking. A woman would be able to lure them away. That makes sense."

He nods, turning back to the letters from the unsub. He's about to call the rest of the team back in when he notices your forehead crinkle out of the corner of his eye. You look up at him. "Wait, you said Prentiss and Morgan think it's a woman. What about Reid? Didn't he fly out with them?"

He sighs, mentally kicking himself for letting that slip. He doesn't want you worrying about Reid any more than you already have been, but he knows there isn't anything he can do to stop you. "Apparently he missed the flight. They couldn't get ahold of him."

"What?" Your brow furrows with concern, and he quickly interjects to keep you from spiraling. "They will be back from Texas any minute now, and Gideon said he spotted Reid heading over here a few minutes before you arrived. Nothing has happened to him."

"What are you talking about?" you exclaim, before bringing your voice down. "The worst thing happened to him. He's hurting more than any of us can possibly imagine. I just don't know how to help him get through it."

He doesn't correct you. He doesn't say that almost every single member of this team can at least somewhat relate to what Reid may be feeling, including you. Instead, he puts his hand on your arm and says, "You're doing all you can."

You sigh. "And what's that?"

"You're promising to be there when he's ready for your help." He sees the tension visibly leave your shoulders, and he pulls his hand back. "That's all any of us can do."

***

When another body is found in the French Quarter, the plan changes. Everyone disperses in pairs to cover the streets in the hopes of catching the unsub in action.

Even as night falls, the temperature doesn't, and you strip off your over-shirt, leaving you in a pale pink tank top. When you emerge from the bathroom, Hotch is the only one waiting for you outside, with all of the other pairs already patrolling Bourbon Street.

He gives you a funny look when he sees you tying your button-down around your waist, and you bump your shoulder against his with a laugh. "What are you looking at?"

He exhales in a quick burst, before meeting your eye. "You look different."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes blinking shut as he clearly regrets his choice of words, "no, it's good...uh, you look good."

Your stomach flips and you turn your face down to hide the smile that's threatening to appear. "Thanks, Hotch."

He huffs out a laugh before leading you up to the bars, where tourists are bustling around in large groups. The sounds of buskers playing their accordions at the street corners loosens a memory from your brain, and you turn to him with a bright smile. "Remember your first performance of Pirates of Penzance?"

He frowns. "I remember it being my first and last foray into the world of theater."

"No," you giggle, glancing around you periodically even as you continue the story. "I mean, do you remember how that one accordion player tripped and almost fell into the orchestra pit like ten minutes into opening night?"

His eyes light up at the memory and he laughs. "I thought it was hilarious, but Haley was so stressed out the whole performance. To this day, I've never seen that vein in her forehead get so big."

"You were pirate number four," you chastise him with a grin. "She was one of the leads. I hardly think you can compare experiences."

He shrugs, his eyes still scanning the vicinity. He looks like he wants to say something, but then you both notice Morgan and Reid rushing towards one of the side streets and your conversation halts. "Let's go."

***

With help from Detective Lamontagne and his late father, the team is able to catch the unsub right before she kills another man. Once she's in custody, you wait outside by the ambulances, watching from afar as JJ and Will talk by his car.

After a few minutes, she hands him something and walks back over to where you're standing. "I can't believe I just did that."

"What did you do?" you ask, trying not to laugh at how freaked out she looks.

She puts her face in her hands for a second, before looking at you with a sigh. "I gave him my number."

"That's good!" you smile, squeezing her arm. "That's good, right?"

"I don't know," she says softly, her eyes squinting as she looks at you. "He seems really sweet. And he's clearly great at his job. I think the distance just worries me."

"You can take it slow," you tell her earnestly. "This doesn't have to be any more serious than you want it to be."

"What if I want it to be serious? Eventually, I mean."

You can't help but smile at the look on her face. You recognize it on yourself from when you first met Jeff: the excitement of possibility. "Then that's up to you too."

She nods, and you let out a smile. "Let loose, JJ. He seems like a good one, and you definitely deserve something good."

JJ glances over at the police cars, where Will is talking to one of the paramedics. "I hope so."

***

You sit by yourself on the flight home, giving yourself a bit of time to unwind from the case. You don't encounter female unsubs often, but the ones that arise always have a tendency to get under your skin. Maybe it's because their motivations seem so different from the others. Or maybe you just feel bad for them.

You're so zoned out that you don't realize Spencer is sitting next to you until he taps your arm. "Hey."

"Hey, Spence," you smile, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn't think you expect too much. "What's up?"

He looks down for a beat before meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Your heart twists and you press your lips together to keep from speaking too quickly. "You never have to apologize to me."

"I do," he says, shaking his head. "Please just let me."

He looks so strong all of a sudden. You haven't seen him look so steady in months, and it makes your chest feel lighter. "Okay. I forgive you, Spencer."

He nods, making a move to get up, but you don't let him get away just yet. "Just promise me something."

He purses his lips, like he's unsure of how to respond, but eventually he dips his chin into another nod.

"Promise me that next time you feel this way, you'll come to me."

He looks at you with an expression you can't decipher, but it quickly falls into contrition. "I promise."

***

"What are you thinking about?" Hotch's shoulder bumps yours as he sits down on the edge of the desk next to you.

"Nothing," you say quickly. He's not sure why you're lying. He can sniff out your dishonesty from a mile away.

"I thought you and Reid got a chance to talk on the plane last week," he frowns, following your line of sight.

You sigh, turning your gaze away from the younger agent. "We did. I just keep thinking about what he said about the unsub at the last scene."

He's like a drug addict.

It would be almost impossible for him to quit without help.

"All of us knew," he says softly, his eyes turning up, searching for something he can't see. "To some extent, we knew. But he's doing a lot better now. We just have to give him time to trust us with the truth."

Your eyes find his. "How did you know you could trust me? When we were kids, I mean?"

Your question takes him aback. He wants to say something profound, to mention a specific moment when he realized that he could share the worst parts of his life with you without the fear that the world would end, but it wasn't that poetic. All he knows is that you were a kid, and he was too, and the first time you saw the splotches of black and blue painting his skin, you didn't turn away. You looked at him, not with pity or sorrow, but with a strength that he still draws from to this day. "I think I just knew you would always be there."

You ponder his words, your eyes traveling back to Reid, who is flipping through a book he brought with him. He knows there are a lot of ways you could take what he said, but he believes you'll take what you need, because he was telling the truth.

You really were always there for him. Even when you weren't - either because of physical distance or because you were in a fight - he never doubted that you would be there if he needed you.

"Come on," he says after a beat. "Let's head back."

You nod, your mind still a million miles away. "Okay."

***

Friday nights used to be your date night. Jeff would promise to be home by seven, usually with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers, and you would cook something special together before watching a movie or falling into bed.

After he died, Friday nights became your least favorite time of the week, serving as a constant reminder of what you should have, and no longer do.

Today, for the first time in over two years, you think you might be ready to remember those nights you used to love. Grabbing a bottle of cabernet from your pantry, you pull out a thin-stemmed glass and pour yourself some wine. Your heart thuds heavily as you swirl the wine around, and you are willing yourself to bring the glass to your lips when your pager goes off. You feel a shameful sense of relief as you set your glass down and reach for your purse.

181 Arthur Street. Why does that look familiar?

You wrack your brain for a second before it clicks. It takes you less than a minute to toss your wine into the sink and grab your coat.

***

"Where's Gideon?" you ask when you spot Hotch and the team standing in his kitchen.

"He's not here," he replied. "It seems he left in a hurry."

Morgan looks at him with an urgency you recognize in yourself. "PD thinks he did this?"

"They have six witnesses who saw him running down the street covered in blood, wielding a gun."

"Okay, he was probably chasing the son of a bitch who did do this."

Hotch shrugs, and you can feel the momentary helplessness in the motion. "Either way, we're under strict orders not to get in the way of the investigation."

"Gideon's a suspect," Emily nods, "we're his colleagues."

"Conflict of interest," JJ agrees. "There's no way they'll ask for our help."

"Which he needs badly right now."

You turn into the bedroom to look at the crime scene for the first time. The mutilation of the victim's body brings a familiar nausea to your stomach that you swallow down. "Do we know who she is?"

Hotch comes in behind you. "An old school friend." He turns back to spout off a list of instructions to JJ, but you can't take your eyes off of the woman.

Evisceration of the torso. Removal of various organs. No defensive wounds.

Something in her hand catches your attention and your eyes flicker down to see what she's clutching. Using one of your gloved hands, you pry open her fist and reveal a broken piece of bone. A rib bone.

"Frank," you whisper, almost to yourself. "It's Frank."

"What did you say?" Morgan asks, stepping up next to you. You unfurl your hand to reveal the bone, and he swears under his breath. He turns around to address the rest of the team. "Frank's back."

After JJ snaps a dozen photos of the crime scene on her phone, you all head out into the night air to regroup and formulate a game plan. You hang behind the team on the walk out, your mind spinning with memories of hands and voices you still see sometimes when you're trying to fall asleep.

"Y/N." Your eyes snap up to Emily's as she strolls alongside you. "You okay?"

She looks sincere, and you find yourself wanting to talk all of a sudden. You nod, heaving out a sigh. "Yeah, it just feels very fresh all over again."

"I can imagine." She takes your hand and gives it a small squeeze. "You can come to me if you need a break from all of it."

She leaves you with an earnest smile, and you realize, not for the first time, how glad you are that she's on the team.

***

You aren't able to save Rebecca Garner this time. Frank kills her, and you once again feel that familiar bitterness of nausea rising in your throat as you see her mutilated body.

When you realize he's going to go after children again, you join Hotch and Morgan as they go to Tracey Belle's house.

"We need a crime scene team," Hotch barks into his comm when the home comes up empty, no trace of anyone inside.

"That's my house!"

You turn around and see Tracey's parents running up to the entrance, panic reflected in their eyes.

Hotch steps forward to block them. "Mr. Belle..."

"You have to let us in. My daughter's in there."

He turns to the mother. "Ma'am, you can't go in right now."

"Where's Tracy? Where is she?"

You can see the interaction pulling him down, like a ship anchored to the sea floor.

"What's important to know right now is Tracy is alive, okay? Your daughter's alive."

S.W.A.T. takes the parents aside to explain the situation to them in more detail, and you go to Hotch's side as a pained expression crosses his face. More than anything, you want to comfort him. To tell him that Tracey isn't Jack, that this won't happen to him...but how can you?

