More than friends | LH44
―Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader
―Warnings: curse words, mentions of food, and typos;
―Summary: You're friends with Lewis, but fans don't buy the "just friends" discourse - for them, you and Lewis make the most powerful couple, even if you're not famous. And maybe they're right, maybe you're supposed to be more than friends. (based on this request).
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yourusername
liked by yourbestie, lewishamilton, and others
yourusername went for coffee/reading with the bestie, but of course, we ended up yapping about everything and only reading two sentences 😁
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angryschumacher they just like me and my bestie except they’re more cute and would make a great couple 👀
grandpierre can you imagine being bestie with lewis freaking hamilton?! 😭
leclerccrown what are you reading, yn?
⤷ yourusername crooked plows by itamar vieira junior! :)
yourbestie can I borrow those shoes for a date this weekend?? 🙏
lewishamilton worst matcha I’ve ever had 🤢
⤷ yourusername youre just not used to the flavors! It was deliciou
⤷ lewishamilton it probably was, but right before you added tons of sugar and what else 🥴
⤷ yourusername shut up 😡
⤷ lewishamilton I just don’t need extra sugar when you’re around, sweetie
⤷ tifosikimi am I sensing some flirting? 👁️🫦👁️
⤷ tiredtyres tifosikimi I don’t think so, me and my bestie banter like this but we consider each other siblings
harrietdirection her hair is so shiny, her skin is so glowy, she’s so humble and simple and sweet and pretty can lewis share her with the fandom pls
lewishamilton
liked by georgerussell63, dualipa, and others
lewishamilton recharging for next weekend 💛
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likedbypierregasly this looks like such a romantic dump, the kind of dump one would post with…I dunno…their girlfriend 👀
biebertsunoda I wanna be her so bad
yourusername 💛
⤷ keepingupwf1 yeah bestie Im at a loss of words too
mickschumacher Angie is questioning me about play dates with roscoe!!
⤷ roscoelovescoco 😍 Is miss Angies too
⤷ yourusername how about tomorrow before media duty??
⤷ mickschumacher sounds great! 🤝
⤷ zhoulovers she’s roscoe’s mom, change my mind
elitebarzal oh to spend a weekend recharging beside lewis and roscoe 😭
zendaya 😍😍😍
yourusername
liked by lilymhe, lewisfan, and others
yourusername productive Friday at work 🤓
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redsainz who choose these boots? I bet it was lewis
oconnected they're so powerful together, you can see bits and bits of the other in them 🩷
mickschumacher glad you enjoyed the haribo! 😌
⤷ yourusername my new fav candy!!! 😌
lewishamilton nice fit 😏
⤷ yourusername you like it? a friend set it up for me 😎
⤷ redsainz told you guys he was to one to piece it together!!!!
bonosmicrophone its the way mick, lily, alex, george, and so on constantly interact with her 🥹🥹
dollarsainz lewishamilton can I date her?
⤷ lewishamilton nah, she’s already taken
⤷ leclerccar WHAT?,mKVNWNCJSJJCJSD
lewishamilton & yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and others
lewishamilton guess we were always meant to be more ❤️
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yourusername fitting together like the perfect pair of legos 💘 you're forever my best friend, I love you
⤷ lewishamilton I love you forever
⤷ schumickey 😭forever😭my😭best😭friend😭
rizzhou most powerful paddock couple!
yukiyukiyuki everything about these pics gives wholesome heartdly in love vibe 🥹
charles_leclerc finally, guys!!!!! ❤️
georgerussell63 it was about time!
alex_albon lily is asking for another double date (please Yn don’t steal my girl 😭)
⤷ lilymhe too late, babes 😁
mercedesamgf1 😍😍 we’be been rooting for this since the beginning!
⤷ formulainchident even admin!!!!
scuderiaferrari Yn, we already have your special headphones and shirt ready! 🫵❤️
norrisrizz I want what they have, I wanna be her, I wanna be him, I wanna be their dog, I-
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Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.
Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.
Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.
He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-
So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.
It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.
He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.
Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.
But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.
So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.
Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."
Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.
What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????
"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.
But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.
"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."
Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.
Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.
"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"
Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.
Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??
(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)
Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.
"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."
He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.
So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.
Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.
But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.
Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.
Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.
They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.
As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.
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Waste The Night
Painting!Gojo x Painter!reader x Painting!Geto
Summary: In a haunting twist of fate, your tragic painting suddenly springs to life, its sorrowful characters and somber scenes manifesting before your eyes.
Tw: slight possessive
2
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In the midst of your peaceful slumber, you were unaware of the world around you, lost in the blissful embrace of sleep. Your hair was tousled, and a soft snore escaped your lips, accompanied by a small drool that trickled down your chin.
Suddenly, a persistent poking on your cheek disturbed your rest, prompting a furrowed brow of annoyance.
"Y/n...? Wakey wakey..." Satoru's voice called out, but you remained oblivious, turning away from him and inadvertently facing Suguru, who was sharing the bed with you both.
Unbeknownst to you, your drool had become an unwelcome intruder in Suguru's personal space. "Ugh... your drool's wetting my hair!" he complained, his voice laced with disgust.
Startled awake by his words, you blinked groggily, finally registering the presence of both Satoru and Suguru beside you. With a flush of embarrassment, you quickly wiped away the drool, realizing that you had forgotten about the previous night's arrangement to share the bed.
"Sorry about that, Suguru," you mumbled sheepishly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement at the unexpected wake-up call.
In the soft glow of the early morning, the clock displayed 7 am, much earlier than your usual waking hour. You blinked away the remnants of sleep, trying to make sense of the voices that had stirred you from your sleep.
"I woke you up because I wanted to hear your voice before I'm gone" Satoru's voice broke through the quietude
"You're not dead, Satoru. We can come back tonight," Suguru's response was sharp, his irritation evident.
