#I can only tell half the group apart at this point

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

-

Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.

A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in. 

It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time. 

Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor. 

There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket. 

“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill. 

“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway. 

“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.

“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”

“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”

He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.

“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”

“And there it is.”

You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”

At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged. 

A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away. 

And then it lingers. 

You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.

You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside. 

You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head. 

When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.

“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss. 

Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.  

He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what. 

You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night. 

Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again. 

John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.

The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.

You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.

The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”

“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.” 

“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”

“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”

“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. 

Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate. 

“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”

You frown. “Soap?”

The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”

Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”

It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking. 

Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years. 

There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you. 

Like he did.

You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been. 

When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get. 

His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near. 

In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.

John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting. 

You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle. 

“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone. 

John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”

That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”

He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”

And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.

John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs. 

It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound. 

It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.

Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off. 

You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake. 

That day comes with another ache you can’t shake. 

“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”

John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”

You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.

“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”

That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.

You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.

By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall. 

You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.

“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.

John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”

“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him. 

All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.

“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.

You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”

When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked. 

“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid. 

You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”

“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.  

“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.  

Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.

The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you. 

You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out. 

You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”

As if you could look anywhere else. 

He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken. 

He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs. 

But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft. 

“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for. 

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss. 

You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest. 

It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it. 

When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants. 

Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you. 

His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.

“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”

His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”

A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming. 

John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price

[doobean]

SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN - ISAGI YOICHI

synopsis: A quick game of truth or dare goes a long way for you and your boyfriend.

contents: afab!fem!reader, college au, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, parties, the whole college experience, awkward first times, isagi centric, narration heavy throughout, explicit content (he calls you baby, unprotected, virginity loss, fingering, handjob, saddling, clothes stay on!!, finishing inside, a lil bit of aftercare and cuddles), mdni word count: 3.9K a/n: was originally req on my other blog before i dedicated a whole post to it because why not... also idk if its actually called saddling or not but some of these sex positions have weird names so im just gonna call it saddling (u sit in his lap)

It's not Isagi's fault when the topic comes up. Everyone is drinking—like an absurd amount.

On this particular night, they win their last game of the season, and what better way to celebrate than at Reo Mikage's overly lavished-out apartment? Bachira is the first one to suggest a party and, after minimum persuasion, Reo offers up his place. Tonight is also the night that everyone finds out that Reo has a fucking wine cellar. The type of wine cellars with evil-looking spiral staircases that can hold a multitude of foreign wines and hard liquor that Isagi can't even pronounce even if he tries.

And it's also not Isagi's fault when he agrees to play "truth or dare", foolishly thinking that it'll remain PG-13 as if he had forgotten that having Shidou and Bachira around makes everything but PG-13. Everyone is about four shots in when Shidou's tongue starts getting loose and suddenly everyone becomes interested in their teammates' sex lives — specifically Isagi's sex life with you.

So this is how it happens. This is how they get on this ridiculous tangent.

They’re guys, so the shift in conversation comes as no surprise to Isagi. Even though Isagi doesn’t actually have any legitimate interest in said conversation.

"You can't avoid answering by taking shots," Bachira almost slaps the shot glass from Isagi's grasp as he brings it up to his lips. "C'mon, just tell us already, Yoi."

Approximately ten minutes before his turn, Isagi has learned against his will that Shidou has slept with nearly half of the cheerleading team — all while wearing the school’s mascot costume. His best friend, Bachira Meguru, apparently has a slight degradation kink and is secretly a masochist. Reo and Nagi? Shared a few girlfriends between them during the course of high school and freshman year of college. And now it’s his turn.

"Fuck off," Isagi scoots away from Bachira and settles closer to Rin on his right, the only 'normal' one of the group for tonight. "Can we just skip to the next person?"

The whole team is sitting on the living room floor in a circle, each person clutching either a bottle of alcohol or one of Reo's weirdly expensive shot glasses that he says his father had bought from Switzerland. The whole team, minus Rin, also can't seem to let go of the conversation. Almost as if everyone knows the truth and is waiting for Isagi to say it himself.

"Nuh-uh," Reo sloppily points his finger at Isagi and leans slightly forward, almost faceplanting himself on the floor if Nagi hadn't pulled him back in time. "You've been avoiding all the juicy questions tonight, Isagi."

Maybe it's his secretly inflated ego but Isagi likes to think of himself as a good boyfriend. And a good boyfriend should keep all private details... private. Even if there are no details to share.

"You guys are drunk." Isagi points out and nudges an overly tipsy Bachira away with his foot.

Kunigami leans against the couch behind him and throws his head towards the ceiling. "That's the whole reason why we're playing this in the first place."

"So, answer the question, Isagi." Shidou tips his wine bottle back, it's nearly empty, and goes in for another drink. "How often do y'all do it?" He asks with a sly smirk.

Isagi bites his lips, trying his best to look threatening while the red from the alcohol blushes his cheeks. "I'm not answering."

Chigiri huffs from across and jabs Shidou's side. "Just give him a dare instead, this is getting boring."

"Rinnie, give him a good one."

Rin flicks Shidou a seething glare at the nickname but the other male laughs it off. Everyone does because, unlike Rin and Isagi, everyone is currently shitfaced. Still, Isagi can't help but wonder what his long-term rival has up his sleeves. They didn't have the best friendship, but at least they can somewhat acknowledge each other's skills to some degree, even if Rin can be a dick at times.

After what seems to be a long while, Rin speaks up. "I dare you to go home."

He says it so nonchalantly that it makes Isagi almost spit out his drink. "Excuse me?"

Rin repeats it again and Bachira, who's now seven shots in, chimes in. "Oh! So he can fuck his girlfriend, right?"

Rin rolls his eyes, wearing an exasperated expression. "Yeah, sure."

On any other day, Isagi would feel offended but that isn't the first emotion that overcomes him. He feels oddly... relieved? But he can't let the other drunkards know that, obviously. Rin gives him a knowing look and takes another shot.

"Dumbass, are you going to do it or not?"

Tonight's been weird, Isagi thinks. Is his rival looking out for him?

Isagi hesitantly stands up and settles his drink on a nearby tabletop before shuffling towards the front door to grab his gym bag and backpack in the corner. "You guys are losing your minds." He fakes a frown.

"Ugh, you're no fun Rinnie."

"Isagi Yoichi doesn't do shit with his girl, that's all I'm hearing."

"Waah? No, he definitely does! I think?"

He drowns out the background noises as he pulls out his phone and hovers over the Uber app. Hopefully, his teammates will forget about this interaction by tomorrow morning.

And while Isagi knows that it shouldn't matter, he would be lying to himself if he hadn't thought about taking things to the next level with you. Still, he feels like it shouldn't be his choice to decide the pace of the relationship. He's an average student in terms of academic performance and has already secured a spot on the national team before graduation. On the other hand, you're currently studying almost every night to keep your scholarship and aspire to get into graduate school. Isagi would be absolutely floored if he suddenly became a distraction — your distraction.

Which explains why during the course of the six-month relationship the most that you guys have gone far with is second base: makeout sessions and basically anything that's above the waistline.

Instead of heading back to his apartment, Isagi finds himself typing in your campus address into the Uber search bar. He doesn't really know why but maybe the combination of the alcohol and vulnerable conversations tonight really messed something in his weird brain. Your place is pretty close to his, so he can just walk home afterward, and plus he needs to see you to... what? To vent? Maybe that's what he needs.

It didn't take long when he finally arrived in front of your apartment. Most of the alcohol by now has settled down, so hopefully he doesn't look like a mess when he sees you.

Isagi rings the bell. There’s a moment’s silence, then a shuffling, the sound of the door clicking in the lock, and —

"Yoichi?"

Your hair is down and slightly damp as if you had just come out of the shower not long ago. You're wearing one of Isagi's old shirts that he gave you on one of your earlier dates, a large graphic tee featuring a faded-out character from a show he doesn't remember. The shirt hangs barely past your thighs and... Isagi's eyes bug out just a bit because of course you're not wearing shorts. A good deal of your thighs are exposed, and Isagi wonders why he feels so goddamn uncomfortable about that. 

He hears his name again and snaps his eyes up. "S-Sorry, is it late for you?"

Your laugh makes his stomach flip a few times. He knows it's late. It's nearly midnight but you're still making time to talk to him. God, he feels lucky to have someone who's as patient as you.

"You know you're always welcome over, right?" You step aside and motion your arms inside. "Come in, you look like you have a lot on your mind, Yoichi."

Isagi is also grateful that you like to keep the lights off when you study, excluding the tiny desk lamp you have, because the last thing he wants to happen is you making fun of his alcohol-ridden cheeks. He's pretty sure you can smell the tequila from his breath as he thanks you, and also sure that all that weird watermelon-flavored vaping smell from Karasu and Otoya is sticking to his clothes. Because you're the way you are, he knows that you'll offer to wash his clothes because the next thing you say is —

"You smell, Yoichi. And not in a good way!"

Okay, he didn't expect those exact words to fly out of your mouth, but he understands what your intentions are.

Isagi throws his hands up in defense and laughs. "The guys went a bit too hard, I know. Can't exactly help that."

He allows you to remove his jacket and you point toward your drawers. "I think I still have some of your clothes somewhere there. Just throw the rest in the hamper and I'll get to it."

And he does exactly that. Isagi ends up wearing a shirt that he could've sworn he lost forever ago and a pair of boxers that he lets you wear from time to time. It's not unusual for you to have some of his clothes since you guys have made it a tradition to try and have somewhat regular sleepovers on weekends that aren't crammed with football games and practice exams.

Once he hears your in-unit washing machine go off, he walks out and makes himself at home on your couch. It's been a long day, and he knows that he shouldn't extend his stay judging from your bookmarked textbooks and wall of sticky notes of god knows what formulas, but he finds the remote and flips on the television.

Oh, perfect. It seems that the show you two were binging from days ago is still paused.

"Hey," You plop down next to him and curl up to his side. Isagi tries his best to not stare at your thighs. "Wanna tell me what's on your mind?"

Isagi finds his shoulders immediately relaxing at your words and lets his mouth run with a small pout accompanying his lips afterward. "For the record, everyone was drunk so I doubt they would remember tomorrow, but they were pretty nosy about our sex lives."

You blink and tip your head. "Oh, well did you tell them?"

Isagi groans, breaking eye contact, and lifts a hand to his head to rub away the incoming headache. "No, I don't think they'll let go of it if I've told them."

It's stupid and irrational, Isagi knows that for sure. But he really doesn't want his private business being spread around by a bundle of testosterone and egotistical college guys. Not with your name in the mix.

"Then, do you want to change that?" You ask quietly, tugging Isagi out of his thoughts. Your words take him by complete surprise. In fact, that's the last thing he expected you to say. He'd expected more of your usual harmless complaints against his team.

Isagi withdraws back, just enough to see if maybe you're also drunk, but the sobriety of your straight face is enough to convince him that maybe you've gone insane instead. "What? We don't have to do anything just because of the guys. I want you to feel comfortable, you know?"

"I know!" You say in a rush and he flinches at your volume.

He makes out your flustered cheeks with the dim lighting from the television and suddenly you start fidgeting with the hems of your shirt. It's at that moment that Isagi takes note that he's been shamelessly staring at your thighs for god knows how long.

You bury your face into his shoulders as you continue. "Are you bored in our relationship, Yoi?"

Now Isagi is really confused and, frankly, a bit scared. Are you going to break up with him? Or do you think he's going to break up with you?

A free hand cradles your head while the other takes a tight grasp of your hands. Isagi holds you close as he places a longing kiss on your forehead. "Of course not, why on earth would you even think that? Is everything alright?"

He feels your body squirming around for a bit and then a shaky sigh. "We just—we never do anything. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed when you’re around your friends."

Ah shit, that’s where he fucked up.

"Hey, sorry I didn’t mean to come off that way. I’m not ashamed of what we currently do. I just think it’s best to keep things private to ourselves at the end of the day as opposed to sharing it with others." He explains.

"But don’t you ever just wanna do more than making out?"

He blinks and his mouth gapes. "What?"

"All we ever do is make out, you don’t touch me anywhere else but my chest… don't you want to go further?" Your voice lowers significantly at the last bit. 

You’re still not looking to meet his gaze. And you’re actively trying not to because Isagi feels the weight of your head leaning against his body more. He doesn’t push it and instead accepts it. Clearly, this is something that he didn’t foresee. Maybe you’re also like him, uncertain and awkward about bringing up the topic. 

Isagi arranges his face in the most neutral expression, ignoring his thundering heart, before lifting your head off his shoulders. "Then do you want to mess around a bit?"

You answer in a way that makes him melt. Your arms sling around his neck, lips soon finding solitude against his, seemingly not caring if his breath does smell one too many shots of alcohol from earlier. Isagi is taken aback by your sudden boldness and it takes him a moment to register what’s going on before returning the same energy back. A quick swipe from your tongue is all he needs to know that you’ve been touch-starved for too long.

You're straddling his lap now and the boxers Isagi's currently wearing is doing a rather poor job of masking the huge tent that's grinding right against you. He pulls away from the heated kiss, watching in a daze as a trail of salvia connects between you two, and winces when he feels your weight pressing against his length. 

"W-Wait, slow down a bit…" He tries to lift you up but you stay steady in his lap.

Your hands rest on his chest and you shake your head. "I wanna go all the way tonight. Can we do that, Yoichi?" There’s something about the way his name rolls off your tongue that sets Isagi off but he has to make about one thing.

"Are you sure? Like positive?"

And the heat in your gaze holds a clear promise — you want this more than anything.

He tries to lift you up slightly again, and this time you follow along. Isagi feels you flinch under his touch as his calloused fingers trace their way down to your panties, toying with the lace ribbon at the front before slipping underneath the cotton fabric. It’s completely soaked through and the way his index finger easily slides between your folds has you almost crying out in embarrassment. 

“Baby,” Isagi hisses through his teeth as he gets familiar with the foreign gummy walls. “All this for me?”

Your boldness from before seems to have dissipated once Isagi took control. You only sigh in response when Isagi nips at the space between your neck and shoulder. Isagi groans against your skin when you find yourself sinking deeper into his finger from the touch.

“Touch me more, please…” 

Having you this close to him, holding him, spilling out these phrases that he didn’t expect to hear, it’s all too much for Isagi. His lips reconnect with yours again, this time with more force and desperation. Your body shudders and twitches under his palm as he picks up his rhythm, inserting an additional finger and then a third one. 

“Does that feel good, baby? Tell me how you like it.” Isagi pays close attention to the small shifts on your face as he attempts to stretch out your walls bit by bit. “Let me know if it’s too much and I’ll stop.”

You bury your face deep into his shoulders once more. “Don’t stop, it feels really good, Yoichi.” It’s his turn to twitch when he feels a hand palming at his own arousal. “Can I have a turn, too?” You have no idea how much weight your words carry. A simple question like that makes Isagi’s stomach twist in knots.

“Y-Yeah, you can.”

The position is a bit awkward but, eventually, it ends with your hands engulfing around his throbbing length poking out from his boxers while he’s knuckle-deep in your entrance. The slick, wet sounds coming from your folds is the only audible noise in the room, other than your occasional mews and Isagi's muffled grunts as you pump him off.

When his length is embarrassingly covered in his pre, Isagi releases his digits from your warmth. "I'm going to finish at this rate, baby." He breathes out.

You shyly meet his eyes, both of you jolting at the incredibly warm and slippery mess you've created from playing with each other when you line his length against your entrance. "I'm going to put it in, Yoi." Your voice is shaky and your free hand grips his thigh as you slowly descend.

Isagi breathes out a raspy gasp as he watches your heat swallow his length. Seeing his arousal disappear inch by inch is a sight that he’ll burn in his mind forever and, when your walls squeeze around him, it takes everything in his power to not cum right then and there. His hands immediately find home on your hips, thumbs digging into the sides and his digits kneading at the flesh of your ass. You’re tight, hot, and overwhelming all at the same time. The feeling consumes him entirely.

"Fuck," Isagi throws his head back and screws his eyes shut. "Don't move—give me a second."

You moan in return, eyes shifting away from the sight. "Take your time, Yoi."

Isagi lets you cockwarm him for a few seconds, feeling himself slowly calming down as he adjusts to your tight walls and begins to thrust slowly. You don't bother shielding your moans, and it makes things all just a bit harder for him to concentrate.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, only going off of what he’s seen from the occasional porn videos he’s seen. Isagi thinks he’s doing a decent job, even though his mind is going absolutely crazy right now. Your erratic moans are right against his ears and the sounds coming from your warmth are the only things keeping him in check. Isagi’s palms rest steadily on your ass as he continues plundering in and out of your sloppy folds from the couch. It isn’t long before you’re shaking and sweating against him, making your earlier shower completely pointless.

You cry out, over-sensitive and shaky, clenching down on him. Isagi's vision gets hazy and soon he realizes that his eyes are misting over, small pools of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, threatening to smear his cheeks. He'd never expected something like this can render him so weak.

Your voice grows hoarse from the volume you're emitting and Isagi hopes you don't receive a noise complaint from your neighbors tomorrow. He leans forward, helpless to let your cries go unanswered, and smothers the noises with his mouth. Your ass meets every thrust he pushes forward and feeling the familiar heat building up in his stomach, Isagi knows he isn't going to last that much longer.

One of his hands snakes up your shirt and cups one of your breasts, toying with your nipple, while the other hovers over your clit. He feels your entire body trembling, chest heaving, and walls throbbing all around him. "Yoichi, it's too good...!"

"Hold out just a bit longer, baby." Isagi's thumb begins circling your bud and it's the final push for you. Your mouth tilts forward, hips bucking and grinding, and you squeeze him so tight that he doesn't have the time to pull out, coating your walls with his white mess. Everything feels hot like fire spreading across his entire body.

Once he feels your body slack against his, he snaps out of his thoughts and immediately pulls out, grimacing at the sheer amount of cum that flows out of you.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I'll run to the store tomorrow morning, baby." His breathing is labored but he still manages to press his lips to your forehead, and he inhales. "You did amazing."

"Mhmm," You make a vague noise that sounds like a bit like acknowledgment to his ears.

Isagi loosens his arms around your body, shifting your figure to sit up by the edge of the couch, and waddles to the bathroom to fetch a damp towel. When he returns, your eyes are half-lidded and you look like you're one second away from passing out from exhaustion. He's not sure if it's from the sex or that you probably stayed up all day studying.

When the sounds of his footsteps come closer, you peer up and lock eyes, taking his breath away. "Will you stay the night?" And he almost laughs on the spot.

"I'm not gonna do a hit and run, baby. You really think I'm doing that?"

He removes your ruined panties and cleans up the cum running down your inner thighs. After fetching you a set of new underwear, he finds the last of his strength for the night and scoops you up, moving only a few feet to the comfort of your twin-sized mattress. Isagi tucks you in slightly, leaving enough room for him to slide in when he changes into a new pair of bottoms.

"You're too nice to be an ass, I guess." You reply, tracing small patterns onto his chest.

He slings an arm over you, pulling you closer, and lets one of your legs rest over his stomach. "Hey, I can be mean when I want to!" Isagi shoots back.

Your chuckles send vibrations down his chest. "So, are you going to tell your friends about tonight?"

"Fuck no," Isagi presses another kiss to your head again and tightens his grip around you. "I don't even want to know what they do with that information." There's a pause and he blinks. "Are you going to tell anyone?"

You stay quiet for a while and Isagi groans, knowing the exact person you were going to text when the opportunity arrives. "Just Rin! You know that we're best friends, right?"

Ugh, he doesn't really want his rival to know about his sex life but he can't exactly stop you from talking about these types of things to your childhood friend. Isagi rubs circles into your back and pouts slightly. "Keep the details to a minimum."

"No promises, Yoichi." But he knows that you're only joking. And even if you did spew all the details to Rin, at least Isagi can sleep peacefully at night knowing that the other male minds own his business.

A yawn escapes from your lips and you snuggle deeper against his body. "Do you have a busy day tomorrow?"

"Nah, everything's pretty much wrapped up for me." He responds, feeling the fatigue catching up as well. "Did you want me to stay over again tomorrow?"

"Only if you promise to add a pack of condoms to the shopping list."

He smiles, jotting down the mental note before shutting his eyes. "Anything for you, baby."

another note: hehe ty for making it this far!! idk why i named it seven minutes in heaven bc it has nothing to do w the game but lets just say the whole sex experience lasted seven mins bc that's p normal for first time ig??

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x female reader #bllk x female reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi smut #bllk smut #blue lock smut #first one shot post that isnt sae or rin #dedicated to our sweet boy isagi #and its smut #🪐 anon #this one is for u!! #srry it took a while hehe #doobean writes

[rogueddie]

Eddie slams his pile of books down on the counter, grinning at how hard Steve startles.

"Jesus, fuck," Steve holds a hand to his chest, glaring. "Man, come on, I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Are you sure about that?" Eddie reaches over, to tug at his hair- Steve bats his hand away before he can get near. "What are you now, seventy?"

"I'll have you know that the silver only adds to my charm."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." He pats the pile of books. "I need to check all of these out."

"You know the limit."

"Please? Pretty please? I'll never insult you for going grey early ever again! Promise!"

"You've made that promise before," Steve grumbles, but starts to check the books out anyway. "What's all of this for anyway? New campaign or something?"

"Nah. Robin mentioned something about the cold war and nuclear shit. Got me curious."

Steve pointedly looks at the books, snorting. "Curious."

"What, you've never wanted to learn some new thing or something?"

"Not this much."

"What about all those sports you played?"

"That was more to do with my parents than me actually wanting to do it."

Eddies eyes narrow because... yeah. Outside of his old King Steve days, Eddie doesn't think Steve has ever wanted something. Not even for his birthday, or Christmas.

All he asks is for them to come to his and Robins flat. All he seems to want is confirmation that they're ok and alive.

"You always say you want kids though, right?"

"I mean, kind of. Though, I'm starting to think the brats we babysat might be more than enough for me."

"Chocolate?"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"No! No, no, no... but there has to be something, right?"

"Something?"

"That you really want."

"There's nothing I need."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"That's all the answer you're getting." Steve shoves the pile of books towards him. "Get lost, I'm supposed to be working."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun."

But he can't stop thinking about it. He ends up returning the pile of books, despite the fact that he barely read one page. When he tries to use it to question Steve, he dodges the question again.

He very quickly gives up, deciding to pester Robin until she tells him. That takes three weeks of constant, daily efforts. And, in the end, the answer is obvious.

Steve just wants to spend more time with people he cares about.

It's not easy to gather anyone in the party, given that there's no holiday or significant occasion- he manages it, though. All the kids, now young adults, organize transportation. Nancy and Jonathan, over the phone, help Eddie and Robin plan out where everyone will sleep with their small apartments.

The effort, and pain of organizing it all, is worth it for the look on Steves face when he comes home to find them all waiting for him.

When Dustin almost knocks him over with how harm he hugs him, for a second, Eddie is worried that he's going to start crying. But he holds it together, greets them all with so much enthusiasm...

"I forgot that he used to be like this," Robin comments, late into the night. They're sat a little away from the group, watching them argue over their games. "The kids mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to them."

"I know. I think he forgets though, so... thank you."

Steve doesn't corner him until they've got the kids asleep- half of them going with Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to Eddies appartment, the rest of them fighting over the little space in Steve and Robins.

"You could've got me chocolate," Steve says, nudging him.

"This is what you really wanted though, isn't it? That was the whole point, big boy."

"Right. Sorry, it... I wanted to say thank you. I know this must have taken a lot to organize and-"

"Steve. You don't need to thank me. Besides, I could never have done this on my own."

"Still... thank you." Steve is quiet for a moment, looking out to the busy city street. "What do you want?"

"This."

"No, what do you really want?"

"Yeah, this. Everyones together, having so much fun. We're gonna do a one-shot when you go to work tomorrow. And, uh... you're happy. I don't need anything more than that."

"Right," Steve clears his throat. He shuffles a little closer, so their sides are almost flush together, tentatively reaching out to hold Eddies hand. "You don't need anything else. What about what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

Steve leans over, bumping their shoulders together when he hesitates. He smiles, reassuring, and gives Eddies hand a squeeze.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"You. I- I want you."

It's terrifying to admit, a horrifying leap... but the smile Steve gives him, so soft and happy, is more than worth it.

"As you wish."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #flufffic

[vixstarria]

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.  

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.  

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.  

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it. 

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group. 

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.  

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.  

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.  

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.” 

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.  

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?” 

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said. 

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck. 

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.  

Shit. 

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.  

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said. 

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!” 

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.  

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.  

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart. 

“We have a system,” Tav replied.  

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart. 

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day: 

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.  

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.  

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted? 

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...   

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso. 

Then she stirred.  

Shit. 

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer. 

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist. 

Perfect... 

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort. 

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.  

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart. 

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.  

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.  

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.  

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.” 

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale. 

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap. 

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued. 

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.  

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.  

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.  

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.  

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further. 

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.  

It couldn’t have meant anything.  

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.  

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.   

And then everything that followed after... 

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins. 

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous... 

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.  

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy... 

‘Yours’ 

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.  

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted. 

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.  

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.  

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.  

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.” 

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed. 

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.  

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. 

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..? 

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.  

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious. 

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.  

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow. 

Nothing.  