Gideon's girlfriend was murdered tonight. Jeff was killed while undercover. Your mother was killed by a drunk driver. No one is ever really safe.

Your eyes flash back over to Mr. and Mrs. Belle, and your chest tightens almost uncontrollably as you imagine how scared Tracey must be.

When Emily and JJ find Jane in a holding cell at the local precinct, her knowledge of Frank's backstory provides more clues about his whereabouts. You go with JJ and Reid to his mother's apartment in Manhattan, while the rest of the team heads to the train station to find Frank.

The idea of Tracey being all alone, frightened for her life, plagues your every thought as the three of you drive to the city. You try to clear your mind as you push through the front door and check for any sign of life. Instead, what you find is the dusty corpse of Frank's late mother.

"Guys, over here." Reid points to a latched door. Stepping around the bed, you immediately unlock the door and throw it open, revealing the tiny, shivering form of Tracey.

"Oh, sweetie," you gasp as sits up in fright, her posture only relaxing once she sees the FBI vests. "You're okay, honey."

You undo the ties on her wrists and she all but falls forward and into your arms. You pull her into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of any possible injuries she could have sustained. The feeling of her chest rising and falling against yours brings you a familiar comfort, and you squeeze her tighter, before finally letting go.

***

He finds himself in Strauss's office again as he explains what happened with the Frank case. How he killed himself and Jane, but he can't bring himself to take that as a failure, because he knows she never would've found the strength to leave him anyway. "Once again, the team has battled a monster and won."

"The future of the BAU is not in the balance here." Her eyes are brimming with scorn. "The residual impact as a result of the investigations into the crimes and criminals you pursue is. Every cause has its effect."

He almost scoffs. "You think I don't know that?"

"I believe you are no longer effective in your post."

There it is. He knows she never liked the way he handled his team. The next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. "The modern furniture, strategically placed magazines, the framed diplomas, the art on the wall are all in conflict with your family photos."

Her eyes widen but he just continues, undeterred.

"You have three children, but you favor the middle one, your son."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Of course you love all your children," he shrugs, "but not like your son."

Strauss twists her hand into a fist. "That's enough."

"The bonsai that you obsessively nurture is to compensate for feelings of failure as a mother..."

"Agent Hotchner," she says, her voice bordering on rage. "I said that is enough. My position is not in question here. As your superior I am questioning your ability to lead your team."

"My team?" he scoffs, unable to keep the malice from his tone. "Let me tell you about my team. Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him. Why? Because trust has to be earned and there are very few people he truly trusts.

"Reid's intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions and at the moment his shield is under repair.

"Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn't yet feel she's a part of the team. She needn't worry.

"Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices.

"Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.

"Agent Gideon in many ways is damned by his profound knowledge of others, which is why he shares so little of himself. Yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.

"And Agent L/N," he pauses finally, taking a moment to find himself again, "she has taken the immense loss that life has handed to her and transformed it, not into cynicism, but into empathy, for her team, for the victims, for the world."

Strauss doesn't say anything, and he can't help the vindication that shines through his voice as he says, "I stand by my actions and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck."

"Agent Hotchner," she emphasizes, making him look back at her one last time.

"How do I know you favor your son?"

She simply looks at him, a mixture of irritation and shame on her face.

"I'm good at my job."

***

"What's wrong?" Hotch looks up in surprise as you sidle up next to him. He was staring at the portrait of the FBI director, hanging in the hallway outside the bullpen, and he only does that when he's professionally stressed.

He looks like he wants to avoid the question, but you fix him with a glare that makes him sigh. "We're being evaluated."

"Doesn't that happen every year?" you ask, still not understanding.

"It's six months early."

You take a deep breath. This past year has been tough for everybody, but you think the team has come through the other side better people. "So they're assessing our unit. It'll be fine, we did great work this year."

"The only file they didn't request was mine."

That sends a spike of anxiety through your bloodstream, but he doesn't need your fear. "They could never fire you. You stepped up to the plate when Gideon left. You helped make this unit what it is."

You're the reason I joined at all, you want to say. You made this unit my family. I can't imagine being here without you.

But that isn't fair. He doesn't need to carry this with you. This burden of having no one else.

So instead you just smile at him, bump his shoulder with yours, and say, "You're going to be fine. This team wouldn't be the same without you."

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @distortionbobble, @sanayikes (message me to be added!)

[storiesforallfandoms]

santa's sister in law ~ bernard the elf;the santa clause

word count: 4292

request?: no

description: in which he is adamantly against the in laws coming to the north pole, until he meets santa's sister in law

pairing: bernard the elf x female!human!reader

warnings: christmas fluff, sylvia sucking a little bit but that's just canon

masterlist (one, two, three)

Merry Christmas everyone! 🎄

a special christmas gift for @omeletdreamer 😌

Bernard was firmly against Carol's family coming to the North Pole. He liked Carol, don't get him wrong. She was a fantastic Mrs. Claus, and he loved her idea to start an elf school at the Pole. He understood that it was hard to adjust to life at the Pole, especially while she was pregnant. But bringing outsiders there was a big no-no. They were already pushing things by letting Laura, Neil, and Lucy in on the secret of Santa.

But all of his protests fell on deaf ears. Santa wanted Carol to have her family while he was going to be busy, and the other elves just wanted Carol to be happy. It was a thousand against one. So, Santa got into his sleigh and flew to get Carol's parents while the elves fixed up the Pole to look like Canada.

"This is never going to work," Bernard said to Curtis. "There's no way they're going to think this is Canada. Even if they believe these ridiculous store signs, they'll never believe Canada is inhabited by a bunch of children."

"Can you not be so negative for once?" Curtis asked. "It'll be fine."

"We are seriously pushing it with how many people know about the Pole and Santa. You can't blame me for being stressed out over it."

"Everything will be fine, Bernard. We have a plan. We got this."

Bernard huffed a sigh and walked away. He was tired of being brushed off like this. He didn't become head elf for nothing. He knew what he was doing. If only someone would just listen to him.

As he was walking away, he heard something in the distance. He looked up to see Santa's sleigh breaching through the entrance to the Pole. He couldn't see them yet, but he imagined Carol's parents in there, asleep from Sandman's magic, expecting to wake up in "Canada". He cringed to himself. There's really no going back now.

"I need a hot cocoa," he muttered to himself.

The kitchen elves were busy baking away when Bernard walked in. Carol had told them her mom's favorite cookies so they were hard at work making a batch to welcome Mrs. Newman. They were wearing comically large chef's hats pulled down to cover their pointy ears, which made Bernard glad his hair was long enough to do that naturally.

"Hi Bernard," Abby said, giving him a bright smile upon noticing him. "Want a hot cocoa?"

"I'd love one, Abby," he responded, sitting down at one of the tables.

She rushed off to make it for him. He picked up a cookie from a plate in the middle of the table to eat while waiting. Abby returned with his hot cocoa. He blew on it, disturbing the steady steam coming from the drink. He hoped that escaping to the kitchen would give him some time to prepare for Carol's parents.

He was taking his first sip of his hot cocoa when the kitchen doors opened again and in walked Santa, Mrs. Claus and her family in tow. Bernard nearly choked on his drink.

"And here's our kitchen," Santa was saying. "Oh, and Bernard's here too! Bernard is my, uh, he's my...assistant."

Bernard tried not to roll his eyes at the title.

He reluctantly stood and plastered a smile on his face. "Hi, nice to meet you...eh."

Carol's dad shook his hand while her mom pulled him in for an embrace. Bernard wasn't prepared for a third person to approach; a young woman with a smile so beautiful it left him speechless.

"This is my sister," Carol said. "We didn't know she was coming too."

"I'm (Y/N)," the woman said. "Mom and dad mentioned they were coming for a visit, so I asked Scott if it was alright for me to tag along."

"Of course it would be alright!" Sylvia cut in. "Scott's already had Carol from us for so long, he'd never say no to bringing Carol's loving sister with us to finally see her again."

Sylvia had a smile on her face but there was venom in her words. (Y/N) cringed and tried to ignore her mother's comment. "It's really lovely here so far. I'm glad I could come."

Bernard was still tongue tied. He kept opening and closing his mouth like an idiot trying to figure out something to say. (Y/N) was watching him, waiting, while Scott and Carol shared an amused look.

"Let's show you the rest of the place," Carol said, putting an arm around her sister. "We'll meet up with Bernard again later."

