#please pull it back around for me in episode four | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leejenowrld · 3 months

Text

ghostin’ (two)

pairing na jaemin x y/n (fem)

word count 17k

genre smut, fluff, angst, situationship vibes, college au

chapter summary you and jaemin grow closer, the sex is really fucking good and everyone finds out. you begin trusting him more than you ever thought you would but amidst the bliss, you wonder: is it too good to be true?

one | two | three | four

chapter warnings jaemin and reader moments, so many jaem and reader moments, jaemin aftercare, hot and mature jaemin, jaemin fingers reader under the table, jaemin obbession with readers thighs, jaemin cockwarming moments, personal talks, jaemin fucks you doggy style against the railings and everyone sees. you ride jaemin in his car, nevertheless inspired lollipop kiss, reader x jeno x haerin sexual moments, girl moments🫶, jeno and reader moments, soft jaemin, soft reader, please they’re literally in love, appearances from other '00 liners, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking and alcohol, getting high, ass slapping, dirty talk, big cock jaemin, soft dom jaemin, introverted, chill, emotionally intelligent, laid back, mysterious jaemin, jaemin with a darker side, a very sexy jaemin, black haired jaemin, jaemin who has no flaws

author note this chapter is heavily inspired by the friends episode ‘the one where everyone finds out’ keep that in mind! also a massive thank you to @siordior for her help with smut scenes and just a few scenes in general 🥰 she was a massive help.

1/6 of the campus heartbreaker series, read here

“This isn’t your bed.” Jaemin whispers, his voice a deep, resonant hum that sends vibrations against your skin, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth.

“Um– yeah. It’s Haerin’s. You reply, your consciousness surfacing slowly, pulling you out of the remnants of sleep. As sobriety dawns, fragments of the previous night cascade through your mind, each memory vivid and startling.

The shock of realizing that you, after firmly vowing to allow yourself to heal and to avoid intimacy with another man, had found yourself with Na Jaemin of all people, hits you like a wave. Yet, as you lie there, wrapped in his arms, a sense of comfort envelops you. Despite the surprise and the internal promises you’ve made, being here, in this embrace, just feels inexplicably right.

You remain naked and on top of him, cuddled within the circle of his arms with your head comfortably resting against his chest. Gently, he kisses your forehead. With a smooth motion, he turns the two of you around, his arms enveloping you protectively. He gives you a sweet smile, and there’s something in his eyes, in the way he looks at you, that makes you melt.

He gently removes his cock away from you inside of you. There’s a moment filled with heavy sighs and the soft sound of breathing, a testament to the intensity just shared. Your mouth waters as you see all the juices and all the sticky residue, you’re still so wet and Haerin’s bed sheets are stained. He’s got cum all over him and you’re sure you do too.

“Why do you let me fuck you on Haerin’s bed?” He inquires with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You respond with a casual shrug, “I couldn’t be bothered to take the extra steps. Besides, Haerin and Jeno have pretty much done it in every corner of my room.”

“Same here.” He chuckles. Changing the subject, he adds more thoughtfully, “Anyway, I need to get you cleaned up. I’m sorry I didn’t do it last night, you just fell asleep in seconds and my dick was still inside of you so—”

You nod, cheeks warm with a shy redness, murmuring, “Okay, yeah, thanks.” He steps away, promising to return soon. Alone, you gaze upwards, lost in the patterns above. In this quiet moment, you think about what you’ve just done and how you feel better than you would’ve thought.

You hear the sound of running water, signalling his return. He enters.

The sight of him takes your breath away. He’s naked and you truly can’t deal with the sight. He’s sexy. His cock looks insane and massive, you can’t believe it was inside you for the whole night. His shirtless form reveals a toned chest. The soft light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours of his physique. His strong shoulders and defined abs speak of strength, yet there’s a gentleness in the way he moves. You find yourself captivated, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, feeling a warmth spread through you. The memory of your shared night makes your heart race.

He feels you staring and responds with a playful smirk. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, your thighs still weak and your pussy still burning. Suddenly, he leans down and scoops you up in his arms, eliciting a surprised yelp from you.

“Let me put clothes on first!” You protest, feeling a bit shy in his embrace.

He chuckles lightly, “But we’re about to have a bath, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but –”

He cuts you off playfully. “You’re really shy about me seeing you naked when I pounded into your ass the whole night long, spanked you, spit in you and choked you?”

You blush, memories of the passionate night flooding back. As he carries you to the shower, you feel his strong grip on your ass and it is so tight. You could swear that his hand was gripping your ass in your sleep.

Gently, he sets you down in the warm bath, the water soothing against your skin. You look up at him, and for a second, the world pauses. There’s something in the way he looks at you, a tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. His kindness, so evident in his every action, overwhelms you.

You’re not sure what this emotion is, but it compels you. With a soft whine, you reach up, your hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him towards you. Your fingers find the cool metal of his chain, drawing him even closer. When your lips meet, it’s a fiery, passionate kiss, full of the emotions swirling within you both.

Sensing your desire, he joins you in the bath, the water rippling around you. You move to sit on his lap, facing him. You’re now close enough to see every detail in his face—the soft hue of his skin, a stark contrast against the dark hair that frames his features. His eyes, like pools of enigma, shadowed and deep, hold a glimmer of playfulness. His jawline is sharp, giving him a chiselled look.

There’s a comfort in his embrace, his arms encircling you gently, making you feel cherished and safe. The water laps quietly against you both but you smirk as you feel something prod against your thigh. “Really?” You question, his hardness makes you feel heat.

“Yeah.” He responds nonchalantly. “There’s a hot naked girl sitting on my thighs and you don’t think I’ll be hard?” He questions, his voice a low whisper as you shake your head and jab his chest, your cheeks burning into the pinkiest of shades

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” He offers in a voice soft as the steam around you.

“Please.” You reply, feeling the warmth of anticipation.

His fingers are tender as they brush through your hair, handling each strand with care and a precision that speaks of his attentiveness. You can’t resist teasing, “I bet I’m not the first girl’s hair you’ve washed.”

He just shakes his head, a knowing smirk on his lips, as he continues with his gentle ministrations.

Then, with a delicate touch, he begins to wash your skin, lathering it with scented body wash that fills the air with a fragrant blend. His hands move with purpose, massaging your joints, easing away any tension. Softly wiping away the residue inside your folds and on your thighs. His lips find your neck and cheek, kissing you softly, as sweet whispers escape him, blending with the steam and water.

After the bath, he wraps you in the softness of one of his shirts. The fabric smells of him, a captivating blend of woodsy and citrus notes. Standing there, you both exchange awkward glances, the air charged with the electricity of unspoken words.

The sides of his lips curve up in a smirk as he revels in the silence. “You wanna ride my cock again?” His voice is a low rumble, eyes searching yours for an answer.

“I should get going.” You reply, nearly choking on your words. “And you should too.”

“Thank you for tonight.” You say, a note of sincerity in your words. As he turns to leave, you suddenly grasp his hand, pulling him back. His eyes narrow in confusion just before you roughly push him away.

“Haerin, Hana and Jeno are home.” You whisper urgently, their loud voices echoing up the walls. “They cannot know about this. Do not make a noise.”

“Y/N!” Haerin’s voice cuts through the silence, her fists pounding on the door.

How did she know you were home? You press a finger to your lips, hoping silence will dispel her suspicion. Relief washes over you for the locked door, yet her knocking persists, each thud a hammer to your calm.

“Open up! I know you’re in here.” She insists.

You finally yield, opening the door to Haerin’s wide eyes, Jeno’s unusual silence, and Hana’s evident fatigue. “What the hell are you doing in my room? Did you sleep here all night?” Haerin’s eyebrow arches accusingly.

“I – um – yeah.” You admit, each syllable heavy with a truth you couldn’t cloak. Deception has never been your strong suit, especially not with them.

“Why?” She probes, her suspicion a tangible force that seemed to push the walls of the room closer.

“I missed you guys.”’ You manage to say, the lie smooth but tasting of ash on your tongue.

Hana’s eyes widen, a playful note to her voice as she coos. “Aw, did you masturbate?”

The question catches you off guard, and you nearly cough. “No?” Your answer is more of a question, an ineffectual attempt to deflect.

Her gaze sharpens, the intensity in her eyes almost accusatory. “You sure… you have that afterglow. Wait, holy shit did you fuck —”

Before she can finish, you cut in, a bit too sharply, “I spent the night alone, got myself off, okay?” The words are a barricade, hastily erected to keep their probing eyes from the truth.

“In my bed?” Haerin’s frown deepens, her scepticism a heavy cloak around her shoulders.

“I was drunk…” Your defense is a whisper, dissolving like mist in the growing light.

Jeno’s voice, unexpectedly, cuts through. “It smells like Jaemin in here. Isn’t that his shirt?” His observation is astute, his smirk a silent challenge to your crumbling façade.

Your heart stutters, racing to keep up with the lies. “He gave it to me at the party after I spilled a drink,” you say, hoping the half-truth is convincing.

“Hmm, sure.” Jeno drawls, unconvinced.

“And you have bruises on your legs.” Haerin adds, her gaze slicing through your defenses like a blade.

“I fell in the shower.” You repeat, grateful that your hair covered the hickies he had left on your neck and chest.

They finally leave you alone a moment later. Their departure brings a reprieve, a moment to breathe. Jaemin’s smirk reappears, as if he knows the weight of the secret you both carry. His hands, warm and reassuring, cup your face. “Will I see you again?” He asks, his voice a low murmur filled with promise.

“Yeah.” You whisper, your smile a mix of complicity and hope. His kiss is a seal, passionate and deep—a silent vow that speaks of future encounters as he reluctantly parts from you.

Jaemin's smirk softens into a tender smile as he reaches out, his hands gently cradling your face. The contact is soft, his touch a soothing warmth against your skin, a silent promise of care.

The kiss concludes, leaving a lingering sense of longing as he steps back, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. There's a silent exchange of emotion, a shared anticipation for what's to come. Then, with a final, soft look, he turns and walks away

SCENE 2

You find yourself at a bar for the night, ‘REPLAY127,’ commonly known as ‘127.’ It was a popular social hotspot for the students of Neo Tech University, who drank away all of their academic stress and relationship worries. It was always a scene with buzzed with chaos and drunk energy.

All of your friends are here and they’re all so loved up. There’s couples and love all around, smooching noises everywhere. Eric and Hana are in their own bubble. His arm around her as he whispers something into her ear, she lights up with a grin that speaks volumes about their feelings. You had thought their relationship was just a fling, but the depth of their connection is undeniable. You mentally remind yourself to check in with Hana later.

Xiaojun is unmistakably the player tonight, especially noticeable as he gets more drunk. Wandering around the bar, he’s openly flirting with girls and anyone willing to engage with him. His approach is direct and confident, marked by a clear intention to find someone’s bed to get in.

Your gaze shifts to Yangyang, Soobin, and Yeonjun, What’s going on with them? They’re all being overly affectionate with each other. Yeonjun was sitting in Soobins lap and making out with him and now he’s leaning over and making out with Yangyang as Soobin (you’re pretty sure) is fingering Yeonjun.

Nearby, Shotaro and Chaewon are holding hands, an unexpected sight. Wonbin, sitting by himself, nurses his drink with a solemn expression. His distant gaze and the tight grip on his glass indicate he’s not in the best of moods.

In one corner, Haerin is engrossed in her assignments, her fingers flying over the laptop keyboard, ignoring everything and everyone around her. Her manager keeps complaining about her to anyone who will listen. (yeah, she works here) According to Taeyong, “she’s lazy, doesn’t turn up on time, doesn’t know what she’s doing, makes a mess of everything” Haerin’s only response is a dismissive gesture in his direction and Jeno just stays by her side, smirking and drinking. He’s just happy to be here.

At least there’s Donghyuck, someone who can join you in the lonely hearts club. In stark contrast to the love around, he’s the loner of your group. He sits by himself, lost in his thoughts, with a joint in hand. He’s silent, a lone figure amidst the bustling energy of the bar.

Well you and Donghyuck aren’t completely alone in the lonely hearts club, there’s a third member, Jaemin.

Captured in the understated glow of the bar’s ambiance, he exudes a quiet magnetism. His hair, tousled to a perfect degree, frames a face that carries an expression of both concentration and alluring detachment. Sharp jawline and high cheekbones give his face a sculptural quality, softened only by the slight pout of his lips. His eyes, pensive and deep-set, seem to hold volumes of untold stories, inviting a second glance to unravel their mysteries. His hotness is not loud but lingering, like a whispered secret.

He’s sitting across from you, wearing that fucking grin, It’s subtle, just a slight upward curve of his lips, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold a mischievous gleam, amused as he’s fingering you under the table.

It started off fairly innocent. His hand ventures under your skirt, a light brush at first. His fingers start to explore, tenderly caressing your thighs, occasionally squeezing gently. The cold metal of his rings creates a delightful contrast against the warmth of your skin, sending tingles up your spine.

You can’t help but smile back at him. The pretty little skirt you chose now feels like a perfect decision, especially seeing the way his eyes lit up when you first joined the table. His gaze was intense, filled with a dark passion that left you wondering about his thoughts, about what he might do to you next, about the unspoken promises lingering in his deep, enigmatic eyes.

Suddenly his fingers glide into your clit. It’s done so subtly, so casually, it’s almost imperceptible. His face remains nonchalant, perfectly composed. He’s fully engaged in the conversation around the table, acting as if he’s not finger fucking you.

Your walls tighten around him and you clench but his expression still remains unchanged, all he does is raise his eyebrow at you. It’s not fast at all, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he rubs in small circles. His eyes, intense and captivating, hold your gaze. It’s hard to look away; his presence is magnetic, drawing you in despite your attempts to focus elsewhere.

Just when you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, he abruptly stops, pulling his hand back. His eyes never leave yours, and there’s a hint of mystery in them. In a bold yet quiet gesture, he brings his finger, which are covered in your cum, to his lips and he licks them.

Your back arches slightly and your eyes roll back, you cannot believe how incredibly sexy this is. Caught off guard, a soft and involuntary moan escapes your lips, louder than intended. The noise momentarily attracts the attention of your friends at the table, and you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, embarrassed but also exhilarated by the boldness of it all.

An immediate silence follows. Your friends' eyes are wide, filled with concern, as they all turn to look at you. All except for Jeno, who sports a proud smile, a reaction you find oddly out of place in the moment and wish you didn’t overlook it.

"Someone fuck my girl right now.” Haerin declares emphatically. Xiaojun volunteers without hesitation, nodding with a confident grin, rubbing his bulge and leaning up from the table, his hand held high.

You let out a laugh and shake your head at Xiaojun, the sound bright and clear against the quiet of the moment. As the laughter fades, you suddenly become aware of Jaemin’s gaze fixed on you, intense and singular. It washes over you like a spotlight, turning your laughter into a shy retreat. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and you instinctively try to hide it, looking down to escape the weight of his stare.

You glance away, seeking solace in the familiar faces around the table, but the heat of his gaze lingers, a silent echo of the connection you're both aware of. With a self-conscious smile, you gather your things, the laughter still hanging in the air as you stand.

“I’m gonna head out.” You announce to your friends, feeling the weight of the evening’s events.

“You’re not even drunk.” Hana whines, her words slurred from the alcohol. She’s visibly wasted, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a drunken lull. “If you go, I go.” She adds, trying to steady her speech.

You pause, contemplating staying a bit longer. Hana’s state makes you hesitant to leave; ensuring she gets home safely is important to you. As you weigh your options, Eric steps in, he shakes his head with a soft, understanding smile. “It’s okay, I’ve got her.” He assures you as he wraps his arms around Hana, pulling her close. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, a gesture full of affection and responsibility.

You can’t help but smile at the scene, a sense of relief washing over you. With Eric there, you know Hana is in good hands, her drunkenness safely managed. It’s comforting to see how well he takes care of her, a testament to the depth of their connection. With that assurance, you feel at ease to leave, knowing your friend is safe and cared for.

"I'll drive you.” Xiaojun offers first, flashing a smile in your direction.

"You can't even drive.” Yangyang retorts, casting a doubtful look at him.

Xiaojun scratches his neck, seemingly questioning his own state. How high was he? The conversation, however, takes a swift turn as Jaemin stands up. His gaze locks with yours, intense and unwavering, sending an unexpected shiver through you. "It's fine, I got you.” He says confidently.

The silence that travels around the table is palpable. “I got it.” He claims he meant.

But Xiaojun persists only for Jaemin to shake his head. “Bro, it's fine, keep trying to fuck Yunjin.” He says with a chuckle.

"It's just a 5-minute walk, I can go myself –" You start to protest, but the chorus of objections from your friends drowns you out.

They all yell at you, so many voices rise in unison, effectively cutting off your protests. Jeno bluntly tells you to stop talking, while Xiaojun calls you an idiot for even considering walking alone so late. Donghyuck, who usually maintains a ghostly silence, surprises you by chiming in with a disapproving tut and a sharp remark, moving out of his seat to flick your forehead with his finger. You wince, holding the area with a pout. Your eyes widen in surprise at their unanimous concern. Realizing there's no winning this argument, you accept their decision with a resigned sigh.

You widen your eyes and huff, admitting defeat, you see no point in arguing further. Jaemin is smirking at the sight of you, his gaze briefly dropping to your legs. You notice the way his eyes linger there, he smirks at the cum that drips down your thighs, you’re sighing at his touch.

Resigned to the fact that Jaemin will be escorting you, you gather your belongings, ready to leave the warmth and noise of the bar for the quiet of the night, accompanied by someone who seems to stir a myriad of emotions within you.

As Jaemin’s hand brushes against your back, a shiver runs through you, and your breath hitches in response. His voice, a low and deep whisper close to your ear, is barely audible over the din of the bar. “I’m bringing the car, stay at the front.” He instructed quietly.

You nod subtly, and as you turn to leave, you catch Hana’s eyes briefly peeking up, but she’s too caught up in her own world to give it much thought. A wave of relief washes over you, grateful that your friends, immersed in their own drunken revelries, haven’t noticed the discreet exchanges between you and Jaemin.

Standing near the entrance, you wait, lost in your thoughts about the night and the subtle interactions with Jaemin. Suddenly, you’re brought back to the present as Haerin and Jeno approach. Haerin, with a bright, infectious smile, latches onto your arm in a friendly embrace.

"Me and Jeno are going to that rooftop sushi restaurant." She announces. "Come with us!!!" She urges, her enthusiasm evident.

"No…" You shake your head immediately, already having made up your mind. "I’m going home, Jaemin’s gonna drive me.”

"Just come!!!" The plea comes again, more insistent this time.

You turn to them, opting for honesty. "I don’t like hanging out with you guys. Last time, you both just sat munching on each other while I was there just munching on my sushi.” You explain with a light-hearted tone, trying to convey your point without sounding too harsh. Your words are met with a mix of laughter and mock offense, but they convey your desire for a quiet end to the evening.

"Come on, baby.” Jeno whispers softly, extending his hand to Haerin. They start heading towards the exit, their exit unhindered even as Haerin’s manager, Taeyong, calls out to her. He scolds her, reminding her that her shift isn't over, his tone stern and warning. Taeyong even goes as far as to mention that this could be her last chance before he considers firing her. But Haerin and Jeno don’t seem deterred; they continue on their way, leaving Taeyong's warnings behind.

You wave goodbye to them, a small smile on your face, but then they abruptly stop and turn back towards you. Confusion furrows your brow as you narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what's going on. It takes you a moment, but then it dawns on you why they've stopped.

“Y/N.” Comes the voice, unmistakably his.

The moment you hear it, your heart skips a beat, then seems to stop altogether. It’s a voice that, despite time and distance, still holds power over you, a power that unsettles the very core of your being. Time feels like it grinds to a halt, each second stretching out interminably.

You turn, feeling a wave of anxiety surging through you. His eyes meet yours, and there's an unmistakable cockiness in his gaze, a stark contrast to the sadness that fills your own. He looks at you with an air of overconfidence, as if the past, with all its pain and turmoil he caused, was just a trivial chapter in his life.

As he looks into your eyes, you feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, as if his gaze alone has the power to make you feel small and insignificant. There, with him, are Yeeun, Yeji, and Mia, a sight that leaves you baffled and reeling.

What strikes you most is the casualness with which Mia kisses his neck, right there in front of you, as he maintains eye contact. The sight of hickies marking his skin only adds to the surreal nature of the encounter. "How have you been?" He asks with a smile that, despite everything, still manages to stir the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Words fail you, your throat dry and constricted. Inside, you're grappling with a whirlwind of emotions - disbelief, hurt, confusion. It's hard to focus, hard to think straight, your breath shallow and your head spinning. The situation feels unreal, almost dreamlike in its absurdity.

"Have you missed me? Do you wanna stay with us tonight? We’re gonna drink and then –" Hyunjin continues, smiling as if oblivious to the impact of his words. Your mouth falls open in shock. How could he be so nonchalant, so insensitive? He's surrounded by three girls and he’s asking you this? You feel sick as you see his arm casually draped around Mia's waist, while Yeji continues to be affectionate with him.

You glance at Yeeun and notice she’s keeping her distance, her expression unreadable. The complexity of the situation, the brazenness of his invitation, and the hurt it evokes in you, all combine to leave you feeling sick to your stomach. It's a moment that starkly highlights the difference between your worlds now - his, seemingly carefree and indulgent; yours, weighed down by the remnants of a past that refuses to fully let go.

Instinctively, you turn around and almost jump when you see Jaemin. He arrived quietly, almost blending into the background, his presence as subtle as a shadow. You wonder how and when he got there. His eyes are only fixed in one direction.

Yeeun and Jaemin are locked in an intense gaze, their eyes communicating a storm of unspoken words and emotions. It's a connection so deep and palpable that it makes you feel like an outsider, intruding on a private moment. The intensity in Jaemin's eyes is still and profound, conveying a depth of shared history and understanding with Yeeun that is foreign to you.

Hyunjin's voice pulls you back, "Baby? Is that a yes? I know you missed it. Remember when we were together, we’d have more sex than everyone, we’d have more threesomes than -'' His words are crude, stirring a mix of anger and hurt within you.

"Don't you fucking dare.” You whisper, barely audible. Your voice is a mix of defiance and vulnerability, and you're not even sure he heard you.

Why do you feel this urge to nod in agreement, to say yes, to gravitate towards him despite the fact you know he’s gonna break your heart again? It’s a stark reminder of the complex, tangled feelings you still harbour for him. This internal struggle is a vivid reflection of how deeply you’ve been affected, how the remnants of what once was still hold a powerful sway over you. It’s frustrating and confusing, this pull towards someone who has caused you so much pain.

In a swift, protective gesture, Jeno steps forward, positioning himself between you and Hyunjin. He reaches out, his touch firm yet reassuring on your arm, as he gently pulls you behind him, ensuring you're out of harm's way. Then, with equal care, he tightens his grip on Haerin's hand, guiding her to stand behind him as well, forming a human shield with his body.

"What the fuck?" Jeno's voice cuts through the tension, his words loud and filled with genuine readiness to confront Hyunjin. "I’m gonna count to 10 and then –" He warns, his tone indicating he's serious and prepared to escalate if needed.

Hyunjin, however, just laughs in response, seemingly unfazed by Jeno's protective stance or his threats. The laughter is dismissive, a clear sign that Jeno's words aren't intimidating him or causing him to reconsider his actions. "Y/N –" Hyunjin calls out again, extending his arms towards you, as if expecting you to come to him willingly.

However before you can even think, Jaemin steps forward and his arm wraps around your back with a surprising gentleness. There's an immediate sense of security that envelops you. Your previously racing heartbeat begins to steady, syncing with the calm assurance emanating from him. When you look into his eyes, there's a depth of trust and understanding reflected back at you, a silent promise that he's there for you.

Your breathing, which had been shallow and uneven, gradually relaxes. The tension that had gripped you slowly ebbs away, replaced by a comforting ease. A soft smile forms on both your faces, a shared moment of relief and connection amidst the chaos. You find yourself naturally leaning into him, drawn by the warmth and safety of his presence. The eye contact between you is intense yet intimate.

But it's unexpected – this protective side of Jaemin, especially towards you. The intensity in his gaze as he stares down Hyunjin is unmistakable, and there's something undeniably compelling about it. It's as if in this moment, he's shedding layers of his usual composure, revealing a fiercer, more protective side that you hadn’t seen before.

"Come on, Y/N, let's go.” Jaemin says, his voice steady and resolute. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent assurance in their depths, as he takes your hand in his. With a gentle but firm grip, he guides you away, deliberately turning both of your backs to Hyunjin, dismissing him without a word.

In this simple action, Jaemin makes a statement – he's not interested in giving Hyunjin any more attention or power in this situation. His focus is solely on you, ensuring your well-being and comfort.

SCENE 3

You shuffle in his lap, finding a comfortable position with your legs on either side. His hands rest gently on your thighs. Your lips meet his in a soft, tender kiss. As the kiss continues, it grows in intensity, each of you responding to the other’s rhythm. Your breathing becomes heavier. Open mouthed kisses which are a mix of tenderness and a growing sense of urgency.

The kiss deepens, a messy exploration of each other's tongues that leaves you panting and wanting more. You can hear the soft click as he locks the car, ensuring your privacy and safety. He then adjusts his seat back slightly, creating more space for you both.

"Just wanna get high and fuck you.” You murmur, the words muffled against his lips. Both of you speak between kisses, your words interspersed with passionate, eager kisses that convey your impatience.

He smirks in response, a playful glint in his eyes. "So desperate for me, baby? Couldn't wait five minutes until we were in the house?" His tone teases, laced with affection. His kisses trailing down to your neck.

The second you sat in the car, you were so incredibly horny. You were pressing soft kisses to his neck and whispering to him about how sexy he was and how much he turned you on. The only appropriate reaction after Jaemin’s display in front of Hyunjin. All he did was chuckle and tell you to be patient.

You obviously weren't patient as now you’re gonna ride his cock in the car.

He’s got a condom now.

Your eyes widen and you pout. “It felt good when we fucked without it.”

He just laughs and shakes his head, putting it over his cock.

“You know I literally don’t get pregnant, me and Hyunjin – well you know, we used to do it without protection all the time.” You ramble and he sighs, smashing his lips against yours, quite literally kissing you to get you to shut up. His hands find their way underneath your skirt and he’s rubbing your thighs in small circles.