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers... 

You were laughing.  

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!” 

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme. 

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.  

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.  

“What have you got there?”  

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.  

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered. 

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?” 

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.” 

“To the hilt?” 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.” 

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound. 

None of them want me there. 

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Delightful. Simply delightful. 

“It will be funny!” 

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.” 

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick. 

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips. 

Not in the least. 

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.” 

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice. 

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.  

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.  

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.” 

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!” 

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap. 

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire. 

You would endure the prattle of your companions.  

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.  

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.  

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders? 

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion POV #gale dekarios #bloodweave more like beefwave #archmage of waterdeep as a washing machine #the narrator may be somewhat unreliable #reflections on author's own inventory management

[soobnny]

winter wind — lee minho.

trope. best friends to lovers. pining. minho is astronomically down bad.

synopsis. a look into lee minho’s realization that maybe he is eager for the affection of someone else featuring the menaces, seungmin and jisung

word count. 1.5k words

warnings. curse words and nothing else i think

note. this idea just suddenly came to me so please enjoy tsundere minho and this silly little fic

Lee Minho sighs out in relief when the pair of you finally make it to Chan’s apartment, immediately being greeted by a warmth in sharp contrast to the weather outside.

The winter wind was unforgiving, as it always is, nipping at Minho’s skin and harshly blowing a deep shade of red on his nose and cheeks. It’s a sight that elicits teasing from his friends, and he tries to shut them up right away before you can hear anything.

You’re still by the doorway, struggling to take off your winter boots. With the information that you’re out of earshot, verified by a quick glance your way, only heightens their teasing.

Heavy on Seungmin. He’s the only little fucker that isn’t easily intimidated by Minho’s infamous glare.

“You’re practically naked, hyung.” Minho wants to wipe the smirk off of his face so bad, but Seungmin isn’t technically wrong, only confirmed further upon double checking his appearance from the huge fucking mirror decorating Chan’s living room.

A sweatshirt and some pants — a pretty fucking terrible choice considering the temperature outside.

“It wasn’t that cold.” He dismisses.

His shivering hands and runny nose deeply contradict with his statement, and Seungmin all but laughs at how persistent Minho is at defending his case. Though, he is having an awful time trying to justify his friend’s clothing choice when he knows Minho usually walks to Chan’s place.

Lee Minho is far smarter than a sweatshirt and some pants.

Seungmin, and the rest of the boys, can only share glances in understanding when you come stumbling into the living room wearing almost all of Minho’s outerwear. His favorite puffer jacket is on you, engulfing your entire figure and that scarf sitting on your neck looks awfully like the one Hyunjin had gifted the boy a few birthdays ago.

So you’re the culprit as to why Minho’s quietly made his way to stand by Chan’s heater to catch a glimpse of his normal temperature.

“Coldcoldcoldcold—“ You pause your conversation with yourself when you see the boys all smiling at you in the living room. As if they know something yoh don’t.

“Hi.” You mumble, trying your best to show a smile as you puff out a breath of winter air. They greet you back right away with accompanied squeals and pinches in the cheeks.

The scarf looks adorable covering half your face, and Seungmin has to physically bite back his laughter when you raise your hand and Minho’s (too big for you) gloves greet them. His friend is horrendously in love with you, and it’s so obvious that Seungmin’s dumbfounded as to how you haven’t realized it yourself.

It doesn’t help that Minho is absolutely useless and won’t confess first — refuses to, even. It’s come to the point where Chan, always the one to tell the boys not to meddle, has practically begged the boy to confess.

The boys probably can’t count with all their hands combined the number of times they’ve told him to confess and he outright avoided the question.

Though, despite being the most straightforward in the group, it seems his feelings for you has made him turn a complete 180 (at least when it comes to the part of his brain reserved for romance). They can’t blame the boy though. It might as well be his first time experiencing the overwhelming tides of feelings and everything that comes with it.

Lee Minho has never been the type that was eager for the affection of someone else either. Among the eight boys, they’d say he was the one who didn’t really have the time for intimacy.

And then you came, in the form of the biggest contradiction to everything Minho had established about love.

Now, the poor boy is falling over, pupils dilated as he silently makes his way to stand by your side to ask you — in the softest tone the boys have ever heard from Minho — “you weren’t too cold from outside?”

There’s a faint smile on his face when you shake his head. And the scene playing in front of everyone would perfectly fit in one of the sitcoms they watch together when they’re bored from how fast Minho’s fond smile changes into a look of feign annoyance when he turns his attention to his other friends in conversation.

Perhaps they just aren’t lucky enough to look behind the scenes, to bear witness to his gentle voice and sweet smile and the way he (without a question) stripped himself off of his outwear as you tread against the white blanketed ground minutes earlier.

He simply shrugs his jacket off and slips it on you, dropping the scarf on your neck and tying it to make sure it’s secured on your neck. Quiet scoldings leave his lips as he does so, eyes focused on taking his own gloves off to put on your hands. If he was too much of a coward to hold your hand, he would have to sacrifice his gloves and bear the cold.

He’d take the harsh winter wind over a call in the morning telling him you’d caught a cold from the winter. Nevermind that there’s a higher chance he get sick instead.

The coming scratchy throat and runny nose are nothing compared to the grateful smile you had directed to him and the way you look clad in his clothes. He almost feels guilty for thinking he could get used to that sight, for hoping to be subjected to your beauty everyday for the rest of his life.

Almost. He was nothing if not a boy who was willing do anything just to see you in his clothes again.

Of course, he hides it well. He’s practiced enough from the months of his dawning realization to the present. So, he keeps the abundance of his teasing remarks high in hopes that they continue to work.

He tells you his hat is too big for you that it makes you look silly or how your height matches that of a 12 year old compared to him which is why his clothes are swallowing you whole. And he tells you that the red on his ears are definitely because of the sandpaper wind and not because of the warmth he felt when you hugged him — it shocks him to the point that he had to push you away and you almost fall on your butt because Lee Minho doesn’t think he can hold back the confession bubbling in his throat if you kept holding him like that.

“You seriously need to tell her.” Jisung is the one who breaks Minho out of his reverie.

The boy can’t just catch a break.

Minho had just settled on the couch, watching you intently as you laugh with Hyunjin at one of Seungmin’s jokes, when Jisung decides to add another tally to the number of times they have failed to get him to confess.

The unconscious grin from watching you laugh turns into a scowl as he directs his attention to Jisung.

“No.” He says pointedly. Han Jisung doesn’t need to clarify for Minho to know what he’s talking about.

“I don’t like her like that.” Minho adds as a weak attempt to get the boy to stop trying to meddle but he knows he isn’t being truthful. And he knows Jisung knows too.

“Sure you don’t.” Jisung snickers, playfully nudging the boy’s side. “We’re not blind, you know. We can see the way you look at her… and the way you’re looking for her right now.”

Minho’s heart thumps at being caught. He simply groans in response, begrudgingly grabbing the brownie in Jisung’s hand and shoving the remains down his mouth.

“She’s in the kitchen, by the way.“

“I didn’t ask.”

“But you were thinking it! You are soooo down bad that it’s actually kind of funny now.” Jisung giggles to himself. “You’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you? So stop being a pussy.”

Minho would’ve lunched his friend to the living room ground if not for your voice calling out his name from Chan’s kitchen. Han Jisung is saved another day from Minho’s wrath.

(He’ll thank you later.)

“Min?” He’s quick to give up, and he closes his eyes in surrender because Han fucking Jisung was right, he would do anything for you, and Minho can already hear the boy telling him he told him so.

Perhaps Lee Minho isn’t as immune to love as he thought he was. There’d have to be a new rebranding towards the part of his brain he had thought was repulsed by the idea of romance. Especially when you had introduced to him the feeling of beating hearts and sweaty hands.

So this is what love is. Now, he knows of the fondness he used to think he could only direct to his cats. He knows of the romance he used to laugh at when watching romantic comedies.

And maybe Lee Minho isn’t so opposed to the idea after all. Especially upon walking in to the kitchen and seeing you smile up at him with a new batch of brownies Felix had saved up for you (that you’d happily share with Minho).

Despite the cold, Lee Minho feels warm, and he looks at you like he does with the little things he loves — a small grin tugging on his lips and his eyes focused on you, diluted and relaxed. Genuine.

Perhaps there is time for intimacy, and perhaps he’d have to put an end to that tally and finally fucking confess.

(If he didn’t, the boys will have owed Seungmin a lot of money).

#k-labels #stray kids fic #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids lee know #stray kids au #lee know x you #stray kids minho #lee minho #minho fic #minho imagines #minho au #stray kids fluff #minho fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshots #stray kids scenario #lee know scenarios #stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #lee minho fluff #minho x you #skz minho #stray kids x you #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff

[confused-pyramid]

You're the Only One Who Knows to Slow it Down | s5

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: 16.2k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, major character death, gun violence, drinking, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 5x01, 5x02, 5x06, 5x09, 5x10, and 5x21

a/n: This season was really hard to write at points (I think we all know which eps I'm talking about lol) but I'm looking forward to brighter days ahead:') Also we get some more tangible tension so yay! Title is from Look After You by The Fray

series masterlist

"We're not working a case," Derek states matter-of-factly when you arrive at the crime scene. You were woken up early the next morning after getting back from Canada, and on less than four hours of sleep, your brain is struggling to function.

"Why call us to a crime scene?" you ask, walking up to the front door of the house with the rest of the team.

He shrugs. "I was hoping you knew."

You look around, trying to find Aaron, but he's nowhere in sight. He had promised to put in the team request for a few days of leave, but you presume the call came in before he got a chance to do so.

The local police let you survey the scene, explaining that a Dr. Barton got a threatening letter that someone would be murdered everyday that he didn't give up his own son. Once you're done inspecting the body, you turn to JJ, lowering your voice. "Where's Hotch?"

"He's not answering his cell," she says, her lips thinning. "I assume it's on vibrate."

You nod. "I'll try him again."

You step away from the group and click his number in your speed dial, listening to the rings until it reaches his voicemail. It's unlike him to keep his phone on silent, but you know the previous night was tough on everyone. "Hey, it's me." You tell him the address you're heading to for the case, before turning towards the car and lowering your voice. "I know you're probably just asleep, but I don't know...I have that weird feeling again that you know I get...so please just call me back." You take a deep breath, hoping you're being overdramatic, and that you'll see him pull up in a few minutes. "See you soon."

When you get to Dr. Barton's house, he still hasn't called you back. You sit with the doctor, Prentiss, and Reid in his living room, going through his recent patient files, while Morgan, JJ, and Rossi head to the school to find his son.

"Something set this guy off," Emily explains as you start poring over the records. "Odds are it's in your files."

You manage to get through about a dozen before Dr. Barton stands up with a sigh. "My son is leaving school in five hours. There's no way we can get through all of these patients in time."

You check your phone again, mostly to see the time, but you also note that there aren't any new calls or messages. "He's right. We need more eyes on this. I can get Hotch and be back in a half hour."

"Keep us updated," Emily says, nodding at you. Concern flashes across her eyes for a millisecond, and you're sure it reflects the look in yours.

The drive to his apartment doesn't take long, and you stalk down the hall, all the way to the end, until you find his door. There's no answer the first time you knock, so you reach for the spare key he gave you, but before you can use it, you realize the door is already unlocked.

Your heart drops into your stomach and you pull your gun out, using it to push open the door carefully. "Aaron? Aaron, it's me."

When the door is ajar, the sight before you almost makes you drop your gun. There's a large bullet hole in the far wall, along with a patch of drying blood and bits of broken glass on the floor. His phone is on the ground as well, and his gun and holster are lying on his dining table.

You crouch down on your heels, trying to calm your breathing, as you take in your surroundings. You need to think logically about this, or you'll be no help at all.

A few things come to you as your mind clears.

His car is still outside.

No blood splatter around the bullet hole.

No drag marks.

You dig your hand around your back pocket and pull out your phone, dialing Garcia as fast as you can. "Overtime shift, Penelope speaking."

Her chipper voice usually calms you down, but right now you need to cut to the chase. "Garcia, it's me. Something's happened to Hotch. You need to get an APB out on him."

Her breath stutters. "What do you mean, something?"

"There's blood on the floor," you whisper, willing your voice not to crack as your throat thickens with tears. "There's also a bullet hole in the wall, probably a .44."

"I'll send the whole team," she says before you cut her off.

"No, don't call the team. They need to finish the case we were assigned. Just tell Emily, since she's expecting me back, but send every other agent in the vicinity."

"On it."

The line clicks off and you release your breath, before standing up again. While you wait for the crime scene techs, you poke around his things in the main area, trying to see if anything has been taken or moved. The only thing you notice before they arrive is that a page has been ripped from his address book.

"Agent L/N?" a voice calls from the doorway.

You lift your hand. "Yeah, in here."

They come inside and get to work immediately, so you step out, just in time for Garcia to call you back. "Y/N, I checked local hospitals for his name, and I didn't find anything at first, but then one of them told me something really strange."

"Garcia," you whisper through gritted teeth. You love her, but she needs to hurry up before you explode. "What was it?"

"Someone dropped off a John Doe at St. Sebastian hospital, and that someone's name was FBI Agent Derek Morgan."

Your vision turns black for a moment. He's back. Foyet's back.

You're rushing to your car before she has a chance to hang up.

***

He's still under anesthesia when you arrive at the hospital. He was stabbed nine times. That's what the nurse told you when you flashed your credentials and asked for any information she could give you.

Now, you're standing in his doorway, trying to build up the nerve to approach his sleeping form. Even with all of the bandages covering his arms and abdomen, he somehow looks peaceful. It's been so long since you've seen his brow unfurrowed, his forehead smooth, without the tension that invades his daily life.

After a few minutes, you take a step inside, then another, and suddenly you're right beside him, reaching out to clutch his hand over the bedsheet.

His skin is cold, and you wrap both hands around his to warm it up, if even by just a little. He's usually a furnace, generating his own heat even when it's freezing out, but whenever he gets hurt, his hands turn to ice.

After a minute, your phone buzzes in your pocket and you let him go to answer it. It's just Emily telling you that she's at the hospital with the rest of the team, and you walk out into the hall to talk to them.

Rossi is the first to reach you. He squeezes you into a hug before getting back to business. "You sure it was Foyet?"

"He had Morgan's credentials," you nod, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck. Derek glances at you then, and you press your lips together with a nod.

"Did they catch him on the security cam?"

"You could see him dropping Hotch off," you explain, trying to keep your voice steady, "but the camera's only on the entrance, so I have no idea what direction he went once he left the hospital."

Emily shakes her head. "It doesn't make sense for him to have brought Hotch to the E.R."

The nurse from earlier approaches you then, pulling your attention. "Agents, he's waking up."

You shuffle inside and take his hand again as everyone walks in.

His voice is soft when he opens his eyes. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital," Emily whispers, taking care to be mindful of her volume.

He shuts his eyes for a beat. "How did I get here?"

"Foyet drove you." Rossi doesn't frown often, but the lines of his face are clearer than ever. "Can you remember what happened?"

Hotch shakes his head, closing his eyes. "What did he take? The Reaper always takes something from his victims."

"There was an address page missing from your day planner," you whisper, finally finding your voice. "In the B's."

His eyes snap open and he tries to lift his head from the pillow, but he can only wince. "Where are my clothes?"

Emily hands him a plastic bag filled with his belongings, and he ruffles through them, until he finds his wallet. When he opens it, a photograph is stuffed inside, covered in blood spatter. Haley and Jack.

Your breath catches, and he seems to realize what it means at the same moment you do. "Haley's maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the B's in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands."

You squeeze his hand involuntarily, and he exhales sharply. "He knows where they live."

***

When the rest of the team rushes off to his old house, you stay with him at the hospital. You get a call soon from JJ that Haley and Jack are just fine, and you are finally able to breathe easy for the first time all day.

"They're okay," you tell him when you hang up the phone. "That was JJ. She said Haley was home and Jack's at a playdate, but Morgan is going to pick him up right now."

He nods slowly, his body relaxing into the bed. "Good. That's good."

"It is," you say, eyeing his movements. It's still enormously difficult to look at him like this, but you won't be able to move forward if you don't know the truth. "Aaron, what happened? What did he do?"

"I don't remember all of it," he says slowly, clearly taking his time with each word. There's no rush, and he knows it. Even if it takes him hours to get it all out, you'll still be here. "I remember him being there when I got home, after I dropped you off. He fired off a shot into the wall, and then I tried to tackle him, but..."

He trails off, and you squeeze his hand tighter, as though trying to tether him to the present moment. After a few shallow breaths, he continues. "I tried to tackle him, and I got him on the ground, but then he overpowered me." You can almost see it in your mind. The picture he's painting as he weaves over the details with startling clarity. "The first one hurt the most."

The first stab. Your eyes close for a beat, like you're trying to hide from his words. The first of nine.

"I don't remember much after that." You can tell he's leaving things out, but you also don't know if you'll be able to handle it if he does tell you everything.

"That's okay," you whisper as his eyes droop down. "You should rest."

He nods slowly as the exhaustion takes over and his grip loosens around your hand as he falls asleep.

You wait by his side for about a half hour, until you spot a familiar face (with a new haircut) dawdling in the hallway.

You stand up in a fervor. "Oh, thank god."

You rush over to Haley and pull her into a hug, which she returns just as forcefully. "JJ called us when she found you, but it's still really good to see your face."

"It's good to see you too," she says with an exhale before letting you go. You look down and see Jack standing next to her, his mouth downturned as his fingers twiddle at his sides. "Do you mind staying with him while I go talk to Aaron?"

You turn around and see that he's blinking his eyes open again. "Not at all." You take Jack's hand with a smile and lead him down the hall.

"I'm sorry if the big men scared you," you tell him once you find a few seats in the waiting area. "I know it was all very sudden."

To your surprise, his face breaks out into a big grin. "Uncle Derek let me turn on the siren!"

"Wow!" you smile, feeling warm laughter echo around your chest. "That sounds super fun."

He nods ecstatically, before leaning his head over to look back up the hall. "Can I see Daddy now?"

Your smile falls as fast as it appeared and you take his hand again, pressing his fingers between yours. "Soon, baby, soon."

***

He wakes up to the sound of faint talking. He can vaguely see you hugging someone, and he blinks a few times to clear his vision as you disappear down the hall.

"How do you feel?" Haley asks as she walks into his hospital room. She doesn't come further than the foot of the bed, but he's just glad to see her here, in one piece.

He clears his throat quietly. "I'm gonna be okay." She doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't want to focus on him right now. "Did they explain to you what's happening?"

She nods slowly, looking at him for another moment. "They said the Marshal's service is taking us straight from here and putting us into protective custody."

She looks upset, and it takes him back to the lowest moments of their relationship. "Haley, I'm sorry."

She looks down and the familiar urge to comfort her returns, even while lying in a hospital bed. "Do you know where they're gonna take us?"

"No, I don't." He tries to catch her eye but she won't look at him. "And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."

She finally looks at him then, and her sadness is tinged with exasperation. "Jack has school. He has friends. I have a job now."

He doesn't know what else to say but: "I know. I'm sorry." He hopes he's conveying what he means, but it doesn't feel like enough. "We will catch him, and you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you."

She nods minutely, and he takes the small comfort. "Are you sure that we're in danger?"

"Yes." There's little else he's been more sure of.

"And what about you?" she asks, her voice small. "Are you gonna be safe?"

He doesn't want to worry her, but he also doesn't want to lie. "He wants to see me suffer. Knowing that my son is out there and that I can't see him is better than killing me."

Her brow pinches and she pushes her short hair back from her forehead. "Jack wants to come in."

He tries to argue at first, not because he doesn't want to see him, but because it will only make it harder to let him go again, but eventually she convinces him to accede.

She leaves to go get him, and he leans back on the pillows, trying not to let himself sink inside.

~

Haley finds you in the waiting area, with Jack sitting on your lap, in the middle of a game of I Spy.

"Is he ready for him?" you whisper when you see her approach. She nods and you lift Jack off your lap and set him on his feet. "Off you go, buddy. Time to see Daddy."

"Yay!" he cheers before racing down the hall, you and Haley right behind him. She steers him into the correct room, and he jumps onto the bed before either of you can stop him.

There's a quiet chorus of 'be careful's before he grunts, "Don't worry. It's okay. The doctors made sure that I'm completely fine." He turns to the small boy with a smile you haven't seen in days. "Did Mommy tell you that you two are gonna take a trip?"

Jack nods once, moving his chin up and down dramatically. "Yeah."

"So I'm not gonna see you for a while."

Jack frowns. "Why?" The word sounds so small out of his mouth, and your heart cracks in your chest.

"Well, think about it like when Daddy goes away for work. Only this time you and Mommy get to go someplace."

Jack ponders this for a few seconds, before crawling up again and wrapping his arms around his dad's neck. "Are you okay?"

"I'm very proud of you." It's a father's answer. The kind of response that doesn't tell the truth, but hides the pain with love. "Every single day. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

Haley says another goodbye and grabs Jack's hand before leading him out of the room. She gives you another hug, squeezing extra tight for the last second. "It's not his fault."

"Of course it isn't," you whisper, letting her pull back.

"No," she whispers, closing her eyes. "I mean, don't let him blame himself for this."

He's one of the most stoic people you know, but he can also be so transparent sometimes. "I won't. I'll be here."

"He needs you," she says with a sad smile. "He's always needed you, but he especially needs you now."

She doesn't let you respond before she's tugging Jack down the hall. You watch as she exits the side door of the wing, and only turn back when you can't see her anymore. She's one of your longest friends, and you won't be able to see her or her son for god knows how long.

When you step back into the room, you stand at the foot of his bed, trying to gauge what he needs from you, but then you see his expression. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and his mouth twists as you rush forward and grab his hand, squeezing it between yours with the grip of someone holding onto a life preserver.

"They'll be okay," you whisper, trying to keep your own tears back. "We'll get through this."

He nods, his eyes still shining. You move to sit in the chair beside him, but he tugs you back, pulling you closer. You understand the desperate look in his eyes, the need for connection and comfort from someone you care about that you've seen in yourself on so many occasions.

Slipping your shoes off, you tuck the sheet into his side and carefully climb onto the little hospital bed, taking care to avoid any of the wires and tubes. Once you're sure you're not pulling on anything, you curl up beside him and wrap yourself around his arm. His skin is warmer than it was earlier, and you take solace in the fact that he's going to be okay. Maybe not now, but he will be.

Your breaths synchronize with his and you listen to the beeping of the heart monitor as your own heart rate calms down. There's a feeling tugging at your spine, filling you up and threatening to spill over, but you shove it down, knowing it will be too much right now. You don't have the words to describe the emotions circulating through your brain, so you stick with what you know. "I love you." It's quiet, barely a whisper, but you know he can hear you. "Thank you for staying alive."

"You're welcome," he whispers back, his voice barely audible over the monitor. "I love you too."

***

You leave the hospital the next morning with a plan. He's still asleep when you wake up, so you get up carefully and thank the nurses one more time before heading out.

You make two stops on the way to his apartment, and this time, you use your spare key to unlock the front door. The crime scene crew cleaned the blood off the floor, and you told Rossi to get them to spackle the hole in the wall, for at least a temporary fix, but there's still an air about the place. It was just starting to feel like his home, and now it's soiled, once again.

You shut the door behind you and drop your bags to the ground, surveying the place one last time for any damage or mess you missed earlier. When everything seems fine, you get to work.

An hour later, you slump back against the wall and toss the packet of instructions to the ground. In front of you is a freshly installed security system, with a door proximity sensor and keypad for when he leaves the house in a hurry.

You can already hear the arguments coming, but you don't care anymore. You won't be able to sleep knowing he's in here, all alone, without anything to keep Foyet from coming back and finishing the job.

For someone who has as little of a technical background as you do, you're impressed with how quickly you were able to get the system running, and you test it a couple of times, turning it on and off and checking the doors, before you finally pull his door closed and lock it behind you.

***

The doctors don't release him until the end of the week, but once he's able to walk again, he calls you to get him from the hospital. By the time he signs his discharge papers and makes the phone call, you're already almost there, and as much as he hates putting you out on a weekend, he can't help the satisfaction that rumbles through him.

The drive to his apartment is mostly silent, with him just trying to stay still as you take the turns carefully, and drive five under the speed limit. When you arrive, you hold the bag of salves and ointments for him as you take his arm, helping him down the hall and to his front door.

He moves to grab his key, but you stop him with a forceful "Wait!"

"I can unlock my own door," he grumbles, but you just shake your head, taking the key from him and turning it slowly in the lock. The moment it swings open, a loud beeping fills the air, and you rush forward to type something into the keypad by his door. Wait...keypad? "When did tha-"

"Before you argue," you jump in, clearly anticipating his disgruntlement, "it's for me, okay."

He raises an eyebrow and you glare at him, but there's no effort behind it. "I mean, it's obviously for you, but still...it's for my peace of mind too."

You're rambling makes him crack a smile for the first time in days, and he nods slowly. "Okay."

Your mouth snaps shut and you look at him with a meek smile. "Okay."

You help him get settled on the couch, and he waits there as you scrounge up some food from the kitchen. He's not sure he has anything perishable, but you manage to put together a comforting bowl of pasta with jarred tomato sauce that makes him feel a little more at home.