Satoru's smirk only grew wider at Suguru's retort.
"Oh? 'We'?" he teased, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Of course. It's not like I want to. When you leave, the paint will pull me out too," Suguru's reply.
"Yeah, you're not even trying to stop me," Satoru remarked, his tone light but pointed.
"Like you would listen?" Suguru shot back, a defiant glint in his eyes.
"Like you ever listen?" Satoru shot back again.
As you observed the exchange, it dawned on you—the truth of their existence. Suguru and Satoru were paintings, but they had the uncanny ability to become real, if only for a while. The thought brought a mix of wonder and intrigue to your mind.
Ah... what a noisy morning
You thought to yourself, marveling at the extraordinary companionship you shared with these painted beings who had become so much more.
As the ringtone shattered the morning calm, you hurriedly scrambled out of bed to answer your phone, leaving Suguru and Satoru staring after you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. With trembling fingers, you answered the call, your voice betraying your grogginess.
"H-hello?"
"Y/n? Did you just wake up? It's 7 am. You should wake up earlier. Don't forget you need to finish the painting! I don't want to know how, but you must finish it by tomorrow." your manager's voice crackled through the line, a sense of urgency palpable in his tone.
"A-ah.. yeah.. it's done," you stammered, trying to sound confident despite the unease creeping into your voice.
"Really? Send me the picture, now." his demand was firm, leaving no room for argument.
You glanced nervously at Suguru and Satoru, feeling their gaze boring into you with an unsettling intensity. The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt tense, as if something unspoken hung between you all, thick and suffocating.
"I... I will send it tonight... it's almost finished... just a little bit more," you replied hastily, eager to end the call and escape the weight of their stares.
"Tch, fine. I'll call you later, don't forget to send it if you still want this job." your manager huffed before abruptly hanging up.
As you lowered the phone, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. Something was off, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Suguru and Satoru knew more than they let on.
"Who's that?"
As Satoru reached for your phone, his sudden movement caught you off guard, causing you to startle.
"E-eh? My manager," you stammered, attempting to retrieve your phone, but Satoru's firm grasp prevented you from doing so. With a gentle but insistent motion, he placed it in the drawer nearby, his actions making your heart race.
"Why is he talking to you like that?" Satoru's voice was gentle, yet there was a subtle edge to it, as if he sensed something amiss.
You struggled to find an explanation, your mind racing to justify the situation.
"Well... he's just, you know, that's just how he is. I mean, it's my fault. I should have finished up earlier" you replied, the words tumbling out hastily in an attempt to ease the tension.
Meanwhile, Suguru remained silent, his grip on his yukata tightening as he struggled to contain his emotions. Finally, he spoke up .
"Did he know you broke the brush?"
"N-no, I'm scared he—" you began, but Suguru cut you off with a firm insistence.
"That he what?" he urged, his words sending another wave of apprehension through you.
Your body trembled slightly as uncertainty gnawed at your insides.
What was happening? Why were they acting so strangely all of a sudden?
"Are you guys alright?" you asked, a note of concern creeping into your voice as you looked between them for answers.
They didn't answer, instead, Satoru's grip on your hand tightened, their silence speaking volumes.
"Is he bothering you, Y/n?" Satoru's voice held a protective edge.
"What? No! He's my manager..." you trailed off, the unease in the room becoming palpable as you struggled to make sense of their unusual behavior.
As Suguru pushed his hair back and deftly tied it into a bun, he strode purposefully towards you, his presence commanding attention.
"Aren't you supposed to make breakfast?" he inquired, his tone matter-of-fact but tinged with a hint of urgency.
"Oh! You're right!" you exclaimed, a sudden realization dawning upon you. With a hurried nod, you dashed downstairs to the kitchen, leaving Satoru and Suguru behind in your room.
Suguru walked forward Satoru. His face right infront of him.
"Calm down, Satoru. You're a grown man," Suguru's voice cut through the tension, his words carrying a soothing undertone.
"Do you feel it too, Suguru?" Satoru's voice turned cold, the edges of his words sharp.
For a moment, Suguru remained silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with a decisive nod, he walked towards the door, his demeanor composed yet resolute.
"She's the one who created us, after all" Suguru's response hung heavy in the air, laden with implications that left Satoru unsettled.
As Suguru left the room, a sense of unease lingered, the weight of his words echoing in the silence.
What did it all mean? And what role did you play in their existence? The questions swirled in their mind.
As the three of you sat in silence, the tension in the air grew thicker, even Satoru, usually the chatterbox, remained uncharacteristically quiet. The awkwardness weighed heavily on you, making you squirm uncomfortably in your seat.
"Hey... it's almost 8, don't you guys need to go back?" you interjected, breaking the suffocating silence.
Suguru was the first to stand, shooting a meaningful glance at Satoru, silently conveying the need to depart. Satoru followed suit, his movements slow and hesitant.
"Thank you... for the meal," Satoru murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You offered him a warm smile, appreciative of the fleeting moment of connection amidst the awkwardness. "You're wel—"
"Can I hug you? Before I leave," Satoru's request caught you off guard, but you couldn't help but chuckle at his earnestness.
"You were hugging me all night, Satoru... but yes, come here," you replied with a gentle laugh, opening your arms to him.
Satoru enveloped you in a tight embrace, his tall frame towering over you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply at your smell. The gesture was oddly intimate, yet comforting in its familiarity.
As Satoru reluctantly released you, Suguru remained silent, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned and made his way upstairs to your studio, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.
Satoru gently took your hand, silently urging you to follow him back to your studio. As you entered the room, Suguru approached the painting with a sense of reverence, his fingers delicately tracing the lines of the canvas. Suddenly, a soft glow emanated from the paint, casting a mesmerizing light across the room.