With a heavy moan, you sit down on his cock and begin fucking yourself on his cock, you begin a steady rise and fall, his hands tight on your hips which guides you. You’re pressed against his chest, your lip biting and eyes screwing in pleasure as you move up and down his cock, pretty noises spilling from your mouth.

You quite simply fuck yourself dumb on his cock. you ride him at such a rapid and fast pace, it has him in awe. Heavy breathing and moans fill the car, his mouth is wide open as he admires the view above him. your screwing your face in pleasure, the steady rise and fall on his cock, how tight your pussy feels. It's driving him crazy.

"Ahhh, fuck, feels - feels soooo good," you pant in Jaemin's ear, your voice laced with pleasure as he continues to drive you wild with desire.

His cock reaches a spot that makes you whine, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside your walls. “You’re so fucking tight.” He hisses in your ear, teeth gritted and eyes screwing in pleasure

You start getting tired, your body becoming heavy with desire as Jaemin continues his sensual assault. Your legs feel weak, and you begin to lose the strength to hold yourself up. Sensing your fatigue, he continues, he doesn't want to stop. He shifts his position slightly, taking more of your weight, and begins thrusting into you with even more determination.

“Baby, you were so eager to ride my cock, and now you can't even ride it properly?" he teases in a husky voice, his fingers digging into your hips as he continues his relentless pace, his voice dripping with desire.

SCENE 4, STUDYING, COCKWARMING + OPENING UP

You find yourself sitting on his cock, a lot.

Jaemin tends to always be buried in his university assignments and projects, his attention riveted to the screen, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, to you. You, craving his attention, couldn’t help but voice your dissatisfaction, a whine escaping you about his apparent neglect.

“Sit on my lap.” He suggested, without looking up from his work, his voice calm yet firm, a surprising solution to your complaint.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and shyness. It was an unexpected invitation, one that caught you off guard. Yet, he didn’t waver, repeating himself more clearly, his voice taking on an irresistibly attractive and sexy edge, “Come and sit on my lap then. Don’t just sit there being needy, do something about it.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mix of anticipation and excitement. You found yourself biting your bottom lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite the fluttering in your stomach. With a casual ease, he pushed his chair back further with his feet, creating space, and patted his lap as a clear invitation.

Standing up, you prepared to close the distance between you but as you took a step forward, your breath hitched audibly. Jaemin began to unbuckle his belt and unbutton a few buttons from his shirt. It froze you in your tracks. His eyes, intense and unwavering, never left yours, their depth pulling you in, making you squirm under his gaze. There you stood, momentarily paralyzed by the intensity of the moment, He smirks up at you, knowing and slightly teasing.

His cock is literally out, he’s running his hands up and down the length and he’s smiling at you so prettily, you hold the eye contact and give him a shy smile but when you look down, you see a monster length staring at you so the contrast slaps you in the face like whiplash.

"Sit down then, pretty girl.” He urged softly, almost whispering, his words imbued with an affectionate warmth that made your heart flutter.

You nod slowly, anticipation bubbling within as Jaemin's hands find their way to the delicate skin under your skirt, you let out a small whimper when he grips your hips gently yet securely. He pulls your underwear down slightly and then carefully pulls you closer, situating you on his cock.

You don’t know what this was but you didn’t expect this, to be sitting on him, on his cock, just staying still, there was no movement, just the warmth of being close. Your walls just sucked his cock in and it was such a tight, warm fit.

His focus returned to his studies, but now with hums of concentration and satisfaction. You sitting there on his cock, so prettily, clearly helped him with his work

As you watch Jaemin type away, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, you're struck by the captivating intensity of his focus. He's the epitome of handsome, with sharp, defined features that are softened by the gentle curve of his lips, concentrated into a line of determination. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now reflect the deep pools of his thoughts, flickering under long, dark lashes with every word he commits to the screen. The way his hair falls slightly over his forehead, just a bit tousled, adds a boyish charm to his otherwise structured appearance. The ambient light casts shadows that accentuate his strong jawline and the thoughtful crease between his brows, making him look like he’s been carved from marble, yet animated with the warm flush of life.

That’s when it dawns on you; despite the time you've spent together, there’s so much you don’t know about him. The basics, like what he studies, his favourite color, his favourite tv show. Sure, you knew his favourite sex position and kinks but that was completely different. You didn’t know him on a personal level.

He notices your intense gaze, the way your eyes are fixed on his features, not missing a single detail. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, a mixture of amusement and curiosity, as he meets your stare. It's as if he's inviting you to look deeper, beyond the surface, to discover the layers that make up who he truly is.

“You want something, baby?” You feel his voice vibrate against your chest, a low hum that makes you make the smallest movement on his cock but he just groan and shakes his head at you, his hands gripping your thighs and making you stay still.

Your hands play with his earrings, signalling your growing curiosity. "I’m just curious… about you.” You admit, looking for a deeper connection.

He laughs softly, open and encouraging. "Yeah? What do you wanna know?"

“What’s your major?” You start off, realising how crazy this sounds, you spend your days getting your back blown by him but you don’t even know what he studies. He's always engrossed in his university work so you assume he’s a dedicated and top student.

He looks away from his work to focus on you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I’m doing a double major, criminology and fine arts. It’s more photography-based, but it's a lot more complex than just that." His explanation flows effortlessly, a clear indication of his passion. "I've always been fascinated by criminology, the complexity of it, and the deeper understanding it offers. It’s a field where I can communicate the way I want to, I don’t need to talk much, it’s all mostly through visuals. A photo says a thousand words, right?"

His eyes light up with the mention of his work, reflecting a depth you're eager to explore. "This degree teaches me to notice the overlooked details, to create something that might challenge perceptions or bring new insights. I want to make a difference, especially in the criminal justice world."

His passion is palpable, and you find yourself drawn in by his dedication. "Combining criminology with fine arts isn’t common, but that uniqueness is what I think can be my strength." His voice carries a confidence that only adds to his allure.

"There’s a certain beauty in understanding the complexities of crime and human behaviour, and even more so in capturing the emotions and stories behind them through art. I want to find and share that beauty."

You can’t help it. you moan. There's just something so sexy hearing about a man so dedicated to his interests, so complex and multifaceted. Seeing his passions and dedications made you understand him more, or atleast feel like you understand him more.

You realize how perfectly his degree mirrors his personality: mysterious, intellectually deep, and emotionally intelligent. His artistic pursuits show a creative soul that sees the world through a unique lens, combining a sensitivity and appreciation for beauty with a bold, unconventional approach to his studies. This blend of social awareness, empathy, and deep thinking not only makes him fascinating but deeply attractive.

Listening to him, you understand that Jaemin is not just another student; he's someone who truly wants to leave a mark on the world, using his unique perspective and talents. His confidence and individuality shine through, making you admire him all the more.

He’s a captivating blend of social awareness and empathy, driven by a deep concern for societal issues. His studies reflect a profound desire to understand and improve the world, grounding him in compassion and thoughtfulness. As a reflective and insightful thinker, he engages in intellectually stimulating conversations, showcasing his subtle boldness and confidence. Unafraid to deviate from traditional academic paths, Jaemin's unique approach and individuality make him irresistibly appealing.

As you absorb the depth and breadth of Jaemin's ambitions, a spontaneous sound escapes you, a moan of admiration and something more, something deeper. His confusion is immediate, eyebrows arching in a silent question as he pauses, turning to face you fully. His voice, a deep and breathy lull, wraps around you like a warm blanket in the cool air of the room. "Why are you moaning?" He whispers, the words vibrating directly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You’re – you’re just really hot.” You confess, the words tumbling out in a blend of awe and sincerity. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You lean in to kiss his forehead, a gesture so intimate and tender, Jaemin reacts in a way that sends your heart soaring. His eyes close for a moment, savouring the touch, a soft, content sigh escaping him. When he opens them again, they're alight with a giddy, infectious smile, the kind that makes his whole face glow, the kind that's impossible not to return. His breathing, low and steady, syncs with yours, a harmonious rhythm that seems to pull you even closer together.

“You work hard. Well done.” Your words are an affirmation, a gentle reminder of the faith you have in his efforts and the future they’re building towards. This will become something of a personal mission for you—to always remind him that his dedication will be worth it. You’ve never been so close to someone so motivated, so deeply attuned to their aspirations.

“This is why I'm being so good, just letting you study without distracting you. I've been a good girl and just sat here, on your cock, without moving when all I wanna do is ride your cock. you can feel how wet I am, right?”

He tuts. “I don't call bouncing up and down being a ‘good girl?’”

You moan, smashing his lips against his. Your lips move with an urgency that speaks volumes of pent-up desire. He kisses you back with intensity, punctuated by the soft sounds of mutual moans that vibrate through the connection of mouths. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling gently to bring him even closer, ensuring no space remains. His arms wrap securely around your waist, pulling you against him as you grind onto him, your hips making soft motions as your ass meets his thighs, his cock thrusting deeper and deeper into you.

THE ONE WHERE HE EATS YOU OUT

“Do you want me to eat you out, baby? You want me to take your stress away?” Before you can even answer he dives into you, sweet eyes looking up at you with a soft smile, pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs before pulling you lace panties down.

He dove into your pussy, forcing your legs open, his tongue lapping at your pussy and your folds, sucking and licking all the wetness and juice with one long stripe. You moan out heavily, wrapping your legs around his neck and caging him there, your hands fisted in his hair.

He leaves mouthy and wet kisses on your clit, sucking and sucking on the skin and making you moan over and over. Your orgasm was coming close and you’re about to scream out his name but then you fucking hear the front door open.

Hana drops her bag upon seeing you, her eyes widening in surprise. You realise there's no time to hide the situation. Thankfully, she has no way of knowing it's Jaemin due to the way he's positioned and the sofa's arrangement. In a supportive and enthusiastic manner, Hana puts her thumb up to you and mouths her congratulations, seemingly unaware of the true situation

You find yourself wondering why she still stands there, a grin playing on her lips as she nods enthusiastically. Her eyes are fixed on you with a sense of pride that seems to radiate from her, a pride that's uniquely her own and difficult to put into words.

Jaemin, like the menace that he is, continues eating you out even though he’s aware there’s an audience. He’s lapping at your folds more roughly, biting and spitting on your pussy in hopes to make you scream his name, he’s trying to make you scream his name. His tongue delves deeper and deeper as he thrusts his fingers in and out. Your eyes roll back, his name was this close to slipping from your tongue.

Jaemin smirks at how you try to conceal your sounds. His breath was a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His voice, barely above a murmur, resonates with a depth that you can hardly hear—you feel it, a tangible vibration against your skin. “If you were gonna end up silent anyway then we should've fucked infront of them.”

Jaemin startles you as he raises his head slightly. You quickly guide his head back down, but then he attempts to rise again, wearing a smirk. His eyes intensify with desire as he gazes up at you, giving you the slyest grin. Despite the slightly perverse and twisted nature of the situation, he finds pleasure in your heightened state of arousal due to his actions. Even though it's kind of sick and twisted he loves seeing you so scared because of his doing

THE ONE WHERE YOU’RE FUCKING ON THE BALCONY

You’re wearing the mini skirt, it’s slutty, it’s sexy.

It’s too slutty to be yours, it’s Haerin’s.

She beamed with a glow when you asked for her help, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and delight. Without hesitation, she dives into her closet and emerges with the boldest piece she owns—a mini skirt that's daring in every sense of the word. It's the kind of outfit that blurs the lines between outrageously sexy and boldly confident.

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. The material is sheer, leaving little to the imagination, a bold statement piece that's as see-through as it is alluring. Slipping it on, you can't help but marvel at the transformation. The skirt clings in all the right places, its risqué charm amplified by its translucency and the way it perfectly hugs your curves. It's a far cry from your usual style, but in this moment, it feels just right.

To match the daring vibe of the skirt, you opt for a top that's equally provocative. The ensemble comes together in a daring display of confidence, each piece complementing the other to create a look that's undeniably hot. Your makeup and hair are styled to perfection, each detail adding to the allure of the outfit.

Thoughts of Jaemin flutter through your mind, sending waves of giddy anticipation coursing through you. You hope he’ll find you pretty. As you give yourself one final look in the mirror, confidence surges within you.

Jeno's arrival to pick up you and Haerin was expected, but Jaemin's presence alongside him was a pleasant surprise that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

The moment Haerin and Jeno greeted each other with a kiss, a sense of awkwardness washed over you. You stood slightly apart, an observer to their easy display of affection, feeling a mix of happiness for them and a silent yearning for a similar connection with Jaemin. Your situation with him was a closely guarded secret, one that you weren't ready to unveil.

As you felt the pull towards Jaemin, something shifted within you. With a newfound boldness, you clasped your hands together and rest them by your side, a gesture of anticipation, and subtly leaned his way. Your head tilted, a silent invitation, as your lips curved into a smile, a confident and alluring display.

As Jaemin's gaze intensely sweeps over you, a wave of heat rushes through your body, so palpable that the two of you almost moan out loud. The tension between you both was electric, you’re so happy Haerin and Jeno are too absorbed in each other to notice.

His eyes, dark and focused, scrutinize every detail with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You catch him biting his bottom lip, a silent yet unmistakable sign of his approval, as he takes in the sight of you. The outfit you've chosen for the evening accentuates your figure perfectly, hugging you in just the right places to showcase your curves in the most flattering light.

Suddenly, Jeno's attention shifts towards you, breaking the electric tension. With an enthusiastic whistle, he grabs your hand, lifting it above your head to spin you around in a playful showcase. "Look at you.” He smiles, his voice filled with a mix of pride and admiration, the pitch of his whistle echoing his excitement. He's always been your biggest supporter, and tonight is no exception.

Meanwhile, Jaemin remains a silent observer, his expression unreadable yet intensely focused on you. Despite his quiet, his eyes communicate volumes, locked on your form with a clarity that's both thrilling and a little intimidating. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts sharply with the keen interest evident in his gaze.

Jeno drives back to his house which marks the start of an interesting evening.

Jeno's backyard was buzzing with life, lit up by string lights that added a cozy glow to the evening. It was the perfect spot for a barbecue, with everyone gathered around, enjoying the inviting green space. The smell of food on the grill filled the air, hinting at the fun and laughter that was to come.

In one corner, Hana and Eric had cocooned themselves into a couple's chair, their world reduced to the space between them as they shared kisses, seemingly oblivious to the buzz around them. Donghyuck, on the other hand, embraced solitude on the outskirts, content with his crisps, his presence a quiet testament to the diversity of the group's dynamics. Meanwhile, Shotaro and Wonbin, having recently bridged the gap of a misunderstanding, were lost in their own bubble, their laughter and shared glances lighting up the space around them.

Near the grill, stood Jeno and Jaemin, they were cooking all the meat. You watched, perhaps for the first time with true attention, as their interaction unfolded—a symphony of small laughs, shared tasks, and an easy silence that spoke volumes of their bond. The way they moved together, anticipating each other's needs and sharing the workload with an unspoken understanding, was evidence enough of the deep-rooted friendship they shared. The small, almost imperceptible exchanges—a nod here, a chuckle there, the passing of a spatula or a beer without a word — seeing their bond warmed your heart. They did truly love each other.

While Haerin and you engaged in gossip, standing across from Jeno and Jaemin, an attempt to help with the barbecue was dismissed by Jeno, he just told you both to go, citing he didn't want his garden to catch fire.

You’re being slutty on purpose. You boobs were out. You bend down intentionally in front of him, which drew a sigh from him. He tried to brush it off as a reaction to accidentally burning his hand on the grill, which actually did happen, a mishap resulting from his distraction by you rather than the task at hand. Jeno, his fucking nurse, quickly stepped in to care for him, wrapping the wound and even kissing his palm in a comforting gesture. He rolls his eyes and Haerin brings her palm out and expects him to do the same for her even though she wasn’t hurt.

The food is ready, and as everyone gathers around, you can't help but admire Jeno's attentiveness. With a careful diligence, he ensures that everyone is served before even thinking of his own plate. He moves among you, distributing plates and customizing each serving according to personal preferences. When he reaches you, there's a soft pat on your head and a smile that warms you from the inside out, especially when you see he's remembered exactly how you like your burger—with extra cheese and no gherkins. It's these small acts of care that make the moment special.

Jeno then turns his attention to Jaemin, who has been somewhat neglectful of his plate. He silently places a chicken wing directly into his mouth. Haerin, too, receives a tender moment of attention when she chokes on her burger. Jeno is quick to offer her water through a straw, pressing a kiss to her forehead in reassurance. Her embarrassment at the mess she's made is met with his gentle coo and shake of his head, assuring her of her beauty despite the sauce smeared around her mouth. He cleans it up with his thumb, a gesture so intimate and affectionate, followed by a soft kiss that seems to say everything words cannot.

You haven’t been drinking yet you feel high, euphoric. You’re completely sober and that’s the best part of it all. A few months ago you would’ve never thought you’d reach such happiness without being drunk but here you are, with your best friend, smiling until your cheeks ache.

The joy that fills you is genuine, a kind of happiness that’s both new and exhilarating. Despite not having touched a drop of alcohol, you find yourself riding a wave of euphoria, the kind that only true contentment can bring. It’s a realisation that hits you with the force of a revelation—once, the thought of achieving such a state of bliss without the aid of drinks would have seemed impossible. Yet, here you are, basking in the warmth of genuine happiness, sharing moments of laughter and connection with your best friend. The smiles that stretch across your faces, so wide that they make your cheeks ache, are a testament to the pure, unadulterated joy of the moment.

You an i’m d Haerin are dancing sexily, slut drops, touching each other closely, hands on tits, ass, giggling, you were kissing. You’re vaguely aware of the attention you’re attracting, particularly from Jeno and Jaemin.

Jaemin’s expression is hard to read, always enigmatic, giving nothing away. He watches with his usual cool, detached air, adding to his mysterious aura. Jeno’s gaze, on the other hand, is intense, you’re not sure whether he wanted to join in or punish you, leaving you guessing about his thoughts.

He clearly makes up his mind as suddenly, he comes along and the three of you are dancing closely, they’re both so wasted, that’s why the three of you grind on each other, hands touching all places, hot breath fanning over each other’s faces, you’re sure Jeno was slapping both of your asses at one point.

The atmosphere is a bit surreal, and you can't help but wonder how you've found yourself in this situation. Jeno, surprisingly, is dividing his attention between you and Haerin, and it's an unexpected turn of events. He starts by placing his hands on both of your shoulders, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, he pivots Haerin around and lets his hands glide down to her hips, making sure you can still feel his touch as he pulls her closer to him. The sensation is electrifying, and you're not sure where this is leading. Then, with a playful assertiveness, he gives her ass a cheeky slap.

Before you know it, Jeno positions himself between both of you, sandwiched between you and Haerin, letting the two of you grind into him. She's right in front of him, arching her neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses, not completely neglecting you though, his fingers move to caress your thighs.

Passions ignite in the room as tongues entwine and hands explore. You sensually slide your hand down Jeno's body, your fingers dancing down to his crotch. The chemistry is palpable, and you can't help but feel your own heart racing.

Haerin and you share a passionate kiss while Jeno moans in pleasure, his eyes locked on the erotic display before him. His hand rubs his bulge through his pants, and the intensity in the room continues to build.

Jeno's desire reaches its peak as he tightly fists your hair, pulling you back roughly to grant him access to Haerin's eager lips. Their mouths collide, exchanging a torrent of saliva and heated kisses. It's a frenzied scene filled with raw desire and longing.

But then, Haerin moves away from Jeno and turns her attention to you, planting sweet pecks on your lips, the two of you giggling and giving each other giddy eyes. The contrast between the intense passion and the soft, affectionate moments is a tantalizing blend of sensations that leaves you breathless.

You and Haerin had playfully shared your desires about making out with each other before, acknowledging each other's attractiveness, you both found each other hot! This moment feels different. It's serious and intense.

Now, you find yourselves on the couch, straddling each other. You’re on top, and your lips meet in a fiery, passionate kiss. The sensation of her tongue, soft lips, and electric chemistry between you leaves you captivated. You can understand why Jeno is so enamored with her.

But suddenly, you're yanked away, and Jeno takes your place. He grabs Haerin's neck harshly, eliciting a loud moan from her,, his kisses were passionate and forceful. Smooching noises fill the room as Jeno dominates the moment, leaning over and caging her against the plush cushions, his legs either side of her and he’s not holding back on being rough.

Haerin senses your hesitation and quickly pulls you onto Jeno's lap while still engaging in a heated make-out session with him. Together, they shower you with affection, covering you in passionate kisses and leaving hickeys on your skin. Jeno, driven by intense desire, unzips his pants, his length ready as he runs it through his hands.

Before Jeno can even do anything with his cock, the room is abruptly pierced by a voice that commands immediate attention. Jaemin, who until now had remained silent, suddenly asserts himself with a firm, "Not on this couch!!" His intervention is swift and decisive, drawing the eyes of everyone present.

Your gaze meets Jaemin, and the intensity you find in his eyes is startling. There's something about the way he looks at you—commanding, and undeniably attractive—that sends a thrill through you. The mixture of authority in his voice and the dark promise in his gaze stirs something deep within you, amplifying your already heightened arousal.

The realisation that Jaemin has been observing this whole time makes you moan. His attention, previously undetected, now feels like a spotlight. His gaze, heavy with an unspoken challenge, leaves you pondering his thoughts and the nature of his interest in the dynamics at play.

You decide to head to the bathroom to freshen up, trying to regain your composure. You smooth out your hair and touch up your makeup, attempting to collect your thoughts. But as you open the bathroom door, you're met with the dark and piercing gaze of Jaemin.

His expression isn't one of happiness. Instead, a certain intensity emanates from his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes makes your insides throb with desire for him, overpowering any other thoughts. He had been on your mind all night, and now, being in such close proximity to him, your longing for Jaemin becomes undeniable and overwhelming. You only want him. The tension in the bathroom seems to escalate, the steaminess of the situation too palpable to ignore.

Your lips crash together in a searing, insatiable kiss, tongues tangling in a fervent dance. His hands roam your body, gripping and squeezing, while your nails dig into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

With legs wrapped around his waist, you grind against each other, feeling his arousal hard and insistent against your core. Every touch, every bite, every growl against your lips sends shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Jaemin's mouth trails down your neck, nipping and sucking, marking you as his own, covering the marks that Haerin and Jeno had left on you and. Tutting in your ear, Jaemin's voice drips with desire and dominance. "Gonna act like a slut like that again, baby? Hm? You’ll see what I do to you." His words send shivers down your spine as he presses his body closer, asserting his control.

Your breaths grow heavy, matching the rhythm of your bodies moving against each other. His fingers find their way under your clothes, tracing lines of fire along your skin, making you gasp and moan. He’s spanking your ass as you moan into his mouth, the wetness between your thighs becoming palpable.

Locked in a heated gaze, your eyes reveal the raw hunger within. Bodies pressed together, the friction only intensifies the pulsating need between you. You feel consumed by a wild, untamed passion, surrendering to the magnetic pull of desire.

"Trying to flaunt your sweet pussy to everyone else?" Jaemin's voice oozes dark desire as he speaks close to your ear. He cages your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "Answer me."

You shake your head, your eyes wide, and your lips trembling with a whimper and a pout.

“I don't believe you."

Jaemin's intentions become unmistakably clear as he manhandles you, forcefully guiding you until you're pressed against the balcony railing. You glance around and realise that you're on the balcony overlooking the garden, he positions you exactly how he desires, and you surrender willingly to his commands.

Coming up behind you, he arches your neck and presses passionate kisses upon your skin, leaving a trail of fiery sensation in his wake. His desire is palpable, and the mask he's worn for so long begins to slip away, revealing the raw, passionate intensity beneath

Jaemin makes quick work of removing your clothes, his hand delivering sharp slaps to your ass in rapid succession. The mixture of pleasure and pain sends shivers down your spine.

"You want everyone to see what a fucking slut you are? Now they will.” He whispers in your ear, sending a thrilling jolt through your body. The audaciousness of this encounter only makes it more arousing, and you can't believe how turned on you are right now. Is he really this brazen? Fucking you in a place where you could easily be caught, even though your situationship is a secret?

That’s hot.

Your moan betrays your excitement, your body burning with desire as Jaemin's cock thrusts relentlessly into you. He's pounding you on the balcony, your front pressed against the railings, and he ensures your arms are held above your head without even having to use physical force. You remember his earlier warning: no moving allowed, and you obediently comply like the good girl you are, relishing your role as the willing submissive.

With one of your legs held up by Jaemin, you're pinned against the balcony's railings, your body entirely at his mercy. “Such a whore, acting like this all night in front of everyone.”

Jaemin revels in taking you from behind, the sight of your ass bouncing against his throbbing erection driving him wild. With one hand gripping your hair, he pulls your head back, arching your back sensually. The other hand firmly presses against your lower back, guiding you to meet his every thrust.

He forcefully drags your head forward, fistful of your hair in his grip as he forces you to position there, you hold back a moan as you see everyone in the garden downstairs, your friends are below you. All of them still in the garden and if they look up they'd see you and him fucking, they’ll see his hands that slap your titties and his dick plunging in and out of you.

“Doll, you have to stay quiet, you don't want our friends to know our little secret.” His voice, usually low and commanding, becomes a seductive whisper, sending shivers down your spine. There’s a hint of a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he savors the effect of his words on you.

Yet, despite the need for secrecy, Jaemin's primal desire overcomes any semblance of restraint. He thrusts into you even harder, igniting a fire of arousal that burns hotter with every passing moment. The walls of your body tighten around him as pleasure intensifies, and the possibility of being discovered fuels the urgency of your passionate connection.

You get off on the fact that you could be caught anytime, you and Jaemin love the thrill. As he whispers in your ear, urging you to make more noise, he maintains his firm grip on your throat.

As the intensity between you and Jaemin reaches its peak, he relentlessly continues, thrusting into you with a determination that over-stimulates your senses. Your ass bounces against his cock, creating a rhythm that leaves you utterly spent and breathless. He's fucking you with such intensity that it's as if he's driving you to the brink of euphoria, making you feel high from his touch alone.

With every plunge of his cock, your snug walls grip him tighter, as if unwilling to let go of the pleasure he provides. Jaemin's playful cooing adds an exhilarating layer to the experience, igniting a fiery passion within you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, accompanied by heavy moans and growls of raw desire, making it abundantly clear that this encounter is driven by an insatiable hunger for each other.