As the evening turns to night, he catches himself glancing at his watch more often than not, and eventually you catch on too.

"Is it time?" you ask, your voice gentle.

After a breath, he nods, and you reach across the coffee table to grab his bag of supplies from the doctor. You lay the salve and extra gauze on the table, and wait for him to make the next move, a decision he accepts gratefully.

He's been injured before. He knows how painful it is to sanitize a wound, and especially one as deep and grotesque as his. He just needs a few moments to accept the fact that he's...scared.

"I can do it," he says once he's ready, before reaching for the salve. The simple motion makes him wince and you jump in right away, grabbing it for him and undoing the top.

"Let me," you whisper, your words somewhere between a statement and a question. "Please."

He can already feel his stitches pulling, just from the simple act of swiveling his body to face you, so he gives in with a quick nod.

He doesn't look at you as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. He's not embarrassed - you've never pitied him, even at his lowest moments - but he needs the semblance of privacy as he exposes his injuries to the open air.

The air feels cold as he pulls his undershirt over his head, and you get to work immediately, peeling back the old layer of gauze as slowly as you can. The sections directly over his wounds stick slightly, and he grits his teeth against the pain as you gently tug them free, making sure to avoid pulling his stitches.

"Do you want a break?" you ask once the gauze has been fully removed. He shakes his head, needing this to be over as soon as possible, but when he meets your eyes, he sees them welling up with tears.

He glances down at his bare torso, his eyes darting over the jagged scars ranging from his stomach to his collarbone. Your breath stutters as you take it in with him, and he looks at you. "He made sure we'd match."

He sees you rapidly blinking away the tears that rush forward, and he wants to comfort you somehow, but he doesn't know what to do. You help him lean back on the armrest, so you can apply the salve around each of his injuries, and as your fingers press into his skin, he can't help but be reminded of his childhood. The pressure of your hands as you wrapped him with bandages, the warmth of your breath when you leaned in to inspect your work.

It's usually a sad memory when he thinks back to his childhood, but with you, it was always good. He watches as you slowly tape the new layer of gauze around his abdomen, and even as tears slide down your cheeks, the way you look at him doesn't change.

"All done," you whisper after pressing on the final pieces of tape. "How do you feel?"

Anxious. Terrified. Lonely. Guilty. "Good. Thank you."

***

"Hey, it's Emily."

"What's up, Em?" you say, your phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you hop around, trying to get your shoes on before work.

"How was your weekend?"

You pause. "Fine?" The question isn't out of the ordinary, you're just not sure why she called to ask you that when she's going to be seeing you in person in about twenty minutes. "How was yours?"

"Oh, you know." She sounds distracted, and you feel a smile pull at your lips as you realize she's avoiding something.

"Em...is there a reason you called? You know, given that we're both on our way to the same place."

She clears her throat, and you hear the indecision in her voice, even over the phone. "I know this is kind of a weird question, but would you mind if I picked up Hotch for work this morning. I left late last night, so JJ was able to brief me early, and I figured he could use a headstart."

You stop your movements, straightening up and lifting your hand to your cell. It's not at all what you were expecting her to say, but that's not all you're confused about. "Yeah, of course. You don't have to ask me first, though. We're all teammates."

She makes an little noise that you don't recognize. "Yeah...but you two are different."

You don't know what to say to that, so you just wait for her to keep going. Emily was never very good at uncomfortable silences, so after a few moments, she's back. "Anyway...I'll grab Hotch and see you in 30?"

You try to hide your grin, even though no one can see you. "Sounds like it."

"Bye."

The phone clicks off, and you tuck it back into your pocket, still smiling. You're already in a better mood than normal, because after 34 days of medical leave, Aaron comes back to work today.

You finish clasping your shoe and head out the door, more relaxed this time. With Emily picking up Aaron, you're not in a rush anymore. You take the drive at a leisurely pace, and when you arrive at the office, you run into Spencer by the front of the building.

"Wait up!" you call out, jogging over to him before he gets in the elevator. "Let me get that." You slide the strap of his book bag off his shoulder and sling it onto yours. He nods in thanks and tucks his crutch under his arm as he presses the button for your floor.

"I thought I'd be used to the crutches by now, but I keep tripping over everything." You scrunch your brow with amusement as he frowns down at his leg. "The doctors say it's healing well, though."

The elevator doors open and you step in front of him to get the door across the hall. "Does it hurt?"

He shrugs. "It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time."

The statement isn't exactly comical, but his deadpan tone makes you snort as you hold the door, and he smiles as he passes by you. You follow him to Garcia's lair, and she perks up upon seeing the both of you.

"My babies," she grins, pulling out a chair for Spencer. "Sit, sit."

You let out a laugh as you place his bag on the floor next to him. "I'm older than you."

"Who's counting?" she throws back, typing something furiously into her computer. She turns around a moment later, just in time to swat Spencer's hand away from the tin of cookies sitting on her table. "No, no, no."

"What?" he complains, gaping at her.

She swats him again, before pulling the tin away from him. "Get away, you. These are for Hotch."

"Butterscotch?" you ask, glancing down at the box. His preference for butterscotch cookies was something you used to tease him about when you were kids. Butterscotch Hotch.

Penelope nods and lifts the edge of the lid, implicitly offering you a cookie. When you take one, Spencer throws his hands up into the air. "Why does she get one? I get shot in the leg and I still don't get any cookies."

You laugh and break off half of your cookie, which he takes from you the moment it's in your palm. He stuffs the entire thing into his mouth, not bothering to swallow it before he pipes up again. "You know he's gonna hate the attention."

"It's cookies," Garcia pouts, "not cake."

Spencer shrugs. "He's probably gonna pretend like nothing happened, anyway."

"Well, it doesn't mean we have to."

You don't know how to weigh in to this discussion, mostly because you know more about how he's feeling than they do, but also because the idea of speculating on his recovery without him here feels like a betrayal.

"What do you think?"

You look up and realize that Spencer was directing this question to you. Swallowing down the last bit of your cookie, you cough once to clear your throat. "I think he's been through a lot, but sometimes coming back to work is the best way to take your mind off of things. Foyet was in his home. I don't think staring at the same walls that used to have bullet holes in them is exactly healthy either."

Spencer and Penelope both stare at you for a moment, before nodding and looking down. They remind you of two children who have just been reprimanded, and you smile to soften the sentiment. "I love you guys for caring about this, but we just have to trust that he's okay."

"Yeah," Penelope nods, reaching forward to squeeze your hand. "Are you okay? This can't have been easy for you, either."

"I'm fine," you say too quickly. "Nothing happened to me." It's not a lie, exactly. You weren't the one who was stabbed. Nine times. "I've just been keeping him company after work, and helping with some of his post-hospital care checklist."

"He's lucky to have you," Penelope says softly, to which Spencer nods.

"He was great too after I got shot," you add, feeling oddly defensive of your friendship. "He stayed with me for a long time when my dad was gone."

She smiles at you sadly, before holding the tin out for you. "Want another cookie?"

You let out a weak laugh as Spencer chuffs behind you, and you shake your head. "No thanks."

"Do you think he'll like them?" Her voice sounds earnest, and you nod, knowing what it's like to want so desperately to understand someone who's as closed off as he seems at times.

"Spence, Y/N, there you guys are."

You turn around to see JJ, her face lined with tension. "Are you ready for us?"

She nods. "Grab your go bag."

***

He's been erratic all day. When he snapped at Garcia earlier for missing the antipsychotics link, you wanted to throttle him, especially when you remembered the cookies she had waiting for him in her office.

The thought that maybe Spencer was right keeps flashing through your mind as you watch him get frustrated with everyone, including himself. When you all arrive at the Darrin Call's father's house, where he and a young boy he kidnapped are waiting, Aaron instructs Emily to speak with the lieutenant on scene to figure out what you're dealing with.

"The kid's in there," you hear him say, "We've got this. Tactical teams are covering the exits. Call needs a distraction. He's focused on the old man."

Emily glances back at the house as she ties her hair back. "For now. But we're gonna have to figure out the safest way to get that kid out."

"I've got a team in the back and one on the way. We're going to infiltrate."

"You do that and someone else dies."

The man just shrugs. "Either Call or a child murderer...flip a coin."

"It doesn't have to end like that." You can see how hard she's trying to make the lieutenant understand, but sometimes the locals just don't listen. "We get a confession out of Jarvis and he goes away, and Call gets his answers. No one else has to die."

There's movement behind you and you turn around at the last second as Aaron stalks past you and towards the house.

"Hotch," you call out, but he doesn't look back. "Aaron. Aaron!"

He's almost at the front door, and your feet start moving without you realizing it. You make it within a few feet of the front gate before two pairs of arms seize you from behind, halting your momentum.

"Let him go," Dave whispers as he and Derek release you. "We have to trust him."

"He's not thinking straight," you grit out, unable to tear your eyes away from the closed door as you step forward again. He wasn't wearing his vest, and you can't remember if you saw his gun in his holster. You close your eyes, wracking your brain. Think, goddamnit.

Derek grabs you again as you try to make a break for it, anticipating your movements before you even know what you're doing. "Rossi's right. We have to trust him. We can't help him if we rush inside now."

"We can't help him out here either!" Your voice sounds frenzied in your ears, but he doesn't loosen his grip, even as you try to shove him off of you.

"You know we're right." He looks at you sternly, and your resolve diminishes as reason starts to set in. "Going inside will only make it worse."

Emily comes up from behind you and takes your arm, leading you back to the street in front of the house. You back up, but you don't turn around, ready to rush in the moment anything changes.

"What's he doing?" she asks Derek, her voice quiet, like she doesn't want you to hear.

"Stalling," he says simply. "He's got nothing to lose."

Your breath catches and you lift your hand to your chest, clutching the top of your vest like it's a lifeline. You want to scream at them, scream that he has everything to lose. He has a son, and an ex-wife who loves him, and he has you.

"You got the shot?"

"Negative."

He suddenly appears in the front of the door, but you can tell he's angling his body to block the visual of the shot. What is he doing?

The door opens for a split second, and the little boy runs down the porch and into the arms of one of the SWAT members. It shuts as fast as it opened up, and you only manage to see his face for a moment before he disappears into the house again.

For a minute, there's only silence, until the air is pierced with the sound of three gunshots, one after the other. Your body visibly flinches and you throw yourself forward and over the gate, pulling out your gun at the last moment as you breach the front door.

When you storm into the living room, Aaron is putting cuffs on Darrin. The father is dead in his recliner at the center of the room.

"What happened?" Dave asks from behind you.

He purses his lips. "I couldn't stop him." It's then that he finally looks up at you, but all you can do is glare. You don't know if you've ever been angrier in your life, and definitely not at him.

His brow dips with a mix of confusion and remorse, but you just stuff your gun back in its holster, spin around, and stalk out of the house. The fresh air outside feels like a welcome respite from the emotions swirling around inside of you, and you turn your face to the sky as your brain fires off millions of questions at once.

When did he get so reckless?

Is this all because of Foyet? The need to feel like he's getting something done, with his family on lockdown?

He comes out of the house then, and you're practically shaking from the relief that he is okay, but the anger isn't fading. You can feel it flooding your veins with each breath you take.

He hands Call off and approaches you slowly, stopping in front of you with a look you don't recognize.

"This is the job," he says simply, his voice almost cold. "You know what you signed up for."

"I know what I signed up for?" Your face twists with disbelief and you look at him with contempt. "Fuck you, Hotch." His face drops slightly and it only feeds your fight. You know him better than anyone else in this world, and that also means you know exactly how far you can push him until he cracks.

"This is what we do." His voice is tight, and you see your anger reflected in his eyes. "You knew that when you joined the team."

Emily and Dave exit the house, and you can feel their eyes flickering over to you, but you can't bring yourself to care right now.

"No," you grit out, shaking your head. "You don't get to be angry with me. You don't get to say that to me."

He looks at you for a beat before his face falls and you see all the fight leave him. He sighs, his brow pinching. "You're right."

You can practically see the war going on inside his head. The battle between fear and action, where there are no winners.

You nod as you look down at the ground, and he reaches forward to take your hand. He squeezes it tightly, before lifting it to his chest. "Y/N." I love you, I'm sorry.

You nod. "I know." I'm sorry too.

***

You've been looking at the text JJ sent you for the better part of an hour. Something's going on. Strauss was in Hotch's office and it looked bad.

You're reminded of his suspension and the two long weeks you worked here without him, and you internally resolve that it won't be happening again if you have any say at all.

The next morning, you're one of the last people to arrive, and you walk into a conversation that Spencer is having with Emily at his desk.

"You're not gonna believe this," he says, turning to you and lifting his hands dramatically. "Some moron just posted a blog called 'What would Carl Sagan do?' and it's completely illogical."

"L/N, what did I miss?"

You spin around to see Derek strutting into the bullpen, his phone held up in his hand.

"What do you mean?" you ask with a frown.

He looks at you expectantly, and you start to feel like you're on the outside of something you should know. "All the emails from Hotch..."

You yank your phone from your pocket and refresh your email. "I don't have any new ones."

"Me neither," Reid chimes in from next to you.

Derek doesn't wait another moment before he's barreling past you and up the stairs to Aaron's office.

"What was that about?" Spencer asks, a confused look on his face.

"I don't know," you say honestly, "but I think we're gonna find out soon."

~

"You wanted to see me?"

He nods and you step into his office, shutting the door behind you. Ever since his private conversation with Derek this morning, you've been obnoxiously curious about what's been going on with the team, but you also know when not to overstep your boundaries.

"Take a seat." He beckons to the couch on the far wall, and he sits down across from you when you plop down. "We have to talk about something."

"If you say Strauss suspended you again-" He cuts you off with a lift of his hand. You look at him sheepishly and nod. "You were saying..."

"This is going to sound odd, but just hear me out." You're starting to get worried, but he doesn't look anxious, so that's a start. You nod, and he continues. "The bureau thinks that my ability to lead this team has been compromised. They've been questioning me since Foyet's attack, and they're not entirely wrong."

You want to refute this, but you've also been questioning some of his actions as of late. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean that you won't have his back if it comes down to it. "They can't fire you. The whole team will fight back if they even try."

He looks at you with something that resembles concern. Concern? "They won't fire me...because I'm stepping down."

"What?" you burst out, unable to help your volume. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm resigning as unit chief at the end of the week, but I'm not leaving this team."

You think you have an idea of where this is going, but his eyes are still tracking your movements, like they do when he's worried about how you'll react. You don't know how it could get much worse than this, but then you realize he hasn't told you who will be replacing him.

"I told Morgan to take my place until we catch Foyet."

There it is. You don't expect it to sting as much as it does. "Oh."

Your voice sounds small to your own ears, and you clear your throat to keep the emotion out. This isn't a personal decision, it's professional. If Strauss was telling you this now, it probably wouldn't faze you. So why does it hurt coming from him?

"Strauss wasn't happy with your decision to not take the New York position," he explains, his eyes finding yours. "You know I think you deserve more leadership roles. It was her that suggested Morgan for it, and I couldn't argue when she was already so unsure about letting me promote internally."

"I get it," you nod. Your tone a bit sharper than expected, even though you understand where the decision came from. Derek deserves this position too. "I do, I promise."

He raises his eyebrows with a check in, and after a moment, you finally nod. It's okay. We're good.

"I'll see you in the morning?"

You dip your chin. "Good night."

***

"I can't believe Hotch is stepping down."

Penelope, Emily, Spencer, and JJ are all unabashedly watching Derek as he briefs Strauss on the case he chose for today. You've been trying not to look, but every few minutes, something snags your attention.

"Morgan said it's business as usual," Emily adds, her brow furrowed as she watches them converse.

Penelope doesn't seem eased. "So we're just supposed to move forward without any discussion?"

Spencer shrugs. "After Foyet, I think we'd have to be ready for anything."

Derek finishes speaking with Strauss then, and you stand up as he asks Emily to call Rossi for the briefing. He looks official with his ironed button-down, and you can't help but wonder if he's trying to emulate Aaron.

You flash him a cheeky smile as he walks towards the conference room, but he just brushes past you. 

~

Derek steps into his new role effectively, and you even notice him provide extra feedback to everyone throughout the case. Hotch has a bit of a difficult time stepping down at first, but you know it comes from habit, not distrust.

When you're back at the office later that night, you look up to see that he is still in his office, furiously jotting something down, even though his responsibilities have been greatly diminished. You don't know why you expected the demotion to make him want to cut back a bit.

Derek is the only person still in the bullpen when you take a seat again. You finished up the last of your paperwork, so you start to pack up your stuff, but then your interaction from earlier crosses your mind again.

Latching your bag closed, you stand up and perch on the edge of Derek's desk. "Hey, boss, how's the responsibility feel?"

"Fine," he mutters, his tone snippier than you've ever heard it.

"A lot more paperwork than you were expecting, huh?"

He doesn't look at you, so you reach forward to tap the back of his hand. "Derek, come on, what's going on with you?"

You brace for him to snap at you again, but then he just sighs, setting his pen down. "You're not angry with me, right?"

"What?" You don't know where this is coming from, seeing as how he's been the one who's been avoiding you all day. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Why?" he repeats, his face twisted with disbelief. "I basically stole this position out from under you."

You shake your head forcefully, putting your hand over his on the desk. "Not even close, hon. Anything on my end was bureau politics, but that's just one side of it. You deserve this just as much as I would have. You've even been at the BAU longer than I have."

He's silent for a moment, before he turns his hand under yours and clasps it gently. You give his hand a squeeze before bringing your other one up to his cheek. "You're doing a great job. You were an amazing leader out there today. Hotch picked you well."

Derek leans into your hand for a beat, before letting out another sigh. "Thanks."

"Seriously, Derek," you say with a smile. "This might have been one of his best professional decisions yet."

That makes him laugh, before shaking his head. "Nah, his best decision was bringing you to this team."

Your chest fills with warmth and you lean forward to pull him into a hug. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, and you settle into the hug, turning away from the office light upstairs and trying to ignore the fact that Aaron hasn't looked up from his desk since you started talking.

***

"Agent Hotchner, before you go, there's one final thing I'd like to share with you."

Karl Arnold, the Fox, has been taunting each of you throughout the whole day, and right when you finally thought you were done, he drew you right back in. You follow Hotch and Prentiss back into the interrogation room.

"So you think you found my admirer."

"No," Aaron says simply. "We found the killer."

Arnold grins. "With my help, of course."

"Your admirer is exactly like everyone who contacts you..." Emily sneers, "lost."

Arnold turns to her, and the look in his eyes makes your skin crawl. "My love, your guy is far from lost."

Hotch shakes his head, turning to the door. "We're done."

"So is he." All three of you spin back around, much to his amusement. "'Look at what I have done.' It's quite brilliant, you know?"

"We will find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner, I rather think he's already found you."

Aaron immediately starts flipping through the file on the table, shoving pictures and papers aside as he searches for something. Something about Arnold's tone sends your mind reeling and you grab the journal in front of you and start flipping through it as well.

"What's going on?" Emily asks, coming up behind you.

Arnold just laughs. "He's torturing him."

"Who?"

He ignores her. "It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."

You reach one of the bookmarked pages, and the symbol that greets you almost makes you drop the journal. "Aaron..."

His eyes snap to your hands as his skin turns white. "Foyet."

The three of you rush out of the interrogation room, accompanied by the disturbing sound of Arnold's laughter echoing behind you.

Just before the door shuts behind you, you hear his final words. "He knew you'd come."

***

The whole team spends days with only one goal in mind: find and capture Foyet. JJ works with you and Garcia to track prescription medications that he would be on given his self-inflicted injuries, and Spencer, Emily, and Aaron put together a geographic profile using the letters from the Fox and the proximity of nearby pharmacies. Derek's role as acting unit chief keeps him busy all on its own, but he manages to keep the team on track as he turns any new cases that come in to other teams.

When JJ returns from a local pharmacy with the discovery that many prescription meds have over-the-counter alternatives, the focus shifts. Garcia narrows down the list, and brings back a list of names that is way too long to feasibly question.

"153 names," you huff, leaning over her shoulder as she scrolls down the list.

Emily frowns. "Well, he's not gonna use his own name."

"What kind of aliases should we be looking for?"

You all consider this, before Derek chimes in. "He could have easily stolen someone's identity."

Hotch shuts that idea down immediately. "No, he's a narcissist in love with his own mythology. He'd use a name connected with the case."

"A victim, maybe," you guess, "or a cop?"

Garcia doesn't find anything on the initial search, but thankfully Spencer suggests another approach. "Guys, Foyet likes things to have meaning to him. The eye of providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led us back to him. Maybe he's doing the same thing with the alias."

Emily frowns. "Like an anagram or something?"

Spencer walks over to the white board and writes out George Foyet, before fiddling around with the spellings of possible anagrams. You walk up behind him and follow his movements along the board. "You see something, Spence?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet."

"Spencer," you interrupt as the realization comes to you, "he named himself The Reaper."

He pauses for a beat, before switching over to scrawling out possible anagrams for The Reaper instead. After a moment, he's done. "Peter Rhea."

Penelope is already searching. "There's a Peter Rhea in Arlington."

Rossi nods, a satisfied look on his face. "We found him."

***

Garcia sends out the address of an apartment in his name, and you drive over with Hotch, who doesn't say a word the whole way over. You keep glancing at him, trying to be discreet, but the tension in his posture doesn't fade, even after the breakthrough.

The apartment ends up being empty, but when you all go inside, there's a laptop sitting on the center table. Emily dials Garcia the moment you realize that the files on it are being remotely deleted, and when she hacks in, she comes across a series of surveillance photos that make you gasp out loud. "Oh my god, isn't that-"

"That's the US Marshall protecting my family." His face looks frozen with stress as he dials Marshall Kassmeyer's number. When the call goes to voicemail, Aaron stalks out of the apartment and to the SUVs parked out front. He doesn't wait for you to get in, before he's already driving off.

"Where is he going?" Emily calls out as she exits the building behind you.

"Kassmeyer's house," you say, almost certain that you're correct. With the knowledge that his family is most likely in immediate danger, there is nothing anyone could do to stop him from trying to save them. "I'm gonna follow him."

"Here," Rossi says, tossing his car keys to you. You accept them gratefully and speed off down the road.

~

Kassmeyer is bleeding out when you get to his house. Aaron is already inside, trying to get him to explain what happened, and when he describes how Foyet taunted him and stabbed him, you resist the urge to take Aaron's hand.

"Sam," he says suddenly, leaning over him. "I need to understand. Does he know where Jack and Haley are?"

Your heart rate skyrockets as Kassmeyer mumbles another apology. If Foyet knows where they are, you don't know if any of you will be able to get there in time.

The paramedics rush in then, and they carry Sam out to the awaiting ambulance as he refuses sedation. Aaron runs out after them and throws himself into the back of the ambulance before you can catch up.

~

Without any new leads, there's nowhere for you to go, so you wait out front in your SUV as you wrack your brain for where Foyet would have told Haley and Jack to go. You don't know how long it takes until another agent calls you from the hospital with the news that Marshall Kassmeyer died in surgery.

The news hits you like a ton of bricks. One more body you can attribute to The Reaper. "Is Agent Hotchner there?"

The voice is tinny over the line. "He took one of the SUVs and left a few minutes ago."

"Where?" You can hear how frantic your voice sounds, but you don't care. "Where did he go?"

"I'm not sure," the agent says. "He sped away before anyone could ask."

You hang up the phone and turn the car on, before pulling onto the street and calling the team line. Garcia picks up on the first ring.

"Sam died in surgery," you explain as you turn at the end of the street. "Hotch is already gone, but I'm gonna go to the hospital now in case someone has more info."

"Okay, honey," she says, patching in the rest of the team. When they answer, she repeats your statement, before she gets cut off. "Guys, Hotch is calling Foyet."

"Patch us in," Derek instructs over the line, before going silent. You mute yourself as well, before turning back to the road.

"Agent Hotchner."

Foyet's voice makes you nauseous, and you can practically hear the grin behind his words.

"If you touch her..." Aaron doesn't even finish the threat, but you can feel the rage within it.

"Be gentle, like I was with you?"

Your eyes prick with tears as you remember the scars that are now a permanent fixture on his body. The matching scars. The idea of Haley ending up the same way, or Jack-

"What the hell took you so long?" Foyet complains, his tone playful. "I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something."

Aaron doesn't answer him, and the anger is almost palpable over the line.

"Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you're frustrated."

"I'm not frustrated," he finally responds. "You're more predictable than you think."

"Am I?"

He starts to recount the tale of Foyet's life, weaving in details that you didn't know from his childhood and the pain he was causing before he was even old enough to drive. You suppose this was what all of those late nights at the office were for. You hope they were worth it.

"That's the thing, George," he continues, his voice suddenly softer. It's like he's pleading with him. "This isn't a fairy tale. You don't have to write this story. Haven't you gotten what you wanted?"

There's silence for a few moments, and you can hear your heartbeat in your skull. Eventually Foyet comes back. "You know what I've been thinking? Haley looks pretty good with dark hair."

Your heart falls into your stomach. He has her. He already has her.

"She's lost some weight. Must be all the stress you caused her."

Just when you think that might be the worst of it, he continues. "Where's the little man? Oh. There he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?"

He has them both. You can barely see the road through the anger and fear that is coursing through your veins. Another phone rings and Foyet answers it, leaving his line with Hotch on as well. "Mrs. Hotchner. I'm here. Open the gate and I'll drive in."