(Y/N) smiled and waved goodbye as the group left the kitchen. Once they were gone, Bernard felt like he was freed from a spell. He let out a long breath and slumped back down to the table. His hot cocoa had cooled down enough that he finished the rst of it in two gulps.

~~~~~~

Bernard was up late that night doing his rounds of the workshop. All the other elves had left for the night, but Bernard was often the last one up making sure everything was shut down and nothing was left out of place. With the in laws visiting, he was also making sure the workshop was locked up so no one would accidentally wander in and discover everything.

He was preparing to leave when he noticed the door to the kitchen was slightly ajar. He was sure all the baker elves had left for the night, but maybe someone had stayed behind. He poked his head into the room and almost gasped aloud when he saw it was (Y/N) who was leaning against the counter, a mug of hot cocoa in her hands. She was in her pajamas, clearly preparing for bed. Bernard was about to back away and leave her be, until she looked up form her mug and caught him. She smiled and waved to him.

"Good evening, Bernard," she said.

There was no escaping now. He stepped into the kitchen and cleared his throat, trying not to seem as weird as he had earlier. He discretely made sure his ears were tucked away under his hair.

"Hi," he said. Simple, easy. You can't mess up a "hi".

"What are you doing up so late?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

She giggled. "Touché. I was having trouble sleeping so I decided to come out for a hot cocoa. That nice baker, Abby I think? She offered to make me one before she left. I was told she makes the best hot cocoa in all of the town."

"Oh, she does. She's the one you go to when you want a good hot drink made."

"She works magic, I'm sure."

Bernard tried not to let his smile falter. "You have no idea."

A silence fell over them. (Y/N) softy blew on her hot cocoa before taking a sip from it. A small trail of foam stuck to her upper lip as she pulled her mug away. Bernard couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

"What?" she asked.

"You just...you have something..." He gestured to his top lip.

She ran a thumb along her top lip, only smearing the foam more.

"Here, let me." Bernard reached up and wiped the foam off with his own thumb. He was suddenly very aware of their closeness when he looked into her eyes. Any words he could ever say were stuck in his throat yet again and he could only imagine how insane he looked, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Thank you," she said. "And thank you for having us here, too. I know it's a busy time of year for you guys. We don't mean to impose."

It took Bernard a moment to remember the story they had been telling Carol's parents: that Scott was a toy maker in Canada and that's why he would be so busy this time of year and needed someone to be there with Carol while she was pregnant.

"It's not imposition," Bernard assured her. "If anything, I think it's going to make Sa - Scott feel better to have you guys here for Carol while he's working."

(Y/N) nodded. "It's very nice of him to have us here considering how my parents tend to treat him."

Bernard thought back to the comment Sylvia had made earlier. The strained relationship between Scott and his in-laws wasn't anything new to him. Scott had mentioned it a few times before, most recently when he was voicing his concerns about bringing Bud and Sylvia to the Pole with Bernard in private. It was evident that both Newman sisters also noticed how their parents treated Scott, and it seemed neither of them were too happy with it.

"I understand why mom and dad get upset," (Y/N) continued. "One minute Carol was a proud principal at the local middle school, and then the next thing we know she's writing us to tell us she got married to a guy we've never even heard of and moved off to Canada to be with him. I mean, even I was skeptical then. But when she'd write to me about Scott and about being here, it was clear that she was so happy and she found the man of her dreams. Who are we to judge the quickness that they got married? As long as she's safe and happy, which she clearly is. But mom and dad don't see it that way. Dad is still convinced that Scott is a cult leader who stole Carol away or something."

(Y/N) paused and looked at Bernard. He had been listening as she spoke, just nodding along and not saying a word. She chuckled a little and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm rambling on about my family drama."

"No! It's-it's fine. Trust me, I've heard similar stuff from Sa - Scott."

She gave him a look. "You keep stuttering on Scott's name."

"Yeah."

He couldn't think of a better explanation besides that. He felt an unfamiliar burning sensation in his cheeks. He wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or just from being so close to her that made him feel that way. She giggled, though; a sound more beautiful than any of the twinkling bells that were often heard around the Pole.

"I'm just glad to be here," she said. "And I'm glad mom and dad can be here for when the baby is born. Maybe that will help them be a little less harsh on Scott."

She finished what was left in her mug and looked around the oversized kitchen. When Bernard realized she was probably trying to figure out where to put the dirty mug, he said, "Oh, I can take care of that for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. You're our guest, and I can handle this."

She smiled and passed him the mug. "Well, thanks for talking to me, Bernard. I guess I should try to sleep again."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight, Bernard." She started towards the door, but then paused to turn back to him. "I hope you're not too busy tomorrow. I'd like to spend more time with you."

His face was on fire as she left.

~~~~~~

For the first time in his thousands of years as the head elf, Bernard wasn't concerned with his head elf duties. Of course he was still there if Santa needed him, but he decided not to spend the entire day in the factory and to seek out (Y/N) to spend time with her. She was delighted to see him and was more than happy to accept his offer to show her around "Canada" for the day.

This became a regular occurrence for a few days. Bernard would make sure to check in often to see if he was needed, but if he wasn't he was with (Y/N). He would feel bad about taking her away from her time with her family, but it seemed her parents were more concerned with fussing over Carol than they were about all four of them spending time together. And (Y/N) also assured Bernard that she was making time for Carol and her family as well as spending time with him.

Bernard was more than well aware he was falling in love with (Y/N), and he was also more than well aware of how bad that was. Elves falling in love was nothing new; he had officiated quite a few elf weddings in his time. But falling in love with a human was out of the question. Elves were immortal, humans were not. Scott and Carol were different - upon becoming Santa and Mrs. Claus, their aging processes had slowed down considerably. They weren't completely immortal, but they weren't aging as fast as normal humans did. But that wasn't possible for a human that an elf fell in love with. Even if (Y/N) felt the same way towards Bernard, she would still continue to age while he would stay the same for the rest of time.

But he couldn't stop himself. He was falling fast and hard. Carol's due date was creeping closer, and once it came it would only be a matter of time before the Newman family would have to go back home, meaning that (Y/N) would leave and likely would not come back. That thought hurt Bernard.

Bernard was approaching where (Y/N) was staying one day when she slipped out of the house instead. He was surprised; she had never left before he had gotten there before.

As he got closer he realized that her face was tearstained.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

(Y/N) jumped and turned to look at him. "Oh, Bernard. Sorry, I didn't see you coming. Nothing's wrong."

He was about to point out that she was very obviously upset over something when the door opened again and Sylvia slipped out. She looked like she was about to say something, but she noticed Bernard and gave him a tight smile, one that he had come to learn was very much her fake smile.

"Hello, Bernard," she said. "I was just having a conversation with my daughter. We were talking about spending the day with Carol. We haven't had an all girls day since we arrived. So, unfortunately, I don't think she'll be able to spend time with you today."

"No mom," (Y/N) said. "I said I would join you later for girls time. Besides, you know Carol has an appointment with the doctor. She won't be ready till later."

Her mother was smiling but her eyes were glaring daggers into the younger Newman girl. (Y/N) held the glare before turning to Bernard and taking hold of his arm. She didn't say anything as she dragged him away. He followed anyways, wanting to get as far away from Sylvia as he could.

"God, I don't understand what is wrong with her," (Y/N) said, letting go of Bernard long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I swear she just doesn't want Carol and I to be happy."

"What was she saying?" Bernard asked.

"Oh, she was going off about the fact that I spend so much time with you. Had her usual rant about Scott taking her precious daughter away from her and dad, and then said she'll be damned if she lets it happen with me too. Basically tried to guilt me into not spending time with you today by saying that Carol was upset that she didn't get to see me much, which I know isn't true because just the other day Carol was saying how happy she was that you and I were getting along."

She shook her head. "I'm so sick of it. It's like she can't wrap her head around the fact that maybe, just maybe, life is so busy here that Carol doesn't always have time to visit. It has nothing to do with Scott being manipulative or a cult leader or whatever conspiracy her and dad have cooked up on a certain day."

Bernard listened in silence. He felt bad that (Y/N) had to have these issues with her mother. Carol was hearing it all now, but he was sure (Y/N) heard much more of it when she was back home with her parents.

None of the Newmans could ever understand the way things were with Carol and Scott. They could never know why things were like this, but they likely wouldn't understand even if they knew.

Unless...

It was an idea that shocked even Bernard that he had it. Head elf of the North Pole, Santa's righthand man himself, considering such a thing? After being so against Carol's family coming to the Pole? It was preposterous. But his brain was so clouded by love for (Y/N) that he wasn't thinking proper.

"Come with me," he said. He didn't wait for an answer, just took hold of her hand and pulled her towards the workshop.

His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in hips pointed ears. He had to remind himself there was no going back. This was going to be huge, and it could likely get him into a world of trouble.

He opened the doors to the workshop and (Y/N) stepped in. She looked around in awe at the working elves, most of which were not hiding their ears as the workshop was supposed to be off limits to the Newmans. None of them seemed to notice the two of them enter, and if they did, nothing was said.

Bernard watched (Y/N), nervously waiting for her reaction.

"Is this...what I think it is?" she asked him. "No, it can't be. I must be dreaming. I fell and hit my head and now I'm in a coma having a very vivid dream that all of these small people who are supposed to be Canadians have pointed ears like they're elves."

When she looked over at him, Bernard had taken off his hat and allowed his ears to peak out from under his hair.

"I've lost it," she decided.

"You haven't," he assured her. "All of this is real. It's why Carol hasn't been able to visit as much, or why you couldn't visit until now. Look, there's so much to know about all of this. So much that I want to tell you but technically I can't because there are strict rules about humans knowing about the North Pole."

(Y/N) had another quick moment of shock that she was able to very quickly recover from. "Rules that you're currently breaking by showing me...Santa's workshop. By admitting that you're an elf, these are all elves...oh my God, my sister is Mrs. Claus."

"It is all very complicated," he said. "But you deserve to know that Carol is truly happy here. She's not being held against her will, Santa isn't manipulative or holding her captive. He loves her so much that he risked you and your parents finding out about him - about us - so that all of you could be here for her while she's pregnant."

(Y/N) still seemed to be stunned. She looked around the bustling factory again, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Wait," she said. "But...if you all went through so much to make us think this was Canada, to keep who Scott is a secret...then why are you telling me now?"

Because I love you. Because I want you to stay. Because I want to be with you more than anything, even though I know that will never happen.

"Because I want you to know the truth," he replied. "About all of this. About...about me."

She was looking at him. He didn't know what else to say, so he just looked back. He waited for an answer. He willed her to say something, anything.

She didn't say anything, though. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Bernard. It was quick, almost hesitant, and when she pulled away she looked embarrassed.

"Sorry," she said. "I...should I have done that? I should've asked first. Was it okay that I did that?"

He smiled. "It was more than okay."

"Okay. I'm...I'm going to do it again, if that's still okay."

Bernard chuckled and moved in to kiss (Y/N) first. He had only ever kissed one person before - when he was young one of the other elves had gave him a quick peck on the lips and ran away afterwards. Not exactly something glamorous or anything like that. So he was a little worried about whether or not he was a good kisser. Although, something felt so natural about kissing (Y/N), like he could never do it wrong even if he tried.

He paused when he realized a slight hush had fallen over the workshop. He and (Y/N) pulled away to see that all the working elves had stopped what they were doing to look at the two of them.

"Back to work!" Bernard commanded. They all quickly fell back into what they had been doing before. "Bunch of gossips, all of them. Everyone in town will know about this by nightfall."

"I don't blame them. I'd assume it's not every day that they see an elf kissing a human."

He chuckled. "No, I guess not."

They decided to step out of the workshop to talk more in private. (Y/N) looped her arm through Bernard's as they walked, a gesture that suddenly felt much more intimate than it had before.

"I guess it goes without saying that I can't tell anyone about this," she said. "Not even my parents."

"No. Which I know is a big ask, but we can't have the secret of Santa going around," Bernard explained.

"Not like anyone would believe me. They'd think I was crazy if I went home talking about how my brother in law is Santa and how I started crushing on one of his elves. They'd sent me to an institute for sure."

Bernard smiled at her word choice. So she had liked him this whole time, too. Had it been obvious? Or had she been trying to contain it just as much as he did?

"How...would things work...for us then?" she asked.

It was the question he was dreading. The one he continued to ask himself despite knowing the answer to: it wouldn't. He couldn't let (Y/N) hold on to him when she left the Pole. She'd likely never see him again, which was for the best.

Seeing the look on his face, (Y/N) stopped. "No, do not tell me it's not going to work."

"It can't work, (Y/N). There's too much complications between a human and an elf being romantically linked. It's never happened before, and for good reason."