You watched in awe as Suguru's entire being seemed to dissolve into the painting, disappearing into the vibrant colors and swirling textures.
Just as you marveled at Suguru's transformation, you felt Satoru's hand squeeze yours, his touch grounding you in the moment. With a silent understanding, he too stepped forward, his form merging with Suguru's within the painting.
As you watched them disappear into the vibrant world within the canvas, a sense of awe and excitement filled you.
"I'll see you guys again tonight"
Feeling adrift and unsure of what to do with your newfound freedom, you realized just how long it had been since you last ventured outside for a leisurely walk, spent time hanging out with friends, or even enjoyed a simple shopping trip.
With a sigh, you resolved to break free from the monotony of your routine. Taking a shower and getting dressed felt like a small step towards reclaiming a sense of normalcy in your life, a way to shake off the stagnation that had settled over you in Suguru and Satoru's absence.
As the warm water cascaded over you, washing away the remnants of sleep and uncertainty, you felt a renewed sense of purpose begin to stir within you. Dressing in fresh clothes, you emerged from your home with a newfound determination, ready to seize the day and rediscover the simple joys that life had to offer.
Standing at the bus stop, you contemplated your options, the possibilities stretching out before you like an open road waiting to be explored. It was time to embrace the spontaneity of the moment, to step outside your comfort zone and embrace the unknown.
With a sense of anticipation building within you, you boarded the bus, the promise of adventure and discovery beckoning you forward. As the bus rumbled along its route, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside you, eager to see where the day would take you.
Where should i go? Mmhm..mall?
With a decisive nod, you made up your mind. The mall it was. As you boarded the bus, a sense of anticipation bubbled within you, eager to rediscover the simple joys of exploring new surroundings and immersing yourself in the hustle and bustle of city life.
Excitement bubbled up within you as you stepped into the bustling mall, the vibrant atmosphere filling you with a sense of exhilaration. With a skip in your step, you made a beeline for your favorite stores, the allure of shopping beckoning you irresistibly.
As you perused the racks and shelves, you couldn't help but feel a surge of indulgence wash over you. Maybe you were being a tad extravagant, but today was about treating yourself, about embracing the joy of spontaneity and indulging in the things that brought you happiness. After all, you reasoned, you deserved it.
With bags in hand and a satisfied smile on your face, you made your way to a cozy ramen restaurant for lunch. Sitting alone, you couldn't shake the twinge of loneliness that tugged at your heartstrings. But instead of dwelling on it, you decided to channel that longing into something positive. You ordered extra ramen to go, a gesture of kindness for Suguru and Satoru for their dinner, a way to include them in your day even in their absence.
After savoring every last slurp of your delicious meal, you resumed your leisurely stroll through the mall, your eyes lighting up as you passed a charming bakery shop. Unable to resist the temptation, you stepped inside and found yourself captivated by the array of cute and colorful cakes on display. Without hesitation, you selected a few to take home, the promise of sweet indulgence adding an extra spring to your step as you continued your shopping adventure.
As the clock struck 6 pm, signaling the end of your exhilarating day at the mall, you gathered your bags and made your way back to the bus stop, a contented smile gracing your lips. Despite the exhaustion weighing on your body and the slight soreness in your hands from carrying so many bags, you couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment wash over you.
Arriving home, you took a moment to bask in the quiet comfort of your surroundings before setting to work preparing dinner. The aroma of simmering broth filled the air as you lovingly plated the ramen, setting aside a portion for Suguru and Satoru, a silent invitation for them to join you in the warmth of your home.
With the ramen ready and waiting, you carefully stored the cakes in the fridge, saving them for later. As you settled onto the sofa, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm light across the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you.
As you anxiously watched the clock, the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow. When it finally read 8:25, worry crept into your mind as you wondered why Suguru and Satoru hadn't returned yet. Just as your concern began to mount, the sound of aggressive footsteps caught your attention, and you turned to see Satoru rushing towards you with an infectious energy.
"Y/n!! I missed you!" he exclaimed, enveloping you in a tight hug from behind, his presence instantly dispelling any lingering unease.
Relief flooded through you as you returned his embrace, grateful for his sudden appearance. But as you glanced towards the stairs, you noticed Suguru descending slowly, his gaze fixed on you with a quiet intensity that spoke volumes.
With a nod of acknowledgment, Suguru settled beside you on the sofa, his presence a calming presence beside you.
"How was your day..." he began, his voice trailing off as he waited for your response, his eyes searching yours for any hint of emotion.
The unexpected question from Suguru left you momentarily taken aback, your mind reeling with surprise. Was this the same Suguru who had greeted you with icy detachment, referring to you as nothing more than a monkey?
Before you could dwell on it further, Satoru's cheerful interruption broke the tension, his infectious energy drawing a giggle from your lips.
"Yes, yes! What were you doing while we were gone?" he chimed in eagerly, diverting the conversation to more lighthearted topics.
"I'll tell you guys. Now cmon i prepared you dinner." They follow you to table.
"Ramen? Mhmmm smell good. Thank u y/n!" Satoru's delighted exclamation at the aroma of the dish brought a warmth to your heart, while Suguru's quiet acknowledgment with an "Itadakimasu" spoke volumes in its simplicity.
"Now that you guys asked how I'm doing, well, I went to the mall!" you exclaimed with a grin, excitement bubbling in your voice. "I bought a ton of clothes and accessories, hehe."
"Really? I'm so glad you enjoyed your day! I can't wait to see you in the new clothes," Satoru chimed in, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness at your revelation.
Suguru nodded in agreement, a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It sounds like you had a great time," he remarked, his tone soft but sincere.
"Oh! I got you guys something!"
You couldn't contain your excitement as you rose from your seat, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. With a playful giggle, you retrieved the cake from the fridge, carefully balancing it in your hands as you returned to the table.