You can't hear her reply, before Foyet returns to the call you're listening to. "Aaron? I really gotta go."

The call disconnects, and you can't breathe. Open the gate. The gate. What gate?

Think, think, goddamnit think.

The answer hits you like a truck. "His house. They're at his old house."

Emily whispers something that sounds like "shit" and you swerve across the lanes to make a u-turn. "I'm heading there now."

Assuming Aaron was already heading back after leaving the hospital, he would reach the house before any of you. You can only hope he'll be there in time.

Your knuckles have turned white from how hard you're gripping the steering wheel, and when Garcia patches you all in for another call from Foyet, the tears are already flowing down your cheeks.

"Aaron?"

It's Haley's voice. You gasp out loud from the relief that she's still alive.

"You're okay?" She sounds so scared, but at least she's alive. That's all you can focus on right now.

Aaron answers with a defeated sigh. "I'm fine."

"But...he said that..." The realization hits her, and she lets out a small sob. "Oh, Aaron."

"He can hear us, right?"

"Yes."

His voice is softer then, wet with tears. "I am so sorry. Haley, show him no weakness, no fear."

"I know." Of course she does. She was married to a profiler for years. She knows what all of this means, but she doesn't deserve any of it. "Sam told me all about him. Is he, uh..."

"No," he says gently. "Sam is fine."

Foyet's voice is like the hiss of a snake as it joins the call. "Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. Is that why your marriage broke up, because you're a liar?" His voice is too close to the phone. You want to scream for him to get away from her, but you're not supposed to be listening, and your car isn't moving fast enough.

"He's trying to scare you, Haley." His voice is trembling, and you can hear the tightness behind each of his words.

When Foyet mentions the deal, your stomach roils with nausea. You can picture the exact look on Aaron's face as he blames himself for this entire situation, even though it's happening to him, not because of him.

"Don't react."

Haley's voice is shaking too as she whispers, "What is he talking about?"

"Tell Jack I need him working the case."

"What?" She sounds confused, and that's when you remember the signal he told you about. The words that only Jack knows that are meant to keep him safe from situations exactly like this.

"Tell Jack I need him working the case," he repeats, his voice steadier. But all of it goes away the moment Haley hands her son the phone.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, buddy." His voice cracks and you feel your heart crack with it. The tears are rushing down your cheeks now, and you wipe them out of your eyes with the back of your hand as you get closer to the house. But not close enough.

Aaron tells him to work the case again, and he gives Haley a hug before rushing out of the room.

"He's so cute. He's like a little junior G-Man." Foyet chuckles, before yelling out. "I'll be right up, Jackie boy!"

Aaron ignores him, and you feel his focus return. "Is he gone?"

"Yes." Haley's voice is strong, and you release a single sigh of relief as you press the gas pedal down as hard as you can.

Aaron's voice returns and you can hear the anguish as he speaks. "You're so strong, Haley. You're stronger than I ever was."

"You'll hurry, right?" The fear in her voice breaks your heart, and you want to assure her that you're all doing everything you can, but you're still a few streets away.

"I know you didn't sign on for this."

Neither did you.

She echoes your thoughts. "Neither did you."

His voice breaks into a sob. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Promise me that you will tell him how we met and how you used to make me laugh."

"Haley..."

"He needs to know that you weren't always so serious, Aaron." Her words sound so final, and you can't imagine what Foyet is pointing at her right now, but you can only hope that Aaron gets there before it's too late. "I want him to believe in love, because it is the most important thing. But you need to show him." She sounds almost resolute, and your body floods with hope for a split second. "Promise me."

His breathing is ragged as he whispers, "I promise."

Three gunshots ring out and the wheel jerks in your hand as a painful sob wrenches from your throat. No, no, no.

~

You race out of your car the moment you pull to a stop in front of the house. There's only one other SUV outside, and you don't give yourself a moment to think as you rush inside, lifting your gun at the last second.

The front foyer is empty, but then a jagged thumping fills the air and you dart around the corner to find Aaron beating Foyet to a pulp. You can tell from where you're standing that he's already dead, but that doesn't seem to matter to him.

"Aaron!" you yell, hoping to break his reverie. His hands are covered in blood as he pounds the man's face in, and he doesn't look up until you grab him from behind and yank his arms back. "Aaron, he's dead. He's dead."

He stops moving, and for one single second, everything is still. Then his body pitches forward and he breaks down as he sobs, his hands coming up like he's begging for the pain to go away.

You clutch him as tightly as you can, like if you hold him close enough, he won't fall apart. You can hear the voices of your teammates as they enter the house, but then his head lifts and he pulls himself up, dashing down the hall. You follow after him, rushing past Morgan and Rossi, and you realize where he's going in real time as he runs into his office and kneels down beside his desk.

Please, please, not him. Just not him. He opens the cabinet and you all share a gasp of relief as Jack's little face peeks out, his skin unmarred.

"I worked the case, Daddy. Just like you said."

Aaron reaches in and picks him up, before squeezing him tightly, his little face glancing around the room in confusion.

"You did a great job, buddy." He releases him after a few moments, before handing him off to JJ to go outside and away from the carnage littering the house. You press a kiss to his forehead before she lifts him up and walks out of the room.

Emily looks at you then, concern flashing in her eyes, but you just nod, and she follows JJ, pulling the door closed behind her.

You turn back around just in time to catch Aaron as he collapses to the floor. The weight sends you both to your knees, and he crushes you to him as you hold him as tightly as you can. His sobs mix in with your own, and you try not to let your body shake from the force of your crying, because you need to be strong for him.

He buries his face into your neck, his tears mixing with the blood on his face as it soaks your shirt and vest.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper into his hair. It doesn't feel like enough, but there's nothing else to say. "I'm so sorry."

~

Derek and Emily come back with the paramedics eventually to take him outside to check for injuries, and you're about to follow after them when something catches your eye. A pair of feet invade your periphery as you glance through a doorway down the hall. Oh god.

Your knees buckle and Derek catches you before you stumble forward into her room. You fall to your knees beside her, and you vaguely hear Emily whisper something behind you before there's just silence.

Her eyes are already closed, and if you really wanted to, you could try to pretend that she was just sleeping, but there's too much blood. You reach out to push her short hair back from her forehead, so that you can see her face one last time. One last time.

A sob rips out of you and you take her hand, pressing it to your lips. The scene is suddenly too much, and you close your eyes before letting out a shaky breath. You don't know what your life is going to look like without her presence. What Aaron's life with look like, or Jack's.

You squeeze her hand again before laying it on her stomach, and Emily comes forward then to help you up. Derek holds the door open as she leads you outside, and helps you tear your vest off the moment you hit the fresh afternoon air.

You bend over, hands on your knees, gulping back fresh air and trying not to throw up. Emily pats your back as you take in deep breaths, rubbing comforting circles that help to calm down your heart rate.

When you look up, you spot Aaron sitting on the edge of an ambulance. The medics are cleaning his cuts, and one of them is holding an ice pack to his head, when you walk over to survey the damage.

He doesn't look up when you approach, instead staring at his bloody hands with a look you can't discern. You can't imagine what he must be thinking right now, but if you know him at all, you know that sometimes you don't need to talk.

You reach down and take his hands, holding them in yours with a tight grip that forces him to look at you. Neither of you says anything, but it's okay, because there is nothing left to say. There will be soon, but not right now.

***

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Jess tells you as she slings her purse over her shoulder.

You nod at her as you pick Jack off the ground and swing him up into your arms. "Take your time. We'll be hanging out here."

Aaron beckons for Jess to walk out in front of him before he dips his chin at you. "Thank you again."

"Of course," you smile, shaking your head. They're going to make the last arrangements for the funeral, and the absolute least you can do is watch Jack while they're away.

"Can we watch cartoons?" Jack asks the moment the front door shuts behind them.

"Soon, baby," you laugh lightly, before placing him on the ground and leading him to the kitchen. "We gotta make lunch first."

You throw together two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and bring them to the breakfast table, where Jack is obediently scribbling away at his coloring book. "Here you go, Jack-o-lantern."

He takes a massive bite before you can sit down, but over the next ten minutes, he only manages to finish about half of the sandwich. "I'm done."

"You sure?" you ask, scrunching your face into a playful frown. "I think you got at least a couple more bites in you."

He shakes his head forcefully, before dropping the sandwich onto his plate. You know he doesn't usually eat much, but he hasn't eaten since breakfast hours ago. "Come on, hon, at least another big bite."

"No!" he yells, pushing the plate away from him. Before you can stop him, he jumps off of his chair and races out of the kitchen, towards his bedroom.

You hear the door slam shut behind him, and you heave out a sigh before clearing away both of your plates and wiping down the counter. You don't fault him for anything, you just can't believe he has to go through something like this.

He's so young. Younger than you were when you lost your mom. There's some comfort in the fact that he likely won't remember this pain when he's older, but then comes the nausea. The sickening reminder that one day he'll forget about her. Haley, his mother, your best friend's wife, your friend.

You slowly make your way to his room, knocking on the door twice before calling out his name. When he doesn't answer, you twist the knob and gently open the door. "Jack?"

He doesn't say anything as you cross the room and sit on the floor in front of him. He's fiddling around with a set of colorful wooden blocks, and he only looks at you once you pick one up yourself. The edges have been worn smooth from being tossed around, and you run your fingers against them as you wait for him to speak.

"Did Mommy want to leave?"

You can practically hear your heart crack in two as the block falls from your hand. Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them back, not wanting to scare him.

"No, baby, no," you say quickly, reaching forward to rub your thumb over his cheek. "She loved you more than anything in this world."

He still doesn't look convinced, so you rest your palms on his cheeks, trying to get him to look at you. "If it was her choice, she would have never left you."

After a moment, his lips jut out into a pout, but he nods once. "Is Daddy gonna leave too?"

The tears rush forward again. You want to tell him that Aaron would never leave him, that he may be gone most nights until after Jack is asleep, and sometimes even before he's up for breakfast, but he would never leave. But you also know that Haley didn't want to either, but sometimes the job takes more than you're willing to give. "He's not going to leave you. Not if he can help it."

That seems to calm him down for the time being, so you take his hand and lead him back to the living room. Once he's situated on the couch, you switch on his cartoons for him, turning the volume down low.

He settles into the cushion next to you, his arm resting on your thigh as he focuses on the screen in front of him, while your eyes wander down to the small tv stand. They land on a framed photo of Haley and Jess together, smiling at the camera as the sun shines down on their faces, and you lift your hand to your mouth to stifle the tears that rush forward.

When your eyes pan over to the photo of you and her, with Aaron and Jess right behind you, the tears stream down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, trying to be quiet so as not to call away Jack's attention. But the cartoons are too quiet, and when a small sob escapes, Jack looks up, his brow furrowing with a look reminiscent of his father. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," you nod, forcing a smile onto your face as you look down at him and press a kiss to his temple. "I just loved your mom very much."

***

The ground is still wet from the rain. It squelches beneath your feet as Jess clutches onto your arm, letting you lead her across the cemetery for the service.

You walk behind the pallbearers as they bring Haley to the top of the open grass and set her down carefully with a reverence that brings tears to your eyes again. You don't know if your eyes have been dry at any moment today, but the tears haven't spilled over yet. It's only a matter of time.

Aaron is ahead of everyone, looking down at the small sheet of paper in his hands, with Jack by his side. The young boy looks so small in his suit, and his eyes dart around the procession with a mix of confusion and sadness that pierces your chest.

When Aaron is ready to begin, Jessica lets go and walks up to stand on his other side, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Your arm feels cold where she used to be, but it doesn't last long as another hand takes its place. You turn your head to see Spencer, one hand on his cane, and the other on your arm, as he holds you tightly to his side, his eyes brimming with tears as well. You don't expect that there's a dry eye in the crowd.

Aaron starts his speech with a quote, but the steadiness in his voice starts to waver the moment he says her name. "Haley was my best friend since we were in high school."

You remember how fiercely he loved her, even back then. The tenacity with which he pursued her when he realized that she was someone he wanted to spend his life with.

His voice continues as his eyes dip down. "We certainly had our struggles, but if there's one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and commitment to our son Jack." Your tears surface again, but you suck them back with a deep breath. "Haley's love for Jack was joyous and fierce. That fierceness is why she isn't here today."

Aaron looks up then, and his eyes land on the casket in front of him. "A mother's love is an unrivaled force of nature. And we can all learn much from the way Haley lived her life."

His hand flexes at his side, and you wish desperately that you were up there with him, holding his hand like he held yours when your mother died.

"I will make sure that Jack grows up knowing who his mother was and how she loved and protected him and how much I loved her."

His voice breaks and he reaches into his pocket for the scrap of paper he was looking at earlier. "I met Haley at the tryouts of our high school's production of 'The Pirates of Penzance'. I found our copy of the play and was looking through it the other night, and I came upon a passage that seemed appropriate for this moment."

The quote comes back to you as he recites it, and your mind flashes back to those adolescent afternoons when you would watch him make a fool of himself trying to impress Haley at play practice. You can't help yourself as the tears finally fall, and you feel Spencer squeeze your hand tightly, acting as the lifeline you so earnestly need.

When he finishes his speech, everyone comes forward to place white roses on her casket before it is lowered into the ground. You wait as the crowd slowly dissipates, as everyone heads to the repast, and you hold Jess's hand while Aaron picks Jack up, holding him tightly.

"Blow Mommy a kiss," he whispers, before leaning over to let Jack place a rose on the casket.

His brow furrows as he straightens again, and you watch as the familiar stoicism returns to his posture. He isn't pushing all of his emotions down, exactly. He's just tucking them away, so as to be there for his son, who needs a solid figure in his life, now more than ever.

And that's what he'll be.

***

The repast is bustling with people from all eras of Haley's life, and you sit with the team at a large table, staring at your plate of food. When Dave pulls Aaron outside to talk, you watch them leave, noting the stiffness in his shoulders as he's forced to leave Jack with Jess again. She has been nothing but grateful to see her nephew more often than usual, but nonetheless, he wears his guilt like a jagged scar across his face.

Penelope clutches your hand under the table and you give her a weak nod, unable to do more with all of the energy drained from you.

"It was a beautiful service," Emily says, her eyes big and soft as they look at you.

You nod again, before turning back to your full plate. You can't bear the thought of stomaching any food right now.

Then just when you think the day can't get any worse, Derek and JJ's phones chirp with a message at the same time. No. No.

"They can't be calling us in," Emily sighs, her lips thinning, "not tonight."

JJ shakes her head. "I'm on it." She returns from her phone call a minute later with a forlorn look. "There's no other team available."

Derek gets up with a sigh. "I'll get Rossi."

When he returns with Dave, leaving Aaron alone on the deck, you squeeze Penelope's hand before walking outside. The air is cold, and you wrap your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you approach him.

"It's okay," he says before you can open your mouth. "I'll see you when you get back."

Mind reader, you think for a split second.

He has already given you the blessing you assumed you needed when you came out here, but it still doesn't feel right. "I don't want to go."

"It's your job," he shrugs. Like it's that simple. "It's okay."

"Are you sure?" You won't be able to do your job with him here, but even less so if you're feeling guilty the whole time. "I can take time off."

"No," he says quietly, shaking his head. He looks out into the night air, and you take his hand, squeezing it between both of yours. "It'll be good for me to have some time with Jack."

You can understand that. You pull him into a hug, before dipping your chin into a nod and leaving him out there again.

***

His return to work hasn't been easy. When Strauss gave him the option to retire with full pension and benefits, it should have been an easy decision, but something was tugging at his gut, telling him that would be the wrong choice.

Now he's sitting in his office, and all of his recent life choices are swirling around him like a hurricane ready to close in. He misses Jack like he's missing a limb, and he feels terrible for how often he's been relying on Jess to take care of him, even though she readily offered her help.

His emotions are a tumbling mess, and he doesn't notice that his fingers have been tapping the edge of his desk until you enter his office.

"Coffee?" He looks up with a nod, accepting the steaming cup you hand him, before you flop down on the couch across from him. "What are you thinking about?"

He swallows back a scalding gulp that likely scorched his throat on the way down. He wants to push his emotions down and say something quippy that won't distract you for more than a few moments, but tonight he needs reassurance more than he's willing to admit. "Did I come back too early?"

He expects an immediate and bombastic denial, but you just sit there, stirring your black coffee as you tuck your legs under you. "I can't decide that for you."

It's a diplomatic answer, but he needs guidance, and he doesn't have anyone else to go to. Not that he would go to anyone else even if he did. "Do you think I'm jeopardizing the team by being here?"

This time, the answer is immediate. "Of course not. You've been doing your job effectively, and no one can say otherwise."

He pauses for a moment, ruminating over your words. He knows he's not asking the right questions. He's just delaying until he has to accept what he's feeling.

With a shaky breath, he sets his coffee down and looks at you. "Am I jeopardizing my family by being here?"

Your brows pinch. "Jack will be okay. He's young, and he'll miss you, but you're his hero, Aaron. He loves you because you keep him safe."

"But I'm never home." His voice sounds ragged to his own ears, and he's certain you can hear the pain clawing out of his throat. "How am I doing my job as a father if I'm never there?"

"Aaron," you whisper, drawing his eyes back to yours. "You're keeping him safe by catching the bad guys. He knows that. And that's what he needs." You fix him with a look that makes his back straighten. "Okay?"

After a moment, he nods. "Okay."

***

"Hi, Hales."

You sink down onto the bench in front of her headstone, before pulling the baggie of peach rings you brought from your pocket. They were the only candy you liked from your high school's vending machine, and the two of you would share them between classes during your senior year.

"I should've come sooner, but work's been really busy."

You've only visited her once since the funeral six months ago, and you wish you could've come by more, but sometimes being here is just too much. It's too stark of a reminder that she's never coming back.

You pop another peach ring in your mouth, before breaking into a grin. "Jack's growing up so fast. He's so resilient, it's amazing." He has already adjusted to living in his father's apartment full time, and he seems to like hanging out with you or Jess whenever he's stuck at work late. "I wish you could be here to see it all."

You wish for a lot of things these days. The loss seems to keep piling up, and you don't know what to do or how to feel most of the time, but time keeps passing. And with it, so does the grief.

"Aaron's starting to get better too." You don't know what you believe, but a part of you suspects she knows all of this already. "The transition back was hard on all of us, but he doesn't look as defeated all the time anymore." Your lip twitches. "He even smiles at my jokes sometimes."

You swear you hear her laughter over the rustling of the wind, but it's probably just in your head. "Anyway, I just wanted to come see you. Let you know how much we miss you."

You stand up, grabbing the bouquet from next to you, and walk over to the headstone. Without thinking, you reach into your bag of candy and drop a peach ring into the dirt. It feels juvenile, even as you're doing it, but you can't help yourself. She would find it funny. You know she would.

You tuck the rest into your pocket and walk across the grass to another row of stones. It's not a quick stroll, but it gives you enough time to take a few deep breaths before you face him again.

Jeff Adler. The letters jump out at you like flashing lights, and you blink a few times as the magnitude of your loss washes over you. So many lives, so much love and warmth gone from your life.

Bending down, you place the bouquet of carnations in front of his headstone, before kissing your fingertips and pressing them to his name.

***

"You've got to be kidding."

He just shrugs, but there's a small smile tugging at his lips. You make sure to keep your voice down as you toss your cards into the center pile and lean back against the bottom of his couch.

After putting Jack to bed, neither of you could think of anything quiet to do until Aaron pulled out a deck of cards from below the tv stand.

"I hate that you're so good at this," you grumble, watching as he deftly splits the deck and starts shuffling again. This being Go Fish.

"You're good, too," he concedes, flashing you an amused look that you don't share.

"Yeah, but you're better."

"As with most things."

You throw a card at him, but he dodges it easily. When he's finished shuffling, he deals out a card, before pausing. "We can play something else if you don't think you can beat me."

"Just deal the cards."

He lets out a low laugh and deals out another card, just as both of your cellphones chirp at the same time. You share a look before dropping the cards on the table. He stands first and gives you a hand up, which you accept.

"I'll call Jess," you whisper as he strides over to his bedroom to get his go-bag. You dial her quickly, and get the confirmation that she's coming over, before grabbing your own bag and heading out to his car.

***

"Sorry to ruin your night."

Everyone is in casual clothing when you walk into the briefing room with Aaron on your heels. JJ shoots you an apologetic look which quickly turns to surprise when Rossi walks in wearing a full tux.

"What, are you working on, wife number 4?" Derek laughs as he sets his bag down.

Dave just grumbles. "I see you people way too much."

"I hear that," you grin before taking your usual seat between Aaron and Spencer.

"Let's get started." JJ hands out the case files and clicks the screen on. "All right. Anchorage field office is asking us to investigate a series of murders in Franklin, Alaska. There's 3 people dead in less than a week."

You scan the file as fast as you can, but Spencer beats you to it. "For a town with a population of 1,476, that's fairly significant."

JJ nods. "It's their first murder investigation on record."

"Who are the victims?" Dave asks, his eyes darting back and forth between the file and the screen.

JJ looks down at her notes. "Uh, Jon Baker, a hunter. Dedaimia Swanson, a schoolteacher. Brenda Bright, the first mate on a fishing boat. There's a new victim every 2 days."

Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing, but Emily gives it a voice. "Any connections?"

"Unfortunately, in a town this small, everyone's connected."

When JJ finishes up the briefing, Aaron stands up and grabs his bag. "We'll fly out tonight. Everybody can sleep on the plane. Garcia, I need you with us."

She shoots him a confused look. "Sir?"

"I've tasked a satellite uplink and it's your job to keep us connected."

"Yes, sir."

"This town's already on the brink," he continues with a sigh, "and if this pattern continues, we've only got another day until the next murder. Let's finish this fast."

***

After barely getting any sleep on the plane ride over, and a long day in the cold, the team holes up in the lobby of a local inn, warming up around the fire.

"I'm gonna pull an all-nighter," Garcia announces when you stifle a yawn behind your fist. "I'll finish going through the town records. Should have background checks by sunrise."

"Good," Aaron nods, sitting up on the couch. "The rest of us should get some sleep, start fresh in the morning."

At his suggestion, the innkeeper steps out from behind her desk. "I've got four of the upstairs rooms available."

"Uh, 4?" Spencer squeaks, his eyes darting around the room.

"Come on," the sheriff sighs as he stands up, "that's the best we can do. Your team is double the size of my department." He glances at Aaron and they share a nod. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night."

The sheriff walks out of the inn and you lean back on the couch, turning your head to the side to look at Aaron. The question in your eyes is implicit. What's the plan?

"It looks like we'll have to double up," Emily answers for you, her lips stretching into a grin.

Derek speaks up immediately. "I'm not sleeping with Reid."

Penelope reaches over and grabs Derek's arm. "Dibs."

Emily and JJ stand together and head upstairs, and you glance at Aaron with a nod. "Let's find one of the double rooms before Emily snags it."

"Guess it's you and me, kid," Dave says to Spencer as you grab a key from the front desk and pick up your bag. The inn is so small that all of your rooms end up being in the same hallway. You leave the door open behind you as you step inside and toss your bag onto the nearest bed.

Aaron enters after you and locks the door, before wordlessly moving your bag to the other bed, away from the door. It takes you less than a second to realize why. His protective nature was always strong, but over the past year, it has kicked into overdrive, especially around you and Jack.

"Do you want first shower?" you ask as you unzip your bag and pull out a tee shirt and some sleep shorts.

"You take it," he says, shaking his head. The chilliness of the outside air hasn't left your bones, so you don't wait for him to change his mind before grabbing your toiletries and rushing into the bathroom.

While you're in the shower, Aaron takes his time fluffing out the comforter and pillows on his bed. The room itself isn't very spacious, but he doesn't mind sharing with you. The close quarters remind him of his youth when he would sneak into your room late at night to get away from his family. Just the sight of the lights through your bedroom window used to bring him peace. When he glances over at your side of the room, a tranquility washes over him, and he realizes that the feeling hasn't really gone away.

"Your turn," you say a little later when you emerge from the bathroom. Your skin is still slightly damp, and your cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, and he has to tear his eyes away as he nods and steps around you.

The tiny mirror in the bathroom is still steamy when he shuts the door behind him and pulls off his shirt, and he lifts his hand to wipe it off, before pausing. His scars aren't something he likes to think about often, but after saving Jack, they took on a different image in his mind. He felt less like a victim.

He rubs his hand against the mirror to wipe off some of the condensation, and his reflection looks tense as it stares back at him. Back in the room, your presence felt warm and comfortable, but in here, with the steam fogging up the glass, and the scent of your perfume lingering in the air, something else roils in his gut.

It's a not-so-unfamiliar feeling that used to be commonplace when he was younger. It hadn't reared its head in years, but lately, it's been so much harder to push it down. When he sees how much his son loves you, how much he looks forward to finding you in his apartment when he gets back from a late meeting. It's been...hard.

He turns on the shower and steps in, letting the hot water wash away the notions tickling the edge of his brain. When he walks back into the room, you are tucked into your bed, the covers up to your chin.

"You look like a burrito," he notes with a small laugh.

You shrug, though it's barely visible from under the comforter. "I find this is the best way to keep out the Arctic chill that seems to have invaded our lodgings."

"Fair enough."