"There's a first for everything."

He shook his head. "No, there can't be a first for this. I can't let you throw away any other romantic opportunities you have for me. We may never see each other after this visit."

"My sister is married to Santa. There's no way I'm not coming back after this. And besides, long distance relationships are a thing."

"This one would be...very long distance."

She slid her arm from his and took his hand in hers. "I'm willing to try. I like you too much to give up without a fight."

Every rational part of his brain was screaming for him to stop. He could not let things go further. It was better for her if they ended everything after that first kiss and went hteir separate ways.

But the less rational part of his brain was louder than the rest, telling him not to give up this chance at happiness outside of work. He deserved to love and to be loved, just like anyone else in the world. If it worked for Scott, it had to work for him too, right?

He sighed and squeezed her hands. "It won't be easy."

"I don't expect it to be."

"You won't be able to be here a lot unless you're willing to give up everything the way Carol did."

"That's fine, we can make that work."

"And if you do end up coming here permanently, you can't tell anyone who I really am, or who Scott and Carol really are. You'll have to lie to everyone in your life. Is that something you can be okay with?"

(Y/N) stepped closer to him so that their noses were nearly touching. "I'm already lying about Scott and Carol. What's one more lie about the man I love?"

Love.

It was enough for him to abandon all hope at resisting her. He closed the space between them, kissing her again so passionately that it made her head spin. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, while he wrapped his arms around her waist.

He could've kissed her forever. He could've stood there, wrapped around her and her wrapped around him, the cold nipping at them but barely bothering them, forever. He wanted to take this moment and freeze it, to never have to go back to his busy life as Santa's right hand elf ever again.

But she pulled away first, resting her forehead against his.

"I did promise my mom a girl's day," she said with a sigh. "And I think if I blow her off for this, she'll probably actually kill me."

"I guess I'll have to let you go then."

But he didn't, and she didn't let go of him. They laughed and kissed again.

It would be another several minutes before he would finally (and reluctantly) let her go.

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 10 * mv1

the 2023 season has ended and geri horner has made the mistake of inviting you to a house party where max is in attendance

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: swearing again huhuhu

notes: the real reason i procrastinated this is because i'm a loser and can't come to terms with the fact that this series is ending like HUUUUH

(series masterlist)

(prev)

you stare at the well-lit home, lips pressed together as you debate in your mind how much right you still have to be here. sure, you were personally invited by geri horner despite knowing about the breakup recently like everybody else, but you’re not quite sure if you belonged.

after all, you’re not max’s girlfriend anymore, and this is more of a team party to celebrate the season. you’re sort of out of place.

by the side of the house, you can see the strobing lights reflecting off the walls and the music coming faintly coming through. it’s still early in the evening, which makes you tilt your head in confusion as to why the party has already started.

perhaps someone has already taken over the playlist to start the party earlier than planned by the hosts themselves. something tells you daniel and yuki are already in the backyard in fits of giggles over their music choices.

because you can very clearly make out the high-pitched tone of baby shark playing.

“(y/n)!” a disembodied voice says over the music, a familiar redhead walking on the grass of her front yard with her arms held open wide for you. “i’m so glad that you made it!”

realistically, you were not going to come at all. but when the older woman texted you about a week ago about not forgetting your work commitments within the area like you mentioned a couple of months ago, it was hard to reject her all together.

especially when she expressed to you how much she missed linking arms with you every other weekend with shallow and petty rumours you hear; wine glasses in your hands as your boys did the racing part of the weekend.

just one last hoorah for the better part of the past 6 years you had.

you never really got to thank geri for her neverending and unconditional hospitality all because you were max’s girlfriend.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you mimic her gush, smiling widely as you gladly take her in for an embrace. “i’m sorry i didn’t get to meet you earlier. i was swamped with meetings and presentation preps.”

“oh, don’t even worry about it,” geri laughs, waving your apologies off as she pulls away. “you know, christian promised a cute little performance tonight for the team?”

you raise your eyebrows. every year, christian horner hosts their annual year-end party in his home. and every year alike, he will tease everyone about some performance that he will be doing against his best wishes. they never come.

it gets max excited and giggly at the possibility, only to be disappointed at the end of the day.

“do you know if he will actually do it this time?”

geri links arms with you, hunching as a giggle passes her lips. “he said because you made the extra effort to come tonight, he’ll finally do it just for you.”

no. it’s because this is the last of their parties thrown you’ll ever attend.

when you put it like that, your heart kind of hurts. you had no idea how integral being on the paddock on race weekends was to you. not until today.

you feign a laugh, wiping your palms on your blouse. “tell christian i’m so touched.”

“don’t even worry about it,” geri laughs, squeezing your arm. “come on, let’s go to the backyard where everyone currently is. you arrived pretty early, so i’m guessing you’re not quite used to the organised chaos.”

max was never a diva unless it came to attending parties or being at the paddocks on time. it’s like he had a personal vendetta against coming early.

“yeah, i can hear daniel speaking coherently so that’s always a sign,” you grin, following her across the grass patch to the side of the house. you don’t plan to stay very long.

the reason you came before the actual party started is so that you can avoid max. at least you can tell yourself that you at least tried to avoid regression of all the progress you have made.

as you make your way into the backyard, loud squeals and shrieks slowly come in as you see christian’s kids running around. on the dj table is in fact daniel and yuki attempting a remix of the children’s song as they hype up the girls.

“oh, it’s (y/n)!” yuki throws his hands in the air, jumping off the elevated dj booth. he jogs over to you and immediately throws his arms around you. “i haven’t seen you in so long!”

“yuki!” you squeal, arms wrapped around him as he picks you up, spinning you around before putting you down gently. “i miss the way you cook for me, you know? i don’t quite do it the same as you.”

“i’ll send you the recipes!” yuki beams, pulling away from you. “and then you’ll have to let me try them someday — that’s my only rule.”

"you're the boss," you shrug jokingly, rolling your eyes playfully. yuki taps you on the shoulder politely, answering the screaming kids in the backyard.

he politely excuses himself, jumping onto the dj platform again.

"oh, hey, it's you!" you look up to meet daniel's eyes, the australian taking you into a tight hug as you sway side to side. "i've missed you."

"my god, hey," you hug him tightly, taking a deep breath before letting it out shakily. "i'm sorry i'm so bad at answering your texts! i've just been so busy and totally not in the mood to talk..."

daniel gives her an understanding smile, squeezing her shoulder. "you know, i totally get it. don't sweat it, mate."

"thank you. is heidi coming today?" you ask softly, looking around for the other woman's presence.

"a little later than usual. she's coming from work," daniel explains. he leads her towards a patio table, arm slung over her shoulder as they walk. "so, how have you been?"

"hey, look who decided to arrive!" liam laughs, beckoning the older driver towards the filled table. he lifts his bottle of beer up and sends max a small nod to welcome him. "how nice of you to join us!"

max scrunches his nose. "thank you," he lifts his hand to try and quiet down the cheering from the majority of the table, "no need to clap. i was going to come anyway."

"have you had dinner?" yuki asks, a plate in his hands with some food still. "the food is great."

liam chirps, pointing at the grill near the patio of the house. "lucky for you, there's still food from the barbecue earlier."

max smiles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. he takes the empty seat next to daniel. "if christian's the one who grilled them, i might have to lie and say i've already eaten dinner."

"don't be ridiculous," hannah laughs. "christian hasn't touched that grill as per geri's request for parties like these. you know who does the grilling this time of the year."

max tilts his head. it takes him a while to process, but when he realisation strikes him, he feels his heart sink in his chest. you were here?

he almost wants to just call another uber to go home knowing that he missed your presence at the party. every year at parties like these in christian's home, you're in charge of that grill.

simply because christian gets too caught up in conversation with those around him and only produces near burnt meat. everybody has apparently complained about it for years, but when you came into the picture, you kicked the team principal away from his food duties.

you're much more efficient with the grill, anyway.

hannah's jaw drops when she notices max's silence. she presses her lips together. "oh, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-"

"it's alright," max smiles, dismissing her apology. "i just didn't know she attended."

"attended?" daniel snorts, leaning back in his seat. typically, daniel would never drop a fact he isn't sure you wanted out, but he's very wasted in his defence. "she's still here. geri called her in a while ago."

max's world starts to spin. this could be his chance. the only one left to make things right with you.

in fact, it didn't matter the outcome of the night. he just wanted to talk to you - see you one more time before he calls it quits on the hopes of ever having you back in his arms.

"she's still here?" max perks up, his hands gripping on the armrests of the patio seat like his life depended on it. he looks around the table, at liam, at hannah, everyone, but they don't give him an answer.

they just stare at him, lips parted as max's chest starts to heave from the simple thought of you being a few metres from him. he throws his hands in the air. "guys?"

"yes," yuki spits out, putting his plate on the table. "she is still here. she's inside the house with geri and the kids."

he breathes out shakily, scanning the exterior of the home. he nods, all the while he feels like his body is floating. he never thought he’d ever come by you ever again after everything that happened.

especially with all the rumours that can be taken out of proportion without you talking, it’s all definitely too much.

"oh, i need to talk to her," max says hurriedly, scrambling to get to his feet. he is only able to take one step away from the table when the lights go out and christian's voice is heard on the speakers set up at the dj booth.

he sighs, forced to sit back down again. of course this is the year christian decides to follow through with his promises to perform for the entire team.

daniel sighs, though a sloppy smile stretches his lips. "oooh, christian's going to get down and dirty," he mutters, wiggling in his seat while he giggles with his beer bottle right by his mouth.

that’s when he sees you, running out of the doors that lead to the backyard, surrounded by christian’s squealing and giggling children that sounded above the booming music. your hair is up in a claw clip, your fringe framing your face just as well.

while christian’s performance is something he’s been looking forward to his entire formula 1 career, he can’t help but bask in the overwhelming familiarity that washes over him at the sight of you.

you stop right before the table, the other end from him, hands wrapped around geri’s arm as you watch christian in awe.

his entire world stops then and there, suddenly unsure of how to approach you. will he really be able to handle it if you refuse his apology?

how everything would crumble for him again if he left today without you back in his life the way he wants it? it just seems near impossible.

he watches you throw your head back, laughing before looking around. he tells himself to look away but he just can’t — meeting your eyes a feeling he’s been yearning for all these months without you.

you freeze when your warm eyes meet his blue ones. your jaw drops slightly, the smile is completely wiped off and you let go of geri’s arm. he sees your chest heave as you take a step back away from geri.

your stare lingers, making max contemplate if that was an invitation for him to come to you. but max cannot fathom the glistening of your eyes — are they tears or just the reflection of the lights that surround you?

the music abruptly stops, making you turn to the stage, erupting in cheers as you clap your hands.

he watches you run towards christian, throwing your arms around his team principal as your hands come up to wipe your face.

he watches you talk to him for a bit before you quickly excuse yourself to walk towards the house. here he is with an empty stomach and all the courage in the world.

he runs after you, leaving and ignoring daniel's calls for him to come back and think it over first.