He continues to overstimulate you. He's driving you to the brink, making you feel intoxicated with desire. His cock plunges in and out, your cum dripping down your thighs and making a mess. With a hint of teasing in his voice, he asks. "Can't you take it?"

In the heat of the moment, you're completely absorbed, unaware that your friends below have fallen silent. Little do you know, they're fully aware of what's happening on the balcony, and their cheers of encouragement fill the air. Despite their enthusiasm, they remain oblivious to the identity of the mystery man who's fucking you, failing to connect the dots as you and Jaemin are the only ones missing from the gathering.

As your friends look up, Jaemin drags you inside and to the floor, and before they can see anything, he fucks you there instead. “Shut the fuck up, slut.” Jaemin slaps your ass as you squirt all over him

He holds you close, cooing softly in your ear as you come down from your high. His gentle kisses and tender touch help soothe you. He wipes away the remaining tears and ensures you're comfortable and clean.

Moments later, you make your way down to the garden, a slight flush on your cheeks. You enter with an air of casual composure, trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. Both you and Jaemin make an effort to maintain your cool, not arriving together to avoid any unnecessary attention.

It's quite evident that you've had your back blown out, with the afterglow still lingering on you. As you walk in, the cheers from your friends greet you, and Haerin plants a friendly kiss on your cheek. Hana attempts to lead you three away for some girls' talk, but the guys are being insufferable. Their taunting and teasing know no bounds, with even Shotaro mimicking your moans, and Donghyuck giving you an overly friendly pat on the back.

Among the crowd, two individuals stand out for their unusual behaviour. Jaemin remains nonchalant and seemingly unbothered, standing away from the chaos as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb. You envy him, how is he standing there like nothing intense had happened just mere moments ago? You also can't help but be suspicious of Jeno. He's typically the one to lead the teasing, but instead, he gazes at you with a proud smirk that leaves you questioning his intentions.

The air is thick with curiosity as your friends huddle together, each one throwing out guesses about the mysterious man's identity. Among the murmurs, Shotaro speaks up—sweet, innocent Shotaro. You adore him, yet there's a part of you wishing for his silence in this moment.

"Hey, Jaemin disappeared when we heard Y/N up there.” He remarks, pointing out Jaemin's absence just as your fucking had begun. The room falls into a tense silence, anticipation hanging in the air as everyone seems on the cusp of laughter or teasing, their faces a mix of shock and amusement.

Your eyes dart to Jaemin, panic flickering within you. But Jaemin, ever composed, manages his emotions with a tight control. He never slips. He subtly shakes his head at you, a silent reassurance not to worry. His gaze then shifts to Jeno, exchanging a brief nod—a moment of silent communication that leaves you more baffled than ever.

Jeno, with his impeccable timing, chimes in, "Jaem couldn’t have been the guy; around that time, I sent him out to buy some more potatoes for those chips you guys gobbled up." It's a smooth save. Everyone seems to accept Jeno's explanation without hesitation. And truly, who wouldn't? He has always had a way with words, his ability to weave believable stories making him a convincing, smooth talker.

You let out a sigh of relief, though the knot in your stomach only tightens. You know it's only a matter of time before the truth might come out, and the thought sends waves of anxiety through you. For now, though, Jeno's quick thinking has steered the suspicion away, granting you a temporary reprieve from the spotlight.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (ONE)

“Is it Xiaojun?”

You shake your head, not paying much attention to the girls who are growing increasingly curious and persistent in their questioning. Instead, your focus remains fixed on your phone screen as you type away. It was Jaemin on the other end, if you weren’t being fucked by him then you were always sexting, you had become obbessed with each other.

“Who is it then?” Haerin’s voice carries a hint of frustration as she cries out, They’re so goddamn nosy. They’re trying to figure out who you’re seeing, clearly growing exasperated with your evasive responses.

They know you’re seeing someone as you’ve been caught several times but luckily they don’t know that it’s Jaemin. You’re intent on maintaining this privacy until you and Jaemin can figure out your situation. Staying discreet with Jaemin seems like the best course of action, avoiding drama and unwanted attention.

It’s your mistake to relish and sigh in their silence and accept it as peace. “Who’s fucking dick is that?????” Hana's voice escalates into a scream and Haerin's eyes nearly bulge out of its eye sockets, you realise that somehow, they've stumbled upon a photo of Jaemin on your phone, although his face wasn’t in it. It was his cock.

Haerin is full on moaning and asking you “how can you handle all that?”

So why is that photo on your phone? You had many photos of his cock on your phone but this particular one had an explanation. The truth is, Jaemin had sent you that photo while he was in a lecture, fully aware of your desires, and he decided to engage in some sexting to tease and please you. The real mistake was indulging in it while sitting on the same sofa as Haerin and Hana.

You let out a yelp in panic, blurting out, "I'm just looking at porn!" in an attempt to deflect their suspicions. However, Haerin and Hana remain skeptical, shaking their heads and exchanging knowing looks.

Hana wears a mischievous smile as she responds, "We will find out." It seems like they're not buying your excuse and are determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (TWO)

Hana turns to Jeno, her face a canvas of confusion and suspicion. "Where the hell is Y/N?" she demands, expecting answers.

Jeno shrugs off the question with a casual "I dunno." Yeah he does. He knows that you’re getting your back blown out by Jaemin. He's known this whole time. He’s known since the very first time.

Hana, still in the dark and growing more perplexed by the minute, continues to probe. "She's being really suspicious, don't you think? She never hides anything from us, so why isn't she telling us who she's seeing?" She questions, her voice filled with confusion.

Jeno, attempting to divert the conversation, mumbles, "It's probably a social experiment.” His comment unexpectedly draws laughter from Hana, though she hadn't intended to find humor in the situation.

Just as Hana ponders Jeno's words, her attention is suddenly captured by a sight through the sliding doors that connect the outdoor garden to the kitchen. She waves frantically, trying to get someone's attention, and before she can even begin to question why you are here, in Jeno's house, without any apparent reason, she lets out a loud scream, her hands flying up to cover her face in shock. "Y/N and Jaemin? What are they doing? AHHHH! AHHHHHH!"

“My eyes… my eyes!!!!!” She screams, unable to believe her eyes.

"Jaemin and Y/N? Why is he touching her like that? What the HELL?" Hana exclaims, her voice rising in disbelief and shock.

"I know! I know!" Jeno repeats, trying to calm Hana down, mindful that Haerin is upstairs and oblivious to the unfolding drama.

"You know?" Hana shrieks, her voice piercing the air.

"Yes, I know! And now you know. Obviously, Jaemin and Y/N... but Haerin doesn't, neither does anyone else in the group, so please, you have to stop screaming." Jeno implores, his tone serious. "You need to keep this a secret. He adds, stressing the importance of discretion in this unexpected and delicate situation.

Hana, feeling a sense of urgency, breathes frantically and expresses her needs. “I need to tell Eric.”

Jeno, wanting to keep her calm, suggests. “Just pretend I’m Eric, I literally look like Eric.”

Hana nods in agreement and begins speaking as if she’s addressing Eric. Her confession takes an unexpected turn as she admits. “You do look like Eric, and it freaking creeps me out. Sometimes it makes me wanna make out with you.” Her voice drops to a low whisper, and she realizes too late that she’s voiced her thoughts aloud.

Jeno, raising his eyebrows in surprise, awkwardly coughs in response. Hana quickly regrets her words and mumbles, “Yeah, just forget I said that.” Jeno nods in agreement, and the two of them part ways.

THE ONE WHERE EVERYONE FINDS OUT (THREE, FIN)

Hana and Jeno share a smirk and shake their heads at the noise coming from upstairs. To them, you sound like a bitch in heat, you and Jaemin were so incredibly loud.

There's a moment of silence as Hana and Jeno exchange amused glances, reveling in the audacity of your and Jaemin's fucking. Then, Haerin enters through the front door, dropping a kiss on Jeno's forehead and bringing a bag of food just for herself.

Curious about your whereabouts, Haerin asks, "Where's Y/N?"

Jeno mumbles casually, leaning back in his seat. “You can’t hear her, baby? She’s upstairs, fucking Jaem.”

Hana, with her boba straw poised at her lips, widens her eyes in surprise and nearly chokes on her drink. “I thought it was a secret—”

Jeno, still with that nonchalant demeanour, interrupts her. “I’m sick of it.”

“Sick of them?” Hana questions, genuinely curious.

Jeno clarifies his annoyance, his tone filled with humor, “Sick of losing sleep because of them. Hopefully, now they can just get it on in public instead of when I’m trying to to go bed.”

Hana adds teasingly, “Please, don’t act as if you and Haerin, and Jaem and Y/N don’t have a competition to see who can be the loudest.”

Jeno retorts, a playful glint in his eye, “And you’re forgetting you and Eric? You two are the loudest!”

Hana and Jeno fall silent in their playful bickering when they hear the unmistakable sounds of screaming coming from upstairs. It's not just any scream; it's you and Haerin.

Hana chuckles and remarks, "Seems like Haerin is copying Y/N."

Jeno and Hana share a laugh as they make their way upstairs, curiosity piqued by the unexpected commotion unfolding in your room. The sight that greets them is nothing short of comical. Haerin lets out an audible scream, her disbelief apparent on her face.

You are equally shocked. Why is everyone in your room? You had a heart attack, Jaemin’s dick was plunging in and out of you and then suddenly the door opened with a loud scream. As your friends stare at you and Jaemin, you realize that there's no way to hide or explain the situation. The truth is out, and you can feel the weight of their gazes on you.

As Jeno gives Jaemin a kiss on the head, you finally connect the dots, a realisation dawning upon you. An epiphany hits you like a ton of bricks, and a light bulb goes off in your head. You jab Jaemin's chest, your voice incredulous as you exclaim. Jeno had known all along. It makes so much sense now.

"Jaem!! You told him!!"

Jaemin, taken aback by your accusation, hastily defends himself. "I swear I didn't!"

“I was the one who planted this idea in your heads and you thought I wouldn’t know?” Jeno smirks, an immense pride in him as he looks at the two of you.

(That wasn’t true though, Jaemin had told Jeno early on, just like he tells Jeno everything.)

Haerin's eyes light up, and she moves to the bed to hug you tightly in her arms, placing sloppy kisses on your head and Jaemin's. "So you're dating????" She squeals excitedly, clapping her hands. But suddenly, her enthusiasm dies down, replaced by confusion.

You and Jaemin choke on your words, shaking your heads and immediately denying it. Haerin's mouth widens in disbelief, and she struggles to find the right words. Hana steps in, voicing her confusion. "I don't get it? I thought you guys were — Jeno told me you guys were dating."

Jeno, not wanting to get involved, quickly defends his name. "I said nothing."

Hana and Haerin share a look that fills you with unease; their silence is unsettling. They suddenly leave the room, only to return a few moments later. You groan and palm your head when you see Haerin holding an 'intervention' banner in her hand.

THE INTERVENTION

You find yourself awkwardly seated in the center of the room, suddenly the focal point of everyone's attention. This unsolicited spotlight wasn't something you chose; rather, it's the result of an impromptu intervention masterminded by Hana. She, with a flair for drama, unveils a handmade sign that declares ‘intervention’ in bold, uneven letters. With a mix of persuasion and sheer force of will, she and Haerin manage to get Jaemin and Jeno to hang the sign, although it dangles crookedly above you.

Hana and Haerin stand before you, their arms crossed in an attempt to convey seriousness. You press your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, feeling a bizarre mix of annoyance and fondness for their concern.

"Do not laugh." Haerin commands, her voice sharp, it immediately makes your lips fall flat.

However, this facade quickly dissolves the moment your gaze locks with Jaemin’s. The curve of his eyes and the subtle smirk tugging at his lips are the triggers that unleash your laughter. The sound of your combined laughter echoes off the walls. Jaemin's expression is a perfect blend of amusement and complicity, his attractiveness magnified in the moment. He looks effortlessly handsome, his casual posture and the slight smirk playing on his lips adding to his allure.

Hana prepares to dive into the heart of the matter, her expression serious yet tinged with concern. She shakes her head and clears her throat, signaling the start of what promises to be an in-depth interrogation. “So, what is this?” She probes, her gaze shifting between you and Jaemin, accompanied with her hand moving back and forth.

“An intervention.” Jaemin responds unusually, he normally wouldn’t say a word but he catches on to your reaction and he realises it’s worth it. The room is filled with the sound of your laughter, and it’s the cutest thing Jaemin has heard in a while. Your laughter lights up the space, your mouth forming a beautiful smile as you giggle. The sweetness of the moment warms Jaemin’s heart, and he can’t help but cherish it. As he watches you, he can’t deny the growing affection he feels for you. He adores you more with each passing moment, silently falling for you in the most unexpected of times.

“We have too many interventions.” You say once your laughter has subsided but Hana and Haerin will not allow you to shift the focus once more.

“I’ll ask again, what are you guys?”

The room feels charged, the anticipation building. When neither of you responds immediately, Hana’s impatience shows with a disapproving tut. Deciding to cut to the chase, she bluntly asks, “Are you guys fucking?” Her directness catches you off guard and you suddenly start choking on your tongue.

Jaemin, ever the embodiment of calm under pressure, answers with his characteristic dry wit. “Obviously, did you not walk in on me pounding into her like 5 minutes ago?” His nonchalance is both infuriating and disarming.

Haerin, picking up where Hana left off, wears a hopeful smile, her eyes alight with curiosity. “So, you’re dating?” She ventures, her optimism palpable. Her eyes light up and she breaks out into a grin, a reaction you quite simply do not understand as she knows you’re not dating.

The question sends you and Jaemin into a fit of awkward chuckles, a symphony of refusals and denials echoing around the room, you’d keep denying it until they believed you. You try to convince, almost too vehemently, that dating isn’t on the cards. “Hold on.” You interject, laughter breaking through the tension. “Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean we’re dating. Don’t be crazy.”

Your attempt at humour does little to appease Hana and Haerin. They both launch into a series of scolding and telling off, their words a mix of worry. They warn you that you’re being reckless in your actions and that heartache will follow. They plead you to think this through. Meanwhile, Jeno sits quietly to the side, observing the proceedings with a silent chuckle, his laid-back demeanour a stark contrast to the animated energy of Hana and Haerin.

"So, what are you guys? Friends with benefits?" Haerin asks, her hope running out. The question hangs in the air, prompting immediate reactions from both you and Jaemin. You both shake your heads quickly, clearly unsettled by the label. The very thought seems off-putting to you both.

"We were never even friends.” You clarify, laying down the stark reality of your relationship with Jaemin.

He softly added, "More like strangers with benefits.”

You shake your head, quick to counter. "No.” You say to him simply and plainly. You didn’t like the idea of only being of use to him for your body. Friends with benefits wasn’t something you ever wanted to engage in.

The room falls silent at Hana's next question, "So what are you?" Hana's question leaves you speechless, a silence enveloping you as the words hang heavily in the air. What are we? The thought echoes in your mind, a question without an easy answer. As you glance over at Jaemin, searching for any sign of clarity in his expression, you're met with the same uncertainty. The ambiguity of your relationship, undefined and unlabeled, looms large between you. It's confusing. You're both aware of the lack of clear communication between you, yet the good sex keeps bringing you back to each other.

Faced with Hana's probing gaze, you deflect, turning the spotlight back onto her. "What are you and Eric?" you ask, hoping to shift the focus away from the complexity of your situation. The question hangs between you, a momentary distraction from the undefined nature of your relationship with Jaemin.

“He’s my boyfriend.” She reveals nonchalantly, as if the declaration is the most natural thing in the world. You didn’t expect it, you had known that they’d gotten close but you didn’t expect them to actually label their love. This was the first time she had told you.

At her words, the room erupts into excitement. You and Haerin can’t contain your joy, squealing and rushing to embrace her. An unexpected wave of emotion washes over you, and you find yourself fighting back tears. The depth of your reaction surprises even you, but deep down, you understand its source. Hana is not just a friend; she’s your best friend, someone whose happiness means the world to you. Seeing her find joy and fulfilment in a relationship with Eric, someone who has been in love with her since childhood, fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief and contentment.

In the midst of your collective excitement and joy for Hana, the moment becomes even more intimate when she turns to you, her gaze filled with softness and genuine concern. "I just don't want you to get hurt.” She whispers, her voice a tender echo of past conversations. The sincerity in her eyes reflects the depth of your friendship, her worry stemming from the memory of your last heartbreak. That memory isn't just yours; it's shared in the collective heart of your friendship, a reminder of pain endured and the resilience that followed.

Jaemin, who until now has been a quiet observer of the emotional exchange, lets out a light chuckle. It's clear he's ready to leap to his own defence but you're quicker. "Jaem isn't gonna hurt me.” You assert confidently, your voice steady and strong. There's no hesitation, no faltering in your statement—a testament to the unwavering belief you hold in him.

This isn't a mere assertion; it's a declaration of trust, a trust that has been carefully built and nurtured over time. In your heart, you feel the solidity of this trust,

Jaemin's reaction to your words is subtle yet profound. There's a flash of something deeper in his eyes, a mixture of appreciation and a solemn promise. It's as if your words have not only affirmed your trust in him but also reinforced his commitment to honor and cherish that trust.

Jeno, unexpectedly quiet until now, says, "Yeah, he won’t." Jeno's sudden input surprises you, given his silence throughout the intervention. He’s normally active in discussions like these, his quietness up to this point was out of character.

"He’s a good guy.” Jeno reiterates, his voice imbued with a depth of trust and admiration. His words about Jaemin are not just spoken; they're felt, radiating a heartfelt sincerity that envelops the room.

In that instance, you and Jeno share an exchange so profoundly sweet, it transcends words. Smiles bloom on your faces, a silent nod sealing this moment of mutual understanding and respect.

Then, Jeno’s gaze finds yours, carrying a depth of knowledge and insight that puzzles you. It's a look filled with layers you can't quite decipher, leaving you curious about his thoughts and emotions. This moment of uncertainty stirs a mix of confusion and curiosity within you, prompting questions you yearn to ask.

Yet, the moment's simple beauty holds you back, urging you to just live in it, to appreciate the connection you share without overanalyzing. Jeno’s response is a smile, so broad and genuine, it encapsulates the essence of your friendship—a bond that thrives on unspoken understanding and shared moments just like this.

Hana smiled and shook her head. "Fine, but you guys should create rules for whatever kind of 'situationship' this is." You and Jaemin exchanged a look, and you realized that she was right.

"Can we have some privacy?" You asked, but you were immediately met with a chorus of "no's." You rolled your eyes, realizing that your friend group was just too open with each other. The closeness was a bit frightening at times, was it normal that you had seen them all naked on multiple occasions?

As he closes the distance, Jaemin's arm draped gently around your shoulder, he looked into your eyes with a sense of warmth and concern. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care.

You smiled at him, your fingers tenderly brushing over his eyebrow before cupping his cheek, drawing him into a gentle, heartfelt kiss. It was a quiet moment shared between just the two of you, a silent reassurance of your connection.

"So, what are you thinking?" You inquired, your fingers now finding his hand and intertwining with his. You took a deep breath, your gaze fixed on his, and continued, "I was thinking that communication is the key here. We should always be honest with each other about everything. For example, if you've found someone else, it would be better if you told me the truth so I can handle it better and..."

Before you could finish, Jaemin cut you off, his eyes unwavering as he affirmed, "I'm not going to find anyone else. I don't want anyone else." His words carried a deep sincerity that sent a warm shiver down your spine, reaffirming the bond you shared.

You nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by your emotions. "Oh.” Was all you managed to say.

Jaemin's eyes held a gentle understanding as you continued, "And I think things like dates and gifts are okay. I mean, not like official dates, but if we want to go out, we don't need to be weird about it. I don't mean it like a date-date, but..."

"I know what you mean.” He said, voice filled with affection.

"Do you want to suggest something?" You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck as you gazed into his eyes.

Jaemin's smile is soft, filled with an unwavering patience and acceptance. "I just want whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and if it's what you're comfortable with, then I want it too."

You nodded and then brought up another important point. "Um, also, can we continue keeping this private? I just... I don't want the attention, and I don't want Hyunjin to know. He's going to... he's just... I..."

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the emotional weight of the moment pressing down on you. As you fight back tears, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, compelling you to look away in embarrassment. Around you, the concern is palpable, your friends frown at the sight of your distress.

Jaemin's response is immediate and tender, his voice a soft balm in the tense atmosphere. "Hey, baby.” He murmurs, his words wrapping around you with a warmth that feels like a gentle embrace. The softness of his kiss is a promise, a silent assurance that you're not alone in this. He moves your face gently in his arms so you’re looking at him and only him.

"Of course we can keep it private.” He says, his commitment to your comfort and peace of mind clear in his tone. In that moment, You find yourself nodding, a smile breaking through the uncertainty as you lean in for another kiss, his soft lips making you ache for more.

You hesitated for a moment before bringing up one more concern. "Last one, if you ever find yourself catching feelings for another girl, then..."

Jaemin didn't let you finish your sentence. He interrupted with a passionate declaration, "I don't want that. Did I not make myself clear when I said that I don't want anyone who's not you? You're the only one I want."

The room fell silent, with even Haerin moaning at his words. You have to acknowledge, deep down, that this feeling is somewhat foreign to you. The sensation of being prioritised, of sharing space with someone who genuinely cherishes and respects your feelings to the extent that Jaemin does, is new and disarming. Reflecting on the past, you realize Hyunjin never offered you this kind of emotional security and consideration. The contrast between then and now is stark, stirring a mix of relief and a poignant sense of what you had long been missing. It's an emotional revelation, understanding for the first time the depth of care you truly deserve and are finally receiving.

A wave of emotions crashed over you, leaving you momentarily breathless. Before you could process his words, he bridged the gap between you, his actions speaking louder than any promise could. His lips met yours with a fervor that conveyed the depth of his sincerity, igniting a spark that quickly turned into a blazing fire.

The kiss was passionate, yet carried a tenderness that enveloped you in warmth and security. His lips moved against yours with a precision that spoke of his deep desire and commitment, each motion reinforcing his declaration. The intensity of the kiss deepened as if each touch, each melding of lips, was a seal over his vow, binding him to you and you alone.

The physical connection was overwhelming, sending ripples of heat through your body. His hands, firm yet gentle, cradled your face, pulling you closer into the kiss, leaving no space for doubts or fears. The world around you faded, leaving only the sensation of being wholly desired and cherished.

You were left with a lingering sense of being deeply connected, not just physically but emotionally. The assurance in Jaemin's kiss, the fervent way his lips claimed yours, left no room for uncertainty. In that moment, you felt a profound reassurance that his heart aligned with his words.

As the intensity of Jaemin's kiss enveloped you, a surge of boldness took over. Your hands found their way to the hem of his shirt. With a shared breath, a silent agreement passed between you, and you began to lift his shirt upwards. Jaemin's response was to pause the kiss momentarily, allowing you just enough space to pull the fabric over his head.

His shirt discarded, you were met with the warmth of his skin, the contours of his muscles under your fingertips, you began tracing the lines and warmth of his back, Jaemin's lips found yours again as you kissed him until you couldn’t breathe. It felt like kissing him was easier than breathing.

THE ONE WITH JAEMIN AND JENO

Jeno’s laughter breaks through, a sound mingled with relief and disbelief. “You can finally stop hiding around with her.” He chuckles, his gaze locking on Jaemin.

Jaemin responds with a breathy, “Thank fuck,.” His relief palpable, a tension he hadn’t realised he was holding released with those words.

Jeno continues, half in jest, half in admonishment. “You weren’t doing a good job at it though, fucking on the balcony above us, really? I had to pull my cover for you guys out of my literal ass. I don’t know how the others bought it.” Despite the humour, there’s an undercurrent of sincerity in his critique, a nod to the lengths he’d go to protect you and him.

Jaemin, feeling a swell of gratitude towards Jeno, turns to him. His shake of the head conveys more than words could—a silent thank you for the cover, for the understanding, for always being there.

Then, Jeno’s tone shifts, the mood turning serious as he changes the direction of the conversation. “Take care of her.” He says, his voice steady, eyes locking onto Jaemin with a depth of concern that’s rare to see.

The sudden seriousness catches Jaemin off guard, but his response is immediate and unwavering. “You know I will.”

Jeno’s next words are heavier, laden with worry. “You know I worry about her.” He confesses, revealing a protective side often hidden beneath his lighthearted exterior.

Jeno’s tone takes on a sombre note, his words heavy with concern and a touch of anger. “Do you know how fucked she got after that dick fucked her over?” He asks, his voice laden with seriousness. “She got high every single night.” He continues, the worry evident in his expression.

Then, he shares something even graver, a fact that underscores the depth of her despair. “She overdosed and ended up in the hospital.” He reveals, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Jeno’s frown deepens as he recalls the nights filled with your cries, a testament to the pain you endured. The memory of it brings a heavy sigh from him, the kind that echoes with the weight of unspoken words and shared heartaches. “Her room is next to Haerin’s, and I’d just hear her cry every night.” He says, his voice tinged with a sorrow that speaks volumes of the nights spent in worry for you.

Jaemin listens, a storm of emotions playing across his features— he wants to deal with Hyunjin. He feels shock, anger, and an undeniable resolve to protect you. “I’m taking care of her.”

Jaemin understands the heartache of a breakup all too well, having recently navigated the end of his relationship with Yeeun. In the aftermath, he found himself caught in a mess of emotions. He struggled a lot. Time, however, has a way of soothing the sharpest sorrows, and gradually, he felt himself healing, the pieces of his fractured heart beginning to realign. It's in this journey of recovery that he found himself drawn to you, a beacon of hope and a promise of new beginnings.

Or is that what he’s made himself believe?

“She hasn’t gotten high since she’s been with me. I take care of her, I make sure she doesn’t. Jaemin continues, his determination clear. “All I wanna do is make her happy.”

Jeno’s response is a grin, a gesture that reflects his recognition and approval. “Yeah. You are.” He agrees, acknowledging the positive shift he’s witnessed in you. Your friends have noticed the change, seen the light return to your eyes, and watched as your health and spirits lifted. They’ve seen the laughter replace the tears, the strength replace the fragility, all under Jaemin’s tender care.

Jaemin, new to your life, may not have known the depth of your struggles, the lows that once defined your days. Yet, his presence has woven a new narrative, one where happiness fill the spaces that pain once occupied. In the quiet moments, in the soft touches and shared smiles, there’s an intimacy and warmth that envelops you both.