He slides into his own bed and clicks the switch on the wall to turn the lights off. He tries to sleep for a few minutes, but even though he's exhausted, it won't come.

It's dark enough that he can't see his fingers in front of his face, but the uneven sounds of your breathing let him know that you're still awake.

"You should really sleep," he whispers into the darkness.

"You first," you say after a moment, before your voice lowers. "How are you doing? How are you holding up, I mean."

"How are you doing?" he asks, knowing he's being unfair.

You don't let it slide this time. "You're deflecting."

"I know."

There's a pause before he finally concedes. "I think I'm okay. The normalcy is coming back, and Jack is doing a lot better, which helps immensely."

"Me too," you say after a beat.

He wants to let the subject go and try to sleep, but the words are pulling at his throat. "I miss her all the time."

"Me too," you repeat. You huff out a husky laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "God, me too."

There's a tinge of bitterness in your voice that he recognizes in himself, but it's not something he knows if he can explain. He remembers how a small part of you blamed Jeff after his death, but that's nothing like what he's feeling. He blames himself for everything but the act itself, knowing that if he had just gotten there quicker, or taken the deal, or taken the transfer-

His breath catches and he hears you rustle under your covers. He imagines you turning to face him, and as his eyes slowly adjust he sees that he was right.

"Do you remember that time in high school," he says suddenly, not entirely sure where he's going with this, "when I got detention."

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

He laughs, in spite of himself, and turns over to face you as well. You're so far away, but he can just barely make out your face from across the room. "When you broke me out."

Your laughter is sudden and it echoes around the small room as the memory hits you. "I do remember that. I told them your grandfather was in the hospital so that they would let you out. God, Mrs. Parker was so upset when she went to get you."

"I think my favorite part of the story was that both of my grandfathers died before I could walk."

You chuckle, your voice softer now. "I know."

His chest warms at the memory of the two of you running out to your car and driving to get a scoop of chocolate at your favorite ice cream shop. Even afterwards, you had driven around town for hours, without a complaint, and he hadn't mentioned the time once. It was so soon after his dad's death, and he hated going home for so many reasons. Sean hated him, and his mother was sad all of the time, and it was like you just knew.

"You were good at reading me," he whispers, almost to himself.

"Were good?" you ask with mock offense.

He snorts. "Fine, are good at reading me."

"That's more like it."

***

You drop your empty glass back on the table, feeling the burn of the liquor as you swallow it down. It's your second drink of the night, and while you usually don't indulge in more than one, you welcome the chance to let loose.

Everyone else seems to be in the same mindset, because JJ, Emily, and Penelope are in various states of drunkenness around the booth, and the men are either nursing a drink or driving.

"Let's dance," JJ shrieks, lifting her head off of Will's shoulder and pushing herself up from the booth.

"Hell yeah," Emily grins, pulling you and Penelope up with her.

JJ tries to corral the guys to join, but they all stay firmly seated. Dave and Will look content as they sip their whiskey, and Spencer doesn't budge, citing his leg hurting (a lie). After a bit of targeted shoving, Derek chuckles and gets up for one dance, following Penelope and JJ onto the dance floor.

"Aaaaaron," you slur, tugging his arm. He doesn't move even an inch, but the corner of his lip twitches when you don't give up.

"You used to dance in college," you point out with a frown.

Emily hoots as she saunters over to the floor. "This I need to see."

Aaron just shakes his head with a smile, and you eventually oblige, joining the ladies (and Derek) for a few dances. The dark atmosphere of the club has you feeling looser than you have in a long time, and after the next song, you join Dave over at the bar to get another drink.

You down half of it before you leave the counter, and by this point, JJ has coaxed Will out of his seat, while Spencer rushes off to find the bathroom. The tiredness hits you as soon as you finish the drink, and when you spot Aaron by himself at the booth, you glide back to keep him company.

He doesn't notice you at first as you walk over to him, and you can't help but register that he looks good in his undone button-down. You take another step forward and a thin glint of metal around his neck becomes visible. A jolt of heat shoots down your body and you set your glass down on a nearby table without looking as you approach him.

When you reach the edge of the bench, someone walking by bumps into you and you stumble forward. Aaron grabs onto you as you fall forward, and you end up crushed in his arms, your face just inches from his. Your thoughts cut out and you don't make a sound, your breaths coming out in quick spurts.

Neither one of you moves as you look at each other, so so close, so much closer than you've ever been, than you've ever gotten to be. The faintest impression of a thought - the thought - crosses the deepest edges of your mind as you lean in infinitesimally. He doesn't notice, and you barely register it either, but you can't help but notice how easy it would be to just close the gap and kiss him.

Kiss him?

Your brain short-circuits and you just barely manage to keep your eyes from widening. You have no idea where that came from, but then again, if you are honest with yourself, it has always been there, buried deep down beneath years of friendship and history.

The question invades your brain again, and this time, you're unable to stop it. What would it be like to kiss him?

You can't keep your breath from catching, and he pulls back immediately, tugging you to the side and depositing you on the booth beside him.

Your mouth falls open as you try to meet his eye. "Aaron-"

His head turns and he stands up, his eyes dark under the soft lighting. "I'm sorry."

Before you can get another word out, he's gone.

TAGLIST: @citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @sanayikes, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios, @whosmys (message me to be added!)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x female!reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner series #criminal minds series #criminal minds season five #hotch fic #criminal minds fanfiction #anchor series #anchor

[wnobin]

dinosaurs and bears 🦕

childhood crush! anton x fem! reader

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

chapter synopsis: anton’s friends get tired of neither of you making a move on each other.

intro | part one | part two | part three | part four (final!)

“shh shut the- shut the fuck up, okay?”

“she’s gonna hear us—”

you awoke to the sound of muffled bickering, rubbing your eyes tiredly as you looked around for anton. you both had fallen asleep on each other after a long night of catching up and now he was nowhere to be found. you begrudgingly got out of bed, still half asleep and barely processing the voices on the other side of the door. opening the door slightly, you peeked out with bleary eyes to see anton and two other guys, one with long hair and one wearing a beanie.

anton hadn’t noticed that you were awake already, still busy trying to shush and get the other boys to leave. just then, you made eye contact with the male with long hair, his eyes widening when he saw you as he let out an audible gasp, finger lifting to point in your direction. anton whipped his head around and met your eyes, his cheeks red and he was clearly flustered. you hid behind the door awkwardly, still disheveled from just waking up, dressed in one of anton’s oversized shirts and a pair of his shorts. now all three boys had their eyes on you. “is that y/n?!” the male with the beanie excitedly waved to you, about to start approaching you but was quickly stopped by anton placing his palm against his chest. “sohee, no.” sohee pouted as you shyly waved to him, still feeling out of place in the entire situation. you weren’t sure what exactly you were supposed to do so you slowly closed the door and went to sit back down on anton’s bed, waiting for him to kick his friends out. you covered your face with your hands, embarrassed by the whole situation.

oh my god why did i close the door, i should’ve gone out to say hi. your cheeks were burning and you fidgeted with your fingers as you anxiously waited for him to return.

“hey…” anton finally came back after what seemed like hours, his cheeks still red. his hair was still messy and it seemed like he woke up not long before you did. he looks pretty even when he just wakes up.

“soooo…”

“so… my friends came to borrow a charger and they have this bad habit of barging into my apartment… fuckin’ wonbin…”

you couldn’t help but to giggle at how anton put his head in his hands, groaning as he fell back onto the bed. you patted his thigh, reassuring him that it was okay. “they’re probably used to seeing girls in your dorm, huh?”

“dummy. you’re the first and only girl that’s been inside my dorm.” anton pulled his hands away, turning to look at you with a boyish grin, pulling your arm to make you fall back and lay with him. “anyways. they said they wanna get to know you so… do you wanna hang out with us? totally fine if you don’t want to and i can get you a ride home or something—”

“i want to go. i promise. and it would be better if i got a chance to introduce myself when i’m not half awake with drool on my cheeks.” anton giggled and swiped his thumb on your cheek while you whined and tried to push him away.

“you look cute even with drool on your cheeks.”

here you were, getting ready to meet anton’s group of friends. so far you had met eunseok, wonbin and sohee. you weren’t planning on staying at anton’s for this long so all your outfits were based on what in his closet would fit you. you were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his grey sweats. you wondered if you could steal his hoodie and bring it back home with you.

details of that morning ran through anton’s mind, cheeks burning up as he recalled how adorable you looked dressed in his clothes, all sleepy and rubbing your eyes. you look pretty even when you just woke up. he still wasn’t sure how to approach the topic or how he would even confess. sure, sungchan would tell him that you would never reject him and that shooting his shot wouldn’t hurt but what if it did? what if you didn’t feel the same and your friendship was ruined? he didn’t have time to think about it anymore, his friends were gonna arrive soon so he just pushed his thoughts to the back of his head, instead choosing to admire how pretty you looked in his hoodie.

you were fidgeting with the strings of it, looking slightly nervous. anton knew of all your little habits when you got anxious, the way you chew on your bottom lip and it would get all red, and the way you pick at your nails, like how you were doing now. he grabbed your hand, holding it tightly in an attempt to get you to stop. instead of getting flustered over anton holding your hand, you felt comfortable instead. anton always knew exactly how to soothe you and get you to relax.

“i just went to get a charger from him and i opened the door to them cuddled up together!”

“im not lying, i swear she was wearing anton’s clothes!”

wonbin and sohee talked over each other as the group of them walked over to anton’s dorm room, the other boys giggling and coming up with ways to tease anton about it. “i bet she’s wearing his clothes again,” sohee said to the rest as sungchan knocked on the door which swung open to reveal anton in a black hoodie and grey sweats while you wore an almost identical outfit, except with a white hoodie instead. “told you so” sohee mouthed to the boys as they entered anton’s dorm.

you guys ordered in some food and drinks and spent the day watching movies and talking. the boys were particularly interested in what anton was like growing up.

“has he always been this soft spoken?”

“tell us embarrassing stories of younger anton! we’ll tell you about the time he fell into the pool when he was drunk!”

anton would groan and jokingly tell them to shut up or he would kick them out but that only made the guys laugh harder. “what’s anton like when he’s drunk?” you were curious as to what the drunk side of anton looked like, you had never seen him in that state as he only tried drinking when he got to college. it wasn’t something he did often, he just enjoyed drinking with his group of friends during special occasions, like the end of the semester.

“drunk anton is… well it’s not that different from normal anton!” seunghan starts, leaning closer to the focus of the conversation, pinching anton’s cheek. “you would think he gets louder but he’s still as soft spoken! he gets a bit more talkative but he mostly just rambles on about you.” he talks about me when he’s drunk? anton playfully slaps seunghan’s back and pushes him away, mumbling some half-hearted threats about killing him but you didn’t hear it at all. all you could focus on was the fact that you’re on his mind at his most vulnerable. anton’s cheeks and tips of his ears were beginning to turn red and he tried to avoid eye contact with you, who was staring straight at him.

desperately changing the conversation, anton brought up the fact that you would be starting college here next semester and all the attention turned back to you. he mentioned that you would be studying communications, which was the same as sungchan. “i’ll make sure to take good care of her for you,” sungchan joked and patted your back, waiting to see anton’s reaction. anton gave the older male a death stare and made sure sungchan knew that he was glaring at him, not breaking eye contact even when the other giggled and looked away.

“i’m gonna make them get together tonight. trust me.” sungchan whispered to wonbin, confident that his plan would work out.

“$50 if you do manage to do that.”

“deal.”

sungchan believed that he could do it, anton just needed a push. wonbin didn’t think anton could take the first step and would end up waiting for you to do so.

sungchan spent the rest of the day trying to get closer to you in attempt to provoke a reaction out of anton. brushing your arm lightly, stealing your phone and placing it above his head while you struggled to get it back. all while anton glared at him with a clenched jaw, taking your phone back for you. after all, he was still the taller one despite being younger.

what does he think he’s doing? he was the one that said we were perfect for each other. there’s no way you were falling for it anyways. sungchan isn’t your type.

anton remained composed, knowing that sungchan was just trying to tease him. meanwhile, you seemed to barely respond to his actions and wonbin was confident that the $50 would be his and sungchan was beginning to run out of ideas.

“y/n, wanna play spin the bottle?” sungchan held up his empty coke bottle and smirked at you, quickly glancing over at anton who started to get up, snatching the bottle from him and throwing it aside.

“absolutely not.”

anton grabbed your hand and pulled you up, dragging you to his room and closing the door behind you. his grip on you was tight yet still gentle. “sorry, i don’t know why he’s doing that…”

“well, he was just joking, wasn’t he? nothing wrong with that…”

you looked up at anton who had a slight look of annoyance on his face, but it wasn’t directed at you. he was annoyed at sungchan for touching you and teasing you. he was annoyed at himself for getting jealous over you when you weren’t his.

“you don’t get it. he doesn’t get to touch your arm like that or tease you about your height or take your things and make you flustered. that’s my job.” you cocked your head to the side at his words, trying to hold yourself back from blushing and folding. you weren’t going to let him off that easily, you wanted anton to say that he liked you. that you’re his. “why is that your job?”

while you both were stood in anton’s room, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, the boys had their ears pressed to the wall, shushing each other. “sohee, shut up and stop giggling, i can’t hear anything!”

anton took a step closer to you, heart banging against his ribs as he took a deep breath. he knew that you were trying to get a specific response from him and he was gathering his courage to say it.

“it’s my job to take care of you and tease you and make you blush because i like you. it’s always been you. there hasn’t been anyone else in my heart since you stepped into my life.”

his hands were cupping your cheeks now, and you had no other choice but to look into his eyes as he confessed to you. your mouth went dry and you swear your heart was beating so loudly that anton could hear it. “i like you too. i’ve liked you for years and there’s no one else i wanted to be with except for you. i studied so hard just so we could be in the same college and we wouldn’t have to be apart. i love you, anton.”

all hesitance and nervousness ceased from anton’s face, the corners of his lips turning into a small smile. he pressed his lips to your forehead, thumbs gently swiping over the apples of your cheeks. “believe me when i say that i love you more.”

you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. you no longer had to pretend like anton’s mere existence didn’t make you crumble. you were in love with him and he was just as in love as you were.

“told you i could do it, wonbin.”

“ugh, fine! can i get an installment plan for that $50.”

#anton fluff #anton imagines #anton lee #riize #riize anton x reader #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize anton

[infamous-if]

.1

As won by the poll, the MC x Seven first kiss drabble is first! A few things: 1) this drabble is fucking long sorry and 2) though this is what I imagine their first kiss to be like, I don't want to go as far as saying it's completely canon, mostly because I'm sure it can go many different ways with different types of MC's. And 3rd) I tried really hard to make this fluffy and not so serious and I'm sure you can see the shift where I thought 'oh crap' but...I am not a fluff writer and I will be working on that lmao 4th) as always, I do not edit my drabbles and I really only do one draft of them so excuse the wordy/awkward sentences or typos or any of that sort and finally, sorry about that last line lmfao

“Have any of you seen Seven?”

That’s the question you’ve been asking all night since your band left The Golden Spoon, a bar in the crux of the city. It had one of your best audiences in recent memory; there were no lulls in engagement, no dull moments that made you question yourself. People loved the songs and danced their hearts out, some even asked for pictures once the set was over. Fame, however small, feels pretty fucking good. 

That holds the most truth in Seven. After the set was over, they were on a high, laughing and talking to anyone who offered them even a sliver of their time. That’s usually how it goes with a successful set--Seven becomes a magnet for all sorts of attention. Unreachable, untouchable. No wonder you barely had a chance to talk to them after leaving.

It didn’t bother you, considering you were all heading to the bar owner’s apartment for a small after-party. You just assumed you’d talk to Seven there, considering it’s an apartment. Eight-hundred square feet at most. Small enough that you could spot Seven’s familiar red bandana in any crowd. 

Or not. 

The group you just asked share equally confused looks and answer with varying shrugs. 

You huff, pushing through the slightly sparse but growing crowd. You maneuver through the kitchen and ask a haggle of women who claim they didn’t even see Seven arrive. The man standing alone in the hall? Saw Seven once and never again.

You’re growing frustrated.

With every answer, your impatient grows. Where the hell could Seven be? You came with them but were quickly swept away by the hordes of people throwing various questions and praise your way. Seven hasn’t responded to any of your texts either, which sprouts up a small seed of worry in you. 

“Hey, MC!” 

You look up to see Jazzy beckoning you over to the couch in the living room, where most people have congregated. In the center stands Rowan, gesticulating wildly as he tells a story from high school...one you’re sure you’ve heard many times before.

Jazzy waves you over again and you sigh. Half your mind still on Seven’s whereabouts, you stride through the living room and take a seat in the corner of the couch next to Iris, half your body pressed against the armrest.

“…and that’s when I had to sit down because I kid you not, I was about to fucking eat concrete…”

The group laughs as Rowan weaves a tale of failed skateboarding antics. The names of you and your friends come up a few times, and whenever Seven is mentioned you can’t help but jolt and look around in hopes that they slipped back inside at some point in the story. With every mention, your body deflates further and further.

Until your phone buzzes. 

You turn it around, only to catch Seven finally responding to your million texts asking where they are.

Seven: Roof

You quirk a brow at the message—the one word that says so much—and type something quickly in return.

You: Thought you died.

Another buzz.

Seven: Can’t get rid of me that easily.

You snort, though no one else is laughing. You lower your phone a bit to appear engaged but send back a quick text. 

You: Aw, really? I was hoping I’d finally be free of you.

Seven: Har-har. Are you coming or not? I’m feeling lonelyyyy

Your heart races and another laugh bubbles out of you when Seven sends a GIF of someone ungracefully falling on the floor. You didn’t realize how much of a relief it is to hear from them until now, seeing Seven’s text on your screen. Is your body that attuned to them? That, whenever they’re gone, you can feel their absence, so palpable it’s as if a part of you is missing? When they’re near, you feel more than complete. Drowning in so much joy that it’s almost overwhelming?

What do you call that?

You shake away the thoughts and send a reply: Coming. 

Brushing yourself off when you stand, you catch your friends looking at you. You shoot Rowan a small smile and walk out of the living room, where you quickly hear him go into another story about who-knows-what. At least the party seems interested.

Another buzz. 

Seven: Bring some bears please

You: Bears? 

Seven: Beers. Whatever. 

Shaking your head, you put your phone away and divert your path to the kitchen where you swipe two bottles of beer. You use the end of the counter to pop open the tops before making your way out of the apartment…only to soon realize you don’t actually don’t know where you’re going.

Dangling the beers between two fingers, you take out your phone. 

You: Where am I going?

Seven: Are you serious? It’s a roof. Just go up.

Seven: lol

You: I will kill you.

Seven: OMG you really are trying to get rid of me

You: Seven Lawless

Seven: Using my whole name? Just shivered. The roof entrance is down the hall to your left. Ignore the signs telling you…not to go to the roof. 

You move to the door and sure enough, there is a large sign warning of any trespassers. 

You: You mean the sign saying that ‘violators will be fined and/or arrested?’

Seven: Ignore it. It’s just a very strong suggestion

Seven: (trust me) 

Scoffing, you push it open with your shoulder and go up the single flight of stairs to the roof. Stepping outside grants you a cacophony of sounds; car horns, the sound of the wind rushing past your cheeks, music playing from Seven’s phone. 

“I’m starting to think you look at the floor plan of every place you enter just to find the roof,” you say by way of greeting as you approach them.

Seven looks behind their shoulder from their spot on the ledge, their previously blank face widening into a sly grin. 

Your heart races at the image of Seven smiling at you, though you quickly push it down. You don’t know what’s been happening but lately, everything Seven does pulls a reaction from you. A simple look makes your stomach squeeze. A brush of their hand sends goosebumps up your arms. A smile can throw your whole body out of whack. 

“I needed a break,” Seven replies, turning back around to face ahead. As you get closer, you see their legs dangling over the edge. It’s not too far below—the building is four stories—but it’s still enough to give you vertigo when you go to sit next to them. “Someone asked me to sign their divorce papers."

Your lip twitches as you hand them a bottle. “Did you?”

Seven looks over to you, gaze glittering beneath stray strands of dark hair that fall in front of their eyes. “Yes.” 

You laugh and Seven swats your following hand away in your attempt to shove them to the side. “Woah, woah!” Their brief panic from the possibility of falling is laced with humor and you let out a small, ‘sorry!’ that Seven waves off. 

"Signing divorce papers," you muse. "I wonder what we'll sign when we're global rockstars."

Their humor subsides, and their smile weakens as they toy with their bottle. You wait, silent, as Seven inhales through their nose and says, “Do you ever regret it?” They gesture vaguely around them. “Doing…all of this?”

You face ahead and think about it, stretching your legs out in front of you. “Not really. Do you?”

Seven takes a swig of their drink before setting it down next to them, lifting both shoulders in a quick shrug. “No. This is all I ever wanted to do.”

“Then why don’t you sound so convinced?”

Their eyes cut to yours and they snort a little. 

“Hey, you brought it up,” you prod.

They huff through their nose, eyes narrowing in mock annoyance. “Shut up.” Once again, their humor is brief, and you start to think that there must be something within Seven that’s torn, fighting to come out. It wouldn’t surprise you; Seven has always loved too much, hurt too much, felt too much. They call it a Fatal Flaw, how attached they get, but really, you find it endearing. It’s rare to find people like them in this world. You wish they knew that. “Ah, I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

You nudge them. “Say it.” 

They begin rocking back and forth in thought, nudging you back every time they move. “Sometimes…when I’m on stage…” They clear their throat. “Sometimes I feel so lonely.”

Oh.

You expected many things, but not that. 

Lonely? Seven is lonely? Granted, Seven hasn’t had the greatest home life, but you assumed that they found an abundance of people to surround themselves with. Hell, they looked like they were having the time of their life after the gig!

Seven’s frowning now, their eyes glazing over with an emotion you can’t read. “I see all those faces and I love it. The attention. The way they sing our songs. I feel fucking alive, you know?”

You nod, hanging on to every word. You understand them; the feeling of music and standing on that stage, singing emotions and states of being that can’t be explained in any other way but through song.

“But then I look back and…” They chew on their inner cheek, brows furrowing as they evidently search for the right words. “I wonder if they see me. Like really see me.” 

Your lips part. For a moment, you’re speechless. “Sev—“

“And I know it’s unfair to think that,” Seven breaks in quickly. “They’re fans. I shouldn’t put so much responsibility on them, but it just….fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“No!” you say. Seven jolts and whips their head toward you, giving you a look of alarm. “I get what you’re saying.” You adjust to face them completely. “I feel it too, sometimes. You just want to be seen not as Seven Lawless but…” You clear your throat. “Seven Duckstein. You know?”

Seven holds your gaze. Their eyes sparkle under the fairy lights that are strung around the lattice detailing on the roof. As their eyes dart around your face, searching for something, you wonder if it was wrong to bring up their real name. It’s always been a sore topic for them, amongst other things. You just hope Sev understands what you’re trying to say. 

They crack a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

You let out a small breath of relief, grateful Seven understands what you mean. You gaze around, looking down at the street below. Distantly, you can feel Seven’s eyes still on you. Your skin burns under their stare, but you do your best to keep looking at the tiny people running inside shops, chatting, and slipping into cars. Living entire lives that you will never know the depth of. 

You wonder if you have learned the true depth of Seven Duckstein. Even after all these years…they still seem like a mystery to you. 

And you sort of hate how exciting that feels. As if uncovering the hidden layers of your best friend is something to look forward to. 

“I’m not lonely with you, though.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet theirs. You laugh a little. “How could you be? I’m with you 24/7.”

Seven rolls their eyes and it’s their turn to shove you. “Can you be serious a sec? I’m trying to tell you I appreciate you.” They drag the syllables on the word ‘appreciate,’ trying to emphasize the severity of the moment. 

You raise your palms in mock surrender. “Keep going. I’m listening.”

They pause for a beat. “No. I’m nervous.”

“What!”

“Too much attention.”

“You’re a performer?!”

They raise a finger. “That’s different.” 

“Oh, please—“

Somehow you and Seven fall in a lighthearted round of bickering, swatting each other’s hands as you playfully fight. That fighting soon turns into tickling, and Seven’s usually even voice turns into high-pitched squeals that you wish you could record to use against them later.

You don’t know how it happened, but somehow Seven ends up on their back, sighing happily at the darkened sky that hovers over you both. You lean on your side, your body pressed against Seven’s, and rest your head on your hand.

“Come onnnn,” you prod, poking their rib. They squirm. “Tell me how much you appreciate me.” Your voice softens as Seven’s humor dies. “Tell me how you really feel.”

You meant for it to come out as a joke, but the delicacy in your voice betrays the true intention that’s hiding deep within you.

Seven’s eyes slowly, hesitantly, glide away from the stars pulsing in the sky to meet your eyes. With their hair framing their face, their small smile, and the glare of the fairy lights dancing on their face, they have never looked so vulnerable.

So…different. 

“I don’t think I should.”

That has you stiffening. A flare of panic rises in your stomach. What does Seven mean by that? Part of you knows but…no. You’re being ridiculous. 

They turn their head away, rolling their lips. It’s silent for a moment. You convince yourself Seven won’t speak until they say, “I’m afraid. Of you.”

“What?” you blurt, eyes wide. You hardly know how to act right now. This conversation has gone a direction you’re not sure of.