"(y/n)," max calls out into the well-lit house, eyes darting all over the near empty house for you.

your shoes go against the floor, snapping max's head towards the bathroom door. chest still heaving with your fists clenched by your sides. mascara pools under your eyes; almost unnoticeable if he hadn't had you memorised like the back of his hand.

a shakey breath passes your trembling lips as you slowly drop your head. your eyes dart to the group of kids stumbling over their feet to get themselves out of the house.

a small part of all this feels planned. if not by geri, most likely christian. that damned performance was just a ruse to get you to stay longer until max arrived for the evening.

it's genius, actually.

"max."

all of the thoughts that flooded your brain when you locked eyes with him earlier are suddenly gone. something about you never wanting to see him again, or perhaps it was an 'i miss you' threatening to spill out of your mouth now that he's here?

you can't seem to remember and it's only adding to the growing frustration in your chest.

oh, how you've missed being this close of reach to him. if you really tried, you can smell his cologne from the other side of the room and you can almost imagine how his hand would feel in yours.

but you barely recognise the man standing in front of you. the same goes for him, eyes roaming every part of your body as you stand in silence.

it seems so much has changed in such a short amount of time.

you look slimmer than how max remembers you. but you look happier - a state that he has rarely seen you in for a long while. maybe the relationship really was meant to meet its end when it did.

but the tears falling on your cheeks made him convince himself otherwise. maybe you missed him too; maybe these past 2 and a half months were just as excruciating for you as it was for him.

just sitting and hoping on his maybe's again.

"fuck," max says under his breath, finally finding it in himself to walk towards you. "fuck's sake. come here."

a million possibilities run through your mind. as he makes his way over to you, you're frozen in place once more. is this really how it's going to be? after all that process you made, after all the tears.

all those were to only end up in his arms again? you being to wonder: what were all those tears and sleepless nights for if you would only run back to him?

all of your preached rationality ceases to exist when he's a pace away from you, your arms thrown around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck. his grip around your waist is tight, his face buried in your shirt as he lifts you up slightly.

"i'm sorry," max whispers, nuzzling his face deeper into your shoulder, his own tears spilling out of his eyes to the fabric of your shirt. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have let you walk away."

but you shake your head. the mental image of that picture of max and kelly walking in the paddocks flashes in your mind suddenly. you try to unwrap his arms around you, but then he only tightens his arms around you.

"i'm sorry. i should have asked you to stay," he confesses, his mind a mess from all of the things he's thought of saying to you. "i should have told you that there's a way to work it out. it didn't have to come to a breakup."

"but you turned to her anyway!" you say through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath to muster up the courage to pull away. and you do, stumbling steps back as you go into a sob. it would have been all fine if those pictures never leaked. "you went to the one person i didn't want to see you with!"

max's hair is dishevelled, his tear-stained cheeks are flushed and his lips are swollen. "what?"

you shake your head and hold a hand up, taking another step away from him. "don't act stupid. i always knew you wanted kelly. you got what you wanted when i broke up with you, didn't you? that's why there were pictures of you together after news of our break-up leaked. isn't it, max? to rub it in my face?"

"you don't even know what you're talking about!" max fights, throwing his hands in the air. "i could say the same for you - wearing the first dress i got you out to the club and leaving with some other guy? your pictures were more suggestive than ours; we were just fucking walking!"

you laugh dryly, rolling your eyes. you wipe your eyes roughly and throw your head back. "at least i can admit if something had happened. but you're still fucking denying every little thing. you're such a cunt, max."

"i'm not denying anything."

"yeah, you are!" you point an accusing finger at him and click your tongue. "you wanted out but didn't want to be the one to rip the bandaid off! what was it, max? some sort of familiarity with me that you couldn't bear to leave?"

"absolutely not. i fucking love you!" max's eyes widen in disbelief at what he's hearing. "nothing happened with kelly - i was doing her father a favour!"

you smile slightly and raise your eyebrow. "i've heard that excuse before, max. go say it to somebody who will believe you."

max rolls his eyes. "you already broke up with me. what do i get from lying to you now?"

"who knows? maybe you just don't like the thought of me moving on," you shrug, placing your hands on your hips. "pretty self-centred if you ask me."

"literally," max takes a deep breath, "just shut up and listen to me."

"literally," you mimic him in the same tone, "there's absolutely nothing to talk about."

you turn around, pushing the hair out of your face. you've stopped crying, your throat sore from all the panting and screaming you've just done. thank god for the music booming outside - your conversation is safe from nosey ears.

maybe christian turned it up when he saw max running after you.

max shakes his head, falling silent. "you've got no fucking idea what you're talking about. i loved you then, and i love you now. if i didn't..."

"if you didn't, then what?" you snort. "you expect me to believe you?"

he takes a deep breath, locking eyes with you. he takes a cautious step forward. "i have thought about you so much since we've been apart. i don't think anything has ever been so clear to me before."

"yeah?" you smile lopsidedly. it immediately drops when he takes another step, and you set it off with a step back. "seemed pretty clear to you when you let me fucking walk out of your driver's room without another word."

max sighs. "i should have fought for you harder that night. i'm sorry."

"then why?" you cry, tears falling out of your eyes immediately. your hands come up to cover your eyes as you break into a full sob. "why didn't you chase after me? why didn't you call?"

you tear your hands away from your eyes, one palm resting on your chest while you heave. "why didn't you text me? why didn't you bother reaching out? you had every fucking opportunity, max! why did you let it get this fucking far?"

max only drops his head in shame. of course, he had his reasons not to reach out to you. "i don't know," he says softly, shaking his head. "i didn't think you still wanted to be with me. you broke up with me. i didn't know what to think. i thought it was over."

"i spent the better part of 6 years of my life with you," you say weakly. a lump forms in your throat, prompting you to close your eyes. you squeak out a sob as you drop to your knees, a soft thud coming from the contact. "and you couldn't even ask me to stay."

you look up at him, teary-eyed as you clutch onto your chest in desperation. "i would have stayed if you said don't go. i waited, max."

he nods, walking over to where you are. he gets dejavu as he drops himself next to you, sitting cross-legged in christian's apartment. it's just like the time you broke up.

you adjust yourself, sitting a proper few centimetres away from him. both of you press your backs against the wall behind you. the music is just as loud as before, consuming the silence that you let fester the air between you.

you drop your head on the wall, the sound of both your cries barely heard within the music between you.

"but i did miss you," you whisper. "every single waking moment in the days after. i kept thinking i made a mistake, and that you knew it too. i kept holding out hope for you to show up at my door, telling me off for being stupid and breaking up with you."

max just looks down at his legs. he claps his hands together, shakily trying to steady his breath as he calms from his sob. "i didn't think you'd want me back. the state of our relationship before we broke up... (y/n)... you're rational enough to admit that that wasn't going to do it for us. we needed the time apart to figure it out."

you smile to yourself, nodding slightly. barely noticeable. you let a moment pass. "nothing happened, by the way."

"hm?" he hums, turning his head to look at you.

"after the club," you admit. "i blew him off at the lobby of my apartment building. i stumbled home and fell asleep on my couch. dress, makeup, heels - the whole shebang."

max smiles. his hand flinches, two voices in his mind fighting over the next course of movement for him. he ought to make the first move once in a while.

he reaches over to you, firmly grabbing your hand. "i'm sorry i didn't know just how much you meant to me. it shouldn't have taken a breakup for me to realise that you're the love of my life."

you smile back at him, squeezing his hand. "i never wanted to break up with you." you drop your head on his shoulder. "i was just so tired. i would look at pictures of us wishing it was that simple again."

he rests his head above yours. suddenly, it all seemed so quiet. you feel your broken bones mending, the lump in your throat disappearing and a weight lifted off your shoulders.

but if it had been this easy, maybe there's something more. something you're not quite getting yet even after spending almost 3 months apart.

"i totally get it if you say no," max whispers, taking a deep breath. he can't go on without trying to make a move himself. you're already right here. "but do you wanna grab dinner some time with me?"

you lift your head, lips parting. you stare at him with wide eyes while your brain goes into overdrive. a million questions run through your head.

is this really for the best? is this a resolution you can live with?

on one hand, if you choose to be with him again, the puzzle pieces can fit the way they used to again. it will be you and him against the world once more - the way it always should have been. but how sure are you that it won't end up in shambles once more?

will you never find yourself in gut-wrenching pain ever again from what seems like the worst loss you'll experience in your life? would it even be worth it?

you take a deep breath, and you squeeze his hand.

ending 1.

ending 2.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora @lokigoeschoki @avg-golden-retriever @lokigoeschoki @cherry-piee @telengraph @eviethetheatrefreak @hrlzy

[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: None

Wc: 5.1K

series masterlist

Chapter 1: You again

The breeze blows your hair, obscuring your vision from the boxes in the back of the moving van. The weather was nice here in the outer banks, different to what it felt like in New york. Moving here right when Spring is in bloom was the best decision. Back home it’s still cold, barely even warming up. But here it’s so beautiful. The waves from the water behind the house hit the dock, the lapping sound making its way to the front.

“Grandma is having a blast with Vi right now. I know she’s glad to have a baby in the house again.” Jo your best friend says as she walks into the van to grab another box. It was her idea to move her. Her grandma was getting older and she wanted to come take care of her. When she figured it all out she just handed you tickets, telling you that you weren’t going to stay there longer.

Without consulting you she had talked with her grandma to let you and your daughter Violet to move in with them. She wanted to get you as far away from New York as she could. Jo is the type of best friend that feels responsibility for her friends. It was that way when you were children and it got worse when you had your own child.

The moment you found out you were pregnant she was there to cry along with you. She was there in the delivery room when your precious little girl was born. Every step of your life has been with her, never allowing you to go through it alone. You couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life.

“That’s good. I’m sure Vi is going to love being around her. Two peas in a pod probably.” You try to not get into your head as you pick up a box of Vi’s things. When you told your parents you were pregnant they weren’t happy. To be fair you were eighteen, fresh out of highschool. They tried to be supportive but couldn’t look past it when their friends from church started to talk.