EVERYONE KNOWS NOW

Now, the secret's out—at least among your circle of friends. Shotaro, ever observant, claims he pieced it together during the barbecue, asserting he always knew Jaemin was your mystery man on the balcony. Donghyuck remains unfazed and isolated, lost in thought over his coffee and not making eye contact with anyone, while Yangyang teases you playfully, calling you a "nasty girl." Xiaojun, however, is notably silent, a quiet observer which was odd.

Walking into the campus café, where your friends have gathered, you immediately lock eyes with Jaemin. There's an unspoken conversation in that glance, a connection that speaks volumes, highlighted by your shared smiles. The crowded space leaves no chair for you, but Jaemin easily solves the dilemma, inviting you to sit on his lap with a welcoming gesture. You happily oblige like the good girl you are, you settle into the comfort of his embrace.

The moment you're in his arms, his lips gently press against yours, capturing them in a delicate kiss. His fingers softly caress your thighs under your skirt, coos of affection whispered in your ear. Together, you share smiles, gentle caresses, and tender kisses.

Engrossed in this bubble with Jaemin, you barely register Xiaojun's reaction. His quietness and frown might have caught your attention any other day, but today, the relief of no longer hiding overshadows everything else.

"Did you eat?" Jaemin's voice, low and caring, breaks the spell of your intimate moment. You respond with a shake of your head, and he takes it upon himself to feed you, his actions tender and attentive.

You and Jaemin said your goodbyes to your friends and you’re now walking side by side with him on campus, you find solace in his presence. Words are unnecessary; the silence between you isn't oppressive but rather comforting, a testament to the ease and understanding you share. You're aware of the curious glances directed your way, yet they don't unsettle you. Jaemin seems unfazed as well, his demeanor calm and reassuring.

The thought crosses your mind that you're under scrutiny, possibly judged, yet it doesn't disturb your peace. You recognize that there's nothing wrong in seeking happiness, in reveling in the warmth of Jaemin's hand in yours. However, the shadow of a past fear looms at the edge of your consciousness—the concern about Hyunjin's reaction, a person whose gaze alone might shatter your newfound tranquility.

You had your reasons for keeping your relationship with Jaemin a secret, predominantly due to apprehensions about Hyunjin's influence over your emotions and well-being. The thought of his control over your happiness scares you deeply. But fuck him. You refuse to allow him any power over your current joy.

Hand in hand with Jaemin, each step on the campus grounds feels like a declaration, a step towards what feels right. Despite the past fears and the potential judgement from Hyunjin or anyone else, this moment with Jaemin feels like where you're meant to be—free, unburdened, and genuinely happy.

In a moment that feels suspended in time, you and Jaemin come to a halt amidst the hum of campus life, now rendered inconsequential. The backdrop fades as he gently presses your back against the cool facade of a campus building, his gaze capturing yours with an intensity that's both mysterious and compelling.

Jaemin, with a slow, intentional movement, retrieves a blueberry lollipop from his pocket. The act of unwrapping it, taking a moment to savor its flavor, all the while holding your gaze, adds a layer of anticipation to the already charged atmosphere between you. The tension mounts, every gesture laden with unvoiced promises.

As he closes the distance, the air around you seems to thicken. When your lips finally meet, the kiss is not just an ordinary one—it's a fusion of sensations, the sweetness of the lollipop blending seamlessly with the moment's warmth. This kiss is a discovery, an intimate exploration that goes beyond the physical.

The initial surprise quickly gives way to a mutual passion, your response mirroring his intensity. Your hands find their way into his hair, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss. The flavor of blueberry envelops you, enhancing the experience, making it something entirely unique.

Suddenly, aware of the setting, you gently push him back, a whisper escaping your lips, "Everyone is gonna see us."

His response is a carefree shrug, the words almost a caress in themselves, "When a pretty girl asks me the flavor of my lollipop, should I say no?" His words, teasing yet sincere, dissolve any hesitation, reaffirming the connection between you.

Eager to reclaim the moment, your lips find his once more, reconnecting with an urgency that speaks volumes. This kiss is deeper, fueled by the brief pause, a blend of rebellion and affirmation of your bond. It's a declaration made without words, a shared understanding that what you have is worth the exposure, worth every risk. The sweet taste of the lollipop, now a symbol of your shared secret, lingers as a testament to the complex, beautiful dynamic you share with Jaemin.

The kiss, intense and filled with unspoken emotions, was Jaemin’s way of saying goodbye—a sweet, lingering farewell as he had classes for the rest of the day. You’re left with a smile on your lips, your cheeks burning with a flush that you try to hide by covering them with your hands. Waving goodbye, you watch Jaemin until he disappears from view, the memory of the kiss still vivid in your mind.

But the moment he’s out of sight, a shift occurs. Turning around, you’re confronted with the piercing gaze of Jang Yeeun, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that feels like a cold shock in contrast to the warmth you just experienced. Her words cut through the air, sharp and accusatory: “So you’re the reason why Jaemin’s been ignoring all of my calls.”

liked it??? send me an ask please <333 please get back at me. give feedback and share your thoughts it would mean the world to me

comment to be added to the tag list for part 2!! (will be a 4 part series)

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl @i6renj @hcaeh @buns-inhiding @pinknjm @nominsgirl @liliansun @nominsgirl@ itserylyn1 @carelessshootanonymous @scarredrose25 @kuntyswife @siordior

821 notes · View notes

cheollipop · 10 months

Note

Omg I can’t stop thinking about San in Idol Radio justnow…😵‍💫 The way he wanted to hear the members saying they’re his, and the reaction when Mingi said “San-ah I’m yours, use me however you want” made me LOSE IT🫠

My head hasn’t stop thinking about how Domsan will be like and just completely ruining you, pounding you harder and deeper after hearing you speak the words “I’m yours, please use me” ajdfndifjsj help

no fr because that whole episode was so damn fruity??? and yes omg the way san retreated to the back of the room 😭 but anonnie... I need to sue you for emotional damages for putting this idea in my head (and give you lots of smooches for pulling me out of the depths of writer's block mwah)

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

"say it again," he muttered into your neck, his words vibrating over the slick skin.

your knees dug into the mattress beside your waist, san's hands gripping your thighs and pushing them down, hovering over you while he folded your body in half. his request echoed in the back of your head, nerves buzzing violently every time he stuffed his cock inside you, the loud melody of skin-on-skin reverberating between the four walls.

"please, 'wanna hear you say it again," he trailed his lips up to your jawline, sliding the tip of his tongue down its slope.

you knew it would drive him crazy, a shy 'I'm yours, please use me however you want' on your lips, the last syllable barely rolling off your tongue before he'd pounced on you—manhandling your body and fucking two loads into your used cunt.

your walls clenched around him, a soft grunt escaping his lips. "(y/n)," he called out again—a needy whine.

"I-I'm yours, Sannie- hnngh!" you managed, arching your back to the best of your ability in the position you were in, san's cockhead pistoning into your g-spot.

"that's right," he panted, pulsing between your walls as he neared his third orgasm. "you're all mine," he pressed his lips to your cheekbone, whispering mine and I love you's in between kisses.

tears streaked down the sides of your face, your thighs trembling around san's body while he pounded into you, a stream of your arousal and his cum being fucked out of you with every thrust.

"gonna breed my pretty girl full of cum," his cock twitched inside you, his rhythm growing eratic. "fuck, baby, you'll be leaking for days," he kissed his way up to your ear, running the tip of his tongue over the outer shell before lowering his voice to a sultry whisper, "and when you're all out, I'll just fuck you full again."

your moans—broken and high-pitched—ripped through your chest, san's lips sealing over yours to swallow them down as you came, your orgasm shaking your whole body in his arms. waves of euphoria rushed through your veins, your pussy pulsing violently around san's cock until a familiar warmth flooded your abdomen. san shuddered on top of you as ribbons of white painted your walls, seeping out of your entrance to add to the puddle under you, his desperate moans echoing in your ear while he slowly fucked his cum into your sopping heat.

san's body rolled to the side with you in his arms, his softening cock still sheathed within your overstimulated pussy. tender kisses peppered over every attainable patch of skin, gentle fingers digging into the sore muscles of your thighs, occasionally moving upwards to rub soothing circles over your lower back. you allowed your exhaustion to tug at your eyelids, ignoring the dull throbbing between your legs while san's delicate touch and his muttered I love you's lulled you to restful slumber.

#ateez smut #choi san x reader #choi san smut #san x reader #ateez x reader #san smut #ateez headcanons #ateez oneshot #choi san #ateez #choi san scenarios #choi san oneshot #choi san fanfic #ateez san #ateez scenarios

2K notes · View notes

confused-pyramid · 2 months

Text

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!)

280 notes · View notes

anotherspnfanfic · 11 months

Text

Surprise Visits

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x reader

Word count: 2400

Warnings: seizure, epileptic reader, possible inaccuracies

Summary: Eddie shows up unexpectedly. Reader is glad he did for more than one reason.

A/N: This is only my second time writing for Eddie and last time it was a co-write. I did a whole bunch of research and had some proof reading from the lovely @thatonewriter15 and @muchamusedaboutnothing. Hopefully this is a somewhat accurate representation... 🤞🏻

Trudging up the stairs towards her apartment, she cursed the elevators for being broken. All she wanted to do was collapse into her bed and sleep for two days. Unfortunately, that was impossible since it was only Wednesday and she had an important meeting first thing in the morning.

Passing the third floor, she considered if she was going to eat before she went to bed. She was starving, but cooking seemed like too much effort and time. Then she considered having something delivered but guessed that would take even longer than cooking. She decided to just eat a spoonful of peanut butter so that she wasn’t battling hunger while trying to fall asleep.

Finally reaching the fifth floor, she exited the stairwell and took the four steps to her door. It was a small victory for climbing the stairs— at least she didn’t have further to go once she got to her floor.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Immediately, she dumped her purse, jacket, and laptop case on the floor beside the door before pulling her shoes off one at a time to drop in the pile.

Rounding the corner into the living room, she gasped. Her favorite scented candle was lit on the coffee table next to several containers of Chinese take-out. Eddie stood from the couch as she approached.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she let herself fall into his embrace.

He pecked a kiss to her temple as he pulled back to look at her. “You sounded a little overwhelmed when you called earlier. So I had Buck take Christopher for the night, and I brought you dinner.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she was overcome with emotions. “I love you. You are the best. I was about to eat some peanut butter because I’m too exhausted to cook or wait for delivery.”

“And let me guess, you’ve barely eaten anything all day?” he chastised.

She shrugged. “I had a bagel for breakfast.”

He pulled her over to sit on the couch. “I’m glad I came then.”

“I’m really glad you did.” She grabbed a fortune cookie while he started to open the other containers. “Are you staying all night?”

He nodded. “I’m all yours. Buck is taking Christopher to the zoo tomorrow.” He dumped some rice on the plates he’d gotten out of the kitchen. “Chicken, beef, or shrimp?”

“Some of each, please.” She set the fortune cookie back down as she stood. ”I’m gonna go change out of these work clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Before Eddie could even finish dishing up the food, she returned in sweats and a shirt she’d stolen from him.

As she sat back down, she picked up and opened the fortune cookie. She pulled out the piece of paper. “‘Life will soon become interesting,’” she read. “I think it’s already plenty interesting.”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, where’s the one that says we get a vacation soon?”

He finished adding everything to their plates as she flipped on the television and started an episode of How I Met Your Mother.

They ate in a comfortable silence and had finished before the twenty-minute episode had ended. He set the mostly-empty plates on the table, and she shifted to curl in against his side while he wrapped his arm snugly around her shoulder.

As the credits rolled, he asked, “Bed or another episode?”

She yawned. “One more. I’m probably going to fall asleep, but I’m comfy.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as the TV rolled over into a new episode on its own. “As you wish, mi amor.”

She had just started to doze off when, suddenly, she was overcome with a familiar, distinct, full-body tingling sensation along with intense nausea. She quickly shifted to leaning forward on the edge of her seat. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”

Eddie reached out and placed a tentative hand between her shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?”

She stood and moved over to the empty dining room, which she kept devoid of a table and other furniture precisely for this reason. “Seizure,” she stated as calmly as she could before lying down in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Eddie was surprised, but quickly stood. He grabbed a blanket from the recliner and moved to sit beside her. He knew about her epilepsy and the medications she took for it. However, in the eighteen months they’d been dating, she’d never had a seizure. He lifted her head to slide the folded blanket underneath.

She let out a quiet whimper before her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Okay. You’re okay. I got you.” He pulled out his phone, opened the timer, and set it on the floor. He continued to whisper soft reassurances to her and started the timer as soon as she started to seize.

Despite his training and having treated patients with seizures at work, he couldn’t help but notice the way his hands shook as he carefully kept her rolled on her side. “You’re okay,” he repeated, more to reassure himself than anything. He continued to repeat it several more times as he waited for her to stop.

He felt his anxiety spike again as he watched the timer hit four minutes. He thought about what time it was, trying to figure out which shift was manning the 118 currently. He knew if she hit five minutes, he would have to call 9-1-1. As the timer rolled past four and a half minutes, her movements finally began to slow. He breathed a sigh of relief and pushed some hair out of her face as she stilled. Next, he used the corner of the blanket to wipe the saliva that had dribbled out.

For his own peace of mind, he checked her pulse, satisfied that it was steady and only slightly tachy. Next, he counted her breaths, ensuring her breathing was also back to normal. Then he sat there, running his fingers gently through her hair, and waited for her to wake.

Finally, after several minutes of anxiously waiting, she groaned.

“Hey, sweetheart. You with me?”

Slowly, she cracked her eyes open and looked around for several moments before finally landing on his face. She was clearly confused and still disoriented.

“You’re okay. You just had a seizure,” he explained. “Do you remember feeling it coming on?”

She thought for a minute before finally nodding. Groaning again, she rolled onto her back and threw an arm over her face. “Trash,” she slurred.

Eddie shifted away to grab the trash can sitting in the corner and move it beside her. “Do you want to sit up?”

“Not yet.” She lied there, trying to regain her bearings.

He took her hand in his and ran his thumb softly over her knuckles. “Anything I can do?”

“Mmmm, make the jackhammer in my head stop? And the nausea, too.” She rolled back onto her side before starting to push herself into a sitting position and pulling the trash can between her knees. “This blows.”

Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her temple. “I know. I’m sorry. Do you want something for the headache?”

“Not yet. I don’t want to puke it right back up.”

She didn’t know how long she sat there, taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to clear the nausea. All the while, Eddie rubbed soothing circles across her back. The soreness was already starting to settle in all her muscles. Eventually, she pushed away the trash can and leaned into him.

“Ya know, this isn’t the kind of interesting I was hoping for. Stupid fortune cookie,” she grumbled.

“Me either. You think you’re ready to move?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her gently.

“Yeah.” She nodded. He stood, and she reached a hand out for him. “Help me up?”

Instead of pulling her up, he bent down and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back and easily lifted her. He walked slowly towards her bedroom, cautious of making the nausea worse, then set her gently on the bed. “What do you need?”

“Uh, I will take that Tylenol now. Plus, water and some Advil for in the morning, and the trash can by the bed,” she listed, then, with a pout, added, “Please?”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

She laid back into her pillows as she waited for him to return. Next thing she knew, she was peeling her eyes open to find Eddie beside her, rubbing a hand across her head.

“Here, take these and then you can go to sleep.” He handed her the pills and then opened a bottle of water before offering that as well.

Once she’d swallowed them, she took a few deep breaths to clear the flare of nausea. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He pressed another kiss to her hairline.

“As much as seizures suck, it’s really nice having you here to help. I’ve just slept on the floor in there so many times because I just didn’t have the energy to move.”

“I’m glad I was here. I hate that you’ve had to go through that alone.”

“I hate that I have to go through it at all.” She sighed. “And I just broke my longest streak. At least I didn’t try to take a chunk out of my tongue.”

“Ouch.”

She nodded. “Yeah, one time, I had to get stitches from biting it so bad.”

He cringed. “That sounds awful.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering closed. “Work is really going to suck tomorrow.”

“No, it won’t.” Eddie argued. ”You’re taking the rest of the week off.”

“I can’t!’ she declared, opening her eyes and leaning forward. “I have too many things to get done and a meeting first thing that we’ve been working toward for three weeks.”

“You just had a seizure,” he pointed out the obvious. “For the first time in, what, two years? And a long one at that. You were about twenty seconds away from a trip to the hospital. You don’t think your stress levels had something to do with this?” His tone was one of frustration, but she could tell he was just worried.

She sighed, knowing he was right. “Maybe.”

Eddie climbed into the other side of the bed and settled nearly in the middle. “So take the long weekend. Just relax and get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Shifting to curl into his side, she giggled. “You’re not a doctor.”

He huffed. “Medic’s orders. Is that better? Or I can call a doctor.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Rolling impossibly closer to her, he pressed one more kiss to her forehead. “Good night, mi amor.”

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her alarm clock. She was surprised to find it was nearly ten already. Slowly, she shifted onto her back and turned her head to look at the other side of the bed. She found Eddie sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Good morning,” he greeted as he noticed she was awake. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore. Which is pretty much what I expected.” She took Eddie’s hand in hers. “And maybe a little grateful that I got to sleep in and I don’t have to get up and go to work.”

He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “You needed it.”

“Oh, shit!” she panicked. “I didn’t call. I missed the meeting. I’m gonna get fired!”

Eddie shushed her. “I called. Just breathe. It’s okay. I called earlier and talked to your boss. He knows you’ll be out today and tomorrow and told me to tell you to take Monday also, if you need to.”

She took a deep breath and let herself relax. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course. How about some breakfast?”

“Mmm. Yes, please.”

Eddie let go of her hand and got up off the bed. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared out of the room, and she could hear him moving around her kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a plate and set it on the bed in front of her.

She looked up at him, surprised. “Since when do you make omelettes?”

“Uhh, well, never?” He laughed. “I may have called in reinforcements. Bobby dropped it off earlier. I just reheated it according to his very direct instructions.”

“Eddie! I could have just had some cereal or something. You didn’t need to make him drive over here so early on his day off.” She reached over to grab her phone off the nightstand.

“I figured you could use real food. I was going to order delivery, but Bobby offered.”

“Why would he have offered?” She opened Bobby’s contact to send him a thank you text. “Oh. You told him about last night.”

“I couldn’t fall asleep. Then they were all texting in the group thread. So when they asked why I was still up, I told them. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have without asking you first.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like my epilepsy is a secret. They’re your—our— friends. I’m sure I would have told them anyway.”

He nodded. “Okay. Eat and then you can go back to sleep for a bit. If you want.”

She cut a piece off the omelette and ate it. As she chewed, she spoke, “Bobby says we’re invited over there for dinner if I’m feeling up to it. I told him we would let them know a little later today.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

She took another bite of her food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Shaking his head, he explained, “I ate earlier.”

“Oh, right.” She glanced at the clock. “I forgot it was so late already.”

“Anything else I can get for you?”

She contemplated for a moment. “Umm, maybe a glass of apple juice?”

He disappeared from the room with a simple nod.

Soon after he returned, she finished her omelette and he took the plate into the kitchen.

“Did you want to go back to sleep?” he asked.

“How about a shower and then a movie on the couch?” she countered, throwing off the blankets she was still tucked under. As she stood, dizziness flared, causing her to sway slightly before sitting back down.

Eddie was in front of her instantly, steadying her. “How about a bath instead?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz fanfic #911 fanfic #911 oneshot #hurt/comfort #epileptic reader #seizures

402 notes · View notes

just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 5 months

Text

Title: Never Gonna Happen

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 904

Warning: bit of angst, pretty on par with episodes

A/N: Saw these photos and gifs, wanted to see what I could do with them. Enjoy!

—

The SUV hadn’t stopped when Hotchner jumped out of the vehicle, immediately sprinting towards the other agents running.

“Hotch!” Morgan yelled out as he chased after him. “Hotch stop!”

The agents turned the corner into an open lot, Hotchner and Morgan immediately behind them. One of the agents tackled him, taking him down hard onto the pavement.

Hotchner drew his weapon. “Move!” He yelled at the agent. They rolled off the unsub and Hotchner's foot was immediately on the man’s throat, gun aimed at his face.

“Hotch!” Morgan yelled again as he came up behind him. “Stop! We need him,” he grabbed Hotchner’s arm. “We need him…alive. You know that.”

Hotchner looked over his shoulder at Morgan. “Fine. Watch him. He needs at least four men on him at all times. We can’t fuck this up. Y/N needs us to not fuck this up.”

Walking back to the other SUVs that were rolling up, Rossi got out of the passenger side of one, waiving Hotchner over to him.

“You look like hell. We got him. Get yourself together, Aaron. We got him.”

Hotchner gave him a nod as he walked past him to another car.

“And shave,” Rossi yelled after him.

Hotchner had just finished wiping off his face with a towel when he saw Emily’s name on his caller ID.

“Tell me he didn’t get away.”

“He’s in the wind,” Emily paused. “We have a lead bu-“

Hotchner hung up. He threw on a shirt, grabbed his vest, and left his apartment. He caught a look of himself in his mirror in his front hallway. The man he saw was the one he knew he needed to be. Focused. Disciplined. Methodical, so Y/N could survive this. She deserved his best.

Rolling up to the command center he got out of the car and crossed to where the team was standing.

“That’s the unit chief we know,” Rossi clasped his hand on his shoulder. “You ready?”

“I have to be.” Hotchner crossed his arms, looking at the SWAT team leader. “Explain yourself.”

“I know we fucked up, you don’t need to remind me. He had three men posing as guards. They released him once we gave them temporary custody of him while we changed over our men.”

“Reid, review the tapes. Emily and Rossi, get Garcia to review all traffic cameras in the area and get a description from the agents. Morgan…you’re with me.”

Morgan followed him as he walked towards the SUV. “You need to focus.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hotchner spun on his heels. “You think I don’t know that every moment I was held up getting here, he was holding her?”

“Hey, you were overseas. He knew that. That’s why he timed it like this. You know that. He wants you hurting. He’s done that. Now make him pay for it.”

“You drive.” Hotchner tossed Morgan the keys.

“Garcia,” Emily walked into her office. “Please tell me we have something. We’ve been out all night. We need something so Hotch can calm down for even a minute.”

“I’m trying I swear. There’s just…nothing. They were good. I’m looking at it in every possible angle.”

Emily’s phone rang. “JJ please have news.”

“We have a plan.”

Hotchner tightened his tie, pulled on his blazer, and walked out of his office.

“You sure about this?” Morgan gave him a long look. “You think this will work?”

“He wants to show us what he can do. He wants to push through every boundary possible. What better than the defenses of the FBI headquarters?”

Rossi walked over. “So business as semi-usual. Go to the conference room. Pull up the case. Work it, or appear to work it, like we need a new angle. And Aaron, you’re with me.”

The team moved to the conference room as Rossi and Hotchner headed to his office. Halfway up the stairs the doors to the unit opened.

“Hotchner! You forget I got your bitch? Or do you not care?” Everyone’s eyes took in the sight of him holding you against his body, gun to your head.

Hotchner drew his weapon and moved around the desks. “Let her go.”

“No. You don’t get to order everyone around. Especially me.”

“You’re going to lose.”

“Nah, you are. She means nothing to me, why should I hesitate.”

“Aaron, please.” You locked eyes with him. “I know I’ve let you down, I’ve let you down in so many ways. Just let me go, let me fall out of your life.”

“See,” the unsub sneered. “She wants out. Right?” He pushed the muzzle deeper into your head. “She wants you to drop her.”

“No.” Hotchner paused. “She wants me to drop you….Y/N now!”

You let your body go limp as you slipped out of his grasp. As you fell to the floor Hotchner unloaded his clip into the unsub.

As soon as you heard his body drop, and the gunshots stopped, you looked up.

“I knew you’d understand.”

Hotchner ran over to you, dropping to his knees as he pulled you into his grasp.

“I’ll always understand. I will never stop looking for you. I will always save you.”

“You won’t let me go?” You whispered, hugging him as tightly as possible.

“Never gonna happen, Y/N. I’m never letting you go.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds angst #Aaron Hotchner x reader

161 notes · View notes

boldlyspeedydreamerreturns · 3 months

Text

VoxVal fic time.

Was supposed to post this last week, but the new episodes came out and I got distracted. This was actually a request from a mutual. Enjoy 😊

-------------------------------

Vox threw open the door of his bedroom and flopped down on the large bed with a groan. It had been a very long day. It seemed like every other time he turned around something else was going wrong or someone needed his attention. His battery was almost completely drained. He laid there motionless for several minutes trying to decide if he should make the effort to put on his pajamas or just pass out. He heard the door open and close again. He barely turned his head enough to see Valentino standing beside the bed.

“Vox? You alive? You're on my side again, roll over.”

“Roll me over yourself, I'm too tired.” Val huffed and sat on the edge of the bed next to Vox.

“Long day?” Vox rolled his eyes at Val’s question.

“No, not at all. Why do you ask?”

“No need to get sarcastic, brat.”

“Val please…I'm really not in the mood right now.” Vox turned his head to be face down on the pillow. Valentino sighed and stood up, walking over to the other side of the bed and getting in next to Vox.

“Hey…” Val put a hand on Vox’s back, making the TV demon look up at him.

“You…want me to do that thing you like? You know, that always makes you smile.” Vox knew exactly what Val was talking about.

“Don't you dare. I'm not in the mood to have my circuits overloaded.” Valentino took this as a challenge, moving his hand up and down Vox’s back playfully.

“Are you sure, sweetie? You always like it.” Vox curled his body away from Val's touch.

“Seriously Val, it's been…a day. I just wanna relax.” Val sighed again and laid down next to Vox, inching closer to him.

“Fine fine, I won't do it. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Right now I just want some quiet.” Val wrapped all four of his arms around Vox, pulling him close, making Vox the little spoon. Vox sighed and let himself relax against Valentino. The two stayed that way for a long while until Vox turned around, tucking his screen head under Val's chin.

“I'm really tired, Val.”

“Then take a nap, Voxxy. I'll be here when you wake up.”

“No, that's not what I mean. I just…” Vox felt himself starting to shake. He hugged onto Valentino tighter.

“I'm tired of everything. Of the company, of the attention, of the responsibility, everything. I just…wanna disappear.” Val was shocked by Vox's confession. Valentino rubbed his back gently.