"Tadaaa!" you exclaimed, presenting the cake with a flourish, a wide grin spreading across your face.
Satoru's eyes lit up with delight, his grin mirroring yours as he leaned forward to get a closer look at the sweet treat.
"Wow, you bought us cake too? You're the best, y/n! Omg i really love cake!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious.
Satoru eagerly dug into his slice of cake, his eyes lighting up with delight as he savored each bite. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed between mouthfuls.
Suguru regarded the cake with a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Thank you," he said quietly, his expression betraying a hint of warmth that spoke volumes.
Satoru opened his eyes, his gaze softening as he beheld your peaceful sleeping face. He resisted the urge to shower you with kisses, opting instead for a tender peck on your forehead. Glancing at Suguru, who stood by the door with a determined expression, Satoru nodded.
"You ready?" Suguru asked, his voice steady and resolute.
Satoru hesitated for a moment before responding, "You sure you're coming with me?" His tone carried a hint of concern.
Suguru grinned in response, his eyes gleaming with determination. "I like hunting monkeys," he replied with a playful smirk.
As they exchanged a knowing look, a sense of unity washed over them, their shared resolve strengthening their bond. With a nod of agreement, they stepped out into the night, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them with courage and determination.
Where do u guys think gojo and geto go?👀 next chapter would be...🤫
Hope you guys like this chapter, sorry if it's boring! Thanks for the notes, reblogs make me feel more appreaciated<3
Tags: @ceramic-raven @beastofthetrees @r0ckst4rjk @gothiccwhore666
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Our Minds Entwined———————————
ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8
MDNI——————————————————
pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid
summary: in which jason gideon’s daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member
warnings: soft dom spencer, sub oc, making out in a bathroom, spencer & aaron being simps, oral f receiving, oral m receiving, fingering, dirty talk, yeah!
Chapter Seven:
Evelyn's eyes flickered open, greeted by the relentless dawn light that pierced the room. The alarm's persistent drone became a mere backdrop to the blissful haze that wrapped around her, a lingering afterglow of the night before that made her thighs clench at the thought. Extending a lazy stretch, her fingers roaming over the sheets, half-expecting to brush against Spencer's familiar warmth. A cool absence greeted her instead that snapped her back to reality, her heart dropped with a dense thud.
She bolted upright, the sheets clutched to her chest like a shield, her mind a whirlwind of questions that demanded answers. Did he regret it? Was it not as good for him as it was for her? In the quiet of the room, her confusion found an echo, intensifying the sense of abandonment that snaked its way up her spine, panic beginning to take hold. The memories of his touch faded into the hazy idea of a dream, leaving her exposed, her defenses crumbling to nothing.
Evelyn rose, her body moving on autopilot, as she prepared for the day. Securing her badge to her waist, she felt a wave of dread wash over her, the inevitable encounter with Spencer looming over her head.
Evelyn made her way down the stairs, each step tentative, as she entered the lobby. Morning light spilled through the windows, painting long, somber shadows. JJ was there, her blonde hair reflecting the sun's rays like a halo, her posture exuding her calm authority as she conversed quietly with Hotch. He stood with his back to the light, his sharp silhouette and eyes scanning the room as he spoke.
Evelyn felt a twinge of relief upon noticing Spencer's absence; she wasn't ready to face him. For now, she welcomed the reprieve, allowing herself a moment to gather her thoughts. JJ's observant eyes were quick to detect the change in Evelyn's demeanor.
"Good morning!" Evelyn announced with a chirp, her tone light and breezy, as she flashed her practiced smile and wave.
"Morning, Evie," JJ greets with a warm smile, her voice carrying a hint of concern, "How'd you sleep?"
Evelyn's cheeks warmed at the memory, a flicker of awkwardness passing through her. "Oh, you know, the usual--battled my alarm clock, dreamed of paperwork, and won," she smiled, deflecting the attention. "Speaking of dreams, I bet Hotch was up all strategizing about our case, right?"
Hotch eyes narrowed slightly at Evelyn; his perceptive gaze told Evelyn he knew what she was trying to do. "Strategizing is a 24/7 job... and so is paperwork," he began. "Though, I try not to outsource it to the interns."
Evelyn's eyes widened in mock horror, her voice laced with feigned defensiveness. "It was one time! And for the record, I was strategically conserving energy... for more important tasks," she declared, her grin spreading across her face, as infectious as it was wide.
Hotch's response came with a barely perceptible smirk. "Whatever you say," he said, disbelief clear in this tone, yet his expression remained unreadable. "Let's head out."
Evelyn hurried after him, curiosity piqued. "Wait, how did you even know about that?"
Hotch continued forward, seemingly oblivious to Evelyn's struggle to keep up. Evelyn, in her attempt to match his stride, found herself almost jogging.
"Let's just say, not all profilers need to profile to get their information," he hinted with a sidelong glance. "Some people," his eyes briefly flickered to Morgan, seated nonchalantly in the SUV, "just have a hard time keeping things to themselves."
With an overexaggerated eye roll, Evelyn grumbled, "Morgan and his big mouth," earning a burst of laughter from JJ. "How could he?"
The soft chuckle from Hotch was fleeting, but it was enough to spark a glow in Evelyn's eyes. She really loved that sound. "In his defense, he didn't know I was listening. Now, shall we?" He motioned towards the exit, holding the door open waiting for her to lead the way.
--
They stepped into the station to find it cloaked in a tension, the air heavy with the unspoken urgency of detectives eager for a lead and the simmering frustration of dead ends.
As they arrived at the station, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with anticipation and the lingering frustration of a case at a standstill. Hotch guided the team through the precinct's doors, his face an unreadable mask as he moved through.
They received a nod from Detective Martinez, his features etched with lines as deep as the arid crevices of the desert surrounding them.