They had kicked you out right before you gave birth, leaving you to be stranded. The father was a nightmare to say the least and that wasn’t an option for you. He was a mistake that you wish you could take back. A reminder of being what your family wanted to only be their disappointment. He seemed perfect to them but deep down he was a monster, no one you want around your baby to begin with.

The only option you had was Jo. Her family wasn’t like yours, they took you in with open arms. Embracing Violet as one of their own. Even though you lost your family that night they forced you out, you found another that loved you more. For two years it was perfect, Vi was growing up nicely, hitting all her milestones. You had a good job and had saved up enough money to move out on your own. Which was perfect timing since Jo was going to move here.

Then a week after she informed you of her decision you got a call from a lawyer. “Hello?” You answered. “Hi, I'm looking for.”  He says your name for clarification. “Yes, that's me.” You were confused on what this could be about. Worried that it was your ex. “I’m sorry to inform you that your parents passed away the other night in a car accident. The wake will be this week and the Will reading is after.” The shock of their death didn’t settle in fully until the reading.  

They had left you everything, they had abandoned you yet they left you everything. The next few months of winter were filled with you selling their house and settling the bank information. Getting the move ready so you and Vi would be comfortable once in your new home. Leading to now, standing in front of the house that is yours.

Grandma June had a pretty house in a nice neighborhood. The backyard was big and the water was right behind. A complete contrast to what you had growing up. You grew up in a townhouse, Jo right next door. It may have been more room then a regular apartment but you still had little room. There was no backyard to play in, the only time you had outside was going to the park. 

Your life, even if it may not have been bad, wasn't perfect either. Your parents preached religion and the bible until it was shoved down your throat. Telling you what you can’t and can’t do by the eyes of God. Introducing you to their friends' sons to meet the proper boy, look at where that got you. This move was a chance to continue to better yourself and give Vi the chance of being herself. 

You set the box down in the room that is now Violets. June had moved herself to the guest house outback stating that she doesn’t need all of this space. She had given the deed to the two of you, gifting the home as a thank you for not sending her off to a home. That meant you all had your own rooms. Vi still tends to sleep with you so her room is more decoration. 

“Who would have thought we would be here?” Jo’s voice says from the doorway. You turn to look at her. “Me a twenty-one year old with a two year old or that we moved out of New York.” She pounders for a moment, finger tapping her chin. “Hmm I was going to say us moving here but the toddler thing works too.” She laughs walking into the room more.

“We should paint the walls this week. Grams said there’s a paint store we can get it at. Should be near the shop.” You smile at her as you both go to get more boxes. Before moving here you wanted a stable job where you would be able to be with Violet more often. In New York you were a receptionist so you would have to leave her with Jo’s parents. So it was important for you to have the freedom to be with her since you can’t rely on June.

When you were looking around for jobs online you had seen that a flower shop was going for sale. Growing up you had always loved flowers. Books of plants, flowers, and gardening stuffed your bookshelves. With the money that was left to you from your parents you decided to buy it. Was it a long shot? Maybe but it couldn’t hurt to try. This way you will be able to have Vi with you at the shop without paying for a sitter.

With the van unpacked it was close to dinner time. Too tired from the day you and Jo decide to order pizza. But you make Vi her own meal on the side to have. You’re stirring the noodles that are in the pot when tiny footsteps can be heard. “Momma.” A little voice yells. You drop the spoon, turning to squat down. “Vi. How’s my favorite flower doing?” She giggles as you blow kisses on her neck and squeeze her tight. “She’s been such a little angel. Are you sure you don’t want to just leave her with me during the day.” June asks as she walks into the kitchen.

“Oh no I couldn’t ask that of you. Anyway, I want to spend as much time with her as I can. She won’t stay this small forever.” You finish up Vi’s food just in time for the pizza to get there at the same time. You all sit down and eat. You cut up tiny pieces of your pizza to let Vi try to see how she will like it. The table laughs when she smacks her lips and signs for more. 

The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. Your routine consisted of giving Vi a bath and putting her to bed. Then finishing up some things before tucking in for the night as well. Before you know it the alarm is going off and it is bright outside. It’s seven o’clock so you have roughly thirty minutes before Vi gets up. 

Quickly you head to the bathroom for a shower rushing to head downstairs and start breakfast. When breakfast was finished it was time for her to wake up and you go to her room. Which she actually slept in last night. She’s rubbing her eyes, burrowing her head back into her pillow. “Goodmorning baby girl.” You softly say as you rub her back to gently wake her up more. “Hi momma.” Her voice is like music to your ears, always making you smile.

Slowly but surely she gets up, both of you entering the kitchen to eat. “Morning.” Jo yawns over her coffee mug. “Morning.” Strapping Vi to her chair, you place her plate in front of her before grabbing yours. Jo sits down across from you as she sips from her mug. “Any plans for today?” You finish chewing the piece of toast and look up at the girl in front of you. “Going to the shop. Want to work some stuff out before it opens again.”

“Bug and I can chill her with grams while you do that. I have the day off.” A sigh of relief is released. “Thank you. I need to make sure the ship of flowers is accurate. I need to restart the garden in the back.” Jo let’s out a “damn” while shaking her her. “Good luck with that. That sounds like a lot of counting. Counting yucky, right Vi.” The end is talking to the toddler. Her giggle lighting up the room. 

After finishing Vi’s morning routine you change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The weather was nice but there was still a chill in the air. You walk down the stairs to see Violet on the floor of the living room playing with some toys. “Hi sweetie. Heading out?” June is sitting on the couch smiling at you. “Yup I’m going to the shop today. Do you need anything while I’m out?” She shakes her head and laughs when Vi hands her a toy. “I’m okay. Now go ahead before we keep you here.”

June has been in love with Violet since she was born. She had visited Jo’s family right after you got back from the hospital. From that moment on she was always asking about her and buying her things. She said it was the first baby since Jo so it’s like she has a great grandbaby. Everyone was so kind about you having a baby so young and you couldn’t be more grateful. Which is something you wish you could say about this flower delivery. 

The flowers were delivered yesterday right before you all started to unpack. You had rushed to let them in and place everything inside that you didn’t pay attention to when they did. The previous owners of the shop were older and couldn’t keep up with it anymore. The garden they had in the back that grew some of their flowers was dead and the others wilted a long time ago. So ordering flowers to fill the story was the only option you had.

Which seemed really great at the time but now it doesn’t. You had come in and set your bag down on the counter. Looking around you see the endless sea of flowers staring at you. You go to the back to the office and get the clipboard you had placed there yesterday. Painfully slow you separate the flowers by their species. Having to count every single one was starting to prove to be a difficult task.

One that got even worse when you found out you were short on some flowers. This wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for the fact that they were popular flowers. Roses, tulips, baby’s breath, carnations, all flowers that people love. You were opening up the store in two days and you need to make sure you have a good supply. June had said that a lot of the rich folk like to throw parties and will buy flowers. You need to be prepared just in case.

You were in the middle of counting the Anemone when the store's front door started to rattle. Stepping into view of the door there’s a tall man standing outside with his back to you. He’s on the phone and using his hands to talk wildly. The man turns around again to try the door and sees you standing there. He snaps his fingers at you and points to the door handle that’s locked.

You walk over and unlock it, opening it slightly to ask him what he needs. “Can I help you?” The guy is tall, handsome, his hair is growing out from a previous buzzcut. He has on a shirt that is too tight on him and a pair of khakis, not usually what you find attractive but he pulls it off. “Yeah. For starts you can let me in and second you’ll put my order in.” He holds up a pointer finger at you.

“I know. I’m here right now, if the new girl would let me in it could go faster.” He says into the phone. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll let you know when they will be delivered.” You give him a complex look. “Sorry but we aren’t open right now. You have to come back in two days.” You try to close the door but his foot catches it. “Look, I really need an order for tomorrow. The florist we were using canceled and I need them. There’s a banquet and the stupid tables need flowers.”

 You look back at the store and at him again. It wouldn’t hurt to do this order but you haven’t finished inventory yet. He could be asking for flowers that you can’t even give him. “I’m sorry but I’m not even open yet.” He interrupts you. “Well just open the store up and ring me out. I get you are new here but come on.” His tone is rude, annoyed that this is taking longer than he wants. “No, I can't just open up the store. I’m new here because I just bought it and I don’t even know how many flowers I have yet. So no I can’t help you, I’m sorry.”

He scoffs at you. “Do you normally buy things you don’t know if you can handle or is this a spur of the moment thing? I need those flowers.” This guy really has some audacity. “Do you normally talk down on workers or are you just a asshole?” Your head tilts to the side, looking up at him. The sun is burning your retina is making it hard to see anything but the lower part of his face. Even through the pain you can see the smile that crept on his face.

“Good luck with opening this up. I can clearly see the customer service is subpar.” With that he’s walking off down the street, pulling out his phone to probably call someone else. “Hey asshole, the flower delivery was short with some. So that’s the main reason I can’t help you. Don’t just assume shit.” Without looking back he calls out to you. “Sounds like an issue you need to fix. Try calling them up next time.”

Fuck. Of course you could just have called them this whole time. Quickly, you get back inside to finish the inventory to see what else is missing. After another hour you are done, exhausted from all the back and forth. Sitting down in the back office you call the distributor that you had used, explaining to them which flowers were short and how many you would need. Thankfully the lady on the other end didn’t give you any trouble, telling you she would have them delivered tomorrow. 

By the time everything was done it was around 5:30, which meant you should head home for dinner. The drive back to the house was peaceful. In New York you really didn’t need a car, you had spent most of your time in the city so you took the subway. Every now and then you would have to drive to family in the suburbs, this reminds you of that drive. Seeing the trees and greenery is like a breath of fresh air. 

It was a reminder that your old life was left back States away, no monsters here to haunt you. It’s refreshing knowing you got a new start and that Vi will get to grow up in a good place. When you get home it’s ten minutes until dinner should be served, at least for Vi. She’s on a strict schedule and will get fussy if she doesn’t eat or sleep at the same time.

You were greeted with shouts coming from the living room, footsteps playing the floorboards like a piano. “Momma!” Vi screams when she sees you in the hallway. “Hi pretty girl. How is my favorite doing? Had a good day?” She nods, tiny hands wiping her hair off her face. “Ya. Jo play.” She points to your friend who’s standing behind her. “She’s been making me run around for hours. How do you do this all the time?” 