“Vox…please don't. I know everything can be overwhelming. Fuck, I have no room to talk, I'm overwhelmed all the time. But…if you disappeared…” Vox looked up just in time to see tears pricking in the corners of Valentino’s eyes.

“Val…”

“I know I can be an ass. I know I don't always take things seriously and sometimes…I take you for granted. But, I don't know what I'd do with myself if you were just…gone. I'm sorry.” Vox reached up, wiping away the tears from Val's eyes.

“I love you, Vox. I know I don't say it enough, but I do. And I'll say it more if you want. Just…please don't talk like that again…please.” Vox sighed softly and curled up against Valentino more.

“I love you too, Valentino. More than I probably should, but still, I love you. And…I'm sorry if I scared you just now. I do want to disappear sometimes. To just go away and not think about the responsibilities that are constantly on my shoulders. But…I won't actually leave. Not if it means leaving you behind.” Vox smiled up at Val. Valentino smiled back, leaning down and kissing Vox’s screen where his mouth was.

Val kissed all over Vox's screen, making the TV demon laugh. They stayed in each other's arms for a long while.

“If you ever do actually decide to leave everything behind, let me know so I can follow you. We'll disappear together. Velvet can handle things on her own.” Vox laughed again at Valentino's words.

“Maybe it's not disappearing completely, but I could definitely use a vacation at the very least.” Vox tucked his head back under Val's chin. Valentino smiled and hugged Vox tighter.

“I could get on board with that. Things have been insane in the studio lately.” The two shared a laugh. Vox yawned.

“Something to talk about later. I really do need to get some rest.”

“Alright my love. Sleep well.” Val kissed Vox one more time before getting comfortable, pulling the blanket over them, both slowly falling asleep.

Neither seemed to notice they were both still in their regular clothes, but it didn't seem to matter.

#voxval #staticmoth #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #ship fic

113 notes · View notes

starryseokmins · 7 days

Text

# sub taehyun drabble

pair: kang taehyun x fem! reader content warning: SMUT, sub! taehyun, dom! reader, fingering (m! receiving), pegging, nipple play (m! receiving), choking, premature ejaculation, lots of whining, praise & degradation, pet names like good boy, baby, kitty. w/c: 1.5k a/n: i haven't posted in a hot minute... whoopsies. anyways, i had a dream about fingering taehyun last night and i had to write it >_<

as soon as you heard the front door open and taehyun's voice call out 'i'm home!', you hopped up from the sofa and practically sprinted to the entryway. "hi baby, how was your day?" you greeted your husband.

taehyun hangs his coat up and takes off his shoes, leaving them by the door. "productive but boring. i missed you." he replies softly, pulling you into a hug. "did you eat?" you asked while walking through the house.

"mhm, yeonjun treated me to a meal." taehyun followed you into the living room, plopping down onto the sofa with a groan. you settled next to him, turning on the series you've been watching together for the past week.

it wasn't until halfway through the second episode of the night you noticed taehyun starting to get a little restless, his hand that was resting on your thigh now drawing circles on your skin. "tyun," you murmur and he looks at you. "you okay?"

without looking at you, he nods, pursing his lips. "you're a bad liar."

he gives you a glare that makes you chuckle. the familiar glint in his eyes was something you'd seen hundreds of times. "oh, kitty's horny?"

taehyun's head snaps to face yours, seeming to try and come up with an excuse as he gives you a blank stare. your hand slides up his thigh, then to his half-hard cock in his pants. you give it a squeeze and taehyun exhales a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

he releases a quiet groan when you rub his bulge through his pants, now fully hard. "i need you."

"nuh uh, say it properly." you tut, hands coming up to play with the hem of his shirt. "please?" he whimpers.

"good boy." you smile, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. an idea pops into your head and you giggle. your leg swings over his thigh, now seated on his lap. you start off slow, kissing and sucking marks onto his neck, basking in the soft sounds he makes directly into your ear.

"lay back for me baby." you tell him and he does, the new position exposing his whole torso. you can't help yourself, sliding your hands up and down his toned body. "you're so pretty, tyunnie. my pretty boy."

while your fingers start to tweak his nipples, he keens at your praise, whining when you start to play with the both of them. you lean down, mouth wrapping around taehyun's left nipple, sucking on it.

taehyun's hips started bucking into you as his whimpers got louder and more frequent. "m-more.. need to be inside you." he whines.

you don't answer, flicking his right nipple a few times in return as you went back to sucking and giving his left one kitten licks. you didn't know taehyun was this sensitive there until you felt a wet patch on his sweatpants under you. sitting up, taehyun's eyes are shut tightly, lips parted. "did you just cum?"

"no!" he whines, covering his face in embarrassment. your hand snakes down his torso and past his waistband, pulling it out only to be covered in white stuff. "what's this then?"

taehyun simply whimpered in response, not able to speak while he watched you lick his cum off of your hand. "bad kitty, i didn't say you could cum yet, did i?"

you made your way to your shared bedroom, taehyun quickly following. he gasps when you push him onto the bed. "get on all fours, tyun." he quickly obeys, positioning himself in the middle of the bed. you take your time undressing, putting on your strap-on.

taehyun had also fully undressed, not exactly on all fours like you'd asked but instead had his back arched with his ass out, tempting you. opening the bottle of lube you had stored in your drawer, you spread it around your fingers and taehyun's ass.

"you ready, tyunnie?" you ask, finger prodding at his hole. "fuck, yeah." he breathes out. you slide two fingers in at first, letting him get used to the stretch. "shit, need more... i can take it," taehyun whimpers out.

you scoff, putting a third then a fourth finger in. he mewls out when you start moving them, thrusting your fingers in and out. "thought you could take it?"

"ohmygod!— i can!" he rasps, taehyun's hands gripping the sheets as he cries into the mattress when your fingers found his prostate, hitting it over and over. he looked so hot at your submission — drool coming out of his mouth, legs shaking trying to hold himself up, fingers gripping the sheets, back arched — all for you.

"who knew you were such a slut, tyunnie?" you tease, practically ramming your fingers inside him. your other hand came around to wrap around his cock. "ah, please let me fuck you already..." taehyun chokes out and you laugh. "i'm fucking you tonight, kitty."

the slow pace you had on his cock contradicted the roughness you were fingering him with. "mmf—fuck… ‘m— gonna cum–" he whimpers, crying out when both of your hands withdrew from him. "babyyy, i was so close!" he whines, sniffling as a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

"too bad, i'm not letting you cum early again." you push your fingers back inside him and taehyun lets out a sigh of relief. this time, you fucked your fingers into him painfully slowly. taehyun was still teary and clouded with lust at this point, sniffling and trying to push his hips onto your fingers to get more friction. "it's not enough, please just touch me, y/n." he begs.

mocking him, you pull your fingers out yet again, instead picking up the bottle of lube you left next to you and covering your strap with it. taehyun held his breath when he felt the tip of the toy prod at his hole.

"breathe, baby." you cooed, soothing him by rubbing his back as you carefully slid the strap inside. taehyun's small groans egged you on, bottoming out not long after.

taehyun finally exhaled once the toy was fully inside. his mind was hazy, not being able to think a coherent thought except for that he felt so full. "tyun," you call out. "you okay?"

"mhmm, never felt better." taehyun smiles and you can't help but giggle. another moment passes and you finally move, making him groan in surprise. you started with passive, slow but teasing thrusts. the little gasps and whines coming from your lover was addicting.

"faster!" taehyun whimpers. your hand slivered up his back, around his shoulders and take claim on his neck. lightly adding pressure with your fingers, his back arches up and you pull him towards you, his head now lolling back onto your own shoulder and you quickened your pace.

you thrusted into him roughly now, the hand that was on his neck roaming up and down his chest, back in forth between playing with his puffy nipples and back on his neck. "that's my good boy. take it like the slut you are." you purr into his ear.

"fuckkk— 'm close," taehyun moans and you fuck into him as hard as you can, the contact of your bare thighs on his own making a loud clapping noise that drove you to fuck him impossibly harder. "feels— ah, so good!"

"gonna cum all over yourself? you're so pathetic, my cute kitty." you teased and taehyun whines, " 'm not cute, fuck— fuck you."

you chuckled, slapping one of his cheeks that made him cry out. "gonna cum soon," taehyun says. "not unless you beg me." you slow your pace down, fingers digging into his hips.

"please, baby. need to cum so bad , it hurts." taehyun begs, tears pooling in his eyes. "i'll do anything!"

"good boy, you can cum." you smile before going back to the rough pace you had before, fucking taehyun so hard he started twitching, mouth wide open but no sounds coming out, a little drool on the corner of his lips. his eyes were scrunched shut.

"i want you to look at me when you cum, baby boy." you moan, and he opens his eyes, looking up at you with the cutest lust filled puppy dog eyes. you gave one last thrust and taehyun was cumming, white ropes shooting onto his stomach. you swiped a little with your index finger and tapped his mouth. he obliged, wrapping his pretty lips around your finger and tasted himself. you pulled out, taking the strap off and setting it aside to clean later.

after a few moments of basking in the afterglow, taehyun looked down at his stomach and cringed. "let's go have a shower, i feel gross. amazing, but gross."

"me too." you laughed and helped taehyun out of the bed and into the shower, leaving the night with a heavy atmosphere.

#taehyun smut #kang taehyun smut #taehyun #kang taehyun #txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #txt #tomorrow x together #sub taehyun #— ✏️ starryseokmins

58 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part Five)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Words: 5,456

Summary:

This plays after Grace’s death but before Tommy becomes a politician. Lizzie is pregnant with Tommy’s child, so it is somewhere around season four.

In this fic, Tommy suffers from episodes of PTSD and so does the reader, resulting from trauma and abuse. They will help and save each other without realising that their connection is much stronger than they could have anticipated.

There will be love, fluff and smut as well as a highly taboo relationship.

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

QUESTION: WHO IS TOMMY TO THE READER? WHOOPS!

Two hours later, at Arrow House…

Luckily for you, Tommy had left you with his car when leaving the library abruptly last night. It was dark already and, according to Arthur, there was no time to drop you off at your house.

Along with his car, Tommy gave you his address and, after some nagging, you had Linda spell it out to you and give you directions.

His house was outside Birmingham and, when she referred to it as Arrow House, you knew straight away where it was. The house used to belong to a politician who was famous in Birmingham for all the wrong reasons.

He was a criminal just like Tommy himself but, in the end, was poisoned by a very jealous wife.

With that story in mind, you knew your way around and, at around midday, you pulled up in front of the large mansion.

Just as you parked the car and turned off the engine, you were greeted by a woman dressed in black. She was a maid and probably in her late forties.

“May I help you, ma’am” was what the woman said, recognising Tommy’s car. You clearly did not look like a threat to her so she approached you without concern.

“I am here to see Thomas Shelby” you told her while stepping towards the front door while she tried hard to hold you back.

“Mr Shelby does not wish to be disturbed today” she then told you while reaching for your shoulder, which was a manoeuvre that frightened you just a little.

“Please don’t touch me” you cautioned her gently as, suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.

“It’s fine Frances. Let her in, eh” you heard Tommy say from the hallway and, as you walked into the large foyer, you watched him walking down the stairs wearing nothing but black suit pants.

His otherwise naked chest was covered by a large white bandage, wrapping around his right shoulder as well and, just as he spoke to you, he was smoking a cigarette.

“What are you doing here Love? Shouldn’t you be at the gambling den?” he asked surprised to see you and whilst you were worried about him having been shot, you did not address it just yet. You were here to confront him and this was what you were determined to do.

‘Is it true?” you thus asked instead while your eyes were glued to his chest.

‘Is what true?” Tommy asked before reaching for your hand gently, but you pulled away from him with the request not to touch you.

“Alright. No touching” he determined before he asked you to follow him and you nodded in agreement, before doing so quietly, keeping your distance from him until, eventually, he led you to what appeared to be his reading room.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the large red lounge in the middle of the room while Tommy poured you and himself a glass of whiskey.

“Now tell me Love, is what true? Why are you here, eh?” he asked again while handing you the glass and you took a quick sip before placing it on to the small coffee table in front of you.

“Are you just using me to find my stepfather? Is that why you asked me all those questions about him the other day?” you asked almost reluctantly, wanting it to be nothing but a lie.

“What gave you that idea?” Tommy chuckled before taking a seat next to you. He placed his glass on to the coffee table as well and then pushed his cigarette into the ashtray in front of him.

“Linda told me everything” you told Tommy as a few silent tears escaped your eyes.

“I doubt that she told you everything” Tommy chuckled again.

“Why? What makes you say that?” you wondered while Tommy slowly wiped away your tears, using his thumbs.

“Linda does not know what I know” Tommy then told you while caressing your cheeks.

“What is it that you want from me Thomas?” you then blurted out, taken by the gentle nature of his touch. You were overcome with emotions and just needed to know what he truly felt for you.

“I want you” Tommy responded gently while attempting to kiss you but, again, you pushed him away. You did not believe him.

“Bullshit. You want to recover the money my stepfather owes you. Linda told me” you cried while trying to turn away from Tommy but he would not allow it.

“Look at me” Tommy said almost desperately and you did so reluctantly.

“Initially, yes, this is what I wanted to do. I wanted to use you to find your stepfather” Tommy admitted before making yet another admission to you. “I also wanted to fuck you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. I thought that you were a whore and I thought that, somehow, I could buy you. Because this is the kind of man I am. I use people and pay women to fuck. I don’t do romance” Tommy then said while, again, reaching for your face gently but you would not have any of it.

“Get your fucking hands off me” you spat after having heard his admissions but Tommy would not leave it alone.

“I am not finished yet Love and need you to listen to me, eh” Tommy requested. He was not done talking yet and, for some reason, you continued to listen.

“I wanted to use you, yes…but that was before I fell for you and before I wanted to be with you so fucking badly that I no longer care about the money” Tommy then said much more reluctantly before, eventually, telling you what happened last night.

“Arthur killed your stepfather last night. He did beat me to it and, yes, this is also the kind of man I am. I have done bad things Y/N, but you need to understand that this doesn’t change the fact that I am falling in love with you” Tommy finally admitted and your chin dropped. You weren’t sure whether you should be more surprised by the fact that your stepfather is dead or by the fact that a man like Thomas Shelby just admitted his feelings to you.

“You killed my stepfather?” you asked first, thinking that this is the issue that would need to be addressed first.

“No, Arthur did” Tommy said almost bluntly and without regret.

“But what about the money then? You will not be able to recover it now that he is dead. I do not understand Tommy. And why Arthur?” you asked and the truth was that you had so many questions.

“Like I said, I no longer care about the money. What he did to you is what matters to me. He hurt you and this is why I allowed Arthur to kill him. Vengeance can be a powerful thing and Arthur had his own motives for putting a bullet into his head” Tommy told you while making a third attempt to reach for your hands and, this time around, you let him.

“Oh my god” you then gasped and you weren’t sure whether it was hatred or relief that you felt.

“I am sorry Y/N. You probably should not have gotten involved with me. These are the things I do” Tommy said honestly and this time around you chuckled through your tears.

“My mother warned me about men like you” you admitted, seeing that she had warned you about the gangs in the region as well as the men who run the factories there. Of course, your mother had different motives for this, but you did not know this.

“Your mother is a wise woman then and, in case you did not know, my brother used to be in love with her but she chose your stepfather instead” Tommy said, explaining his brother’s motives. “Needless to say, you cannot tell Linda any of this. For all she knows, Arthur shot a man simply to protect me” Tommy then explained and you nodded.

“Does Arthur know about me and what my stepfather did to me?” you asked, wondering what Tommy had told him.

“Yes, he knows about you, but I did not tell him about the abuse. He was devastated when he found that, not only, did your mother marry your stepfather in the end, but also did she have a child with someone else whom he knew nothing about” Tommy then explained before telling you that Arthur was now determined to find out who your father was.

“My father is dead, Tommy. So why does it matter to your brother now? He is married to Linda” you pointed out.

“Closure I suppose” Tommy determined. “Your mother broke his heart which is also the reason I wanted to hide my feelings for you from him” Tommy explained, causing you to chuckle.

“Why?” you asked, thinking that this kind of behaviour was childish.

“Because it feels a little inappropriate, eh. My brother was in love with your mother and now I am in love with you. You are her fucking daughter…” Tommy explained and you were quick to interrupt him.

“You and your brother just shot a man and you are worried about being in a relationship that might be seen as a little inappropriate? Jesus Tommy, it is not that we are fucking related” you laughed, causing Tommy to nod reluctantly before, once again, caressing your face.

“I suppose” Tommy chuckled. “So, do you forgive me?” he wanted to know and you smirked.

“That depends…” you teased.

“On what?” Tommy wanted to know, causing you to bite your lower lip seductively.

“Well, do you remember how we spoke about taking pleasure in intimacy last night? That was before your brother interrupted us…” you said, causing Tommy to furrow his eyebrows.

“Yes, I remember” he responded and you smirked again.

“Good, because that is what I want you to do. I want you to show me pleasure and, if you do, I may forgive you” you told him nervously and with blushing cheeks.

“You want me to show you pleasure, eh?” Tommy chuckled while running his thumb over your lower lip.

“Yes, although perhaps we should wait until your wounds have healed. Linda said you were shot, so…” you began to say while Tommy stood and reached for your hand.

“Trust me Love, I am fine. Come on” he interrupted you mid-sentence before pulling up from where you were sitting.

“Where are we going?” you asked nervously.

“To my bedroom, unless you want one of the maids to watch?” Tommy teased and you nodded nervously.

“No, I do not” you told him.

“I did not think so” Tommy chuckled before showing the way.

***

You followed Tommy upstairs and he let the way into his bedroom which was specious and beautifully appointed.

There was a large cedar framed bed in front of a large window and the crisp air startled you for a moment before, eventually, you began to enjoy the breeze.

Tommy approached you after, for a moment, you glanced towards the large bed. He could tell that you were nervous, so he caressed your face gently again after approaching you and then you stood there, silently, just staring at each other.

Tommy’s hands then moved to yours and you could feel his fingers rubbing up and along yours as he was holding your hand. Your heart was pumping out of your chest and you were nervous, because even though you did not want to leave. you were not sure what was coming next.

“Tommy, I need you to go slow’” you whispered out just before Tommy slid his free hand along the side of your face and you looked deeply into each other's eyes as he stepped in a bit closer.

“Don’t worry Love, I am not a man who likes to rush things” he reassured you and you certainly appreciated his patience.

Tommy then tilted his head slightly and leaned in. He placed a soft closed lip kiss on your lips and your initial reaction was to back away, but the intensity of the moment kept you frozen in place. Your mind was racing at speeds you couldn't even comprehend and you were beyond scared and extremely nervous about what he might do to you.

Tommy then leaned in again and, before you could even make up your mind, he kissed you again. This time, when your lips touched your mouth opened. Your tongue met his and you kissed deeply, softly and slowly, just feeling each other out.

You got so enamoured by kissing him that you forgot all about your surroundings and started to slide your hands up and along the outsides of Tommy’s arms. Tommy pulled in tighter up against your body and you could feel his erection pressing against you.

“God, I love kissing you” you told Tommy as you felt a tingling inside of you that you never felt before. Your body was trembling and your pulse was rapid.

“Good, because I love kissing you too Love” Tommy said after he pulled away from your kiss and started to lightly kiss up and along your neckline instead.

“Is it alright if I keep kissing you here? And then, perhaps, here too?” Tommy whispered against your skin as his hand slowly travelled from your face, over your neck and then all the way to one oof your breasts.

“Oh god yes” you moaned as you were so turned on by hearing his words that you felt yourself getting wet.

You pulled him in closer and Tommy's hand slid up and down the sides of your ribs as our passion heightened. You had no idea what you were doing, or where this was going, but you were turned on and you was liking this.

Eventually, Tommy's hand came to rest on your left breast, over your blouse and you gasped as his palm caressed your chest until, eventually, Tommy pulled his hand away slightly.

Without breaking your kiss, he started to unbutton your blouse, flinging it open as he got done with the last button. He then dropped it to the floor and continued with your bra, slowly loosing the back before disposing of it as well.

"You are beautiful” Tommy then whispered to you after pulling away from you and whilst you felt the need to cover up your breasts, you restrained yourself from doing exactly that. Instead, you took up some courage and quickly wiggled yourself out of your skirt as well, leaving you standing there, in front of Tommy, wearing nothing but some heels and your panties.

“Fucking perfect” he then said and you giggled in response to his comment while kicking off your shoes.

“Oh, please…” you moaned as Tommy's head dipped down onto your lower neck again. You were not sure what you were pleading for but it must have been something.

“Lay down for me Love” Tommy then ordered gently as his warm lips and tongue whirled along your skin and you gave him a quick nod before stepping backwards and laying down his rather large and comfortable bed.

“Fuck” you exhaled as your head met the pillow.

“It’s aright Love, I will just touch and kiss you slowly until you get used to it, eh?” he said reassuringly from where he was still standing.

He was perfect in every way and you were mesmerised by how handsome he was even despite several scars which he clearly had inherited from being shot.

After not too long, Tommy then joined you on the bed. He kissed you again gently before, finally, telling you to close your eyes but you shook your head. You were not ready for that.

“Remember, I will stop whenever you say stop, eh. I will not force you to do anything Love” Tommy then told you again and, this time around, you nodded nervously.

“Promise?” you asked after he gave you another tender and loving kiss.

“I promise” he then responded and, with that, you closed your eyes and tried to concentrate on the feeling of Tommy’s gentle touch while trying to ignore the growing desire to feel his weight on top of you.

It was confusing to say the least but also god damn sensual.

Slowly, Tommy began to run his fingers over your arms, then your stomach and then all the way up to your now naked breasts. In between, he kissed you passionately on the mouth before nibbling on your ear and neck.

All these sensations were driving you insane and, after as little as ten minutes or so, you could not relax anymore. You were getting more and more comfortable now and you were also getting aroused by his caresses.

This man, who you had met less than two weeks ago, was slowly earning your trust all while fuelling your need and, with that, you could not keep your eyes closed any longer. You had to watch what he was doing to you. You had to see the movements of his muscles now that you could.

‘Tommy’ you thus whispered slowly and he responded immediately.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he wanted to know but you shook your head.

‘No. I want to watch you’ you told him, earning you a quiet chuckle from Tommy.

‘Then by all means Love, open your eyes” he said and so you did before, abruptly, looking down on yourself.

You could not remember when your nipples had popped to attention but you saw them now, standing proud against the dark circles around them. They bobbed up and down with your panting breath. You could hardly bear the anticipation of what his hands would feel like as he touched them knowing that, clearly, he would have noticed your arousal by now.

Tommy was not looking you up though. He was much more timid than that. He took his time and smiled while gazing into your eyes.

Your eyes met his and your mouth wanted to speak but nothing came out. You swallowed and tried again.

"What is it Love?” Tommy asked as your skin caught underneath his powerful grip, but nothing came from your lips. You remained silent.

“Tell me what it is that you want me to do” Tommy then told you reassuringly and, after a heart-stopping moment of tension, you nodded and tried once more.

“Could you, uhm…” you began to say nervously as you felt a jolt of desire race through you.

“Could I what?” Tommy smirked just as you dropped your hands down to your breasts and squeezed them. It was a brief release but the contact was just fanning the flames of lust.

"Could you touch me here?" you asked shyly and with blushing cheeks causing Tommy to lean down and kiss you once more.

You could sense him smiling against your lips and, when he traced his mouth over your neck and towards your ear, goosebumps suddenly began to cover your naked skin.

“It would be my pleasure…” Tommy then whispered, adoring your shyness and, just he nibbled on your ear momentarily again, a loud moan escaped you.

Then, Tommy looked at you again and traced his way across you until his large hands were covering your breasts. Tearing your eyes away from his, you gasped at the image in front of you. Your supple flesh fit perfectly into his hands and you immediately got lost in pleasure.

“Like that?” Tommy teased as he began to knead them and rub his fingers over your nipples.

You let out a moan and now you really needed him, needed to feel those lips on yours again. You reached up for him but he was already stooping down to kiss you. You felt a tiny puff of indignance that you were so easy to read, but then your lips were meshing with his and you forgot all about that.

You ran your fingers into Tommy’s hair and kissed urgently up at him. You loved making out with him so much that you would be content to just lie there, together, kissing for hours. He was gentle with you and you were developing strong feelings for him.

“Keep going” you eventually demanded as Tommy flicked one of your nipples with one of his fingers and you hummed your pleasure into his lips.

Then, without warning his mouth was gone and you gasped in a deep lungful of air as he started to kiss a trail around your mouth and chin and into your neck.

“Keep going Tommy. Please” you said again as your core twitched in surprise as you felt a rough hand move across your stomach. His fingers trailed lines of fire down your body as he caressed your smooth skin, drifting down, and down, tantalisingly closer to the heat between your legs.

“Keep going” you shuddered once more in anticipation.

“Where do you want me to touch you Love? I need you to say it” Tommy then teased as the sensations of his kisses at your neck and the touch of his soft hair underneath your fingertips now drove you absolutely crazy.

“Down there…In between my legs…please” you gasped, even though you had never been touched there before.

“Be specific” Tommy grinned as he reached the area just below your navel and his hand slowed even more; tracing some swirling pattern across your skin there.

“Tommy…please” you begged. Your hips bucked up off the mattress involuntarily as the hand stopped completely just as it reached your thighs. You growled in frustration and lust and Tommy simply smiled.

“Tell me Love, where exactly do you want me to touch you?” Tommy teased as you squeezed his head in your hand. You then pushed him back and locked your eyes with his.

“Fuck Tommy” you said as you reached up again and grabbed his hair tightly. You saw his grin widen briefly before he spoke again.

“Tell me…” he mused, causing you to bite your lower lip.

“I want you to kiss my breasts and touch my pussy” you then blurted out, blushing as you did and this caused Tommy to smile.

“Then why didn’t you say so, eh?” he teased before dropped his head to your aching breasts and you gasped at the jolt of electricity that forked down your body as he nipped at a nipple before softening his mouth around it.

“Holy fucking Christ” you screamed as the warm suction, the friction of his nose on your chest, the feeling of his hair between your fingers; all of the sensations bleeding into one another. But all of them a distraction. His hand tickled and edged its way downwards still, hovering over your hot core.

“Please! Tommy!” you then gasped in desperation. Enough was enough and, as he kept teasing you still, you grabbed his hand and forced it down, beneath your panties, just as you bucked upwards again. His fingers parted your lips and now he could feel just how wet you were.