"Travers?" Hotch asked, his tone direct and expectant.
Martinez's response came with a weary shake of his head, the furrows in his brow deepening into a map of frustration. "He's lawyered up. Won't say a word without his attorney present."
Hotch's voice cut through the silence. "Alright, let's regroup. There has to be something we're missing. Evelyn, find Spencer in the conference room. Go through the evidence again with fresh eyes."
Evelyn's heart vaulted in her chest, as if trying to escape. The idea of working in close quarters with Spencer was like standing at the edge of a cliff; it filled her with a dizzying rush of nervous energy that was hard to ignore. Maybe it would be better if someone just pushed her off. She nodded, schooling her face into composure. I can do hard things, she thought to herself, clutching her files, the soft thud of her footsteps accompanying her to the conference room.
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the projector. Spencer was already there, his slender finger, the same one that had been in her hours prior, was sifting through the array of evidence before him. His brow furrowed in concentration, jaw set in a firm line, eyes narrowed in focus. God, it was hard for Evelyn to stay upset when he looked that good.
Prentiss stood by the window. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, darted from corner to corner, missing nothing.
Evelyn's heart pounded as the memories of last night flooded her senses his fingers pounding inside her, the feeling of his lips on hers. Spencer didn't even flicker a gaze towards her, his concentration cemented on the sea of papers that sprawled across the table. It was as if nothing had happened.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, Evelyn forced a smile. "So, what are we thinking? Any new angles we might have missed?" she asked, her voice a little too cheerful.
Spencer finally raised his head, his face a blank canvas hiding his thoughts. "We need to reexamine the timeline. There might be a pattern we overlooked."
With a thoughtful tap of her finger against her lips, Prentiss interjected, "And cross-reference the victims' backgrounds again. They all received the remote-control keys shortly before they were killed, but maybe there's more than just the keys linking them."
With a subtle shift in her stance acknowledging Spencer's imposing presence, Evelyn offered him a file. Her fingers brushed his ever so slightly, refusing to meet his gaze. "Look at this," she said. "One of the victims, Mr. Davidson, made several calls to Key Innovations customer service the day before he died. It could be nothing, but it's odd."
Spencer accepted the file, his touch lingering a moment too long. "It could indicate he was having issues with the key. Maybe it malfunctioned, or maybe it was tampered with."
Prentiss leaned in, her eyes darting across the document. "If he called customer service, there should be a record of the conversation. We need to get those tapes," she noted, already reaching for her phone. "I'm going to call the company, see what I can find."
Prentiss stepped out of the room, the click-clack of her heels on the floor punctuating her exit as she moved to make the call. With Prentiss gone, the room shrank, the quiet intensifying around Evelyn and Spencer as they sifted through the evidence, each rustle of paper amplifying the silence.
As Spencer extended his arm around Evelyn to retrieve a file, the closeness of his body sent a shiver of awareness down her spine. His hand grazed her hip in a steadying gesture, and the brief touch causes Evelyn's body to stiffen, stepping back as if she had been shocked.
Spencer's frown was quick to form as he noticed Evelyn's sudden retreat, a crease of concern etching his forehead. "Are you okay?"
Evelyn flashed a quick, wry smile, brushing off the moment. "I'm fine, just practicing my two-step for the next FBI ball," she joked, a lame attempt at deflecting.
"Evelyn," Spencer said, his tone soft yet firm.
Evelyn's response tumbled out in a rush. "So, I wake up and it's just me and the cold side of the bed, which, you know, is a bit confusing. And hey, if that is your way of saying 'it was a mistake,' that's cool. I'm a big girl, I've got my big girl socks on. Just rip the band-aid off quick, okay? I can take it."
Spencer's smirk was a slow slide of amusement. "Oh, I know you can take it," he teased, his voice a low hum that seemed to vibrate through the space between them.
He stepped closer, his presence encroaching on her personal bubble, making her heart race faster than she thought possible. As he backed her up, her hips met the edge of the table with a soft thud, his hands planting firmly on the surface to cage her in.
"I don't regret it at all," he confessed, his eyes locked on hers, "In fact, I've been thinking about it all day."
The air was thick with tension, their faces inches apart, breaths mingling, she could almost taste the mint on his tongue. But then, the sound of footsteps snapped the moment in two, and they sprang apart. Evelyn's cheeks burned with fluster, while Spencer just went back to his files.
Just then, Hotch entered. "Another victim has been killed."
--
The team assembled at the crime scene, a desolate stretch just off the Arizona highway. The air was thick, not just with the scent of the desolation, but also with the oppressive heat. The sun bore down mercilessly on the abandoned car, its metal body almost mirroring the blaze.
Evelyn squinted against the relentless sun; her hand raised to shield her eyes. "Maybe Travers isn't our guy," she pondered aloud, her gaze methodically sweeping the scene.
Evelyn reached out, her fingers wrapping around Morgan's arm to guide him into position, his broad frame now casting a long shadow that shielded her from the sun's glare. "There, much better," she said.
Morgan raised an eyebrow, feigning indignation. "What am I, your personal sunshade now?"
"Only when you're not spilling my secrets to Hotch," Evelyn shot back, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "You're lucky I'm such a good sport, Evie."
"And you're lucky I don't have more dirt on you, Morgan," she retorted with a giggle, her gaze returning to the crime scene.
Hotch stepped in, sending a look of warning to the two agents. "Travers fits the profile too well to dismiss," he interjects, his gaze sweeping over the team. "Intelligent, meticulous, socially isolated, and motivated by a desire to be recognized. We can't overlook that."
The team fell into a contemplative silence, each member lost in thought until Prentiss arrived, her expression serious. "I talked with the company. Mr. Davidson was having issues with the remote. They sent a technician our to repair it," she announced, holding out a piece of paper with the name of the technician.