You pick Vi up, walking towards the kitchen as you give her a bunch of kisses. “Lot’s of coffee and I have amazing people who help me.” Jo throws an arm around your shoulder walking with you. The table was already set, plates filled with food. “Yeah we are pretty amazing. So amazing that grams are giving us the night off.” You place Vi in her seat and look at Jo. “What do you mean?” 

She puts Vi’s food down in front of her before sitting to eat her own meal. “She means that you two are young and need to have fun. So I’ll stay here while this angel sleeps. Have fun for once.” June says as she makes her way back from what you assume is the bathroom. “Before you even try to say anything I told her she didn’t have to. She won’t take no for an answer so tough luck.” You don’t even argue, Jo’s parents always say she got her stubbornness from June so that is not a hill you want to die on.

Over dinner you tell them about your day. Explaining how you found out there were flowers missing and that you had to call for new ones. Finishing off your story telling with the asshole who thought he was special so that made him entitled to your flowers. “Sounds like a dick.” Jo said without thinking about the two year old sitting next to her. “Sorry.” June thought it was hilarious. Saying “it’s about time someone told those snobs the world doesn’t revolve around them.”

After dinner you spent time with Violet. Playing some more with her toys, then a bath to get the dirt off of her, and then reading bedtime stories to her. After each one she would let out a “nader'' informing you she wanted another story. The third one is always when she falls asleep, as soon as the first words are out so is she. Slowly and quietly you slip out of her bed and room.

“Ready?” Jo’s voice scared you, jumping from the fear shooting through your body. “For fucks sake Jo. Let me just change into a different shirt, I have Vi drool.” The other girls face twists in disgust as you pull that part of your shirt to show her. Not the worst thing you’ve had on you since becoming a mother but she still finds it gross. After changing the two of you head over to a bar.

The place actually looks really nice. There are lights strung up on the outside seating and the inside has amazing decorations. “What do you want? I’ll go get us the first round while you find us a table.” The first round? Damn Jo meant it when she said we will be living up the night. You haven’t really been out since your 21st, having a daughter doesn’t give you a lot of time to go out.

Plus you never really drank in highschool so this is a whole new ballpark for you. “Um I don’t know. Just get me something you will think I’ll like.” With that she was off to the bar as you found a table to sit at. The drink she came back with was in a tall glass and is yellow. You take it from her hands inspecting it. “What is it?” She rolls her eyes at you and takes a sip from her drink. “It’s a passion fruit mojito.”

You like passion fruit so this should be good. Oh yeah, that drink is delicious. You take a good few sips of it. “That’s fucking delicious.” Jo laughs at you. “Told you.” The two of you sit there for a while. Taking your time to finish your drinks. When they were done it was your turn to go up and get drinks. Since Jo is driving back she just wanted water but she insisted that you had to keep drinking.

The bar is a little more packed now, so you’re stuck waiting for the bartender to come around. Tapping your fingers lightly on the counter surface you space out, not realizing that the seat next to you was moving. “He won’t notice you for another five minutes. Blaire just sat down so he’ll be chatting her up for a bit.” The voice next to you sounds familiar, turning your head you can see why. “You again.” The guy from earlier smirks at you. “Now why does that sound like a bad thing?”

You look down at the other end of the bar to see the bartender flirting with a girl. Crap. “Maybe because you were rude and entitled. But hey what do I know?” Your brain is telling you to leave, just tell Jo you’ll go back up in a little. Then there’s a little voice in your head telling you to stay. For some reason there’s a part of you that is curious about the stranger.

“Pfft me entitled or rude? You’re the one who said that you wouldn’t let me order flowers.” Your eyes narrow at him, his arms shoot up in defense. “I know your shipment was fucked up.” He gives you a curious look. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“That’s because I just moved here. Don’t really know anyone besides my friend and her grandma.” You point back to Jo, his eyes following to see your friend with a wide eyed expression. “I don’t think I know her. Think I’ve seen her before but years ago.” He looks back at you, examining your facial features. You’re really pretty, he was too wrapped up in frustration earlier to notice. He’s sure noticing it now though. 

His chair seems to get closer to you, scraping against the sticky floors. “Where did you move from?” You had expected him to stop talking to you yet here he is asking you questions. “New York. I lived there my whole life.” He leans his arms on the counter, looking at you from the side. “Nice, I’ve been there a few times. Do have to say the pizza wasn’t actually good.” You gasp at his outrageous statement. “What? You’ve got to be joking, it's the best. You just didn’t go to the right places, probably some fancy restaurant that sells those tiny portions.”

He’s cracking a smile from your mini rant. You’re right, it was one of those restaurants. The ones where it cost $400 to just get a table and everything is super expensive even though it's a meal for ants. He’s never seen anything wrong with those places, grew up his whole life eating at them. In this moment he wishes that wasn’t the case, that he knew how to be a normal person and not someone with money. He would have never been caught at a dingy restaurant eating food yet here he is longing to experience that. An experience he didn’t know he was missing until your reaction.

“Oh my god it was one of those places. You can’t say you’ve been to New York if you haven’t really tried their food.” He turns on the stool so his legs are facing you. “Wouldn’t that technically be their food as well? They have high class restaurants there.” He likes the way your eyes roll at him, wanting them to do it in a different way. “That’s like going to Italy and eating at fast food places we have in America. Yeah it’s their version but it’s not actually Italian food.” “I would never. Italy is too perfect to not eat their food.”

You look at him, a smile plastered on your face. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been to Italy and I’m making a fool of myself.” He can’t help but to chuckle at how cute you are when you are nervous. “Alright I won’t say anything.” He shrugs. You let out a groan, of course he has. He looks like he has money so what else did you expect. “What can I get you?” 

The bartender cuts the moment the two of you were having. “Can I get a whiskey and whatever she’s having.” You look back at Jo and she sends you a thumbs up. “I’ll just have a passion fruit mojito.” The bartender leaves you two as he goes to make the drinks. “Wouldn’t have taken you as a mojito girl?” You look at him, blush forming on your cheeks. “Yeah? What kind of girl would you take me as?” He doesn’t know if you are flirting but he sure the hell hopes so. “Maybe a margarita. I feel like you’re a tequila girl.”

You giggle at the implication. “The last time I had tequila it got me in trouble.” It did, that’s how you ended up with a baby and being kicked out. “I like trouble.” Fuck. You had told yourself when moving here to just stick to yourself and everything will be fine. THen this guy walks in and you want to throw it all out the window. It’s not fair, he’s too hot to even say no to.

“You know I got to say I never met a florist as pretty as you” He tells you, leaning in closer but keeping a good distance. “Are you flirting with me so I can change my mind about those flowers?” He laughs, turning so he is now facing you, resting his weight on the counter top. “No, just flirting. Would it help me get them though?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “You are not getting flowers. I would still have to prepare them and I wouldn’t get it done on time.Plus who knows if the reshipment will get here on time” You take a sip of your drink. 

“What if you had help?” Your eyes look into his. They're pretty. A shade of blue that in this light somewhat seems gray. They remind you of Vi, she had pretty blue eyes too, that she got from your mom. “You would hire help for me?” He scoots closer, his hand playing with the ends of your hair. “I could help you.” His fingers brush against your arms. The words seem to have an undertone of something. Simply suggesting something else. “How?”

The smirk that forms on his face makes you want to kiss him. His hand clears your face from stray strands of hair, eyes locking to yours. “However you want me.” This isn’t really feeling like you’re talking about flowers anymore. You aren’t sure if you should shut it down or keep going. The drinks were placed in front of you, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he hands the bartender his card. To relax yourself you take a sip of your drink, which only makes it worse. Now your relaxed mind can only think about dragging him off somewhere to see how much he could really help.

You’re interrupted before you can make a mistake. “Yo country club we gotta go.” A man walks up to the two of you. He nods at the guy. “Give me a sec.” The man looks at the both of you and shakes his head. “Aight five minutes.”

“Have somewhere to be?” He downs the rest of his whiskey. “Wish I didn’t.” Your blush intensifies. Shifting in your chiat you rest a hand on his lap. “Too bad. I was just starting to like you.” He stands up, catching your hand as it falls. “Guess I’ll have to refresh your memory tomorrow.” Your hand tightens around his. “Wait tomorrow?” 

“Gotta help you with those flowers right?” He actually meant it. “Fine.” He smiles and drops your hand, backing away from you. “I’m Rafe by the way.” You tell him your name, grab your drink and get up as well. “See you tomorrow beautiful.”

You smile all the way to the table, meeting Jo whose mouth was wide open. “Dude you were just flirting with Rafe Cameron.” You shrug your shoulders at you and sipping your drink “So what?” Her face flashes with different emotions. “So what? Dude he’s literally the richest person on this island. After his dad passed away he inherited the family business, he’s dumb rich.”

Jo won’t shut up about how hot the richest guy in Kildare was flirting with you. She gave you some of the run down on him from her “sources” on the island. Those sources being friends she made when she would visit. He apparently has a mean streak, causing fights with people. How he would sleep around with every girl and on top of that did drugs. It shouldn’t have shocked you but it was surprising to hear.

You thought over everything as you laid in bed. Rafe seemed funny and sweet when he talked to you in the bar. Those two versions of him do not seem to align together. Yet again you had only met him today and you don’t have the greatest track record with guys. It doesn’t matter anyway. You weren’t looking for anything anyway, all you needed to focus on was yourself and your daughter.

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers Let me know if you want to be added

[guilty-ff]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭: 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

Summery: Y/n’s world is turned upside down when she is diagnosed with cancer, leaving her to confront the darkest fears of her life. With Wade Wilson by her side, their bond deepens as they navigate the struggle between despair and hope.

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (cancer!fem)Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: swearing, mental health, cancer

Word count: 2694

The idea of writing this One Shot was a suggestion from a cancer survivor, and it is dedicated to them. Wishing you all the best. 🫶

The day the doctor said the word "cancer," Y/n's world felt like it was collapsing around her. The sterile office, the birght lights overhead, and the sympathetic look in the doctor's eyes all blurred into a foggy haze. She barely heard the rest of the conversation, her mind stuck on that single word, echoing over and over.

Cancer.

She knew she had to tell Wade, but how? How do you tell the love of your life that the same disease that had torn him apart was now threatening to do the same to you?

She stumbled out of the doctor's office in a daze, clutching the diagnosis papers like they were a death sentence. How could this be happening? How could her life take such a cruel twist?