“You are soaking wet Love” Tommy observed and you moaned loudly at the contact and fell back flat against the bed. His fingers pressed on firmly into your sex as his other hand caressed your hair and cheek. Your mouth opened as your moan turned into a deep sigh. His left thumb dipped into your mouth and you bit down on it as his right hand moved through your wet folds, one thick finger pushing inside of you. Your eyes closed and you moaned around his thumb. Fuck, this was intense.

“And so fucking tight” Tommy then groaned as, eventually, he pulled his head back from your chest after sucking and nibbling on your breasts. He smiled at you, quietly this time, and your hips gyrated and thrust against his touch, but he never slowed his steady rhythm.

‘Tommy’ you moaned as you gripped his forearm as an intense wave of pleasure pulsed out from your clit all the way down to your toes. You could feel the strength locked away in the muscles of his arm and you knew you was utterly at his mercy. It was absolutely terrifying and enticing at the same time but you couldn't concentrate on that feeling, the lightning racing around your body was too distracting. You opened your eyes and felt another gush of heat from your pussy as you looked up into Tommy’s staring down at you.

You trusted him, more than any other man before as blue eyes filled with lust and a burning intensity looked down on you. God, you felt like you could cum just from looking at those beautiful things. It was insane.

"You never had sex, did you?” Tommy then said, almost gently. He assumed as much but you never quite told him how far you had gone with anyone before.

‘No and I swear that I have never been touched like this before either’ you then said and gasped as his finger slid up your wet crease again and then slowly circled your pulsing clit.

“Did you ever touch yourself?” Tommy then asked and you shook your head again.

“Only briefly, a few times, but it never quite felt like this” you panted and Tommy smirked and, every time you felt like you were getting used to his ministrations, he changed his rhythm or set a different part of you on fire. He was playing your like an instrument; learning your reactions to different movements and sensations, drawing out a sharp pulse of pleasure from your body before moving on and building another layer to it.

But then, his hand was gone from your pussy and the air was a mild shock against your exposed core. You strained your neck down and watched as he suddenly plunged his finger back into you. The sensation was shocking but the wet sound of your pussy greedily pulling him in was what drew another ragged moan from your lungs. One excruciating heartbeat of feeling filled and then he withdrew again.

“Oh god, I am…fuck…I don’t know what’s happening to me” you moaned as another obscene noise filled the room. You felt like you were losing your mind. With every thrust of pressure inside your there came an accompanying sound and you could not tell which one turned you on more. You could hear just how aroused you were; your pussy exposed, and probably dripping, with your legs spread as far as they could.

“You are feeling pleasure Love. Allow your body to relax into it” Tommy said as, once again, he began to build a steady rhythm, getting a little faster but still pausing momentarily before fingering you again, and again. His other hand caressed your breasts, your nipples, your neck, your shoulders; your skin, welcoming his swirling movements. His touch was gentle and caring, just as he had promised. But there was also arousal, a lot of it.

Eventually, after a while, you saw that hungry look on Tommy’s face. He knew that you were close to cumming and you felt drunk on the waves of pleasure sparking over you.

“Tommy” you screamed again as the slow torture of Tommy’s touch had been incredibly sensual but you didn't think that you would ever feel like this. You felt slutty and embarrassed but there was no time to care. Your core tightened and you were just aware of your back arching off the bed and your hips pushing upwards.

“Let it happen. Don’t hold back” Tommy said. He clearly knew what was happening because he snaked his free hand back down your body and began rubbing your clit. He pushed firmly, but not too hard, and made tight circles around it. He kept the same steady firm pace into your pussy but the pleasure and raw heat suddenly pulsing into your brain from your clit was just as strong now. You felt like your senses were being overloaded. You could feel you were past the point of no return, just waiting to fall until you gasped in a final, ragged breath and then you were gone.

“Holy Shit! Fuck! Tomm…” you screamed. Someone moaning and writhing around in ecstasy but it could not have been you, because you were somewhere else. Your mind slipped into a fog and the raw energy of your orgasm raced through where your body should have been. You shuddered and twisted and then, as if a switch had been flicked inside your nervous system, you began to feel things from the sensitive parts of your body.

Your pussy clenched around something filling you up. Your abs contracted almost painfully. Then the rest of your body slowly came back to you and you let out a long breath as everything relaxed and you collapsed against the bed. Everything was too bright and raw. You let out another gasp of breath as Tommy pulled his fingers out of you. You looked up at him and saw a wide smile across his handsome features. Your cheeks and chest felt incredibly hot, as if they were burning. As you basked in the aftermath of your orgasm you faintly wondered if you should say something. Or whether you could say something to him.

“What the fuck was this?” you eventually blurted out and Tommy smiled widely.

“You had an orgasm” he told you before leaning in and kissing you again.

“I never felt this before” you admitted before looking down on your body again, seeing that your panties were covered in your juices now and so was the bed. There was a huge puddle and you wondered whether you had wet yourself, but decided not to ask. This was embarrassing and, yet, Tommy appeared to be rather pleased with himself.

“You probably should get some rest now Love” he said but you watched him closely. Just like the men you had seen at the brothel, he was clearly aroused and you wondered whether you could make him orgasm as well.

“I am not tired Tommy” you thus told him before slowly tracing your fingers over his chest. “May I touch you as well?” you then asked and he told you gently that you did not have to do anything like this, if you did not want to.

“But I want to Tommy. Let me make you feel the way you just made me feel” you determined just as you heard a loud knock on the door to Tommy’s bedroom.

“Fuck” Tommy cursed before walking to the door while you covered yourself up.

“What is it, Frances?” Tommy then asked, causing the maid to blush.

“You have a visitor sir” Frances announced and you watched as Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Tell whoever it is that I am fucking busy” Tommy told her just as you both heard some footsteps and the click of high heel, approaching…

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tommy Shelby Tag List:

@fastfan

@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

@allie131313

@cilliansangel

@coldbastille

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

@damedomino

@lauren-raines-x

@miss-bunny19

@skinny-bitch-juice

@odorinana

@cloudofdisney

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@allexiiisss

@geminiwolves

@letsstarsfalling

@ysmmsy

@chlorrox

@tommyshelbypb

@chocolatehalo

@music-lover911

@desperate-and-broken

@mysticaldeanvoidhorse

@peaky-cillian

@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz

@december16-1991

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

@romanogersendgame

@randomfangirl2718

@missymurphy1985

@peakyscillian

@lilymurphy03

@deefigs

@theflamecrystal

@livinginfantaxy

@rosey1981

@hanster1998

@fairypitou

@zozeebo

@kasaikawa

@littleweirdoalien

@sad-huffle-nerd

@theflamecrystal

@0ghostwriter0

@stylescanbeatmyback

@1-800-peakyblinders

@datewithgianni

@momoneymolife

@mcntsee

@janelongxox

@basiclassy

@chaotic-bean-of-smolness

@margoo0

@vhscillian

@crazymar15

@im-constantly-fangirling

@namelesslosers

@littlewhiterose

@ttzamara

@cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon

@dolllol2405

@pkab

@babaohhhriley

@littleweirdoalien

@alreadybroken-ts

@masteroperator

@stevie75

@shabzy96

@rainbow12346

@obsessedwithfandomsx

@geeksareunique

@laysalespoir

@paigem00

@lkarls

@vamp-army

@luckystarme

@myjumper

@gxorg

@eline-1806

@goldenharrysworld

@cristinagronk16

@stylesofloki

@faatxma

@slut-for-matt-murdock

@tpwkstiles

@myjumper

@cloudofdisney

@look-at-the-soul

@smellyzcat

@kittycatcait219

@theliterarybeldam

@layazul

@lyn07

@kagilmore

@50svibes

@mainstreetlilly

@ourthatgirlabby

@bitchwhytho

@takethee

@registerednursejackie

@sofi128

@mrkdvidal1989

@minxsblog

@heidimoreton

@laylasbunbunny

@queenshelby

@camilleholland89

@forgottenpeakywriter

@vintagecherryt

@indierockgirrl

@mrkdvidal1989

@bluesongbird

@dudde-44

@gasolinesavages

@kissforvoid

@bluebird592

@1eugenia1isabella1

@esposadomdp

@lulunalua23

@lovelace42

@bookklover23

@iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@moonmaiden1996

@marlenamallowan

@cyphah (cannot tag)

@majesticcmey

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@throughgoeshamilton

@alessioayla

@elenavampire21

@justforfiction

@cilliansangel

@alannielaraye (cannot tag)

@satellitelh

@simplyreading96

@idledreams

@vic-top

706 notes · View notes

a-little-buggy · 13 days

Text

"Amore mio, we cannot keep doing this." Ezio paced across the wooden floor, running his hand through his hair. It was entirely dark out, and the room was lit by a single candle on the table. "You were gone two full days! I practically turned this city upside-down looking for you!"

"How was I supposed to know I was still seeing things!? I genuinely thought it would wear off before now!" Desmond was sitting in a common room chair; the dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by his washed out complexion. He had just come from a bath, otherwise he would still be coated in sweat and hay. "I thought after a few weeks everything would just go back to normal! Well. . ." Desmond gestured around at the Renaissance assassin's guild hall. "Normal being relative, and all."

Ezio pulled a chair over by Desmond and sat down, picking at the stray straws of hay still glued to Desmond's skin. "I know that you are just trying to keep active, but please. If I get another report of you passing out in an alley, or landing in the river, I swear to Christo I will go gray." He stopped and cupped his hands around Desmond's face. "Don't do this to me, Desmond. I'm too young for gray hair."

"Oh don't worry, it'll be just as popular with the chicks as ever." Desmond gave a *swish* of his imaginary long locks, but the motion made his head spin. He braced his arms against the table. "Though I personally have less interest in the grandpa-type."

"Molto bene, that means you should have a personal investment in not causing me any more stress!"

"You think it's stressful for you? You're not the one running an imaginary Boston Marathon every other weekday!" Desmond scoffed, and laid his head down on the table in such a way as to still be able to give Ezio the stink eye.

"You know that isn't how I meant it. I just wish I could convince you to stay safe." Ezio rocked his chair back, and set his heels on the corner of the table. "At the very least, until we have some kind of answer as to when these episodes occur, or why."

Desmond gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "What if we never get any such answer? What little I know about bleeds is that I originally got them from using the Animus. Except now, I've somehow traveled back through time, so who even knows what kind of effects that could cause."

Ezio pressed a finger to his forehead. "Wait a moment. What is the Animus?"

"Seriously? It's the device that showed me your memories. We talked about this a few days ago."

Ezio removed his feet from the table and sat upright, eyeing Desmond suspiciously. "And when was this again, exactly?"

"Why? I. . . I guess it was four days ago, now, so Thursday? I remember it was raining."

Ezio bit his lip and grimaced, then giving a deep exhale placed a gentle hand on Desmond's leg. "I had a contract in Forlì that day."

"No, no. You're kidding." Desmond pushed off of the table and sank down into the wooden chair, as if it could absorb the impact of this new revelation for him. Ezio couldn't have imagined Desmond getting any paler, but he had. "No. No no no no no Ezio I -"

"Hey, it's alright, you're alright, I just need you to breathe." Desmond was badly shaken by this point, and his legs had given out, leaving him sinking to the floor. Ezio grabbed hold of his shoulders, trying to ease his downward descent.

Desmond's voice cracked. "No, no, it's not alright!" He grabbed Ezio back, desperate for some kind of tether. "How can you stand there and tell me it's alright, just after telling me that you may not even be here!?!?"

"I am here, though. I'm here." Ezio wrapped his arms tightly around Desmond, holding him as close as he possibly could. What else could he do? "Just try to breathe."

And so the two sat there, as the candle burned down to a stump. Slowly, Desmond's shaking turned to shuddered breathing, which turned to deep breaths.

Ezio rubbed Desmond's shoulders. "It may not be much longer until daybreak. Do you think you are ready to try for some sleep?"

Desmond slumped forward, burying his face in Ezio's chest. "Honestly? I think I'm too exhausted to make it to bed. Here seems fine."

Ezio chuckled. "For you, perhaps, but I am a creature of comfort." With one of his arms still wrapped around Desmond's back, he slid the other one under Desmond's knees and stood up, carrying him off towards the bunks.

Desmond wrapped his arms around Ezio's neck. "My hero," he sleepily crooned.

"Don't sing my praises just yet, amò." Ezio shifted Desmond's weight, fumbling to turn the doorknob. "I may expect you to return the favor one day."

"What?!" Desmond gasped, playing up the dramatics. " 's not fair, you're much bigger than I am!"

"Is that meant as a compliment or an insult?"

"I dunno yet." Desmond yawned. "I'll decide later, when I need one or the other."

Soon enough, they both had clambered into bed, and were able to get some much needed sleep.

-----

Desmond spent the next few days occupying himself in the base. Besides helping sort through the dispatching of contracts, he got caught them caught up on some long overdue weapons orders and offered advice to whatever young assasin might come knocking. This was his favorite task. It was a reminder of a simpler time, of when he could stand behind a bar and just chat with people about whatever was ailing them. Except this was a little more murder-y. But having been a bartender in New York, it was not so much more murder-y as one might think.

But all the same, he was beginning to feel cooped up. And so he went to seek audience with the Mentorè, about perhaps being allowed on a group mission of some form.

There were two novices already in Ezio's office, a boy and a girl. They were likely discussing the details of an upcoming contract. Having already opened the door, Desmond knocked on the doorframe. Ezio waved him in.

"What can I do for you, Desmond?" Ezio propped his elbows up on the desk and clasped his hands, resting his chin on top of them.

"Oh, it can wait. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Desmond glanced over at the novices, who in fairness, seemed unperturbed.

"So can this. Please, continue." Ezio leaned back in the chair, and the two young assassins stepped to the side.

Desmond cleared his throat. "With your permission, Mentorè," On this word he did a slight bow. Ezio rolled his eyes. "I would wish to be sent on a mission. As part of a group, of course," He hastened to add. "It's just. . . I don't do well feeling confined. And I'm about ready to go stir-crazy in here."

One of the novices smirked. "Is that different from the regular crazy somehow?" He asked. Desmond gave a dry, mocking laugh in response, but then turned back to Ezio and. . . Oh shit.

Desmond always knew that Ezio Auditore da Firenze was a dangerous man. He knew of all his great conquests, and had seen the fear in the eyes of his enemies. And yet somehow, to see the master assassin here and brimming with fury, it felt like the first time he really understood how terrifying such a man could be.

The other novice slapped the first upside the head, and then grabbed him by the wrist. "Thank you for the advice, Mentorè. We will send word as soon as we complete our task," She said, dragging him out the door, which closed firmly behind them.

Ezio took a deep breath, and settled back into his seat.

Desmond shuffled his feet. "Hey, so umm, you wouldn't have actually murdered that kid, right?"

"Fortunately, we will not have to find out." Ezio shot what he assumed was a comforting smile up at Desmond (it wasn't) and then rifled through some papers on his desk. "I actually have a mission that should suit you just fine. It should be straightforward, a matter of some scouting and interrogating a handful of people. There will be two others with you, and you will cover a fair bit of ground. Benè?" Ezio handed over a map with a few directions and way points marked on it.

Desmond nodded. "Yeah, benè. Thank you, Ezio."

"You're welcome. You leave in an hour. And Desmond," He continued, once Desmond had turned to leave. "I know you are highly skilled, but do still be careful."

"I will." Desmond walked back over to Ezio, then kissed him on the cheek and winked. "I promise."

Ezio kicked his boots up on the desk. "Oh, you are such a flirt."

"Well, I come by it honestly." And with that, Desmond left to make preparations.

-----

Desmond was sitting atop a window dormer, watching the surrounding area as another assassin prepared to 'talk to' a gang member in the alleyway below. A third assassin was perched on another neighboring rooftop, similarly spying for any potential complications. This was the method they had all decided on, and it had been working quite well. One person would go to meet the target, and the other two would remain above: out of sight so as to not cause any alarm, but close enough to drop into the fray should anything go awry. This was the last one on their list, and then they could all go back and herald their mission as a success.

He scanned the skyline. Besides the other assassin (whose name he had learned was Achille), there was no one visible up here. He peered down into the street. Piera (visible in blue) had just cornered in on the gang member (visible in gold). One or two of their targets had been willing to part with their information before it came to blows, but such instances were few and far between. Piera gave a quick display of her hidden blade, just to make her intentions and alliances clear.

As was typical, the conversation started with an exchange of thinly-veiled threats. "Next will come the unveiled threats, and then the diet violence," Desmond mused to himself.

The target started shouting. Desmond thought he heard another voice. He scanned the rooftops again, and this time saw a pair of guards off in the distance behind him. He looked back at Achille, who did not seem to react. "This again," Desmond muttered under his breath. He shifted to the right, and the guards were gone from his line of sight. "Please let that fix it." He turned back to watching the alley.

"You belong down in the street with the rest of the filth!" The voice was still distant, but it was definitely louder this time.

Desmond sighed. He turned to look behind himself, and saw the two guards from before making their way over, and a third guard climbing up behind them. "Just ignore them, and they'll go away," He said to himself. He turned back to the alleyway.

"Get down off this roof, or I will throw you off myself!"

Desmond scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. I think I'm finished throwing myself off of rooftops because of figments of my twisted imagination."

He heard another shout. This one wasn't from the target, or the illusory guard, but from Achille. "Desmond, look out!"

Desmond spun around, but not quickly enough, because a boot impacted him squarely in the chest, and he fell from the roof.

He desperately reached out, trying to grab hold of something to hang from. His right hand caught the wooden paneling of the window he was sitting above, but the wooden beam was brittle and snapped off, splintering under his fingernails. He yelled, and was unable to grab hold anywhere else.

Desmond's ankle rolled as he hit the ground, and he fell prone. The guard peered from the rooftop above, and apparently for the first time put together the implications of there being three hooded figures together. "Assassinos! Get them!" Well, so much for subtlety.

Piera ran over to help Desmond to his feet, and the gang member bolted. Desmond shook his head, and pulled himself up. "Don't worry about me, I can handle a few guards. Don't let the target get away!" He turned to face the building he had fallen from. The guards were already descending. He shifted his weight, and winced. Running's not an option. He readied his blade.

Desmond lunged at the first guard to get his boots on the ground. He hadn't yet pulled his sword, so Desmond easily grabbed hold of him, sliding the hidden blade between his ribs. Unfortunately, the next two landed with their swords already drawn, and Desmond could hear more footsteps fast approaching. "Shit, how many of you are there?"

He heard a shriek from above, and looked up just in time to dodge a guard falling from the rooftop, an arrow lodged in his chest. He landed with a dull, wet thud. Desmond spared a glance up towards Achille, who was already nocking another arrow. "Oh, this should be a peace of cake, then."

Desmond crossed blades with the two guards closest to him, parrying and deflecting their attacks. One of them leaped forward with an arcing swing of their sword. Desmond dodged under and to the side of the swing, then came around behind the off-balance guard, slitting his throat.

Another shriek, another thud. Desmond easily dispatched his next opponent, sweeping him off his feet and then skewering him where he fell. But the next guards approached together, and Desmond had to shift his focus to defense again.

Shriek, thud. One of the guards tried to bring his sword down on Desmond's head, who used both blades to intersect it. In the sword's reflection, Desmond saw another guard coming from behind him. "I've got you now, assassino!" Desmond shoved his current attacker off and spun around, swinging his blade in a wide arc. But as soon as his blade hit the guard's chest, he disappeared into mid-air.

Desmond growled. "Are yOU KIDDING ME!?!?!"

Shriek, thud.

A low chuckle from one of the guardsmen. "Jumping at shadows, boy? Ready for someone to put you out of your misery?" Desmond turned on his heel and lunged for the unlucky dastard's face, plunging both of the hidden blades deep into his eyesockets.

What few guards remained turned tail and ran.

Shriek, thud. Desmond turned once again to Achille, who was now clambering down the building, bow in hand. "They were already running, y'know."

Achille landed on the street, and shrugged. "They picked the fight. The least they could do is have the decency to see it through."

Desmond chuckled, then rubbed his shoulder. "Well, whether Piera caught the target or not, by now, she'll be heading back to base. We should be, too." He looked down at his swelling ankle. "No crazy parkour shit though."

-----

Ezio was pacing back and forth across the wooden floor, combing his hand through his hair. Piera had gotten back with her report on the mission two hours ago. He had already sent ten otherwise idle assassins out searching for Desmond, and he was deliberating about sending more.

"He has returned!" Came a voice from the door.

Ezio raced to the door. His stomach lurched when he saw Desmond, covered in blood and limping, except. . . He was also smiling? There he was, covered head-to-toe in blood, and grinning ear-to-ear!

"Desmond? Are you. . ." He looked Desmond up and down. Bloody. Beaming. "Did you hit your head?"

"Ezio!" Desmond threw his arms up wide, flinging blood on the assassins unfortunate enough to be standing near him. "No, I'm just fine! Well, I wrecked my ankle, but not nearly so much as I wrecked all of the guards!"

Ezio laughed. "So, you determined that what you needed was catharsis, and that any guard would suffice?"

"Well no, actually," Desmond responded a bit sheepishly. "I let them get the drop on me, believing they weren't real."

Ezio very abruptly stopped laughing. "You WHAT -"

"Can we discuss it later? I know it's a problem, but I'm currently riding a high, and I would like to enjoy it."

Ezio started to object, but instead wrapped an arm over Desmond's shoulders. "Later then." He lifted his arm, and stared in horror at the gloopy mess now dripping from it. "Dio mio, someone needs to give you a bath."

Desmond smirked. "Are you volunteering?"

-----

I don't ever think of myself as a creative person, so I am ABSOLUTELY blaming @sulfies that I have done this again, lol. I hope you enjoyed though! Much less bleed effect whump this time around, and much less re-reading to check that it makes sense, lol. Hyperfixation + insomnia = I wrote another story, but now it's a quarter to six in the morning and I may low-key hate myself tomorrow (today?). Thanks for reading!

#assassin's creed #fanfic #heavy bleed effect au #cw blood #ezio auditore #desmond miles #I also didn't sleep at all last night so whoops #death by insomnia any% speedrun #but i got to write another story! so it was worth it!#the words just kept wording! and thats still very new to me!#should that all have been one story? idk! idc! (i mean of course i care but you get the gist)

62 notes · View notes

toomanyfandomsimfanvergent · 9 months

Text

Evan "Buck" Buckley x Reader

Summary: This takes place a little before the quarantine episodes (I believe season four). No major spoilers, but be warned there may be some. Firefighter!118!Reader

A/N: Please send me some requests for Evan.

--------------------------------------------------------

"God, how much longer is this going to last," Buck said as you both had received an email saying that it would be at least and additional two weeks until you could return to work due to a virus.

"At least we get more time with each other," you said as he continued pouting. Being at home this much was killing him.

You, not so much. You had only been back at the 118 for a week before news if the virus hit. You had been out for a few weeks after you broke your wrist after getting hit with falling debris during a fire.

Buck had finally stopped pacing around the apartment and sat next to you on the couch. Whenever he couldn't work he was absolutely miserable. Everytime he was stuck at home.

"You might want to enjoy the break, once we get back to work it's going to be hell," you remind him. If the virus is a permanent thing there will be new protocols and more emergencies caused by it.

"I guess you're right," he said under his breath and you smiled. He hated admitting that you were right.

"I can't hear you, what did you say?" You tease and Buck groans. He knows you heard him. You do this every time he has to say those dreaded words.

"I know you heard me, but you're right," he says. "there, I said it," he finishes and you let out a little laugh.

"I'm always right," you say and he laughs with you. Quarantine wouldn't be so bad as long as you had each other.

Buck sighed, anytime he needed you, you were there for him. When his leg was crushed, And he was stuck at home for what felt like all of eternity, you took a lot of time off.

You made sure he was never alone more than he had to be. And you had this way of knowing if he needed you or to be alone. He didn't understand how you did it. You just did.

"Thanks for being here with me," he said as he pulled you into a hug on the couch. You smiled into his embrace.

"Of course I'm here, I live here silly," you reply with a smile.

"No, I mean always being there for me. You do everything I could ever need and more," he says as his voice begins to crack.

"It's because I love you," you say and place a kiss on his cheek. Everything you did was for love. From running into a burning building after Buck, to staying at home a little more because he couldn't leave.

"I love you to sweetheart," he says. The comforting weight of your body in his lap was comforting. He picked you up and you gasped as he carried you up the stairs and into his bed.

"You know I hate when you do that without a warning," you say and he smiles before cuddling yo next to you on the bed.

"You know I love doing that," he says as he runs his fingers through your silky hair.

--------------------------------------------------------

Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Request are open!

#evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #evan buckley x female reader #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckely #evan buckley one shot #evan buckley fanfic #evan buckley imagine #911verse #911 fox #911 #911 spoilers #911 buck #911onfox #requests are welcome #requests are open

227 notes · View notes

heartofwritiing · 6 months

Text

and you just can’t say goodbye.

paring: (zombur) William Godwinson x fem!reader

summary: Wil gets bitten, and angst ensues.

authors note: HUGE thanks to @ax-y10 for the help because originally this fic was gonna end a lot more agnsty but then they gave me an idea that was more on the happy side! I've never written a zombie apocalypse setting before so please excuse anything I get wrong. I've only watched other people play The Last of Us and I've briefly seen one episode of The Walking Dead so you can see how this will probably go. lol. The Sorry Boys zombie video is brain-rotting in my head rn I've watched it about four times now. yes. I love Zombur, so here's a drive-by of me throwing this fic at you and then skirting off with smoke from my tires. enjoy the brainrot :p (I'm so sorry this took me so long to get out, I've been procrastinating finishing it because I'm having some self-doubt at the minute but I hope you guys like this anyway even though it's a mess lol)

warnings: zombie apocalypse au, angst, death, violence, swearing, lots of kissing, characters use guns, the writer doesn't know anything about how guns work lmao, sort of happy end? super unedited!

"shit! I'm out of ammo!"

You pulled the trigger on the handgun once more, but nothing. It was luck that you had even found one. Even so early on in an apocalypse. A month had gone by since the first day of the outbreak. Though it was likely that you should've died on the first day, you don't know why you've survived this long. you should be dead.