The team looked in to look at the name Prentiss had uncovered. Evelyn's mind raced. "Two different guys," she whispered, the pieces clicking into place. "One who plans, one who executes. It's a partnership."
--
In the observation room, Evelyn's gaze was fixed on the interrogation unfolding before her. Hotch's deliberate questions and Morgan's intense stare bore into Michael Harris, the technician, the focus of their scrutiny. His posture was rigid, defiant, but his eyes told a different story--a flicker of uncertainty passed through them as he kept his arms folded.
In the sterile light of the adjacent room, Reid's slender frame was hunched over the table, his fingers temped in thought. His boyish features, often softened by an air of absent-minded genius, were now sharpened. His eyes, a clear reflection of his mind's workings, flickered over Travers with a scary intensity. Prentiss stood beside him; her posture unwavering. Her dark hair was pulled back, accentuating her set jaw and calculating eyes.
Hotch stepped out, his eyes locking on Evelyn's. "These guys target what they perceive as privilege--wealth, beauty, the whole package" he explained, his voice a low rumble of contained frustration. "We need to shake him. Evelyn, I want you in there. Your profile... It'll strike a nerve."
Evelyn arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smirk. "Awh, Hotch, are you calling me beautiful? Careful, or I might start thinking it's part of the job description."
Hotch's response was immediate, his tone firm yet not unkind. "Agent," he scolded.
Evelyn's smile broadened for a fleeting moment before she nodded. "Alright, alright, I'm going. Time to see if Harris finds me as privileged as you do."
As she spun on her heel, she could practically hear the sound of Hotch's eyes rolling, his silent rebuke hanging in the air. Evelyn swept into the interrogation room, her confidence radiating like the steady glow of a lantern. Hotch's silent figure trailed behind her. Harris's discomfort was unmistakable as he met Evelyn's steady gaze, evident that her presence had unsettled him.
"Mr. Harris, we know about the visits to the victims' homes. You were the last one to see them alive." Hotch stated, the lines of his jaw tightening in sync with the syllables. The muscles in his arms flexed subtly, straining against the fabric of his dress shirt as he leaned forward. Evelyn, observing the interplay of muscle and material, had to mentally nudge herself back to the task at hand.
Morgan's voice was a low rumble, almost feral in its intensity as he leaned closer. "And let's not forget the convenient malfunctions that only you could fix."
With a graceful tilt of her head, Evelyn locked eyes with Harris. "Must be tough," she murmured, "going into those big, beautiful houses, seeing how the other half lives."
Harris's jaw tightened, muscles tensing in a visible display of restraint. "I did my job," he spat, the words forced out between clenched teeth.
"And you did it so well," she observed, her eyes not leaving his. "But tell me, Michael, did you enjoy having that power? Deciding who stayed locked in?"
Harris's gaze burned with a silent fury, a raw, seething hatred for the conventional beauty he believed had marginalized him. Evelyn's presence, her composure, it all seemed to amplify his rage, teetering him of the edge of outburst. And Evelyn knew this.
With a level gaze and a tone that left room for no argument, Hotch laid out the facts. "We know about the partnership," he said, each word deliberate, precise. "You and Travers had a system, didn't you?"
"He creates the problem, you fix it." Morgan stated pointedly, a verbal arrow pointed at Harris. "Only you're not fixing anything, are you?"
Evelyn's smile didn't reach her eyes; it was cold, calculated. "You're just the repairman, right? Or should I say the executioner?"
Harris's composure shattered, a visceral snarl ripping through his throat. "You don't know anything! You think you're something special with that pretty face?" he sneered, venom dripping from every word. "Bet you're just like the rest, sleeping their way to the top? Who'd you fuck to get this job, huh? The big boss man here?" He jerked his head contemptuously towards Hotch, the disdain clear as saliva flecked his lips.
Hotch's frame stiffened, an instinctual guard rising within him, but Evelyn was already one step ahead. Her hand met his chest, a silent signal that she could handle him, her face a mask of cool composure. "Is that the best you can do, Harris? Reduce me to looks? I thought you were smarter than that."
The flush of anger on Harris's face deepened, his rage nearly tangible in the stifling air of the room. "You don't know what it's like! You just waltz through life on your tits and ass, never having to work for anything!"
Evelyn's eyes didn't waver. "Seems like you've been watching too closely. Does it bother you, Michael? Seeing people like me succeed?" Her question was deliberate, designed to provoke him.
With a sudden, explosive motion, Harris stood, his hands slamming onto the table with a force that echoed through the room. "I worked for everything while people like you just got it all handed it all handed to them! Those people deserved it, you hear me? They deserved to burn! Travers and I were only serving justice."
--
The clink of Garcia's glass resonated through the air as she raised it high, her voice carrying over the murmur of the bustling bar. "To the most incredible team, who can solve anything with enough coffee and genius brainpower."
The team had gathered at a cozy pub, just ten minutes from Quantico, to unwind after the case. The warm glow of the vintage lamps cast a soft glow on the group, reflecting off the polished mahogany table. The atmosphere was abuzz with the chatter of fellow agents and the soft hum of jazz playing in the background.
Evelyn, dressed in a red dress that hugged every curve, felt the warmth of Hotch's firm shoulder against hers on one side and Spencer's thigh on the other. The proximity to both men sent a flutter of nerves through her. She took a discreet sip of her wine, hoping to dissipate the swarm of butterflies in her stomach.
Morgan, ever the charmer, lifted his glass with a roguish smile. "And here's to Evelyn," he announced, "the only one who could get a raise out of Hotch with just her performance review!"
Laughter erupted around them. Evelyn's reaction was immediate; her hands flew to her face, shielding her flushed cheeks from the group. The laughter was infectious, but beneath it, she couldn't help but imagine sleeping with him. Peeking through her fingers, she shook her head in mock display. "I cannot believe he said that," she muttered.