They turn back to face you. “You have too much power over me. It scares me.”

You open your mouth to speak. The only thing that comes out is a pathetic noise from your throat.

Seven snorts at your reaction, frowning at the sky. “You really don’t know the effect you have on others.”

“I doubt I have any impact on others," you mutter, feeling oddly self-conscious.

“Fine then. You don’t know the effect you have on me.” They huff, throwing their bandana aside to run a hand through their hair in frustration. “It’s kind of annoying.”

You sputter out a laugh, reaching out to poke them again. “Are you seriously insulting me—“ 

Seven grabs your hand mid-way, their skin warm against yours. You look down, staring at the polish on their nails as they curl their hand around your palm. “I’m not trying to insult you.” 

“Then what are you trying to do?” you mumble, your eyes still on your joined skin. 

“I’m trying to do as you asked.” Seven inhales a shuddering breath. “I’m telling you how I really feel.”

You jerk a nod. “Okay. Sorry.” Your voice is quiet. “Go.”

Silence.

Seven’s lip twitches as they look up at you. “Nervous again. Too much attention.”

“Fuck off,” you throw out, though there’s no strength behind your words. 

It’s Seven’s turn to apologize. “Sorry.” They swallow. “I just think I might mess up my words with you looking at me.” 

You debate something. Debate the logic behind whatever you’re going to say next. This moment feels too big to make decisions on feelings you don’t know are fleeting or not. This is Seven. Your best friend. Anything you do will permanently change the comfortable camaraderie you two have had since you were kids. 

But…you can’t stop from thinking it might be worth it anyway. 

“Then don’t use words.” 

Seven’s lips part, mostly from surprise. And then you see it; the shift in their expression-- from uncertain to determined. Their eyes darken and slowly, they release their grip on your hand to place it on the back of your neck, pulling you toward them. 

Your heart races in your chest. Are you two really doing this? After years of casual closeness; sleepovers, handshakes, private looks across crowded rooms. Has there been an underlying attraction you just never paid attention to? Or maybe you did, and both of you were too afraid to confront it. 

Seven is slow at firs, as if they aren't quite sure they should be doing this after all. But when you don’t pull away they grow the confidence to close the remaining inches of space between you.

Kissing Seven isn't like anything you imagined. And you can't lie; you've imagined it plenty of times.

What is happening...?

Lips warm against yours, you clutch the leather of their jacket as they pull you closer. The kiss is a messy and desperate dance of teeth and tongues but you don’t mind. Not when Seven tastes like gum and alcohol and is sending goosebumps down your arms as they absently run circles on the skin of your neck. 

Messy seems about right.

Seven smells of lavender and pine and mint and so many other smells you never noticed until now, when you’re so aware of them and their existence that your brain can’t make out any words except Seven Seven Seven.

Seven kisses you like it's their own salvation; as if kissing you now is the only thing anchoring them to this moment. As if pulling away means breaking whatever dream you two have found yourselves in. So they pull you even closer, deepening the kiss and sighing happily into your mouth.

You could kiss Seven Lawless all night. Shit, you could kiss Seven Lawless forever.

They tug on your lower lip with their teeth just lightly before closing their mouth to plant a more chaste kiss before pulling away. You swallow a frustrated groan, stifling the urge to pull them back into another kiss. 

Your eyes flutter open at the loss of warmth.

"That...that was a lot better than I thought," they breathe.

"You've thought about it?" you joke, careful not to speak too loudly in fear of ruining the moment.

Their answering nod is jerky. "Yeah. An embarrassing amount of times."

You both laugh. The humor quickly dies. Then...the worst part comes: the silence.

The horrible, awkward silence.

See, no one ever talks about what comes afterward. The reality of realizing what it is you've just done. The panic that follows the post-kiss clarity.

“Uh…”

“Er…”

They slowly drop their hand from your neck. 

And then they burst up, making you fall back on your ass. 

“You—“ They whirl around. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Me?!” you guffaw, standing on your feet as well. “You mean you kissed me!”

“Me?” They stand there, and then a manic, happy laugh escapes them. You watch as they put their hands on both of their cheeks, blowing out a long breath. “So I did, didn’t I?”

It’s your turn to laugh. You feel drunk. “Yeah. You did.”

“You kissed me back.” Their voice comes out almost accusatory.

“Yeah.” Your brows furrow. “…I did.”

Seven and you stand there. A rush of wind passes. Neither of you speak.

Until both of you do.

“That—“

“We—“

Seven physically clamps their mouth shut with their hand. Your brain is a static fuzz of nothingness. 

Songwriters at a loss for words. It’s almost funny. 

“Is…” You clear your throat. “Is that how you really feel?”

Seven meets your eyes and then quickly looks away. “Yeah.” A mumble. “For a while now.”

Your eyes widen. “I—“

“Don’t say anything!” Seven raises a hand, stopping you. 

You jolt, mostly because Seven just acted like they saw a bug or something. “What!”

“You know in the movies and TV shows where a person confesses to another person and that other person feels obligated to say something back even though they likely didn’t think it through as long as the other person?” Seven says in one breath.

You blink. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“—well, I always found that to be pathetic. Almost like a pity response.” They begin nervously smoothing their hands on their pants, exhaling a heavy sigh. “Just don’t…say anything, okay?”

“Seven.”

Seven, still a bit frantic, comes over to you and puts their hands on your shoulders. “Just forget this happened. I’ll get over it. I just…I may have drank a bit and I needed to get it out of my system and I don’t want this to ruin what we have.” 

You have whiplash. Maybe it was you who drank too much. You two were just kissing—kissing—and now Seven is telling you to forget it...?

“That kiss was in the heat of the moment and I mean, I did like it but it may be weird and we’ve been best friends for so long that I know you might find it odd. And hey,“--they let out a burst of shaky laughter--"maybe we can write a song out of thi--'

You pull their face forward, stifling the rest of their words in another pathetically desperate kiss that burns you all over.

It takes Seven a few seconds to catch up, but when they do, their hands go from your shoulders to your cheeks, cupping your face.

By the time you pull away, you're both slightly breathless. You say, “Just…shut up.”

Seven simply stares at you, parted lips glistening and eyes peering at you as if you’re a painting in the Louvre. Like you're something worth their awe and wonder. 

Maybe it’s now, just like when they were laying down, that Seven is seeing you differently too.

The sound of metal squeaks in the air with the door opening. You and Seven jolt, quickly shuffling away from each other just as Rowan, Iris, Devyn, and Jazzy appear. 

“We were looking for you gu—what’s going on?” Jazzy asks, her eyes darting between you two.

“Nothing.” Seven takes a wide step away from you, swiping a hand across their lips. You swear you see the shadow of a smile on their face. “We were just...talking.”

“You were missing the party, Sev Sev.” Jazzy comes over to Seven and throws her arm around their neck in some sort of move that can’t possibly be comfortable. “Where did you go?”

“Sorry, Jazz Jazz,” Seven jokes back, exasperated. They keep one eye on you as Jazzy pulls them away back inside. They steal one glance at you before they disappear down the stairs.

You stand there, ruminating over what just happened. Your lips still sting and the phantom touch of Seven’s mouth still makes the hair on your arms rise.

“You okay?” 

Rowan’s voice has you jolting back to the present. “What?”

“You and Seven.” Rowan gestures at you. “Are you guys alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” You wave a dismissive hand as you begin walking back inside. “Totally. We’re just peachy. What are we doing?”

“We’re heading home, actually,” Iris says, shooting you a curious look. “Party got boring.”

You snort, and you and your friends walk down the stairs to meet Seven and Jazzy in the hall. Seven looks your way and quickly averts their gaze, grazing the bottom of their teeth along their lip in evident thought.

You know, eventually, you and Seven will have to talk about…whatever that was that just happened. You’re not quite sure yet what it means. Though you do know one thing: tonight has changed something. Suddenly your friendship is something far more than precious: it’s fragile. And you can’t help but wonder what that kiss means for it.

“Should we get something to eat?” Iris asks the group as you saunter out of the building. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Rowan snorts, weaving Iris’s jab. 

“I’m okay with anything you want.” As Seven says this, they look over to you, and you know they’re not just talking about food.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Me too.”

“Burgers it is,” Iris says. Devyn hums in agreement.

Seven smiles at you, and you can feel the shift in them. When they gaze at you, something else lies there. Something else that makes your heart quicken.

Yeah, you may not know what comes next in your friendship, but you do know one thing: you and Seven will never part.

And that thought comforts you.

#drabble #seven lawless #writing #AHHHHH #ripping my hair out #it was fun writing a Not Angry Seven #It was also weird though #writing a seven that's friends with mc #snores

[flolio]

i don’t wanna be yours. FEAT, JANG WONYOUNG

you had been blessed with your amazing girlfriend, jang wonyoung. to this day you had no clue how you had managed to attract someone like her, since you were someone who only admired her group. but something within your loving and caring girlfriend changed one day, she no longer acted like your girlfriend, but a mere stranger passing by you.

GENRE — angst, wonyoung is lowk 😵‍💫😵‍💫, implied cheating (?), intended lowercase

WORDCOUNT — 1.1k

A/N — the abrupt ending LOOL I couldn’t keep putting this one off 😵‍💫

if someone ever asked you about your girlfriend, you’d only ever have nice things to say. that’s if anyone asked, to the public eye you were single which you never really had a problem with.

you understood that wonyoung had an image to uphold and you didn’t wanna risk ruining that, knowing about how some people wouldn’t accept the relationship. oftentimes you found yourself slipping up and accidentally talking to your friends about wonyoung, of course you’d tell her.

she never used to have a problem with it before, comforting you and asking you to be careful with your words next time. so why where you sat in front of her, tears threatening to spill as she yelled at you. “are you fucking serious y/n!” she said raising her hands in exasperation, you couldn’t find your voice.

wonyoung never yelled at you, you guys didn’t have communication issues or really any issues at all. you always found a way to talk it out if a problem was presented, especially since you had confided in her and admitted that you hated when people yelled at you. “wony— I told you I didn’t mean too! I didn’t even mention you—” in a desperate attempt to deteriorate the situation, hoping she would calm down.

“but you still mentioned ive! how many times do I have to keep explaining to you— you don’t listen to me!” you froze, looking up at her for the first time since she’s walked into your apartment. “i'm constantly reminding you to be more careful or watch your words! it gets fucking tiring y/n, it’s like you don’t even care about my image at all!”

you cared about her image more than anything, you knew that when you started dating her it was going to be different. you knew that it would’ve been more reserved, but not caring about her image?

you never wanted to hurt her— hell you don’t even know what you did! “wony I swear I never intended too—!” you hated being talked over, she knew this and was using it against you. “whatever y/n, see you later.” she said walking past you, brushing her shoulder against yours.

the only thing being heard is the light raindrops and the sound of wonyoung receding steps. it stung, you hated when she called you y/n, she never called you by your name.

that night you called wonyoung countless times, begging her to talk to you, or at most hear you out. she never did, at some point you got tired and fell asleep with your phone propped up by your ear.

you haven’t heard from her since and it’s visibly noticeable that you haven’t been well without her, you decided to turn to the only person you deemed you could.

aeri uchinaga, she introduced you to wonyoung. she didn’t know the exact extent of your relationship but she did know how much feelings you harbored for wonyoung, so when you showed up outside of her dorm with bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks she had half a mind to walk over to starship and fight wonyoung herself.

for your sake obviously she didn’t, she listened to you ramble on and on about your guys relationship. you hesitated telling her about your fight but she knew something was off, after a few moments of silence you caved.

breaking down in her arms explaining what had happened a few days earlier, aeri comforted you that night. she let you sleep at her dorm with her, coincidentally in her bed with her.

you’ve never liked aeri like that, so when you awoke to your phone blown up from texts from wonyoung that consisted of ‘im sorry, can we talk this out my love?’ to ‘oh so I leave you for one day and you’re in someone else’s bed.’

you didn’t even know how she knew you were here, unless one of the members had told her but you never recalled wonyoung being close with any other aespa members like that.

you rushed to call her back, getting the message from her voicemail. “wonyoung..please just talk to me— not even a few hours ago you wanted to fix it please! I needed giselles advice and fell asleep here, please talk to me—” you sounded dumb.

you where pleading with a phone, voicemail at that. ultimately you gave up, if she wanted to talk to you she would. a week had passed and you got nothing but silence, it was clearly affecting you much more than her.

you paused, hearing the ringing coming from your phone. it was wonyoung. you picked up right away, hearing shuffling coming from the other end. “wonyoung…” you whispered, more to yourself than her.

“y/n karina called, you haven’t been eating?” you paused, she knew karina? you felt uneasy, wonyoung never really cared about any of the other aespa members. “you know karina?” “that wasn’t my question.” your head was spinning full of questions, since when? why didn’t she mention it? “i've been okay, how have you been?”

that uneasy feeling in your stomach now turning into guilt at the fact you may have upset her. “I’ve been okay, I miss you.” you’ve longed to hear those words for sometime now, but you had nothing to say to her.

“I— I wanted to apologize for lashing out at you, I’ve been so busy lately—” “it’s okay, are you able to come over right now?” it was the worst move on your part, something that was unable to be taken back now.

you sounded desperate for her, something you didn’t intend to do. “I’ll be there in a bit.” she said before hanging up, leaving you there. this didn’t go as you had intended, you wanted a better explanation for how she treated you, not that vague of one. she didn’t lie, she ended up within your arms twenty minutes later.

you awoke to cold sheets, you always did, she never stayed until you were awake. you were stupid to think that things would’ve been the same.

IVE’S JANG WONYOUNG SPOTTED KISSING AESPA’S YOO JIMIN?

#works — 🖇️ #jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung imagines #ive wonyoung #ive #ive x reader

[furiousgoldfish]

If you're often wondering why do abusers do this to kids, and why they don't change their behaviour even when it's pointed out, I have a few insights to share.

I believe abuse is an easy way for people to get out of parenting their own kids, while still getting credit as if they're doing it. And even more, they get special privileges and resources that normal parents wouldn't try to get, because the price of them is too high for the children to pay.

For instance, in order to take care of a child, you have to deal with their development needs; meaning you need to be educated enough about human development to know why the child is acting the way they do, you need to know if they need guidance, support, boundaries, stability, schedules, or entertainment, fun, play-time, attention, comforting, more resources, more interaction. You also need to deal with their random behaviours, like children will sometimes get loud and careless, break stuff, cause damage, turn against you, get sick, get into bad moods, get sulky, throw tantrums, get stuck in bad groups of people or be predated upon, have trouble at school, wander off, develop mental illness, and as a parent, you are expected and required to be there for all of that, on top of regularly caring that they're well-fed, bathed, that they have fitting and functional clothing, that they're well socialized, and that their living condition is clean and functional enough for them to be happy and safe.

Now, if you're an abuser, and your child is struggling or giving you any of the random behaviours that annoy you, and you lash out at them, tell them nobody is ever going to love them, threaten to 'give them a reason to cry', yell at them until they get frozen in shock and pain, they're not going to come to you next time for help. In fact, it's unlikely they'll feel safe around you to exhibit half of their normal behaviour, instead they'll be sheepish and too scared they'll accidentally annoy you, so you won't have to hear about their day, their bad moods, their worries, their loudness, them making any trouble for you; in fact, your mental energy will be yours only and you will effectively not have to emotionally raise a child anymore, it will be just another human who is too scared of you to ask you to fulfill any of your parental duties.

What about when your child is sick? You know you have to care for your sick child. Except, you're an abuser, so to you this is a drain on your energy and you'd rather not have to deal with it, because a child to you is not a real person but an object that is in your way. So, you yell at your child that they got sick on purpose because they hate you, you tell them it because they did 'x' and 'y' (which they maybe did because you failed to watch out for them) and inform them that you will not be taking them to the hospital. Now your child will not expect any care while they're sick, and in fact, they'll be too scared to even come to you next time they're sick. Again, you got out of childcare and have all of your energy for yourself, at the expense of your child's health.

If you continually call your child a financial burden, ask them when they're going to pay rent, force them to work in order to deserve to eat and sleep at your house, complain about how 'money doesn't grow on trees', then your child will be too scared and ashamed to confess when their things are broken, clothes no longer fitting or torn, their shoes too small or breaking apart, their hygiene products at their end, or for anything they might like or want from the store. Now your child will try to make ends meet on their own, and you can financially save up and buy yourself what you like, and then buy the kid something when it's convenient for you, maybe for like a birthday present. Maybe at this point you are starting to see that if your child runs around looking very rugged, people are going to notice the visible lack of care, so you either make sure the kid does have some new-looking clothes, or, you tell the kid explicitly what they're allowed to wear outside, to not bring shame on you and the entire family, once again putting the responsibility on the child to look 'cared for', while you do almost absolutely nothing to make it a reality.

Now you're having a child who is, out of deep-seated fear of you, acting politely and socialized in company, giving you ever chance to pretend that you care for them daily, while you're effectively living as if you didn't have a child at all. But maybe that's not enough for you. Maybe, you also want to use that child to earn money as well; after all, they're scared of you and will do as you say. You can put them up to any kind of labour and call it 'chores', and tell them you're just 'teaching them work habits', while they're doing your part of household chores, heavy physical labour, maybe even your job, if they're good at it.

But maybe this is not the area where you need assistance, but you're looking for a free, non-judgmental therapist who will be on your side completely and never dare to call you out or confront you - and voila, this child is so desperate to make any sort of connection to you, they'll carefully listen to all of your woes and trauma, even when it's deeply inappropriate for them to hear it, and they'll of course, be on your side as you're the only person in the story they care about, so you can cry to them as much as you want and even encourage them to fix you, to run around looking for ways to cheer you up, make your life easier to you, influence other people to give you what you want. And if they ever dare to stand up to you or defy you, you can just snap at them and call them something that makes their blood freeze in shock and they'll back down and become even more obedient.

Neat, isn't it? Not only you don't need to parent this child anymore, but you can draw any kind of benefit out of them, groom them into any kind of behaviour, extract physical and emotional labour from them, take their anger out of them, control their life so it benefits you and not them, all while convincing them it's their duty to give it to you.

As a result, you will be untouched by the chore of parenting, and your child will grow into a terrified, deeply insecure, always wondering why they're not enough, never feeling good enough, neglected but not aware of it, hyper-independent, ashamed, desperate, unloved, depressed, traumatized, engulfed by grief and loneliness, never understanding why their own parent didn't want them, care-deprived adult. Because it's all that effort, all that responding to child's needs, all that attention and care and warmth and energy put into a child, that is necessary for them to have proof that they're a worthwhile human being, that they're not only alive to be filled with emptiness and serve others.

But that's also why the abusive parents will never stop what they're doing. The benefits they get by abuse far outweigh the cost (the cost being the well being of their child, to them cost is zero), so they will not suddenly become willing to do the job of parenting, after they've spent so much time successfully avoiding it, and only put the energy into gaslighting the child into believing this is normal.

This is also why they put so much effort into making the child dependent on them, and sabotaging the potential escape - they're benefiting from having that child around, they're actively extracting what ever they want from this young person that they barely have to cover the living cost for, who doesn't know or understand how many of their human rights are being violated. There's truly no easier way to isolate, trap, groom, brainwash and then control a person.

#benefits of abuse #child abuse #abusive parents #why abusers do it #what do abusers gain by abusing #psychological abuse #emotional abuse #why do they do that #why abusers abuse #benefits of abusive behaviour #consequences of abuse

[fairlyang]

Let you break my heart again II🕷️

will your friendship be strong enough or will it be easy to crack through?

w/c: 2.9K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: angst, more heartbreak, no more playboy, typical girl best friend problems, crazy gf, cheating allegations, betrayal, heartbreak, the end

notes: I dragged a lil ass I wanted it done the next day but writer brain </3 FINAL PART !!!!! (My original idea was for mig to only admit his feelings to reader after she got gwen stacy’ed)

part one

Months had passed and this girlfriend actually stuck around. He didn’t get rid of her and he somehow didn’t grow bored of her like he had with the others.

The worst part had to be when they made the three month point and he decided it was finally time for her to meet you.

That day your nerves had grown and you weren’t so sure you’d be able to do it. To pull through and not just burst out crying when you watch as he looks at her with pure love in his eyes.

It looked like his playboy days were over and he was finally ready for a solid relationship.

You barely made it through the night and if it weren’t for Peter’s hugs and MJ’s comforting words when Dana went to touch up her makeup and Miguel went to go change clothes, you would’ve been an absolute goner.

It was getting late and Peter offered to take you home to which you immediately accepted. Miguel then offered to take you after dropping Dana off but you politely declined.

Especially after seeing how wide her eyes got and she was (not so) subtly glaring at you.

Usually girlfriends would hate the girl best friend just because they’re a girl, but in this case Dana is a smart girl, and she had an instant inkling of your feelings towards him.

Even though you’ve remained respectful like you always have been when meeting his girlfriends, she didn’t like that Miguel had a girl best friend.

She kept her mouth shut and pretended she was fine but slowly piecing things together in her head.

So after saying your goodbyes and leaving Miguel’s apartment it didn’t take long for you to break down in the backseat of Peter’s car with an empathetic MJ trying to console you.

It only grew more difficult to hide your true feelings. Especially because Miguel would now bring Dana to group hangouts. Which makes some sense, even though Peter and MJ were just friends when you met them, then grew feelings for one another.

Alas you had no choice but to suck it up.

Three more months passed by and your love for him never faded. He didn’t even treat you that differently either which did end up causing some trouble for him from Dana. She apparently didn’t like how close you guys were, even if you did know each other since you were 14.

She claimed she should be his only best friend and what else could he really ask for.

He told her that you’d always be his best friend and he wasn’t going to toss you out just because she wants to be his only best friend. He can have multiple best friends.

How could he throw away an 8 year long friendship?

He then called her crazy for thinking she can control who he’s friends with.

So she recalled his words right back to him when she randomly ended up befriending his younger half-brother, Gabriel, merrily weeks after that argument.

Miguel wouldn’t ever tell you the specifics of the argument, mainly because in a sense he wanted to protect you. He didn’t want you to feel bad that his girlfriend didn’t like you, (as if you didn’t already know) and that she wanted him to drop you.

So when hanging out just as a pair he’d only tell you he was frustrated with her. He told you that she had befriended Gabriel and you only saw red flags but kept quiet.

You tried to remain cautious of what you’d say when he’d come to you about relationship problems. Obviously deep down you want to tell him to break up with her because she’s toxic and controlling but it wasn’t the best idea as the supposed girl best friend that “isn’t” in love with her best friend.

So you told him to maybe spend less time with you, mostly because you genuinely couldn’t think of an actual suitable solution.

But it didn’t matter because ultimately he denied that idea quickly and looked deeply in your eyes promising you, “you’ll always be my best friend. Nothing’s going to change that.”

If only he knew and kept to his promise.

It was now two months after that conversation was had and a whirlwind of actions, words, and lies would turn everything around.

You went to eat some lunch at a cafe outside of campus when your phone died on the way back. You were fine without relying on your phone and just thought you’d charge it during your next lecture on your laptop.

As you finally hit campus and walked past different students sitting around the grass and benches, your eyes focused on a familiar head with its brown bob.

You sigh and felt your heart ache as you walked past Dana eating Miguel’s face out in public like that.

Until you took a double take and dread hit you after realizing it wasn’t Miguel she was making out with. It was fucking Gabriel.

You couldn’t believe she was just openly cheating on Miguel like it was nothing.

You stood a couple feet from them and you couldn’t believe this was real. You blinked, rubbed your eyes, and blinked again but sure enough it was the younger O’Hara brother with a red scarf and those goofy ass (but recognizable) goggles.

You gulped and took your phone out only for the screen to show that it was dead.

You mentally panicked and were afraid they’d catch you so you quickly ran inside and immediately headed straight to your lecture hall.

The klutz in you unfortunately never went away so you nearly fell as soon as you accidentally hit a body after making a turn.

Horror filled your eyes and body as Miguel held onto your shoulders, trying to see what was wrong.

Your eyes were wide and your heart was racing wildly, you couldn’t possibly do this right now.

“I- M-Mig- uh- ‘m l-late for c-chem- sorry!” You stuttered and pushed past him to get to class and manage your thoughts properly.

As soon as you made it and sat at your unassigned assigned seat that happened to be next to MJ, who was worried to see you so stunned, held your hand and tried to get you to be calm because you looked so distressed.

You hadn’t even realized your hands and legs were shaking. How could they not be?

You just witnessed the most brutal betrayal of all time and there was no concrete evidence whatsoever.

Your first instant thought was that Miguel wouldn’t believe you.

He was full on in love with Dana now, in what world would he believe the love of his love would be cheating on him?

Not only cheating on him but cheating on him with his brother?!?

MJ’s mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear a word, you couldn’t even read her lips. All your brain was set on was how of fucking course it had to be you who caught Dana’s ass cheating.

How fast she’d turn it onto you would be so insane. Disgusting even.

What if she exposed your feelings towards him?

What if she could convince him you’re lying?

All you could do is pray he’d believe his ole reliable best friend over a girl he’s been with for 6 months and his brother he never really got along with.

MJ was eventually able to catch your attention but it took the entire lesson for her to get a peep out of you. And that peep only happen to be a sad whisper of Miguel’s name.

As your phone finally charged your first instinct was to text Miguel, quickly typing the words, “need to see you, my place after class?”