At first, you thought staying in your apartment was the best chance you had of surviving. Big mistake. That strategy turned south when your front door was barged in after four days of no disturbance from any outsiders. Your boyfriend Wil had grabbed everything you could carry, and you hadn't stopped moving ever since.

Now, you and Wil found yourselves trapped in an alley with no escape. A pack of infected had cornered you, slowly closing in while making menacing noises. Wil bravely stood between you and the horde, fighting them off to protect you.

"Climb up the fire escape!" he shouted back at you.

You looked around until you spotted a ladder conveniently placed on the side of the building within reach. Infected were dropping like flies as Wil's shots echoed through the air. The ladder shook as you climbed, heart pounding in your ears. You glimpsed down to check and see if Wil was following, to find he was surrounded on all sides by infected. Your heart dropped when you saw one of their mouths was too close to his wrist. By the time you called out his name, it was already too late.

'Fuck!' Wil screamed as the infected bit through his skin and charred his flesh. Blood gushed down his arm and around the infected's mouth. You cry his name as he reeled back his fist and punched the infected repeatedly until it staggered off of him, but it was too late. Your eyes were fixed on him as he quickly climbed up the ladder, gasping for breath as he did so. He seemed in immense pain as he pulled his body up the ladder, slightly struggling.

Upon reaching the roof, you found a roof access leading to a floor with multiple doors, revealing it to be an apartment complex. Wil was already feeling the effects of the infection. His skin was sticky with sweat, the bitter taste left in his mouth tasting the blood rising in his throat, and the sudden vertigo he got just by rushing down the stairs was enough to make him nauseous.

You came to the floor with all the apartment units and quickly kicked in the door of the closest one. It took a few attempts to kick the door, and then bam! The sound of splitting wood and the door bouncing off the wall made a delirious Wil jump.

You entered the small room, helping Wil through the doorway, and setting him down gently before closing the door. You searched around for something to barricade the door with. Just in case of any infected find you. The only thing that looked heavy enough was the dresser tucked into the corner. Using all your muscles, you pushed the object across the room with the bottom of the dresser scraping against the wood, grimacing at the loud noise.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you knew you were safe for now. You dusted your hands off and turned back to Wil who was slumped against the wall on the floor, clutching his bitten arm. Wincing and squirming from the heat burning through his skin spreading throughout his veins.

The room was dim, and you noticed the sweat beading down his forehead. You quickly took your backpack off your shoulders and strode over to him. Taking out the first-aid kit you had for emergencies, you pulled out the tiny bottle of anti-septic cleaning solution and the roll of bandages.

You gazed down at his wrist, which was curled against his chest, shrouding you from looking at it. The ring of teeth marks oozing out the color of maroon as black vines protruded around the area, extending over his skin. His head lulled to the side as he let out a moan of pain.

"No, baby, keep your eyes open," you tried to lure him back to consciousness. Take his hand and position it palm up in your lap. He whines like a wounded animal in response.

Unscrewing the cap, you quickly prep the cotton pads. Then you quickly realize you should've put on gloves beforehand. Muttering curses under your breath you shake your head at the thought, There was no time.

"What are you doing?" Wil's voice slurs. He sounds groggy, like something is trying to creep up his throat to escape, not him. It scares you. You refuse to look at him.

"I have to clean the wound before it gets infected," you say nonchalantly.

With the little strength he has left, Will reaches out his unbitten hand to catch yours. You stop your movements in disbelief of his actions, tears brimming in your eyes as you try to save his life, but he stops you again. You both know what's inevitable, you just can't accept it.

"Wil-" you try to pull out of his grasp. You reach out to touch his wrist again this time, he is the one who pulls away.

"Look at me," he pleads. You can't bring yourself to shift your eyes to his, knowing this was inevitable. You had to try. He had to let you try.

"just stop."

Wil tries to grab the items from your hands, but you move too quickly for his shrinking reflexes to keep up. Moving beginning to be too strenuous.

"I can't- Wil-" You struggle to fight against him, too scared to hurt him. Though he's already dying.

"Stop, honey..." he quivers.

"Just let me save you!" you cry. It echoes through the room. The air is tense, and you finally meet his eyes. His skin is sickly pale, eyes bright with red veins and glossy. Purple hues outline under his soft doe eyes as they peer into yours. He fists the hem of your shirt, inviting you closer. Your breaths mix together as he presses his forehead to yours.

The words hang between you, but you bite your tongue. You want to tell him how much you want him to stay and not give up. Deep down, you already know it's not enough.

"It's too late for me darling, leave me here.”

“I'm not leaving you,” you say sternly, shaking your head.

You were determined to stay with him, no matter how difficult things got, you were unwilling to abandon him.

“Please, I don’t want you to see me turn into a monster.” his voice wavered. Your heart sank. No matter what, he would always be your Wil. Sweet, caring, and lovable Wil. Whom you adored with every fiber of your being.

You reach up to cup his face with your hands, but they feel cool against your clammy skin. His cheekbones are slowly becoming more prominent. You stare into his eyes, but the urge to tell him to be quiet becomes harder as anger festers in your chest. However, it's not anger towards him, but rather frustration towards the universe.

Instead, you snuggle up next to him to demonstrate your lack of fear and your trust in him. You want to be by his side and provide comfort. You understand that it's unrealistic to expect him to recover from this infection given his history of being sick and having a weakened immune system. It's best to accept the inevitable outcome.

It's unclear how much time has passed while the two of you remain in that position. His arm securely around your shoulder holding you close, with your arm laid across his lap where your fingers provided soft circles against his hip bone. The room grows darker as the sun sets. The air feels eerie yet comforting all at once with Wil by your side. Nothing but the sounds of his raspy breathing and occasional coughing fit to surround you. He whispers through the dark against the crown of your head with horse words. Sweet nothings, promises that make you curl into him further so he can't see the single tear you shed.

He lifts his hand to gently cup your cheek, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Selfishly, he leans in for a soft kiss. You whine at the metallic taste in his mouth when he groans to part his lips so his tongue finds yours. It makes your head spin like a top how this man makes you feel. His lips are chapped, rough, and fast as he indulges in you for maybe the last time. You gasp and reach up to tangle your fingers in his locks to reel him closer to you. His hand finds the underside of your thigh, digging into your flesh. The mere touch of his hand sets your body ablaze and sends shivers down your spine.

It's frantic and passionate, your love for him shown physically. When you disconnect, suddenly remember you need to breathe. his eyes are hazy and his pupils are blown. You are sure you look like a flustered mess.

"I love you," he says sincerely, and you believe him.

It stings in your chest, you can't stand it.

"I love you more," you reply.

You tuck yourself into his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and outdoors, and it's calming. Wil rests his head on the crown of your head. You neglect how his breathing has slowed as you drift off to sleep.

The next time you open your eyes, the sun peeks through the window, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. Your bones crack when you sit up to stretch from sleeping in the same position all night. You knew you'd regret it later when you had back pain for days. You turn to Wil, who doesn't stir when you move. Your heart dropped when you noticed something different about him.

Around his eyes were a darker color than the previous night. His cheekbones were completely sunken in where you could almost see the bone. his lips were a blueish color and his chest was rising and falling.

This was your fault. You should have stayed awake.

Tears streamed down your face as you called out his name, gently shaking his body, but he didn't respond.

"Wil!" you wailed, begging for him to come back.

You slumped forward, cradling him against your chest, pressing kisses to his temple, and muttering apologies against his cold skin. You felt your heart break as you realized he was gone, and tears rolled down your face as you held him close to you. You felt a deep emptiness settle in your heart. You knew you would never fill the void his death had left. You sobbed, gripping him tighter, and whispered your final goodbye. You held him close, cherishing holding home one last time. Knowing that you would never be the same again.

You're too distraught to move. You don't want to leave him here, but you don't have any other choice. The urge to keep on and survive was slowly fading now that you had no one left in this cruel world.

Wil felt heavy in your arms to the point where your arms were falling asleep, but you refused to let go. If you were to leave now, you may be tempted to never return to the person you once were. Allow your sorrow to consume you. The one good thing left in your life was gone.

You suddenly felt hands grab your lower back, causing you to yelp in surprise. Fingers gripe harshly at your skin through your clothes. Wil's chilled breath glides up your spine as he lets out a deep groan against your collarbone. He was alive? How?

His lips ghosted across your collarbone, pressing his nose directly into your pulse point. His hot breath fans across your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your body. Then, you feel his teeth nipping at your skin, and your eyes widen realizing his intentions.

You jerk away and shove him off you roughly. Crawling backward, quickly shuffling away from him, your heart pounding, until your back hits the opposite wall with a thump. You wince in pain from the impact and notice Wil gradually beginning to crawl toward you. A fixed gaze over his sheer white eyes, almost glowing like moonbeams. Chills ran down your spine as you gazed at your former lover, unrecognizable.

You froze as he approached, shrinking in on yourself. His body lazily dragged itself across the wooden floor, scrapping and groaning with every floorboard. Once he was close enough, his hand unexpectedly reached to grasp your ankle, and you screamed in fear. Nails harshly dig into your skin and create recent moon shapes that make you cry out.

He yanked you with a surprising strength until you were laid beneath him, overbearing you. You are powerless as Wil, or not Wil's body leaned over you and cadged you with his arms. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes and into your ears as his face inches towards you.

"Please," you whisper. Again, he tilts his head in curiosity at you.

"William?" Your eyes bore into his, trying to find some trace of life left in them. You observe his eyes returning to their natural color and a look of terror crossing his face as he regains consciousness. He staggers back and moves away from you frantically, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe.

You both sit on opposite sides of the room against the wall, he stares into the floor burning holes into the wood, avoiding your eyes. You just blink blankly at him in shock, knees tucked against your chest again.

Wil cradled his skull, clutching fist fulls of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, and heaving breaths of panic puffed out his mouth. Mumbles of "I'm sorry," repeated like a mantra over, and over out shakily.

You let out an unsteady breath, His eyes quickly flicked over to you and fear flooded your senses once again.

"Darling?" he tries, his voice hoarse. He moves towards the center of the room, positioning himself a safe distance from you. “I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..." his voice trails off.

He noticed your tense reaction upon watching him inch closer to you, and it broke his heart to see you trembling in fear due to his prior actions. He could never forgive himself for causing you such distress.

"is it really you?" you asked.

"I don't know," he says honestly. "I don't feel like myself, It's like I'm trying to grab hold of a stearing wheel and fight for control right now."

Your heart sank at his words. You let them maul over in your head for a moment. It sounded like your Wil, but you hesitated in reaching out to him. So, was he alive? He didn't look it, his skin was still deathly pale and almost decayed. Nose now dripping with dried blood that ran down his lips.

His head hangs low as he silently sobs. He didn’t want this. Now he was dead and was leaving you to defend yourself. He swore he would always protect you and he’s failed. He knows its selfish to ask you to stay with him, you should just leave him here to rot. Still, he begs you.

“Please, darling dont leave me,�� You shake your head and crawl towards him. He might be an undead zombie now, but you still loved him more than anything else is this life. You would do anything for him. You take his face in your hands to tilt his head up but he avoids your eyes. “look at me,” his eyes shift to yours.

“I wanna help you baby, and im sure as hell not gonna leave you, not now, not ever.” you proclaim. “So don’t you dare ever try and push me away, because im staying. No matter how complicated things get.”

You bring yourself to kiss his forehead, your warm lips making him sigh out from the touch. He holds you for what feels like hours. Eventually you both know you’ll have to leave this abandoned apartment, whether you run out of food or more zombies show up. move on, then figure things out. Whatever it takes you would stay together, no matter what.

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @drop-of-void

#wilbur soot x reader #fanfiction #zombie apocalypse #sorry boys #wilbur soor x fem!reader #agnst #x reader #writing #fanficton #zombur #zombur x reader #zombie au #c!wilbur soot x reader #outbreak au

125 notes · View notes

cannibalizedyke · 2 years

Text

Awe Inspiring

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Word Count: 561

Warnings: None

Summary: You've been in love with Eddie Munson for years. If only he felt the same way about you.

General Taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1

Moots: @spidervee @iheardarumorthings @thewritingbabe @scandalous-chaos @ddejavvu @winterwisteria @abibliophobiaa

A/N: Y'all help this is my third Eddie fic in two days. I have only seen two episodes of season four and I am already obsessed with him send help-

“(Y/N), wait.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. You should’ve kept going, you should’ve ran without looking back, but there was something about that voice that rendered you motionless. Tears dripped down your face. “Go away, Eddie,” you whispered.

“No. You’re upset and I’m not gonna leave you while you’re upset. Please tell me what’s going on.”

How could you? How could you tell him what was going on when the problem was that you were in love with him? Oh, Eddie, it’s nothing, it’s just that I’ve been in love with you for years and you’re in love with someone else. No biggie. “I can’t.”

You heard Eddie huff frustratedly. “C’mon, (Y/N/N), I can’t help you if you’re not gonna tell me what’s going on.”

“You couldn’t help me even if I told you, Eddie.” More tears slipped down.

“Can’t I just try?” His voice sounded on the verge of breaking. How unfair was it that he was concerned about you when you were trying so hard to fall out of love with him?

You snapped, swiveling around as your vision blurred with even more tears. “Fine! You know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I’ve been in love with you since 1983 and you’re not in love with me! What’s wrong is that I spend every waking minute thinking of you and I know all you think about is her!” You broke down, sobbing and hugging your body as you fell to the ground. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault, I just - “

“Hey, hey, hey, hey…” Eddie’s voice was soft, and sweet like honey. “Hey, Bubbles, no… I’m - “ He stopped, pressed a kiss to your forehead, then started again. “Who do you think I think about all the time?”

You shut your eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Eddie. You’re in love with Jessie, I can see the way you look at her.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Jessie? Jessica Smith? No, no, Bubbles, Jessie’s just a friend. I- I barely know her. You - “ He stopped again. “Are you really in love with me?” he asked quietly.

You sobbed again, covering your face.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, don’t cry…” He pulled you into his arms and kissed your head. “(Y/N), I’m in love with you too.”

Your cries quieted. “You’re… what?” you whispered in disbelief.

“I have been forever.” He gently thumbed away your tears. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want to mess everything up,” you whispered. “I thought- I thought I could handle just being your friend.”

“You don’t have to.” He tilted your head up and kissed you softly.

His breath tasted of cigarettes but you didn’t mind, too hungry for the feeling of his lips against yours to care about anything else. You melted against him, crying again, and let him be your anchor, the only thing holding you to reality.

You broke away reluctantly and collapsed in his arms, eyes falling shut. “I love you so much,” you told him softly, in awe of the fact that you could tell him so freely.

“I love you too,” he replied, and your awe increased.

Eddie Munson was awe inspiring, and so was the nature of your love for him. But none of that compared to the awe his feelings for you inspired in your heart.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson

2K notes · View notes

manicrouge · 2 months

Text

Episode Four: New Beginnings

[𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛] || [𝙰𝚄: 𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜] || 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 12/02/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Money is rolling in, as are the enemies. Price makes a purchase in an attempt to apologise and cover his tracks.

[𝙲𝚠]: religious mentions, suggestive content, mentions of PTSD, suicidal ideation, threats of violence, blood, gore.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 10.5k

[𝙰/𝙽]: I am so deeply sorry this took so long to come out... I hope this is enough of an apology for my absence !! There may be typos because this is admittedly very long although I have done my best to read through it. This is now the longest part... whoops.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

She was as unforgiving as the harsh tide in the sea.

Whenever she has her mind set to something, he knows she will not change. Not for him- not for anyone. So, the night after, when Kyle was safe in his bed with no more threats coming his way, he felt little shock as she walks through the door of his office. He offers her a look and nothing else, turning his eyes towards the book settled in front of him.

His cigar hangs out of his mouth, grey smoke filling the air as he runs his eyes over the figures they have made. Surprisingly, he notes the sudden increase in just today- the blessing of the horse and Fisher’s death has proven to be beneficial in one regard.

‘I can’t believe you,’ Kate begins, closing the door behind her. ‘The detective is here for the guns.’

‘I know,’ John affirms, keeping his eyes turned down towards the page, ‘heard everythin’ Kyle said; I was in the room when he said it.’

A scoff escapes her as a bullet does from the chamber of a gun. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tugs at the string of her silky blue nightgown, approaching his desk. Pulling his eyes from the page, he takes the cigar from between his lips and sighs.

‘I know I’ve messed up—’

‘You’re lying to them,’ Kate states sharply, ‘he looked up at you with a swollen, bloody fucking face, and you lied, John,’ she sharply says. ‘That detective is going to figure out just exactly who has the guns if you don’t fix this mess.’

John leans further back into his chair, tipping his head up towards the direction of the ceiling. It’s bruising, of course it is. To have looked into the eyes of one of his practical brothers and know that it’s his fuck up that got them all there in the first place.

But, that's the business.

‘We… I can’t get rid of the guns now,’ he confesses shortly.

Her grip on the back of the chair in front of her tightens as she clutches it. Part of him wonders if she’s dreaming of that chair being his neck. It’s a stupid thing to wonder; of course it is. Her fury is written all over his face, he sees it. Sucking on her teeth, she lowers down as her shoulders bunch up, and when she opens her mouth, he notes that she’s clenching her jaw.

In response, he brings his cigar back to his lips for another favourable puff of nicotine.

‘You’re getting rid of the guns.’

‘Not with Fisher’s men doing the rounds. They almost killed you this morning,’ he says, being sure to maintain a low tone as he addresses her.

‘I don’t care about Fisher’s men, John,’ Kate snaps, ‘I care about our own. Kyle is lucky he only got away with a broken nose- but what if that isn’t the end of it? What if they get Simon or Johnny- or me?’

‘They won’t,’ he says, ‘I’d kill them before I left anything like that happen—'

‘It already has happened!’ Kate exclaims, throwing her hands in the air, ‘Kyle got caught out and he got hurt bad. And all for what? A shipment of guns you were doing fine without until you got your hands on them? You don’t need those, you’re capable enough as it is.’

Her words are far from praise.

‘If you keep going like this, John, people are going to get hurt.’

‘Fisher’s men want me dead,’ he says, ‘you know, when I got out of the trenches, I thought I’d seen the end of all this shit,’ he confesses, ‘I thought, when I got home, things would go back to normal. There would be none of this ‘cause everyone realised how bad things can really get- I thought they’d appreciate the fact that they got to come home.’

Clenching his fist, he rolled his neck.

‘But everything we fought for, every man we lost, it’s just the same fuckin’ cycle. Someone thinks they know better- someone thinks that they should be top dog and then a fight breaks out. You weren’t there Kate,’ he says, ‘you know the racing business like the back of your hand, but you don’t know war.’

She stares at him, her hands finding the top of the chair again.

‘But I know you, John,’ she says, all the frustration in her mind coming out in a pitiful plea to be listened to. ‘I know you.’

All the fight in her is gone in the end, he notes the disappointment in her eyes as she lets go of the chair she has been holding onto so tightly and retracts her hands, moving them to fall against her side.

There’s a bitterness in the air, but there is nothing that reeks of ill-will. She offers him one more look before she turns sharply on her heel and heads towards the door of his office.

He knows better than to call out her name, he knows better than to attempt to apologise; in the end, is he really sorry for something he is willingly doing? Or are his apologise simply that of connivence> Had he truly been remorseful, the last thing he would have wanted would be to sit alone in the silence of the room listening to the door shut with click.

Yet, this is where he is and he doesn’t make any effort to move. Instead, he turns his focus back to the book of figures, retrieving the pen he settled down at the side of it. And in her absence, he finds himself reaching for the bottle of whiskey perched at the edge of his desk.

—

In the loneliness of the night, he finds that it is the prime time for the thought of sin to sneak in. Like an insatiable itch that can never be scratched. Every night has been the same. He strips of his clothing when he retires from his duties for the night and retreats to his shabby little bedroom.

Never one for luxury, only ever caring for money's advantage, not what it can buy him.

In his room he's left exposed, his underwear being the only thing protecting his decency from whatever is watching him. It's difficult to describe so he never really talks about it; whether he likes it or not, he is still the same old Captain he was when he was sleeping in the muddy trenches.

Before he sleeps, he lays in bed and smokes a cigar.

Whatever is in it helps ease his weary brain, the faults of the day he has just experienced being forgotten in a brief kiss from nicotine. She lingers in his mouth for a while, even when the stench of his cigar is gone.

Today has been particularly draining so he keeps his cigar in his mouth for a little longer than usual.

The thought of the barmaid is difficult to escape, even though he runs from it as fast as he can inwardly. Inners mean nothing; unless he acts upon this sudden feeling, there's nothing that can be traced back to him. No evidence, no criminal- and he is familiar with that. But, he can't help himself while alone with only himself to think of the flustered expression on your face earlier today. It's different from the mischievous glint he has seen in your eyes, and he's quite sure the pout on your lips is enough to challenge the fires that await him in the depths of hell.

He's melting at the thought, his body feels like water and his pores exude sweat as he attempts to quench his appetite with a kiss of nicotine- the very same thing that has kept him from formidable thoughts in the past.

Yet, you don't feel formidable to him. Much rather permanent.

It's your flattering purity, he's sure of it, and the dishevelment of someone who is clearly unfamiliar with how brutal his line of work with has his heart pounding against his chest. He feels like he's a teenager again, shamefully, unable to escape the emotions running through his veins.

His jaw is clenched as his mind persists on the thought of you- he's hardly seen you and he's thinking of you in ways that would even make Lucifer seem like a committed apostle.

It's not him either, typically, he knows better than to indulge in women; they only ever really cause issues. No one ever wants to commit to him for him either, it's always in terms of status and he's unsure if he's even selfish enough to indulge in desire all to put the life of a pretty lady at risk. And whether he likes it or not, giving his name to someone who isn't prepared nor deserving of the repercussions is not something he's particularly fond of.

He's done it to himself, he know he has. Even then, without the status, without the money, without his name, he's unsure whether anyone would want to stay with him.

He's a fool for even daring to think you would be any different; he's hardly spoken to you, he doesn't know anything about you. All it is is the help you gave Kyle and the panicked expression on your face this morning. Your bravery is admirable and your heart is grand- that much he knows.

Perhaps even too big to fit inside of your chest.

This is the whiskey talking.

Tipping his head back, he rests it against the wall behind his bed, allowing a grey cloud of smoke to spill past his lips, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard. His free hand rests across his stomach, and while lying against the mattress, he finds his hand taking the skin on the side between his fingers and pinching at it.

The sting is delightful- the tasteful sensation of living.

The delightful sensation of having some form of humanity.

Accompanied with the taste of nicotine and he dare might confess that it's the best he has felt in a long time. But he doesn't speak, keeping to pinching himself every couple of seconds as his eyes grow heavy. The mixture is deadly with the thought of you nestling firmly in his mind. His body is hot at the thought and he knows his thoughts are crude.

You're a stranger. You hardly know each other. Yet, the thought of how his hands fit around your waist and your defiance towards him has his saliva caught in his throat and his mouth dry. Despite such thoughts, he fights against them, using the same old discipline he had used on his troops in the war, telling himself that it's enough.

You know better than to fall into this shit.

So, he relents with the blooming thought in his mind all to find some source of peace in order to drift off and forget he ever thought of you in such a way in the first place. Moving further down his bed, he keeps the covers off of him, his body still beaming with heat. His tongue trails his bottom lip, the saliva drying down with a satisfactory cooling sensation as his eyes slowly grow heavy before they're shut.

His breaths are loud, primarily through his nose. His fingers twitch against his side, maintaining a pattern of allowing himself to drift off before pinching his side just to make sure that he's still very much where he believes he is.

And it's working.

Until he hears it.

It's faint at first, but he hears it.

It's as though a starving dog is located on the other side of the wall as there's this sound. It's slow at first, perhaps his brain is slowing due to his exhaustion or perhaps they're growing tired of the same act that has been following him around since the trenches. It starts from the top of his head, and slowly, it trails downwards, the sound similar to the clinking of a shovel being dragged across gravel.

Then, they get impatient and it's as though they have a spurt of energy when he finally succumbs to the temptation of resting for the night; they know if he did have the energy, he would have gotten rid of them a long time ago. There's someone there, that's what his mind is telling him anyway.

And as he falling into sleep with the image of you standing beside a bloody Kyle, he finds that he isn't overly concerned if he never opens his eyes again after that moment; he caused both the damage to Kyle and the look of distress on your face.

He'd deserve it.

—

There was blood on his hands again. It was there, staining his skin, the feeling of shredded flesh settled beneath his palms as he writhes and fights against the urge to pull away; he's the Captain. He is supposed to know everything- he is their leader and if he falls, then it will be he who punishes the rest of his brigade for their weakness.

There was a stewing anger in his veins as he blocked out the calls from an artificial accent over his shoulder. He swallowed the urge to tell them to leave him alone- to let him handle things; he didn't need a yank telling him what to do. He hadn't for the long four years of the war before they joined in, and he sure as shit wasn't going to fold there.

'Move, you're gonna kill him. You don't know what you're doing,' a brooding voice demanded, grabbing him by the shoulder.

John didn't budge, he stayed and look at the weeping man lying on the ground in front of him, keeping his hand against the bullet would in his knee and thigh as he huffs out a short breath. How could he be expected to do something so careless?

'Captain—'

'Shut it,' he snapped sharply, 'I don't need you telling me what to do, yeah? Do me a favour and go and find out where Garrick is,' he firmly stated, not bothering to look at the man standing behind him as he shrugs his shoulder.

There's a huff, he catches it through the howling guns shots and the sniffles of the man lying on the ground in front of him. His brow is wet with sweat and his hands are soaked with blood as it poured out of the wound. Fortunately, he heard the wet squelch of mud and the calling for a name, allowing him to look back at the man on the ground.

'You're almost outta here, Blake,' he said firmly, 'just have to wait this out and then you'll never have to think of coming to the trenches ever again- you have my word, my promise.'

Despite the snotty, muddy state that the man in front of him has gotten himself into, he offered Price a shaky smile as he reaches his hand forward, placing it on top of Price's red hands. He squeezed his hand tightly, remaining curt with the shake of his head.

'Thank you for everythin', Cap'n.'

—

Over the passing days he gets an idea in his head which sprouts whenever he’s in the Hindsight. It’s a difficult idea to address, even when he has a glass of whiskey in front of him, and most of the time, he finds himself trying to come to terms why he has even conjured up such an idea.