"I think we can all agree that the Bureau's hiring practices are a bit more rigorous than that," (are they though) Hotch said. There was a brief pause as he surveyed the group, his gaze lingering on Evelyn for a moment longer than the rest. "And as for performance reviews, I believe your record speaks for itself, Evelyn. No additional... incentives are necessary."
The laughter resumed, Penelope nearly falling out of her chair. Evelyn leaned in, her voice only meant for Hotch. "Careful, Hotch," she teased, "or I'll actually start believing those rumors about your hidden sense of humor."
Morgan, with a playful smirk, couldn't help himself. "Yeah, the hiring practices are definitely more rigorous," he said, winking at Evelyn. "You just need your dad to be Jason Gideon, and you're in. No big deal, right?"
Evelyn shot Morgan a playful glare, her voice low but teasing. "Careful, Morgan," she warned, "don't think I've forgotten about your big mouth. I might just have to start bribing you next to keep quiet."
Hotch, with a slight upward twitch of his lips that suggested a suppressed smile, shook his head. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," he said, giving Evelyn a pointed look.
--
The bar's music echoed through the air as JJ, Emily, Evelyn and Penelope found themselves on the dance floor. Their hands were occupied with the chilled glasses, condensation beading down the sides. The pulsating lights of the bar cast a kaleidoscope of colors over them.
With a lightness in her step, JJ danced with a carefree grace. Her laughter, louder and freer than it had been all night, rang out clear. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when Rossi would be out-danced by Garcia," she said, nodding towards the table where Rossi sat, looking amused yet slightly bewildered by Garcia's animated dance moves from afar.
Evelyn's eyes followed JJ's gaze, and there they were--Hotch and Spencer--barely concealing the way they were looking at her. Their gazes were intense, unapologetically fixed on her. It was more than just a discreet glance; it was an overt appreciation that lingered just a second too long. When their eyes met hers, they looked away almost guiltily, but the message was clear; she was the object of their undivided attention.
The heat of their stares tangible, igniting a flush that spread across Evelyn's cheeks. It wasn't just the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her; it was the unexpected realization that she reveled in their attention. It was a revelation that came with a jolt of excitement--she wanted to be desired by them, liked the way her presence commanded their focus.
With a twirl that sent her hair fanning out around her, Prentiss joined in. "Oh, come on, JJ" she teased with a wink, "you know Rossi's got moves. He's just... conserving his energy for case."
With a thoughtful sip from her glass, Evelyn relished the drink's refreshing chill amidst the bar's cozy hum. "I think it's more like he's conserving his dignity," she tossed out playfully, her remark sparking a wave of soft giggles among the group.
Penelope raised her glass as if bestowing a royal decree. "To dignity! May we always have just enough to keep us grounded, but not so much that we can't fly!"
A chorus of tipsy giggles erupted once more from the group, their movements unsteady as they huddled close, shoulders bumping and heads nearly colliding.
Drunken giggles erupted once more from the group as they leaned into each other, nearly knocking heads. Evelyn excused herself from the dance floor, her steps unsteady as she navigated through the crowd to the bar. The dim lighting and the thrum of the music offering a brief respite from the watchful eyes of her team.
As she waited for the bartender's attention, she felt a sudden, unexpected pressure on her hips. A sharp gasp escaped her lips before she could stifle, her muscles coiling tight as she spun on her heel to confront the stranger. Yet, the touch was achingly familiar, and the voice that followed she knew all too well.
"God, Spence, you scared me," she exhaled, relief flooding her voice, her pulse gradually calming to the familiar comfort of his presence.
Evelyn's inhale turned sharp, a shiver running down her spine as she met Spencer's gaze, his fingertips barely grazing her hips. His eyes narrowed, his lips twisting into a knowing smirk. "Sorry," he drawled, the words dripping with an insincerity that was as disarming as it was uncharacteristic. "You just look so good tonight, Evelyn."
She could feel like heat of his breath as he leaned in, the gap between them closing to a whisper. It was a side to Spencer she rarely saw--confident, assertive, and undeniably hot. Evelyn's surprise was quickly replaced by a rising excitement.
Evelyn's voice was a hushed whisper, tinged with concern. "Spence, the team is going to see us," she warned, her eyes darting anxiously over her shoulder.
But Spencer seemed unfazed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you know how many guys were drooling at you on the dance floor?" he murmured, his voice low and intense. "Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to tell them how desperate and needy you were for me last night."
Evelyn's voice was reduced to a whisper as she felt the moisture starting to gather between her legs. "Spence--"
But he cut her off with a single word, "bathroom," and without another glance, he turned and walked away, his departure leaving her feeling as though the air had been vacuumed from her lungs.
She felt almost pathetic as she trailed after him like a lost puppy, her attention briefly diverted to the team, thankfully engrossed by Garcia's orchestration of a drinking game. She pivoted into the muted glow of the hallway, tucking her hair behind her ear with a practiced motion as she made her way briskly into the bathroom.
She stepped through the doorway only to be greeted by desperate hands at her ass that eagerly drew her in, yanking her into Spencer's familiar body. With a faint gasp, she melted into his touch, her intensity matching his, her fingers instinctively finding and curling into the locks of his hair. Without hesitation, he nudged her back against the sink, a quick tap to her thigh a silent command--a command she instantly obeyed, her legs encircling his waist in a tight clasp.
He murmured his approval, "good girl," he praised, a moan escaping her as she tugged gently at his hair.
His smirk, felt rather than seen, played against her lips. His hands clung to her thighs, pushing her dress up to her stomach. He broke the kiss slowly, savoring the taste before lowering himself to her legs. Spencer began to plant open mouthed kisses to the expanse of her thighs, "So sweet."