He quickly responded with a simple, “sounds good.” Then followed by a, “should I be worried?” Which you had no response to.

You quietly told MJ the unfortunate news to which she nearly gasped out loud. Her eyes were wide and she finally understood why you were so freaked out.

The lecture had finally ended and you collected all your things while MJ was quietly asking you questions to which you quietly answered.

Following your tail as you left the lecture hall and off to find Peter to quickly fill him in, and to help with your nerves because you didn’t even know how to start off that conversation with Miguel.

They were both giving you suggestions on how to break it down gently to him while Peter drove you back to your place.

You could feel the anxiety building in your stomach and it felt so scary not knowing how he’ll react.

And it overall felt even worse that you couldn’t take a video or a picture. This was practically a test to see if he’d trust you enough to tell him the truth or just make up a lie.

You could only pray that he’d believe your words over hers but you couldn’t even begin to prepare yourself in case he didn’t.

How could he not believe you? Even if you’ve been desperately in love with him you’d never do anything to purposely destroy any of his relationships.

You were just too kind-hearted to ever even think about doing that.

Would he really have it in him to not trust your words anymore?

Will he believe her words over yours?

Will this lifelong friendship finally come to its end like Dana has been wanting from the very beginning?

Finally you had arrived at your apartment and you still felt uneasy. Miguel’s car wasn’t in sight until you heard the revving of his car and that’s when things started to get real.

They gave you their final words of encouragement before you got out and climbed up the steps to wait for him.

He parked behind Peter and as he got out you could slightly hear him ask if they were gonna come in to which they obviously said no.

He shrugged and walked over to you as you unlocked the first door before stepping in and walking to the left door that lead up to your apartment.

“Hey are you okay? You seemed shaken up earlier.” He said, walking in and shutting the first door behind him.

You walked in and stepped aside to let him go in then shut the door behind him. The anxiety returned and you weren’t so sure how to start it all off once you turned around to look at him.

Your heart ached and although you might’ve been filled with jealousy for months on end, you would never pray he would get hurt this way.

You always wanted happiness for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

And now that he had it, you had to break his heart.

How could you possibly let him down gently?

You felt your hands beginning to sweat and your legs started shaking again which he instantly noticed and grabbed you, carefully leading you to the couch.

He sat you down and sat right next to you, gently holding your hands, wondering what could possibly have given you such a drastic reaction.

You desperately tried to calm yourself but it was to no use. Your body was panicking inside and out, giving away that this was something serious.

You still didn’t know how to even start.

So you just blurted it out.

“Dana cheated on you.”

Silence filled the room.

You could’ve sworn he could hear your heart pounding out of your chest. He was frozen and immediate tears formed in his eyes.

This was so fucked up.

In all these years of being his shoulder to cry on, you were petrified that it would come to an end. In a way you kind of always relied on him being there no matter what.

This whole situation could make or break that.

“I saw Dana making out with Gabriel on campus…” you whispered before adding, “I’m so sorry.”

You had never felt so nervous in your life. You moved one hand from his and held his while he stared down at the floor.

You were subconsciously tapping your foot on the ground because the anxiety had just taken control and the silence was already killing you.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, he truly has never been so happy, and now it’s just gone.

You looked at his face and as soon as you did, his tears started pouring out. One hot tear fell after another and you grabbed him, him embracing you as he cried into your shoulder.

You felt sick to your stomach, it felt like the most unfortunate thing to ever have happened to you.

Having to tell the love of your life that his girlfriend cheated on him.

Having to see how heartbroken he was.

Nothing would’ve prepared you for his reaction.

The quiet sobs and light shaking.

The way his hands were trembling while holding on to you.

You just hugged him as tightly as you could and gently rubbed his back to try to soothe him. Maybe it was past trauma that suddenly hit him, that he started to sob a little louder.

Your heart was practically breaking right with his. You felt downright horrible and weren’t sure how you could possibly help him. Only thing you could do was be with him, and you’d be with him for as long as he needed.

And you were.

Like the absolute best friend, of course you were.

The day after you explained in full, what you witnessed and he stayed at your place for a solid week before he decided to talk to Dana and listen to what she had to say. You offered to go with him but he said it was best you stayed, though he did really want your support but didn’t think it would be appropriate.

It was midday on a Friday when he had the call and he didn’t come back that night.

Or the next.

Or after that.

You had no fucking clue what was said and neither did Peter nor MJ.

Monday morning your mind kept thinking worst case scenarios which had you feeling uneasy as you were walking on campus to your first lecture.

Suddenly you stopped with Peter and MJ following suit at the sight in front of you. Miguel’s arms wrapped around Dana’s with Gabriel standing in front of them laughing at something.

That was the moment you felt your heart shatter into pieces at the realization of what happened.

Your words weren’t enough.

And in his emotional state and her false sweet voice she definitely used, of course he fell for whatever lying words she told him.

Her manipulative and crazy ass didn’t help from the pain this brought you.

He was your best friend.

Falling hopelessly and desperately in love with someone who was once a shy little nerd that would be there everyday for you, to now a man who doubted his best friend’s word for a girl he knew for less than a year.

8 years.

8 years you had known each other and not once ever lied to one another.

All of a sudden in his mind it makes sure that you lied about something as graphic as this.

All of a sudden he believes her words over your own.

Absolutely nothing could’ve prepared you for the way your heart ached and all you felt was hopelessness.

When Gabriel slightly moved, Miguel was now in clear view of you three, more specifically you.

The most vicious glare was all he was giving you meanwhile Dana only had a mischievous smirk on her face which gave you all the confirmation you needed.

Peter shook his head in disgust while MJ grabbed you, making you walk in the direction of your lecture while Peter walked behind you both before stepping up to him and muttering, “The truth will hit you hard one day.”

And boy did it.

Three months after that Miguel was going back to his place to cook a romantic dinner only to catch Gabriel giving Dana backshots on the kitchen counter.

Immediate regret hit him and he realized you were indeed telling him the truth.

He realized Dana’s bold lie that you were the liar, and made that stuff up about her was because you wanted to steal him from her, was indeed not real. That you weren’t deeply in love with him and needed to fabricate the perfect lie to finally steal him.

But before they both left (half dressed), Dana had to let him know that he was the easiest to manipulate out of all her exes. Then that the reality was that you were in love with him, the only lie being just that you didn’t plan anything.

She just hated girl best friends but also wasn’t in the mood for something so serious. She wanted a cop out. A way out.

So she figured you were the easiest target and making up that his other two friends, who she also didn’t like, were also in on it, was the best way to go about it.

The only reason she came back to Miguel was because she grew bored of Gabriel and wanted him back.

And he fell right into her trap.

And there was no way to fix or mend what he so badly broke.

It was far too late.

But at last, you’d never let him break your heart again.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara #Miguel ohara angst #spiderman 2099 #Miguel O’Hara angst

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Five

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Curse words (idk about you, but I swear like a sailer - so I apologize in advance bc it’ll be a recurring item)

Notes: The last half of this chapter was one of the first scenes I wrote when I played around with writing this series, these random snippets inspired this whole thing. I’m so glad everyone is enjoying my work!

Word Count: 1930

Series Masterlist

• March 4th, 2005 • Forks HS Cafeteria •

Reader

It’s raining outside again for the umpteenth time this week, forcing myself and my preferred Cullen sibling to sit apart at our respective tables inside as our usual table outside collects rain. I glance at the table the Cullen’s claimed and spot Jasper already watching me so I wave shyly. He returns it with a grin only to receive a shove from Emmett as he no doubt teases Jasper for the action.

“Hey - La Push baby, you and Y/n in?” Eric asks Bella as she drops her bag into the chair next to mine.

“Should I know what that means?” She questions back before I could voice the same inquiry.

“La Push Beach down at the Quileute Rez, we’re all going tomorrow.” Mike explains.

“Yeah, there’s a big swell coming in.” Jessica adds.

Eric pops up from his seat, splaying his hands out like he’s already riding a wave “And I don’t just surf the internet!”

“Eric, you stood up once and it was a foam board.” Jess teases him as Mike mirrors his goofy stance, earning a smack from Tyler at the goofy display.

“But there’s whale-watching too, come with us.” Angela prods us gently with her kind eyes.

“La Push baby, it’s La Push.” Eric tries to make the words sound cooler than they are and I can help but hide a chuckle behind my hands.

“Okay,” glancing at me before I give her a nod, “we’ll go if you stop saying that, okay?” Bella concedes before leaving our table to grab a school lunch, I catch Edward standing from his seat to follow her.

“Seriously dude, it’s creepy man.” Mike teases Eric. Their conversation fades into the background as I lean back and open my book while I munch on my carrots.

• March 5th, 2005 • La Push Beach, Quileute Reservation •

Reader

“I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.” Eric says worriedly as he, Mike, and Jessica finish pulling on their wetsuits.

“We drove all the way out here, I’m at least paddling out.” Jess tells the boys. She’s stronger than I am, because there isn’t any chance I’d subject myself to the freezing water willingly.

“So,” Angela starts, “I keep thinking that Eric’s going to ask me to the prom. And he just… doesn’t.”

“You should ask him, take control. You’re a strong, independent woman.” Bella affirms our friend.

“I am?” Angela responds, unsure.

“Yes.” Blunt and to the point, Bella nods at her.

“Absolutely Ang, he’s just a boy and he would be stupid to turn you down.” I add, confident Eric would be over the moon to go to prom with someone as smart and amazing as her.

“Hey, will you do me up?” Jessica asks me, spinning around in front of me where I lean against the open passenger door next to Angela’s perch on the seat.

“Of course.” I oblige her as she moves her hair to the side.

“Bella!” Turning towards the voice, three tall guys from the reservation walk towards our van.

“Hi, Jacob.” Bella greets the one leading the small group, “Guys, this is Jacob.” She tells us and he gives the rest of us a nod and a wave before sitting next to Bella in the open side door. “What are you, like, stalking me?” I hear Bella tease Jacob.

“You're on my rez, remember?” Jacob chuckles, “Are you surfing?”

“Definitely not.” It’s my turn to chuckle as I catch the scoff and completely serious look on her face.

“You guys should keep them company.” Jess encourages the new group of guys, “Um, Bella’s date bailed.”

“What date?!” Eric panics and pauses like a deer in headlights.

“She invited Edward.” Jessica answers, but Bella jumps to defend her crush.

“To be polite, that's it.”

“I was going to invite Jasper, but since Edward didn’t want to come…” I trail off awkwardly.

“I think it's nice they invited them, nobody ever does.” Trying to come to our rescue, Angela adds.

“Yeah, 'cause the Cullen's are freaks.” Mike’s jealousy showing clear.

“You got that right!” The slightly taller Quileute guy to my right agrees and I’m immediately annoyed.

“You guys know them?” Bella ignores their comments and tries to latch on to any spec of information she can. I also turn to the guys, curious about anything I might learn of the Cullen family.

“The Cullens don't come here.” The other one says ominously, silencing the group.

What an odd thing to say… I mean, is the family not allowed? Did something happen? I have so many questions, but I also know it’ll be incredibly awkward to press them for answers after only just meeting.

After munching on a Twizzler, Jacob stands and turns to my friend. “Wanna go walk the beach while your friends jump in the water?”

“Sure.” Bella rises and pauses in front of Angela and I, “you guys good?”

“Absolutely - yeah!” We nod and smile, both of us content to watch the surf and huddle under our blankets as everyone sets off for the shore.

Jumping in Bella’s truck once everyone’s had their fill of the freezing waves, I lean over and crank the heat dial while she starts the ancient vehicle.

Rubbing my thighs to warm my hands and legs, I ask, “So was that weird, or just me? The comments about the Cullen’s not coming to the Rez?”

“Definitely not just you, I asked Jake on our walk what they meant.” Coaxing the truck onto the road towards Forks, she continues. “He started talking about Quileute legends and old tales.”

“What does that have to do with the Cullen’s?” I press.

“He said they’re supposedly descendants from an enemy clan and they were found hunting on their land.” She glances at me before continuing, “So they made some kind of treaty I guess, to stay off their land and they wouldn’t expose them.”

“Expose them for what?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say.” She huffs, annoyed. “Do you-do you want to come over for a little bit? I was thinking about doing some research on this stuff.”

“Oh hell yes, count me in!” I turn to look out the window with a grin, I might be closer to actually getting answers now than if I were to solve this on my own.

The rest of the evening was spent huddled around Bella’s computer. We searched Quileute legends on google and ended up coming across tales of ‘Cold Ones’ intertwined in the tribe’s history. An odd sensation came over me when it described their qualities, almost like a foreboding feeling - but I shrugged it off. After a few more clicks, we found a book that could help dive more in-depth on the legends.

“There!” I point at the screen, seeing the availability of it at a store close to our location.

“One is in stock at Thunderbird & Whale Book Store in Port Angeles.” Bella reads as she pulls up a map, scribbling the address on a sticky note. “Wanna come with me after school Tuesday?” She turns to ask as I munch on some chips, taking a seat at the end of her bed.

“There’s no point in asking anymore, we’re in this together. I’m just as invested in finding out more about Jasper as you are about Edward.”

“Fair.” She cracks a sideways grin as she flops on her bed next to me.

• March 7th, 2005 • Forks HS •

Reader

Rushing through the clouded hallway before first period to avoid Tyler Crowley and his gaggle of friends, I spot Jasper loitering with his sister Rose near the end of the corridor. I practically ran in his direction-pushing him by the chest into a secluded alcove by the stairs, an apologetic wince of a smile thrown in Rosalie’s direction that was immediately met with understanding as her eyes located the entourage hot on my heels.

“Sorry,” I whisper to his shocked form, “if they find me, you give a very distinct ‘fuck off’ vibe they can’t ignore.”

His eyes were wide as he looked down at me - I think I rendered him speechless with my forward actions, commandeering his body for personal use against other boys. Come to think about it, what was I thinking? This is Jasper Hale, why would he-

“Glad to be of service. Even though this might be a little bit of a strange request.” He whispered right back, the space small enough that he didn’t need to talk too loud over the din of the hallway and with how close we were standing - there wasn’t much space between us.

God, what the fuck am I doing?

Without even thinking, I lean my head forward to settle on the center of his chest, closing my eyes in embarrassment, arms clutching my notebooks to my chest. Before I could think about what I just initiated, one of his large hands came to settle on my back, immediately soothing the worries that began to swim that I was being too forward.

“Are you alright?” He murmured into my hair.

“That’s a loaded question.” I mumbled into his shirt, squeezing my eyes shut even tighter. How could he read me so well?

The longer we stood here, the more I began to realize his chest wasn’t moving. Is he holding his breath? Oh shit, do I-

“Oh, uhh, my bad! I-I’ll see you around Y/n.” I heard Tyler stutter, I turned my head to see him glancing between Jasper and I. Perfection, my plan a success as the gaggle of boys turned tail and hurried away.

I glance upwards to Jasper’s stoic face, “Thank you for your flawless execution.” Complimenting his quick compliance in my hasty plan before running off to my next class of the day.

“Anytime, doll.” He replied with that southern accent and signature half-smirk.

Damn him for being so attractive and for using that nickname.

Jasper

I remained standing here a few more moments, not entirely sure what just transpired between Y/n and I. Her scent lingering in this alcove she accosted me into, lavender and fresh linen invaded my senses as those all-too-familiar flames of devastating hunger take up residence in my throat again.

I know I’ll hear it about this little stunt the moment I’m home this afternoon, Rosalie no doubt currently informing Emmett and Alice of what transpired.

I exhaled a sigh and let my head thump against the wall behind me, eyes slipping closed. I swear I can still feel her forehead pressed against my chest. I forced myself to stop breathing then in the moment, the desire for unsavory things it caused to swirl in my chest needed to be suffocated. I could feel the tension emanating from her then and I had to stamp that out if I ever hoped she’d continue to be comfortable with me, my own bloodthirsty desire be damned. I could still feel the warmth from where her body touched mine.

This gorgeous human girl has me wrapped around her tiny little finger and I’m not even sure she’d give me the time of day.

Once I manage to peel myself away from the wall, Alice rushes up to me with worry saturating her emotions.

“I’ve been looking for you! We need to leave, the sun will be out by lunch.” She tells me in a rush.

What I wouldn’t give to not have a life dictated by the weather. With a sigh, I follow my sister to the student parking lot.

Next

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #twilight #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x female!reader #slow burn #romance

[lorelaiblair]

It all started with a phone call. Wednesday swore that modern technology would be the downfall of humanity.

“Wednesday” The boy pleaded.

“Eugene” She countered.

“I haven’t seen you in months, and you’re coming to the city anyway” He explained, for nearly the tenth time.

“I can afford a hotel room”

“I am well aware” Eugene laughed “What kind of a person would I be if I let my sister sleep alone in a hotel, especially when I have an apartment with a guest room barely five miles away from your publisher”

“Don’t imply that I cannot handle myself”

“I know that you can, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you here with me”

“I would be there for quite a while, the editing process for this book is proving to be tedious”

“I’d love to have you, for as long as you want to stay”

“I will arrive Tuesday”

“Really?” Eugene asked, the excitement obvious in his voice. He was met with the dial tone, the conversation apparently over.

Two days later, he woke up to his alarm. He showered, brushed his teeth, and was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast when he realized something had changed. He went to make himself some coffee, and there was already half of a fresh pot.

Was someone in his apartment?

He was tired. He was too tired to care all that much. He poured himself a cup and sat back down.

It only took a couple moments for Wednesday to join him in the kitchen.

“Where do you keep your sewing kit?” She asked

“Junk drawer” He told her, pointing despite the fact that she already knew which one it was, despite knowing that she would be angry at its disarray considering she had been the one to organize it for him the last time. She pulled the kit out and tsked at him, before wandering back to her room.

Eugene took a sip of his warm drink before blinking in surprise.

“Wednesday?” He yelled

“Yes, Eugene?”

“When did you get here?”

“About two hours ago” She explained, he climbed out of his chair to walk down the hallway and stand in the doorway of her room. She was using his sewing kit to reattach one of Thing’s fingers.

“I would ask how you got in but” He laughed to himself “I’ll get a key made for you on my way home from work”

“Alright”

“What happened to Thing?”

“He fell out of the plane” Wednesday told him.

“What?” Eugene blanched. “What do you mean he fell out of the plane, is he okay?”

Thing wiggled his remaining fingers to tell the boy yes, he was fine.

“Just pulled a few stitches” Wednesday explained “My first meeting with the editor is later today, although I will probably be back before you are”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight” Eugene said, turning to head out “Oh yeah, i’m off tomorrow and a few friends from nevermore are coming over for lunch”

“Eugene” She complained

“You don’t have to socialize, I swear. This door comes with a perfect little lock on it” He grinned, as if it could counter Wednesday’s death glare.

Eugene’s friends had arrived nearly twenty minutes ago, and Wednesday was facing a bit of a conundrum.

She had been up all night writing. Her editor left her with so many notes that she considered stabbing him in the eye with his own red ink pen, which had marked and marked all over Wednesday's first draft.

Not to mention her publisher wanted it all completed in less than a week.

She really had her work cut out for her. Wednesday was completely capable, she would get it done with time to spare, but what she really, really needed was another cup of coffee. Coffee. Coffee, her savior. Coffee, which was in the kitchen. Eugene and his group of very loud friends, sat in the dining room, nothing but a single door separating them.

She would send Thing to do it, but the last time she had asked him he had spilled scalding hot coffee all over himself. Now he refused to help her with the specific conquest.

She exited her room and stalked down the small hallway. Wednesday cursed herself, for knowing what she would be getting into when agreeing to spend the next few months with Eugene, and agreeing nonetheless. This was a torture of her own making.

As Wednesday scooped spoonfuls of coffee into a filter she could hear the people in the other room laughing. She turned the pot on and sat at the small table Eugene kept in his kitchen.

Wednesday’s publisher had gone on and on about how her book needed ‘character’, said that it wasn’t at all personable. She absolutely detested that. The book was full of character, she had been writing about Viper and her adventures for years now, and not once had a person mentioned a ‘lack of character’.

It was frustrating.

Wednesday knew that the publisher was onto something.

Wednesday had been writing Viper for years, and the stories she wrote were becoming almost predictable. She hated it. She absolutely despised it all.

She needed to change something, but she had no idea what that something was.

The door into the kitchen swung open, and Wednesday cursed herself once again. She had no energy for any of the ‘friends’ Eugene had invited over. It didn’t help that her eyes were assaulted the second the girl walked through the door.

Blonde hair with pink and blue ends, and an entire pink ensemble. Brilliant blue eyes, a shiny and slightly too sharp to be human smile.

“Uh, hi?” The bright girl asked, a sheepish smile on her pretty face.

Wednesday raised her eyebrows at the girl.

“Who are you?” She asked, turning to look back into the dinning room as if making sure she didn’t accidentally step into somebody else’s apartment. Wednesday leaned back in her chair, watching her.

The girl’s blue eyes met Wednesday’s again.

Wednesday Addams needed to change something, in her book and in her life, and she knew now what that thing was.

#wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday #wenclair #wednesday x enid #wednesday is soft for enid #enid x wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday and enid #wednesday fanfic #wednesday au #netflix wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday show #enid and wednesday #eniday #eugene ottinger

[honeybeefae]

shower sex with cass? btw, love this idea and your writing ❤️

Soapy Surprise (Cassian x Reader)

BINGO: Shower Sex

(Another fun one and I know I’ve said this before but I am a Cassian girly. I love him. I loved this. Also, I can't believe we haven't gotten a bingo yet?! Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: Smut

“I totally won.” You laughed as you walked into the cabin, stomping your feet to remove the snow that still clung to your boots. “No wonder you always are in last place for the annual snowball fight. You suck.”

Cassian rolled his eyes as he walked in behind you, shaking his head that was wet with snow. “I let you win, kid. If I unleashed my full power you wouldn’t be able to participate in the actual fight.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.” You grinned while shrugging off your heavy jacket. The cabin was quiet, the rest of your group out doing their own thing while leaving the two of you alone. You didn’t mind though nor did Cassian. The two of you had become fast friends since you first met and everything was just easy when it came to him.

You rubbed your hands together and glanced over at him, surprised to see he was already watching you. He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat faster but you ignored it. You weren’t going to look into anything that could cause your friendship harm.

“I’m gonna go warm up in the shower but I’ll be down in ten, okay?” You say while pointing your finger at him. “Do not drink all my wine again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded, giving you a two-finger salute which made you snort. You quickly ascended the stairs and picked the largest bathroom in the house, shutting the door behind you. The thought of locking it made you pause but you ignored it, knowing Cassian wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

The bathroom was made for the Illyrians but you greedily used it whenever you could. It had a giant skylight and bathtub underneath it that was large enough to fit their wings comfortably while the shower had a rainfall head and glass doors that made it steam up nicely. You were half tempted to ask Rhys who built it so you could have one in your apartment.

Your clothes were difficult to get off due to the wetness but eventually you shucked them off, leaving them in a small pile by the door. The only sound in the room was the soft pads of your feet as you turned the water on and waited for it to heat up. 

Steam quickly filled the room and you took a deep breath, enjoying the way the heat immediately began to warm your skin as you stepped into the scalding water. You closed your eyes and let it run over your bare skin, tipping your head back and relaxing your shoulders.

As you started your washing routine you missed the door opening from how loud the shower was. The glass door opened behind you and you only noticed when a cool breeze hit the back of your body.

“What the fuck?!” You shouted, trying to cover yourself when you saw Cassian beginning to undress. “Cassian what the hell are you doing?”

“Relax!” He griped, tossing his boxers behind him and stepping into the giant shower. You flattened yourself against the wall, your head turned to the side as you looked up at the ceiling to avoid staring at him. “I was cold as hell and thought I would join you.”

“I am naked Cassian.” You growled, questioning his common sense as he brushed off your concerns.

“I could care less, Y/N. I just wanted to wash myself really quick and this is the only shower that can fit me. In fact, why didn’t you go to a different shower?” He cocked his head, watching as you turned around in anger and disbelief.

“Because I called dibs on the shower first, idiot!” You argued, not even caring that your body was now fully exposed. “If you would learn to wait your turn this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Well, regardless, I’m not leaving. So either suck it up and be an adult or leave.” He smirked, grabbing your shampoo to begin washing his hair. You swore you saw red as you snatched it out of his hand.

“I’m not leaving, I was here first.” You frowned, turning back around to finish washing the suds out of your hair. “Just…stay on your side.”

“No problem, kid. Just keep your eyes at an appropriate level.” He snickered, dodging the bottle of shampoo that you threw at his head. 

The two of you took your showers in relative silence, both of you sneaking glances when you thought the other couldn’t see, but just as you were about to finish up Cassian cleared his throat.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” He said softly, his wings dropped so he could see you over his shoulder. You raised an eyebrow and lightly shook your head. 

“I swear to the Mother if you ask me to wash your d-” You began but stopped when he shouted before you could finish your sentence, smiling as his face grew red.

“You need to get your mind out of the gutter. I just need you to wash the bottom of my wings.” Cassian rolled his eyes, holding out the washcloth. However you hesitated, the air suddenly growing thick. You knew how sensitive their wings were and how selective they were about who touched them. Cassian himself had told you about it.

“Are you…are you sure?” You asked slowly, gingerly taking the rag. He nodded and extended his wings outwards.