By the time she got home, her hands were shaking. The apartment was too quiet, too empty. Wade was not home yet, and she was glad for it- she needed time to process this, to figure out how she was going to tell him.

But, as usual, Wade had impeccable timing.

The door burst open, and in walked the love of her life, Wade Wilson. He was in full costume, as usual, but even with the mask on, Y/n could sense something different about him today. Maybe it was the way he moved, a little less swagger in his step, or the way he did not immediately launch into some ridiculous story.

"Hey, sugar tits," he called out, his voice humorous but mixed with something she could not quite figure out. "Guess who just gave the bad guys a five-finger discount on their lives?"

Y/n managed a weak smile, but it did not reach her eyes. "You always know how to brighten up a room, Wade."

"Damn straight," he replied, finally noticing the tension in her voice. "Uh-oh. That tone. What's wrong, babe? You sound like someone kicked your puppy and didn't even leave a note."

She could not meet his eyes. How could she? How could she tell him the very thing that had nearly killed him was now inside of her, too?

"Wade..." Her voice cracked, and she hated how fragile she sounded. "I... I went to the doctor today."

He stiffened, the air in the room growing heavy with unspoken fears. "And?"

"They said... they said I have cancer."

The silence that followed was deafening. Wade stared at her, his mask hiding his expression, but she could feel the shock radiating off him. Then, slowly, he pulled off his mask, revealing the scarred, yet still incredibly expressive face beneath.

"Y/n," he said, his voice rough. "Are you... are you sure? Like, actual cancer? The C-word?"

She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm sure."

For a long moment, Wade just stood there, his gaze locked on hers. Then, to her surprise, he crossed the room in two quick strides and pulled her into a fierce embrace, holding her as if she might disappear at any moment.

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying. Wade immediately dropped to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his gloved ones. "Nope, nuh-uh, not happening. We already did this dance once, and it sucked, remember? So, here's the plan: we're going to kick cancer's ass together, and then we're going out for tacos. Sound good?"

Y/n could not help but smile through her tears. "You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is," he said, with that trademark Deadpool confidence. "You're the toughest chick I know, and I'm... well, I'm Wade Wilson, so we're basically unstoppable. Cancer doesn't stand a chance."

Y/n clung to him, letting the tears fall freely now. "But what if... what if I don't?"

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands cradling her face. "You will. Because you're strong, and because you've got me. And I don't lose, baby. Ever."

She could not help but let out a watery laugh. Trust Wade to make her smile even in a moment like this. "You're a cocky bastard, you know that?"

"And you love me for it." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Now, we're going to fight this together. You're not alone, Y/n. Not ever."

Y/n hadn't spoken much that night. The treatments had taken a toll on her, and Wade could see the exhaustion in her eyes, even as she tried to keep a brave face. He hated seeing her like this, so drained and defeated. But more than that, he hated that there was not a single thing he could do to take the pain away.

Wade lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on her pale face. The shadows cast by the city lights danced across his features, softening the harsh lines of his scarred skin. He watched her, his heart aching with a mix of helplessness and determination. He wasn't used to feeling powerless—he was Deadpool, after all, the guy who could take on anything and come out the other side with a snarky comment and a grin. But this... this was different.

"Hey, you still with me?" Wade's voice was soft, barely above a whisper as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered against her skin, warm and comforting.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a small, tired smile. "Barely," she mumbled, her voice weak but laced with affection.

"Good," Wade replied, forcing a grin onto his face. "Because I'm not done annoying you yet. You know how it is—'til death do us part and all that jazz. And even then, I'll probably just haunt you, so really, there's no escaping me."

A soft laugh escaped Y/N's lips, though it quickly turned into a cough. Wade's grin faded slightly as he scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his chest. He felt her relax against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and he held her tight, as if he could shield her from the world.

"You know," Wade began, his voice low and soothing, "I've been thinking... I mean, I know that's dangerous and all, but just go with it. Remember when I first found out about my cancer? I was scared shitless, thought my life was over. But then I met you, and suddenly, the idea of sticking around didn't seem so bad anymore."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The days that followed were a blur of doctor's appointments, treatment plans, and long, sleepless nights. But through it all, Wade was there. He was at every appointment, holding her hand, making crude jokes to lighten the mood, and telling the doctors exactly where they could shove their needles if they so much as looked at Y/n the wrong way. He kept the mood light, refusing to let the dark cloud of cancer take away their laughter.

When the treatments started, and the side effects hit hard, Wade was there too. He stayed by her side when the nausea was too much to bear, when she was too weak to get out of bed, when the fear and pain became overwhelming. He held her through the tears, through the anger, through the darkest moments when she did not think she could go on.

One day, as Y/n was sitting in a hospital chair, hooked up to an IV, Wade leaned over, his face just inches from hers. "You know, if I had known you'd be spending so much time in bed, I would have gotten one of those fluffy pillows with my face on it. You know, for comfort."

Y/n rolled her eyes, a small smile across her lips. "I'm pretty sure they'd kick you out of the hospital for bringing that in."

"Oh, I see how it is," Wade teased, pretending to be offended. "Here I am, being all supportive, and you're rejecting my face pillow idea? I'm wounded, Y/n. Deeply wounded."

She chuckled, the sound weak but genuine. "I love you, you idiot."

"I know," Wade said, grinning as he kissed the top of her head. "And that's why I'm here, annoying the crap out of you, until you're cancer-free and we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming of bad guys and bad decisions."

But Wade never wavered. He was her rock, her anchor in the storm. He understood what she was going through in a way no one else could. He knew the fear, the anger, the helplessness that came with a cancer diagnosis. And he fought it with her every step of the way.

But not every day was full of jokes and smiles. There were times when the treatments left Y/n too weak to even laugh at Wade's antics. On those days, they would lay in bed together, Y/n curled up against his chest. Wade spoke softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that was reserved only for her. 

"You know," he began, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back, "when I found out I had cancer, I thought it was the end. I thought my life was over. But then I became Deadpool, and well... let's just say, shit got weird."

She laughed softly, her head resting against his shoulder. "That's one way to put it."

"But you..." He paused, searching for the right words. "You're different, Y/N. You're not just fighting for yourself. You're fighting for us. And I'm going to be here, every step of the way, making sure you kick this thing's ass."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and gratitude. "I couldn't do this without you, Wade."

He grinned, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "Damn right you couldn't. I'm your secret weapon, babe. Cancer doesn't stand a chance."

"Hey," he said "you know how I'm basically invincible, right? Like, I've been blown up, shot, stabbed, and I'm still kicking?"

"Mm-hmm," Y/N mumbled, her eyes half-closed.

"Well, I'm basically like a really ugly cheerleader. I'll keep cheering you on until this cancer thing gets bored and leaves you alone. And then we'll go get ice cream. Or, you know, find some bad guys to punch. Whatever you're in the mood for."

Y/n closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. It was comforting, grounding her in the moment, reminding her that she was not alone. Wade's words were like a lifeline, pulling her back from the edge of despair.

"I know you're scared," he continued, his voice softening. "Hell, I'm scared too. But you've got something I didn't have back then- you've got me. And I'm not going anywhere, okay? We're in this together, and I'm not letting you face this alone."

Y/n's hand found his, their fingers intertwining. "I don't want to be weak, Wade. I don't want you to see me like this."

"Hey, hey," Wade said, gently squeezing her hand. "There's nothing weak about you, Y/n. You're the strongest person I know, and trust me, I've met some tough bastards in my time. You're allowed to be scared, and you're allowed to have shitty days. But don't for a second think that makes you weak. You're fighting a goddamn war here, and you're doing it like a champ."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, but she blinked them away, burying her face in Wade's chest. "I'm so tired, Wade," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know if I can keep doing this."

Wade's heart broke at the raw vulnerability in her voice, but he refused to let her see his pain. Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as he spoke. "You can, and you will," he murmured, his voice firm but tender. "Because you're Y/n, and you don't back down from a fight. And when you feel like you can't go on, you just lean on me, okay? I'll carry you if I have to."

For a long moment, they lay there in silence, the weight of Wade's words settling over them. Y/n could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, and it gave her a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in days. With Wade beside her, the darkness didn't seem quite as overwhelming.

"Wade?" she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Thank you... for being here. For... for everything."

Wade smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "You don't have to thank me, Y/n. This is what love's all about, right? Sticking around through the good, the bad, and the 'oh shit, we're out of toilet paper' moments."

Y/n chuckled softly, the sound muffled against his chest. "You really know how to ruin a moment, don't you?"

"It's a gift," Wade replied, grinning as he held her a little tighter. "But seriously, Y/n... I love you. And I'm not going to let you go through this alone. Not now, not ever."

"I love you too, Wade," Y/n whispered, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and gratitude.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, with Wade occasionally cracking jokes to make her smile. And as the night wore on, Y/n slowly drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

Wade stayed awake, watching over her, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. But one thing was clear: he wasn't going to let cancer take her away from him. He would fight it with her every step of the way, and they would come out on the other side stronger than ever.

Y/n snuggled closer, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. 

As the months passed, Y/n's strength began to return. The treatments were working, and slowly but surely, she started to feel like herself again. Wade was there to celebrate every small victory, every piece of good news. He was her biggest cheerleader, always ready with a joke or a sarcastic comment to keep her spirits up.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the day came when the doctor delivered the news they had been praying for.

"Y/n, your scans are clear. There's no sign of the cancer."

She could hardly believe it. Tears welled up in her eyes as the weight of those words settled over her. She was going to be okay.

Wade let out a whoop of joy, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around the room, much to the dismay of the startled doctor. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! You're a goddamn superhero, Y/n!"

She laughed through her tears, clutching him tightly as he held her. "We did it, Wade. We really did it."

He set her down, cupping her face in his hands as he looked into her eyes, his own brimming with tears. "I knew you could. You're the strongest person I know, Y/n. And I'm so fucking proud of you."

They kissed then, a kiss filled with love, relief, and the unbreakable bond they had forged through their shared struggle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. They had faced the darkness together and come out the other side, stronger than ever.

As they left the doctor's office hand in hand, Wade turned to her with a grin. "So, how about we celebrate by doing something completely reckless and dangerous?"

She raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Like what?"

He smirked, that familiar glint back in his eyes. "I'm thinking chimichangas, a bottle of tequila. You know, the usual."

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months. "That sounds perfect."

And as they walked off into the sunset, ready to take on whatever life threw their way, Y/n knew that with Wade by her side, she could face anything.

In sickness and in health, they were unstoppable.