"Sp-Spencer-," she faltered, her words barely more than a breathless murmur, "we need ground, ah, rules."
Spencer clicked his tongue, his fingers idly twirling the lining of her underwear, his gaze intimately fixed between her thighs, "like what, sweetheart?"
He deftly removed the pesky shred of fabric, and she observed, her lips parted in awe, as he tucked in neatly into his pocket. Her mind went dumb as he gently coaxed her legs further apart.
His thumb began to draw languid circles against her puffed clit as she squirmed. She muffled a moan against her arm, her hips bucking against his touch. Evelyn's body was begging for more and less at the same time.
"Evelyn, use your words." Spencer chided as he drew agonizingly slow circles on the tender spot. "What rules do we need?"
"Well, for one-," she couldn't finish her sentence as Spencer plunged a finger inside her, his mouth coming down on her neck, his tongue licking long stripes up the expanse of flesh.
Her body turned to Jello as he continued to pump in and out of her. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear as she desperately tried to ride his fingers. "You like that, baby? Keep riding my fingers, get yourself off, it's okay."
"Spencer, please, please," she couldn't even form a thought of what she was asking for, hands twisting around the curls on his head, pressing her chest flush against his.
"Oh, I know, princess." He coos condescendingly as he grinded his hard cock straining against the material of his jeans, against her body. Her eyes widened as she realized just how big he really was. The familiar tightening became to form in her core, her pants becoming more desperate, her hands clutching his face in an attempt to stabilize herself. "Let them hear how good you take it, baby."
She could feel her resolve crumbling, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she moaned out a string of nonsensical words.
The words tipped her over the edge, her body shaking with pleasure as she cried his name out. He smirked as his hand pressed down over her mouth, her breath fogging up the flesh as she rode out her high.
"You did so good, sweetheart," Spencer praised, his hand gently sweeping the strands of hair from her face, as she offered him a blissful, dreamily smile. This man had now given her two groundbreaking orgasms.
She had never come from a man before, let one be given earth-shattering, life altering ones just from his fingers. She peeled herself away from the counter unconcerned with her disarrayed appearance as she sank to her knees. Her long lashes fluttered gently as she lifted her gaze towards Spencer.
A deep sigh escaped him, his head dropped back, fingers pressing lightly against the bridge of his nose as he declared, "Jesus, you're going to be the death of me."
Evelyn took that as her permission, her hands were a blur, swiftly working the buckle of his belt with an almost frantic efficiency.
She quickly liberated his length from the clutches of the confining material. A subtle gasp fluttered from her, barely audible, as his cock sprang to life. Mesmerized, she studied it--red, angry, massive and imposing.
A quick swipe of her tongue combated the dryness of her lips as she grasped the base with a steady hand. He stiffened in her grasp as he extended his hand, allowing it to come to a soft halt amidst the locks of her hair at the back of her head.
She took a deep breath, trace a path with her tongue from the base to head, testing the waters. Spencer's exhale was a quiet plea, his fingers weaving through the strands of her hair.
Evelyn wanted to relish every moment, to extend the pleasure, and to take her time. Yet, she felt the pulse of Spencer's impatience. She quickly took him in her mouth, a moan enveloping around his cock while his grip tightened on her scalp.
Her lips sloppily dragged up and down the length, her eyes lifting to meet his as she felt him twitch in her mouth. "God, baby, I wish you could see how perfect you look right now."
This only egged her on and she challenged herself to go deeper. An unexpected string of profanities fell from Spencer's lips as she took him.
He cradled her face between his hands, her eyelashes batting softly in his direction. He gently gathered her hair into a ponytail as she continued to take him deeper, trails of mascara etching down her face that he found so perfect.
"Fuck, sweetheart." He moaned out, his hips beginning to push back against her.
Evelyn's hand clung to his thighs, moisture gathering in her eyes as she continued to take his length as far as she could. She could feel he was close--the way his thighs trembled slightly under her manicured hands, the way his cock twitched ever so slightly in her mouth.
With a quick motion, Evelyn placed her hand on the base of his cock, synchronizing her strokes with her mouth, keeping her gaze locked on his. That's all it took before she felt his hold on her tighten, the hot liquid shooting on to her tongue.
She let out a sound of gratification, settling back on her heels while her tongue swept over her bottom lip. His chest heaved in a steady rhythm, his eyes lowering to meet hers, a weary smile lingering on his lips.
"Yup, like I said that will definitely be playing in my head for the rest of my life," he exhaled, his fingers sifting through his disheveled locks.
Evelyn's laughter bubbled up as he extended his hand, drawing her up to her feet. The moment she was within reach, his lips found hers, hungry and insistent. His smirk lingered as he drew away, her cheeks cupped in his hands, his thumbs tenderly sweeping away the mascara smudges.
"What were you saying about ground rules?" Spencer questioned, his voice soft colored with fatigue and a hint of exhilaration.
"Ground rules right," she said. "Absolutely. Just as soon as my neurons start firing again."
Laughter spilled out loudly, his hands deftly untangling her hair. "So, who's braving the exit first? Do you think they noticed?"
Evelyn shot him a deadpan look. "They're profilers," she reminded, then sighed. "But I'll go."
She spun around the mirror, hastily adjusting her dress and taming her hair into some semblance of order before stepping back into the bar. Evelyn's gaze landed instantly on the group, clearly tipsy, their laughter drowning out the rest of the bar. She quieted the butterflies in her stomach as she approached the rowdy group. Her eyes met Hotch's, his single raised brow a silent question about her appearance.
"Evie!" The unmistakable sound of Penelope's shriek pierced the air as she threw her arms around Evelyn. "We were terrified, Chica! We thought we'd lost you forever."
Evelyn responded with an embarrassed laugh, "Oh, P, if I had a nickel for every time I 'died,' according to your standards I'd be out buying a yacht."
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