“I’m not a barbarian, kid. I can control myself. Just do it quick and don’t make it weird.” 

You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, trying to rationalize it in your mind before you could chicken out. It was just one naked friend helping another naked friend wash a hard-to-reach spot. Nothing weird about it…right?

Your fingers shook as you started on his left wing, stopping briefly when he tensed before pushing through to get it over with. The tension was building quickly as you did your best to wipe thoroughly yet softly, not wanting to tear the delicate skin. He was stiller than you had ever seen him as you tried to control your breathing.

As you finished up the left side and began to go to the right you caught a very brief glance of his cock. It was hard and standing proudly, itching to be stroked. Both of his hands were fisted at his side as you waivered over his right wing.

“Cassian I can-” You began but he snapped at you, his voice straining.

“Just hurry up.” He snapped, his back muscles flexing as you bit down on your lip and nodded. The sight of him hard was burning in your eyes but not painfully. No, you liked it. You would have to be blind to not see how handsome he was but you also didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him.

Sex complicated things and you didn’t want that, no matter how much you did want him. It was your dirty little secret and you weren’t going to bring it to light. 

He shuddered when you ran the soft material along the inner ridge, his cock jumping in need. You felt a mix of desire and guilt in your gut, knowing this was just a natural reaction and he probably was embarrassed. 

You finished up the rest of your cleaning at record speed, practically throwing the rag back at him and mumbling something about needing to get downstairs. As you began to walk past him you felt an iron grip wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

The water was still hot as you waited there, holding your breath. Cassian tightened his grip for a brief moment before he let you go, his hand falling back to his side. You hated the way you wish he had pulled you into him.

You made the mistake of looking back at him and you couldn’t stop your eyes from falling to his cock, a sharp wave of arousal going straight to your pussy as you swiftly raised them back up to his face. It was too late, of course. He could smell you.

And before you could plead your innocence or apologize you felt him grab your hip and pull you into his wet body. Cassian’s face was tilted down as he watched you, water droplets running down his chest as he clenched his jaw in restraint.

“This shower was a mistake.” He whispered, cupping your face softly and running his thumb over your cheek. “We need to get out and pretend this didn’t happen.”

Neither one of you moved.

Your mind was screaming at you to run, to save whatever scrap of friendship would still be alive after this encounter before it was ruined forever. However, with the way he was looking at you and how good his body felt against yours, you ignored it.

“What do you want me to do?” You asked softly, opening your mouth when his thumb caught your bottom lip. He slipped it inside and you rolled your tongue around it, drunk off the scent of his musk and your own arousal. 

Cassian groaned as the feeling went straight to his cock. He swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing before he dipped his head down so that his forehead was against your own. You sighed when he removed his thumb, peeking up at him through your eyelashes as the two of you stood at the point of no return.

“Whatever you want…just touch me.” His voice was now desperate as he closed his eyes in anticipation. You waited for a brief moment before raising up on your tiptoes to kiss him, your hand wrapping around his large cock to test the waters.

He hissed through his teeth from your soft touch, his hips involuntarily bucking. You couldn’t believe how pent up he already was so you decided to take mercy on him, stroking him as you moved your lips across his face.

You dipped down to his collarbone and nipped at the thin skin, enjoying the red marks that appeared in your wake. He was barely hanging on by a thread as you jacked him off, the size difference alone making him want to bend you over and break you. 

One of his hands was lazily running up and down your back as you stepped closer to him, your own juices coating your inner thighs as you used your free hand to stroke the front of his wings. Cassian growled a warning but you just gave him a smug smirk, feeling totally in control as you took the tips of your fingernails and ran it all the way down.

“If you don’t stop soon, I’m going to cum.” He grunted, nostrils flaring as you increased the speed of your strokes.

“Do it, Cass.” You taunted, gazing up at him through heavy lids. “Cum all over my hand. Be a good boy for me.”

The boldness of your words surprised you but you both loved it, his lip catching between his teeth as he lost himself in the feeling of you pleasuring him. You watched in anticipation, wanting to see the face he made as he spilled his seed, and when you used the pad of your thumb to swipe under the pink head he lost it.

Your name fell off his lips like a prayer as he threw his head back and groaned, his hips following your hand as he came all over your hand and stomach. It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen and did nothing to cure the ache between your legs, noting how his cock stayed hard even after he had stopped thrusting.

His chest was rising and falling quickly as he looked down at you, a primal hunger in his eyes that had your own breath catching in your throat. You dropped your hand and took a step back but Cassian was quick to pull you towards him, moving so that you were trapped between his body and the wall.

“Your turn.” He whispered, smirking as his wings surrounded the two of you. 

#acotar #acotar reader #acotar reader smut #acotar fic #acotar smut #acotar bingo #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #cassian acotar #cassian smut #cassian acotar smut #acotar imagine #smut #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

[kamikazii]

Choso Kamo x f!Reader

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The club was packed tonight, sweaty drunk bodies pressed against each other vibrating from the beat of the music roaring in their ears. You were amongst the crowd, not yet shit faced but very drunk. You smiled largely at your friends, a small bit of drool coming out of the corner of your mouth. You loved every second of feeling the music, feeling like nothing mattered outside of dancing with a room full of strangers. Were they really strangers at this point? This club was your favorite, you were a Friday night regular. As were all the other college students there.

Your friend came up to you, swaying against you as she pushed a shot glass to your lips. You gladly gulped down the terrible tasting liquid, swallowing as fast as you could and grimacing at the taste. Like a child would with cough medicine.

Suddenly it felt like all the contents of your stomach were threading to come back up. You politely pushed your friend away, frantically looking for the bathroom. Pushing bodies out of your way wasn’t easy, but you made it nonetheless. As soon as the toilet was in your eye sight it happened. The terrible taste of alcohol and appetizers coming right back up. You gagged and wretched, feeling absolutely disgusted with yourself. Well, that was a buzzkill. Time to head home.

You pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to the group chat with your friends letting them know you were heading home for the night. The ladies sent back a be safe text and that was all you needed. You exited the bathroom and looked for the exit.

As you made your way through the crowd and past the bar a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Hey baby let me buy you drink.”

A man that looked double your age said in a slur. You pushed his hand off, “No thanks, I’m heading home.” You said, not interested in a man that could be the same age as your father. He persisted, “I could come with, show you a good time baby.” He was now standing, trying to pull your body to his. You looked around frantically for help, no one was paying attention to you. Of course they weren’t.

Until your eyes locked with his. Your eyes lit up, acting on impulse, “My boyfriend is going to beat your ass if you don’t get the fuck off.” You yelled at the stranger, pointing to the man you were referring to. The man walked over, seemingly knowing what was going on. You looked distressed after all.

The older man let go thankfully not wanting to stir anything up, you grabbed the dark haired man’s hand and made towards the exit. He happily went outside with you, how could he not?

You breathed heavily, feeling sobriety slowly making its way to you. You looked at the man you’d brought with you, shit he was so fine.

“I’m sorry, old bastard wouldn’t let go of me.” You apologized, feeling defeated. Total buzzkill now; puking up everything you ate and drank in the last two hours and some creep trying to follow you home. Gross.

“Hey it’s okay, are you going to be okay going home?“ He sounded sincere, placing his hand on your back while you heaved fresh air into your body.

“Uh yeah I think, I’ll just Uber home. It’s only like fifteen minutes away.” You said, pulling your phone out. Shit, it died. He watched as you tried to turn it on, smacking it and whining when it didn’t.

“I can give you a ride if you want, I’m sober so you don’t have to worry about getting into an accident.” He started rubbing the back of his head, hoping that didn’t come off as weird or creepy.

“You’re not gonna stalk me if I tell you where I live are you?” You half joked, raising an eyebrow at him. He shook his head no, laughing.

“I’m Kamo Choso, I promise I’m not creepy, I’m just a senior in college.” He said, the faintest bit of pink danced on the tips of his ears. You told him your name, defeatedly walking with him to his car. It was blacked out and honestly kinda hot. You made small talk with him on the way to your apartment, feeling a little embarrassed a stranger had to take you home.

You found out you attend the same college but never stumbled across each other, probably because he was a senior and you were only a sophomore. Upon arriving at your apartment you invited him in, it was late after all. It would be rude of you to not finish the conversation that was flowing between the two of you. Right? It would be rude to not offer him something to eat or drink.

And it would be rude to not notice the slight bulge in his pants as he sat on your sofa.

You pushed that thought out of your mind as soon as it entered, mentally berating yourself. He was a total stranger. Well not really, after the conversations you had you knew a few things about him. Like that he lived across town from you, so naturally you offered him to stay here at your apartment. It was very late after all. And he accepted gratefully, the idea of driving being a hassle for him. You found out he liked horror movies just as much as you did so of course you put one on and cozied up next to this man on your couch. The man you’d known for a whole hour and a half now. Happy way through the movie his arm wrapped around your shoulder, inviting you to lean against him. Leaning turned into laying in his lap. His arm around your shoulder turned into resting it in your hair, playing with it.

You felt it. A twitch. In his pants. It immediately made blood rush to your face, but you didn’t move. What were you doing? This strange man is in your apartment somehow with his dick pressed to your face and you’re just okay with that? Yes, yes you are.

You nuzzled against his growing hard on, making an almost inaudible moan slip from his throat. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tightly.

“Don’t tease me.”

He was rather rough, which surprised you. The grip on your hair made you wince a little but you continued, ghosting your mouth over his growing erection. The crotch in his jeans were getting too tight to be comfortable, he had to slip them off. You happily helped him push them down past his knees, his cock springing free. His tip was pink, leaking precum from your teasing. God he was so big, he has the type of cock you fantasize about while fucking yourself. You drooled at the sight of him, licking his tip and slowly lowering your mouth down. His grip on your hair loosened only for him to grab the back of your neck to help guide you on how he liked his cock sucked.

A guttural moan escaped his throat as you tried to take him fully, he’d never felt a throat as tight and wet as yours. The very thought made his cock twitch. He pulled you off suddenly, he wasn’t going to last long from fucking your throat. He so badly wanted to eat you out and fuck you hard.

So he did just that, he pushed you back onto your back and gathered the fabric of your dress, pushing it up to rest as your waist. He grabbed the waistband of your panties and slid them down, you lifted your lower half to help him. He stared at your cunt, the sight was heavenly. You were already so wet for him your juices leaking out of you in anticipation. Heat stuck to your cheeks in embarrassment as he stared at you. He made eye contact with you before lunging down to your pussy, not wasting any time and lapping fat stripes up from your entrance to your swollen clit. The sensation made you hiss grabbing onto his messy buns to help steady yourself.

“You taste s’good, can’t wait to fuck you.”

He said, your juices flowing into his mouth and dripping down his chin. Your nectar alone could make him drunk, he wanted to savor how you tasted but he so badly wanted to plunge his cock in you already. You felt the buildup deep in your core, your orgasm making its way to you. He pulled away, “I promise next time I’ll make you cum all over my face but I have to fuck you now.” He said desperately. He gathered the wetness from his mouth and chin and smeared it over his tip, groaning at the feeling.

You were ready to feel him, ready to be filled to the brim with this strangers cock. The thought was exhilarating. You’d never had a one night stand or fucked a stranger. Wait, he said next time. Is he planning to fuck you again?

You came back yo reality as he pushed his tip in, your pussy trying to suck him in. You both let out a groan, wanting more. You reached your hand to him, which he grabbed and placed back into his hair.

“Fuck your pussy feels s’good. She’s sucking me in.” He breathed out. He slowly sank himself all the way in, your cunt trying to accommodate his size. It only stung a little bit as soon as the initial shock subsided it felt so good.

You tugged on his hair motioning that he could move, and he wasted no time. He pulled out leaving just his tip inside you and thrusted back in hard. The squelch of your pussy made him moan loud. His hips found a rhythm shortly, thrusting in and out and in and out..

The sensation made you throw your head back, eyes rolling back and almost seeing stars. Your gummy walls clamped down on him, he didn’t know if he could last long. It had been awhile since he’d been with anyone, he was trying to focus on his studies rather than relationships or women but god the way your body took his cock was too damn good.

You felt your orgasm coming back, the knot in your core building up. He snaked a hand down to rub your aching clit, eliciting a moan from you. He leaned down to your ear, “Say my name baby, tell me who’s fucking you.”

His voice was dark, breath hot and heavy on your earlobe.

“Cho-Choso,, fuckk. I’m so close, pl-please don’t stop.” You breathed out. It was becoming so hard to talk, all you could do was let noises fall from your mouth. His thrusts became sloppy as his orgasm came close, he swirled his fingers faster to get you closer to finishing.

It hit you like a wall, vision going white and body hot. So so hot. All you could do was lay there and squirm, toes curling and moans leaving your throat. Choso pulled out and let his release on your stomach. He fucked his fist until he was empty, moaning your name.

Your brain was fuzzy with euphoria, watching his cum all over you from above. You smiled in your haze, wiping yourself with your dress after you slid it off of you. You grabbed his hand and walked him to your bathroom, turning the shower on and adjusting the water.

“You can sleep with me in my bed tonight, okay?” You said as you helped him slip the rest of his clothes off. Man you were so ready for bed.

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#choso smut #choso kamo #choso x you #jjk choso #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #spicy content #spicy creator #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk x you #kamikazii

[magicfootballstuff]

Strictly Unprofessional - part 7 (alexia putellas x reader)

Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.

Part 7/9

Previous parts here.

———

Part 7

five years ago

You’ve moved on from the beach club. You spent a good few hours with Alexia earlier, drinking, dancing, getting to know each other, before the afternoon Ibizan sun became too much. 

You returned to your separate hotels to cool off and get changed with a plan to meet up again later, which is what led you here. There are eight of you crammed into a booth at the bar you’ve picked to start your night - you and your two best friends, Alexia and her sister Alba, as well as a group of three girls that Alba seems to have befriended at the beach club this afternoon while all Alexia’s attention was on you. But you only really have eyes for Alexia.

Neither of you is being subtle about it. Alexia’s hand found its way into your lap with remarkable ease and you’ve been absently toying with each other’s fingers ever since. 

The group is mixed but everyone seems to be getting along well. There’s something unspoken in the air, the understanding that the main reason this particular group is hanging out is because you and Alexia are trying to pretend that you aren’t just thinking about getting each other alone later, but once the shots start flowing and the drinking games begin, everybody seems to forget about that.

When it’s Alexia’s turn to get the group a round of drinks, you go with her to the bar, claiming that you’ll help her carry the drinks back to the table when really you just want the chance to talk to her alone. She’s unbelievably attractive, even under the dim lighting in the bar, and you can’t stop looking at her.

Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Alexia asks, as you wait at the bar to be served.

You’ve lost count of how much you’ve had to drink, spread out enough across the whole day that you’re buzzed rather than drunk, but it’s enough to embolden you into admitting, “You’re really pretty, that’s all. Also, I kind of want to kiss you right now.”

The corners of Alexia’s mouth twist up, though she keeps her gaze straight ahead.

“What?” you nudge her.

“I’m not used to a girl being so direct about what she wants,” Alexia replies, finally turning and leaning sideways on the bar as she smirks at you.

“We’ve been dancing around this for half a day,” you point out. “That’s hardly direct.”

“You know what I mean,” Alexia says, in a low voice.

“So can I?” you dare to ask.

“What?” Alexia frowns.

“Kiss you.”

In lieu of an answer, Alexia lifts a hand to cup your face, her fingers tangling into your hair, and dips her head to close the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours. Your own hands seek her hips, pulling her closer to eliminate all space between you as you return her kiss.

You can’t believe after an entire afternoon and evening together - dancing, flirting, touching - that it’s taken you this long to finally reach this point, but the wait only makes it better. Your ex is long forgotten, as are the protests you gave earlier that you didn’t want to find somebody new, because the spark you feel as Alexia’s tongue swipes across the seam of your lips until you grant her entry feels inevitable.

You’re eventually pulled apart by a loud heckle from the booth where your friends are sitting.

“Alexia!” Alba shouts. “You can do that after I’ve got my drink.”

Alexia just lifts her middle finger to flip off her sister as she grins against your lips and pulls you in for another kiss.

———

present day

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to have a moment with Alexia the night before you have to pretend everything is normal in front of twenty other people in the executive box at Camp Nou.

It had been so effortless back in Ibiza, so easy to tell Alexia you wanted to kiss her and follow through. Back when there were zero consequences, when you thought you were never going to see her again.

Out of all the options yesterday, you realise you probably picked the worst one. It probably would have been simpler if you’d just gone for it and kissed her instead of whatever mess you’ve ended up creating in the process of trying to do the right thing for both your careers.

Because now you’re here, introducing your dad to somebody you can barely make eye contact with. 

“Papi, this is Alexia. The one who got us the tickets.”

“I know who this is,” your dad says, already intent on embarrassing you. “A Barcelona legend.”

You knew that your dad follows the women’s team as well as the men’s, especially since you started working for them. He’s even been to a couple of games at the Johan Cruyff. But nothing could have prepared you for the way he greets Alexia like an enthusiastic fanboy.

Alexia doesn’t seem fazed by your dad’s enthusiasm. Instead, she greets him with a handshake and says, “You’ve got a very talented daughter. She’s been teaching me how to take good photos.”

Your cheeks flush. So far, your version of “teaching” Alexia has involved letting her try out your camera a few times and then almost kissing her during your impromptu photoshoot last night. Alexia’s flattery to charm your dad is an exaggeration, but it’s working.

“I wish I could say she got her artistic talent from me but I’m colourblind,” he jokes. “Maybe you could teach her a few things with a football in return. I tried to encourage her to play when she was younger but she was an uncoordinated little thing.”

“Okay, Papi,” you interject. “That’s enough. Don’t embarrass me. Do you want something to eat before the game starts?”

“Yes, that sounds nice.”

You glance at Alexia, who meets your gaze with an amused glint in her eyes, before she turns back to your dad and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You quickly steer your dad away before you regret introducing him to Alexia, and attempt to distract him with the food provided for the guests. Luckily for you, your dad is a simple man to please and he’s soon forgotten all about trying to embarrass you.

Alexia has invited a few of the other players too and you seek out Mapi as soon as you possibly can, once you’ve left your dad alone with a beer and a plate of food.

“I nearly kissed her last night,” you admit to Mapi, in a hushed voice, unable to keep the secret any longer.

“Who?”

“Ingrid,” you reply sarcastically, causing Mapi to roll her eyes at you. “No, who do you think? Alexia.”

“And why didn’t you?” Mapi asks.

“I don’t know,” you confess. “Gay panic?”

Mapi smiles and shakes her head, and you could swear that you can feel the judgement radiating off her.

“I thought this is what you wanted.”

“It is, I think,” you say. “But I don’t know what she wants. Maybe she only wants to hook up again.”

“Have you talked to her about this?” Mapi asks, arching an eyebrow.

“I can’t just…”

“Why not?” Mapi demands, as if talking about your feelings is the easiest thing in the world. “Listen, I know Alexia very well and the best thing you can do is just be honest with her. If she doesn’t want to be with you I promise she’s not going to make it weird. Just tell her you’re sorry for being an idiot and that you want to kiss her.”

“What, now?” you ask, glancing across to where Alexia stands talking to somebody who you recognise instantly from Ibiza as her younger sister.

“Oh my god, you’re useless,” Mapi groans. “I can’t tell you everything. But if you want to confess your eternal love in front of her entire family, your dad, and half of her teammates, be my guest.”

Sensing the sarcasm dripping off Mapi’s voice, you hum and say, “Right. I’ll wait for a better time.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Mapi says.

You frown in confusion and ask, “What for?”

“There’s been an uncharacteristic lack of drama at this club recently, but this? This is feeding me.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

———

When the game starts, you watch it from the seating area just outside the suite. You’ve got your dad on one side and a few of the players on the other, but it’s Alexia, sitting a few seats to the right in the row in front with some of her family, that has your attention more than the football playing out on the pitch below.

You want to talk to her, to erase last night’s mistake by apologising for your panic, but Mapi is right that it’s not a good time.

But you watch Alexia, the passion that she shows on the pitch seeping out as she cheers for the team she loves. She’s out of her seat every time Barcelona get close to the goal, bellowing instructions to the players like she’s a coach on the sidelines not a fan in the stands, and when Barcelona finally go a goal ahead just before half time, she’s on her feet and embracing her sister in celebration immediately.

At half time, you head back into the hospitality suite with your dad.

“Alexia is nice,” he comments. “I wondered if she’d be all ego but she seems very normal.”

“All the players are great,” you say, trying to divert his attention away from Alexia.

Unsuccessfully.

“Is she single?” he asks.

“Papi!” you scold him.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask, as if he doesn’t know the problem with what he’s just asked.

“I work with her,” you point out, though your mind immediately wanders back to last night. What if you’d kissed her? What if you hadn’t run away?

“Sorry,” your dad apologises. “You can’t blame me for asking though. I just want to see you happy. And who wouldn’t want a daughter-in-law who can get them free tickets to Camp Nou?”

“Stop it,” you warn him again. “This isn’t an appropriate conversation to have at all, but especially not here.”

“Sorry,” he says again. “I’m going to find the bathroom.”

Your dad leaves, much to your relief, but the relief is short-lived because somebody else comes to stand beside you.

“She is,” they say.

You turn your head to find that the voice belongs to Alexia’s sister, Alba. The first and only other time you’ve met her was in Ibiza, and you were far more interested in getting off with her sister than getting to know her, which is why it surprises you that she wants to talk now.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“Alexia,” Alba elaborates. “She’s single, just in case you were wondering.”

Your cheeks burn red with embarrassment as you realise she must have overheard every word of the conversation you had with your dad a minute ago. But if she heard him asking if Alexia was single, then she must also have heard your insistence on keeping things professional.

“That’s all in the past,” you insist. “We work together. Nothing more.”

“Then we can agree that I know Alexia better than you?” Alba asks.

You nod cautiously, fully aware that you’re probably nodding yourself into a trap.

“Alexia and I are really close,” Alba continues. “She tells me everything. But she didn’t tell me that she’d seen you again at all, let alone that she sees you every day. You can read into that.”

“That she doesn’t care?” you ask with a shrug.

“Or that she does and she knew I’d make a big deal out of it so she kept it from me to avoid that stress while she figures out how she feels. Who knows what goes on in her mind? She’s an overthinker. It’s one of the things that makes her so good at football but useless when it comes to things like this.”

“Funny,” you say, shaking your head, “I’ve been called useless tonight too.”

“Mapi?” Alba asks, arching an amused eyebrow and you nod. “Well at least you know you’ve got one thing in common with Alexia. Listen, I shouldn’t be saying this but you left quite an impression on Alexia in Ibiza.”

“So much of an impression that she forgot who I was?”

Alba grimaces and says, “Okay, I agree, that was bad. But she was hung up on you for a couple of weeks after we got back.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Just talk to her,” Alba says, starting to back away as she nods at something behind you, and you turn to see Alexia approaching.

“What are you talking to my sister about?” Alexia asks, once Alba has moved out of earshot, leaving you alone with the one person you don’t trust yourself to be alone with.

“The match,” you lie.

You can tell Alexia doesn’t believe you, but you’re grateful she doesn’t push it. Remembering Alba’s comment about telling each other everything, maybe Alexia hopes she can get the truth out of her sister later.

“Alba recognised you right away,” Alexia tells you. “The second she saw you, she said “Isn’t that the hot one you slept with in Ibiza?” In front of my mami too. Talk about embarrassing.”

“Not quite as embarrassing as the fact your sister recognised me after five years and you didn’t,” you say, unable to stop yourself from teasing her.

The air is tense between you. You know you probably need to say something about last night, anything to try and put things back to normal, but you’ve never been good at difficult conversations. That much was proven last night when you chose to run away instead of staying to talk about your feelings.

One thing you can do, however, is humour, which is why you nudge Alexia, anything to try to cut through the tension, and ask, “So, your sister thinks I’m hot?”

“Stop it,” Alexia says, swatting your arm and pouting, before she mumbles, “I thought I was your type, not her.”

“Ah, so you do remember,” you say, grinning at the memory of your first ever conversation with Alexia at the beach party in Ibiza. You wonder how different your life would have ended up being if it had been Alba who approached you that day instead of Alexia.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance.” You laugh and shake your head, before adding as an afterthought. “You are my type, by the way.”

Alexia winces and your stomach drops, worried that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“What?”

“About last night…” Alexia starts.

It’s the conversation you both really need to have, but you’re punished for procrastinating and not having it earlier as Mapi calls out to interrupt your conversation.

“Come on Alexia, the match is about to… oh.” Mapi trails off as she sees the two of you standing together alone, and her eyes widen as she realises that she’s probably interrupting something important. “Sorry. Carry on.”

Through the open door leading back out to your seats, you can hear the rest of Camp Nou erupt into cheers and you assume that the players must be returning to the pitch for the second half.

This conversation will have to wait.

“Can we talk?” you plead with Alexia. “Later - after the match - or another time soon?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Alexia asks.

“Nothing.”

“How about we go for lunch?” she suggests. “We can talk then.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll text you later,” Alexia says, and you realise the conversation is over for now as she makes her way back outside for the second half. You follow her out, ignoring Mapi’s searching gaze as you squeeze past her to get back to your seat beside your dad.

For the rest of the match, your mind is far from football.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #strictly unprofessional