Kyle is slowly getting better, he’s been sure to see to it while keeping his eyes out for the detective, the knowledge that the man is looking for the guns only worsening his mood as he attempts to find some for of way to keep the guns from the grubby little hands of that yank. He has half the mind to blind the bastard and toss him into the docks for injuring his own brother in such a terrible manner.

But he doesn’t.

Rather, he remains reserved and cool knowing better than to make anymore enemies during this time; truthfully, the threat of the Fisher’s is frightening. Fisher’s business spans the entire country and with the attack on Kate, their silence afterwards has been treated with caution.

Of course, he knows his men are the furthest thing from stupid- it’s him who they want. But, he knows better than to make the assumption that they’ll stop at him because, in reality, he knows anyone marked with the hat of a Blinder will be treated as though they are John Price and there’s nothing he can do to fight against that. The framing of the murder is unfortunate, and the longer he and the others have sat with it, the more he’s grown convinced that it’s the work of another group- more specifically the Adams’.

It arrived just after the betting business saw an increase in it’s profits- after news spread that Johnny was going to bless the horse. They might be bigger than their business, yet, that means jackshit and he knows it does. The big guys can squash the small competition when they please- he’s seen it before and he doubts it will be something that will stop. However, the big guys dislike getting their hands dirty, so, instead of doing it directly, they send their little lapdogs to do the dirty work.

In the Adams’ case it was killing Fisher and leaving a razor blade at the scene of the crime- tying the Blinders directly to it.

He’s unable to quite process why the workers would think he’s responsible for such a crime; while he has done some abhorrent things in his life, the last thing he would do is put a deal to risk. The deal they had was something he absolutely wouldn’t ever want to risk and by killing Fisher, it made life harder, not easier. His life is on the line and there’s virtually nothing he can do to make the situation any better… unless he can find the perpetrator of the crime and prove his innocence- but what type of criminal would ever care enough to do that?

And as he’s sitting in the pub, watching as you pour the drinks for the group, he looks around and takes notes of all the money sitting in his back pocket. He’s a rich man- too rich. If he’s to die to one of the men looking to seek some form of sick revenge, the last thing he wants to do is leave the boys without something to fall back on. His death will most likely result in the death of his business. Besides, why would he sit in a place he didn’t own?

‘We should buy this place,’ he says, picking up his glass.

Johnny raises an eyebrow in his direction.

‘What?’ he asks,

‘Well, we have the money, don’t we? Why are we drinkin’ in a pub that we don’t own?’ he says, looking around the place. ‘It’ll be another stream of income- keep the money coming in even if something bad happens to the betting business, ey?’

Despite the mask covering Simon’s face, he notes a glint in the man’s eyes. It’s a rarity, that much he knows. He reads it as excitement before the man even opens his mouth.

‘You really think Kate would say it’s a good idea?’ Kyle says, ‘you know what she’s like with money- and if this purchase doesn’t benefit the business then I don’t see her sayin’ yes to such a big purchase.’

Price pauses for a moment, taking time to reflect on such a possibility. As much as he does respect Kate, he finds he has little care for her input concerning this purchase- and if anything- he’s sure she’ll be more than happy to endorse a payment which will put more money in their pockets. So, he brings his drink up to his mouth, taking a sip from it.

‘Don’t see the harm in doing it; we’re making more than enough money to justify spending it to buy this place,’ he says, turning to the bar where you’re standing idly.

You look tired, standing awkward as you hold a glass in one hand and a cloth in the other. Clearly, you’re supposed to be cleaning them, yet, you’re standing their in a mind of your own, not moving an inch, too busy in that head of yours.

As he observes you, he wonders what you’re thinking of, perhaps something of important or maybe you’re just daydreaming about something random. A part of him wants to know, although, as his brain treads such territory he turns his attention away and takes another sip from his drink.

‘The more money the better,’ Simon agrees, ‘sure James would take a decent deal for this place; he doesn’t really have a choice.’

Price grins.

‘He doesn’t.’

—

It's in the middle of the afternoon and ordered in the pub has been maintained following the absence of James. It's been a few days since the attack against Price's boy and you're more than sure Graves has a death wish. Upon listening to their conversation from behind the door, the only thing you discovered was who was behind the attack. Nothing else of value escaped their lips- other than the fact that they know the detective in town is adamant on finding the guns.

It's difficult to know what exactly Price's reaction was following Kyle's confession and the proposal that they should help the police in finding the guns, only, you know there was some form of disagreement as you heard Kyle's back go up as he addressed an angry sentiment towards Price. Perhaps he simply provided him with a sneer or something along the same lines of such as even Kate seemed confused by whatever he was doing.

Either way, you kept the conversation to yourself, not even planning on sharing it with Graves when you next intend to meet; it seems so minuscule, you're confused why you have even been debating on whether or not you should tell the man. He doesn't need to know everything happening with the gang- only if they have the guns. He's sure they have got them, although now, as you cleaning a glass, you're feeling an uneasy churning sensation in your stomach as you're considering the fact that they might not have the guns and you're been following the stupid fucking trail Graves has persuaded you to stick to.

Truthfully, the lingering sent you caught on to in Mr. Churchill's office is beginning to fade and you're becoming worried that you might have chasing your tail all because of some stupid yank.

Setting the glass in your hand down against the counter behind the bar, you let out a heavy breath, placing the cloth in your hand beside it. Planting your hands flat against the counter, you look down at the ground at you black shoes, taking a deep breath. Being confined to the pub surely isn't helping your nerves; for all you know, Graves could be causing more harm than good and you're standing her serving drunks.

Your heart is beginning to grow fickle at the thought.

The door opens, creaking as it does so. Your back tenses at the sound and a dull ache pulses through you skull. You almost can't bring your head up to address the customer. Yet, when you hear the drunken rambling stopping and a shallow gasp from one of the women, your head shoots up at the possibility that you could be disrespecting Mr. Price.

When you look at the man approaching the bar, your struck with the realisation that he does have a similar head of hair to the man, however, it is not John Price who is approaching you. His smart attire is telling of the fact that he's belonged to a much wealthier part of the country than the place you currently find yourself in. His suit is well tailored, a thick black tie hanging around his neck as he offers you a grin when he catches your eyes.

Taking a seat at the bar, he rests his forearm against it and brushes his thick fingers through his hair. His build is grand- unlike anything you've seen really. All you can liken it to are depictions of Greek Gods you've seen in books during your time in eduction. His forearms are notable in the fabric of the blazer and he has the eyes of a siren as he drags them down your body.

His not subtle in the slightest, and when he grins, he shows you gleaming teeth. He's like one of the stars you've seen in the paper from States.

'What can I get for you, sir?' you chime, managing to find a spare smile somewhere in yourself, offering it to the alluring man.

A strand of brown hair falls from atop his head, resting against his forehead as he tilts his head to the side to get a better look at you. His upper lip is marked with a thick moustache- though it's nowhere near the moustache Mr. Price has. His finger draws a pattern on the dark oak of the bar as he clears his throat.

'What's the dearest bottle you have, lamb?' he asks, his words horrifically smooth as he addresses you. The nickname drips from his tongue with ease- you're no fool, of course you're not the only one he's addressed with the sorts.

'Uhm,' you begin, looking over your shoulder at the array of drinks, 'we have expensive whiskey but─'

'It's reserved for John Price,' he finishes.

You still at the mention of his name, slowly turning your head in the direction of the man as you slowly nod your head. You expect to see a look of frustration etched on his face, however, you find he's smiling at you. It's gentle, yet, you would prefer a scowl to the look on his face right now.

'I'll have a glass of whatever other whiskey I'm allowed to have then, lovely,' he shrugs, pulling out a wad of cash from the inside of blazer, placing a few notes down onto the table with a sly grin. 'Get something for yourself too,' he offers kindly.

To refuse a man who is oozing such a coldness surely isn't the smartest thing you can do in that moment, so, you take the notes he's pushed onto the table and put them into your apron. Grabbing two glasses, you pour yourself a glass of whiskey alongside him one too. Turning around, you set the glass down onto the table and he takes it in his hand.

He almost swallows the glass whole with the grip he has on it and you can only really see any of it because of the small gaps in his fingers. Bringing it to is mouth, he sips the drink before setting the glass down onto the table. You copy him- not meaning to, only realising as you place your glass down onto the counter just as he does.

'Would you mind if I pick your brain for a little while?' he asks. You narrow your eyes in the direction of the man, wrapping an arm around yourself. He chuckles as you do such, shaking his head. 'It's nothing to be afraid of, little lamb, just some questions.'

'About what?' you ask, taking a breath before continuing, 'who are you?'

'Well, if you must know, my name is Caleb Adams,' he begins, 'I'm the owner of one of the biggest race courses in the country.'

'So... you're here about Mr. Price?' you ask.

Smiling, he offers you such a sweet look you feel inclined to reach for his tie and force his head against the counter. But you don't, you play the role of the quaint, cute barmaid as you sweetly nod at the man.

'Smart girl,' he praises, 'have you ever thought of working elsewhere?' he asks, 'I have a feeling you'd be better suited anywhere but here,' he admits.

Oddly enough, he is right, you don't belong here.

'I like working here,' you shrug, to which he nods.

'I'm sure you do,' he says promptly, sucking in a breath, 'what's your relationship with Mr. Price?' he asks with a furrowed brow, 'would you say you're friends?'

'No,' you answer, 'I'm the barmaid at the pub he comes to- there's nothing more to it.'

There's something in the way he looks at you that shows apprehension- almost as though he's fighting against his better judgement to refuse to believe the truth you're telling him. You're not friends with him, you've hardly spoken to one another during your time in the pub.

'Are you here to get dirt on him?' you frankly say, not caring for the attempt of subtlety; it's nothing you've ever really been fond throughout the course of your life, and despite your mind warning you of the repercussions of annoying a man who appears so wealthy, you can't help but let your true character seep into the conversation.

Your comment is something that stops him for a moment. It's unlike him, you're aware of that; he has been forward during the entirety of your conversation, and here he is rendered speechless from your words.

Grabbing the glass you placed down, you swirl the remaining whiskey around in your cup on a baited breath. Despite your nerves, however, you do not look away from him.

'Why does it matter to you?' he asks, ‘if you’re nothing but a barmaid, the my enquiry should mean nothing to you,’ he says, narrowing his eyes, ‘are you telling me the full truth about your association.’

There’s a bubbling rage in the pit of your stomach the longer you entertain this fool. You’re accustomed to all of the games men like him like to play; you’ve built your entire fucking career around being treading like some dumb girl. Still, you fight to maintain the act, to keep your composure.

‘Keep smiling,’ a voice calls. ‘Cause, if you frown at the wrong man… well, it very well might be your last day.’

So, you insist on you act, persist with your calmness and bite back the urge to throw the drink he bought you in his face.

'I have no reason to lie to you,' you respond frankly, 'I don't even know who you are- my assumption about you wanting to get dirt on him is wholly based on how eager you were to ask me questions.'

It's stale and brooding the look his gives you in the midst of your small rant is a tad unsettling, but you can't help yourself. He's sitting right in front of you, accusing you of lying about something you have no involvement is. There's a sour air between the pair of you now and you busy yourself with finishing your drink, looking past the man at the door to the pub as it opens once again.

A small sigh escapes you at the very thought of having another customer to serve to get you away from this uptight asshole. Yet, with your saviour in sight, you startle as you see both Kyle and Mr. Price walking through the door together. Kyle looks somewhat better, one of his eyes is still slightly swollen from the blow he was dealt and his nose is a tad to the left. Only, he can stand on his own and walks with only a small wince with every step.

Any pain is easily masked with the grin plastered on his face and Mr. Price walks with his nose in the air, all for his head to drop at the sight of the man sitting opposite to you. Caleb picks up on your gaze and chooses to turn his head to peer over his shoulder. No one in the pub dares to speak, opting to keep their mouths shut as Price's brow furrows.

'John Price, I thought you'd never show up,' he says, grabbing the glass of whiskey you poured him, holding it out to the man as though to cheers.

'What do you want?' Kyle asks, not giving the man beside him a chance to speak.

'I came all the way out to congratulate you,' Caleb begins, pushing himself up off of the stool he was sitting on with a bright grin. 'I never considered you nor the rest of the Blinders to be a true threat until I opened the newspaper and saw that you were responsible for Fisher's death.'

'It had nothin' to do with us,' John firmly says.

'Sure it doesn't,' you hear the man scoff and imagine him rolling his eyes at his words. You note how Caleb keeps his eyes on Kyle. 'Everyone in the racing community are quite disgruntled at the death of Fisher, you know? There are a lot of people who have invested a lot of money into his company, and none of those below him are good enough to lead it.'

You look at Price with a furrowed brow, tilting your head to the side slightly. Kyle offers you a look similar to yours, his eyes falling to the empty glass in your eyes.

'Real big man you are, yeah?' Kyle asks, 'comin' to our pub and asking our barmaid about us?’

His sudden shift in tone startles you and you're unable to really put together his use of 'our'. Maybe it was just something to make it seem like he has come to the wrong place, or maybe he truly meant every word of it. Besides, the longer you stand and think in the pregnant silence between the men, you're more than aware that James has never really been the owner of the Hindsight.

'Your barmaid?' he asks, looking back at you.

'That's right,' Price affirms, slowly stalking up to the man. ‘And if you ever think of steppin' foot into this pub again- if you ever think of talkin' to her again- I will cut you up, make sure you have no eyes to see her with.’

It's unlike anything you've seen as of you, although, it is everything you've heard. While he is an admittedly large man, the floor barely creaks as he stalks up to Caleb. Tilting his head to the side, he holds the brim of his hat between his fingers. His features are shadowed by the man standing in front of you, although, you don't miss the low chuckle that escapes him.

His voice is low, almost a whisper as he says so to the man. You find all the hairs on your arms stand up as you idly stand by and simply watch.

'I assure you I meant no harm in coming here.’

'You know the business,' John calmly says, 'you know what it means to walk into a place you have no claim to, and while I know me and you haven't talked to each other before, I'm not a idiot.'

Caleb slowly nods his head, holding his hands either side of him as he steps to the side of John, shuffling away from him. He laughs as he does so, looking back at you while you stand behind the bar, holding the empty glass of whiskey he bought you in your hand. Your chest burns as you turn your head away and look at John who offers you a small smile.

'If you continue to treat people like this, Mr. Price, then I assure you you will have a lot of bad people after you,' he warns, his brows furrowing, 'and right now, I assure you that is the last thing that you want to happen.'

John tugs at the hat atop his head, shaking his head at his words, 'get out,' he says frankly, 'if you want to discuss something concerning me, Adams, you talk to me, not the girl, yeah?'

Caleb tilts his head to the side, mustering out a deep sigh. Tugging at the cuffs of his blazer, his fingers curl around the fabric and you watch as he nods his head as though he's agreeing to something.

'Mr. Price,' he says, sucking in a breath, 'as I said, I meant no harm by coming here, I was simply... asking questions; Fisher has been a pain for myself and my family for many years and you got rid of him. Quite frankly, I wanted to strike a deal with you.'

'We don't need anything of yours, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're the one who got Fisher. Y'u just didn't wanna deal with the fall out of it so you blame me and my boys,' he says.

Mr. Price doesn't care for whatever sweetness he is being shown in that moment, instead, he has his back up like a feral cat. Of course, you don't need his protection- in fact, if Graves had been there with you, you know for a fact that such a fact most definitely would have been relayed to you.

Still, there's a little part of you that takes a slither of sinful pride, relishing in the way Price so effortlessly defended you in the eyes of a threat. Really, you know nothing of the man who has just bought you a drink and the way he looked at you made you feel so uneasy that you simply find comfort under the watchful eyes of the men who you do know well.

'Well, Mr. Price,' Caleb says briefly, brushing his clothes with his hands as he swallows harshly, a short breath escaping him. You imagine that his formalities are beginning to wear thin. 'I assure you that I have heard you loud and clear... but before I go, I must tell you that you are making a fatal mistake.'

Instead of offering him any form of response, Price moves past the man, settling in the seat he has just been sitting in, keeping his back to him as Kyle also pulls a seat beside him, sitting down. Caleb turns around to look at you again.

'A very big mistake—'

Your temperament seems to dissipate in the brattiness of the posh man, the fire in your stomach raising to flood your throat before you have the chance to fan the flames.

'Did you not hear him?' you ask sharply, narrowing your eyes. 'You're not welcome here. Get out.'

You expect him to want to get the final word in, to allow the patience he has harboured since Mr. Price stepped through the door to melt. Yet, much to your surprise, he simply nods his head without saying another word to you, and with that he heads towards the exit of the pub without a word more.

You almost deflate as you see the door behind him close, placing both your hands on the counter behind the bar, taking a moment to catch your breath.

‘If he comes back in here, don't serve him,’ Mr. Price firmly instructs.

'I'll let James know,' you say, nodding your head.

'Nonsense,' Mr. price says with a smile, 'he's not comin' back here, love; he doesn't own the place anymore.'

Your eyebrows raise as you slowly turn to Kyle who offers you a bright grin. Still, as you're looking at him, you struggle to see him with his healing injuries. It's something that strikes you with guilt for all you see in front of you right now is the bloody and beaten down man who you had helped a few days ago.

'What do you mean?' you slowly ask.

'We own it now,' Kyle confirms, 'John bought it off of James.'

You stare at the man as though he's grown a third head unable to quite understand what exactly he has said to you. For a moment, you take time to process what this means. You're not stupid, of course you understand that you're now working in an establishment owned by the Blinders- John Price is your boss now. Although, you can't help but question what exactly this means in terms of your position.

He seemed pretty sure that I was his barmaid, I doubt he fire me.

'Why didn't he tell me?' you ask, almost offended that the man you have been working under disappeared without even offering his hard-working barmaid something as small as a 'goodbye'.

Decency was never his forte, you suppose, so, you settle by chewing on the corner of your mouth, balling your fists as you tilt your head to the side.

'Busy man,' he simply says, 'he wanted to get out of the city while he still had the chance to, 'thinks things are getting worse. As selfish as it sounds, he was only really thinking of himself,' he explains.

You slowly nod your head, chewing on your tongue as you manage to let out a short breath. You're right in the lions den at this point and while you dislike the fact that you're the one who has to fan the flames, you try and find some form of faith in Graves; he is your partner after all. Besides, you are in the lions den.

You.

'Are you gonna fire me?' you ask.

John laughs.

'Why would I fire you, love?' he asks, 'you're decent at your job and you keep everyone here happy enough not to rip the heads off of each other, yeah? I'd be an idiot to get rid of you.'

They have no idea of your intent and you have slid in so easily you can't help but allow yourself to smile at the thought, your core beaming with excitement as you address both of the men once again by discarding of the glass sitting in front of Mr. Price and grabbing two new glasses from behind you.

'Well, how about a drink to celebrate, hey?' you chirp brightly, noting the smile of Mr. Price's face as you pour a drink of whiskey into his glass. They both take the glasses in their hands and you pour yourself a fresh glass, copying them after Price motions to you to lift your glass up.

'To new beginnings,' he says firmly with a smile as he looks at you. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, your face growing warm under his eyes as both yourself and Kyle nod.

'To new beginnings.'

—

The sun manages to peak through the clouds, a streak soaking him as he walks down the street with his head held high. Sometimes, it's difficult to find the will to smile; his mind has been destroyed. It's no different to the shrapnel discarded from a soldiers wound: plucked free from where trouble reins, all to cut the fingers of those who handle it.

Still, he smiles and takes a moment to inhale the thick air of the city, pulling his hat off of his head. Rubbing his bald head, he firmly plants his hat back onto it, hoping the light action would chase off the demons which left his mind a muddled mess. One could dream, he supposes. At the very least, he is doing something to fix all the issues going on inside.

He does a lot more than some people do and he knows that.

A true family man at heart is Blake, one who works so hard that he never really knows when to give it a break, only really caring to take a seat when he is forced to and not when the old wound in his leg tells him to; that's not what his Captain would want from him and he has been loyal to him since they first met on the battlefield, and even outside the war, he vows to keep his promise to him.

So, he walks with a slight hobble after his shift at the shipyard keeping his head high as he approaches the home of the Blinders with a few minutes to spare before his shift starts there.

It's typical to see the coppers around and on the street during his walk and he's not afraid of them for he knows they'll do very little to him because they truly have no reason to accuse him of anything. Even then, as he's walking, he spots a swell of tall hats gathering at the top of the street. They're similar to a swarm of wasps in the manner that they move, all of them remaining together as the push past the stray people on the street.

From the centre of them emerges as man with light brown hair- he's the only one without a hat. The Queen Bee. He walks with a face like a slapped ass, brooding and commanding as he calls out orders. He stops in his tracks as soon as the man opens his mouth- anyone would think he'd heard news of his arrest as he listens to the man bark like a feral dog.

His face pales as his heart thuds in his ears, and that wretched buzzing in his head returns in the blink of an eye. It's strange, how normalcy can be stripped away from him in such a quick fashion. In a moment, he goes from standing in the street on the way to the Price's house all the way back in time to the trenches.

The road isn't covered in gravel, rather, he feels as though he's sinking into the ground, similar to the thick, gooey mud which caused him to stagger and stumble during his time at war. And then, the police were no longer the saviours, rather, enemy soldiers coming towards him with the intent of killing him.

In a matter of seconds, he sprinting away from the group of men, his eyes trained on the Hindsight with a pounding in his head. The Captain would be in there, he's sure- he needs to warn them that they're back- that the betraying scum are back and they're searching for him. So, he breaks into a sprint, he can’t stop the thoughts once they’ve started and a clear mind is miles away from him.

He runs as though the group of officers are chasing after him, all the while his mind is wrecked with the sounds of gunshots and the fire from the iron works is something he accustoms to the scent of war. It’s everywhere, the enemies are everywhere. It’s impossible to explain how his mind functions during these moments; even he’s unsure why his mind chooses to punish him. When he got out of the war, he thought it was over. Yet, here he is, standing in his home still plagued by the memories of the very thing that ruined him.

A startled breath escapes him as he collides with something and through foggy eyes, he spies an enemy. His words are muffled in his ears, his shouts are something of a threat and he's unable to quite make out what is being said to him. All he knows is that this man is a threat. He's going to do something bad and the aggression in his tone is preemptive to how he is going to hurt him- how he is going to hurt other people.

Blake refuses to back off, not hearing the man's demands to get away from the front of his business. His mind clears momentarily, long enough to see the shining silver in the man's hand, and in a state of terror, he's quick to grab the item and without a second thought, he shoves it into the man's stomach.

A wretch escapes him, and as a wetness soaks his hand, he's back on earth. Back home.

Gasps catch his ears and as he slowly blinks himself back to reality, he's horrified at the sight of the grunting man in front of him. Letting go of the end of the pocket knife he has driven into the man's stomach, he backs away with bloodstained hands, looking around himself at the surrounding civilians who saw what he has done. And then his eyes fall back to the sign located about his head.

Costello's Cures.

A panicked breath escapes him and in the matter of seconds, he sprinting in the opposite direction of the Hindsight, rushing towards home without stopping as people call out for him to return to the scene of the crime.

—

When John hears about the news, his displeasure is imminent, and that night, he's quick to be at Blake's home. It's cold, the night air nipping at his ears as he walks with a stern look etched on his face, all to find the address of the man.

Johnny had sheepishly wandered in his office with the confirmation of who exactly Blake had injured during his episode, and as he sat and listened to the account Johnny had heard, he found his chest tightening the more he continued.

Nothing can ever be easy and it seems as though he's been cursed with bad luck ever since he was sent home and striped of his title.

Standing on the man's doorstep, despite his anger, he was sure to knock lightly before shoving his hands into his pockets, shifting on his feet as he stands idly and waits. There's a creak beyond the door, the sound of heavy footsteps on wood, and before long, the door is pulled open.

Light is situated behind the man at the door, his bulky frame blocking most of it out, the strong smell of lingering dinner filling Price's nose as he stands and observes the man, his lips forming a thin line/

'Cap'n I—'

'Where's your missus and the little one?' he calmly asks, narrowing his eyes.

'Uhm, Dorothy's sleepin' an' Maggie's making supper for the pair of us,' he explains, toying with his hands, 'do you wanna come in and join us? I'm sure we have enough.'

'You know why I'm here,' Price says, 'close the door.'

Blake looks at him with a glint in his eyes as he slowly steps from out of his house, pulling it shut. It closes with a small click and Price steps away from the doorstep with a short breath.

'Cap'n I'm sorry,' blurts the man, 'I- I swear I didn't mean to kill him.'

'Do you have any fuckin' idea what you've done?' Price snaps, looking at the man. It hurts his heart when he sees the man flinch at the harshness in his tone, although, he isn't discouraged. 'Out of everyone you could've done it to, you did it to one of the fuckin' Costello's.'

'H- He wasn't a part of the family.'

'That doesn't matter, Blake,' Price says, 'blood bounds are forever and you know what they're like- they're always lookin' for a reason to start shit between us. Just because Joey is in London doesn't mean anything.'

'I- I—'

'What started it this time, ey?' he asks, 'cause the more you do this, the more I'm convinced there's nothing I can do to help you.'

'I heard that new detectives voice,' he confesses, 'he sounds familiar.'

'All the yanks sound the same,' Price states.

Blake simply stares at him. It' s a look which renders him unsure as there's a teary glint in the man's eye. It's telling that, despite his wounded mind, he knows something.

'I swear 'ave heard his voice before Cap'n, back in the trenches,' he warns.

Price only nods his head.

'Meet me at the boat yard tomorrow,' he simply says, narrowing his eyes. 'Half seven.'

He could tell him why he is wanted, but the gulp that sounds from the man is enough to tell him that he knows exactly why he is wanted there. With that, Price turns away from the man and proceeds to head down the street, his breath fogging in the wind. Despite Blake's adamance, he finds the words they shared together of very little importance as he heads down the street, his mind far too clogged with the issues awaiting him in the morning.

His head aches and as he exits the street and catches sight of the Hindsight with the lights still glowing inside, he's quick to make a change in his journey, opting to head in the direction of the pub rather than the direction of home.

—

In the lateness of the night, you find yourself growing bored of the same tasks you have been committed to for the past few weeks. Your shoulders are stiff and you're growing tired of the smell of tobacco and booze.

John walks through the door of the pub and you're more than happy to grab a glass as he approaches the bar. Despite his high held head and the smile on his face, you're far too aware that there is something else in his eyes. His eyelids droop slightly, highlighted by the slight greyness under his eyes. It subtle, just as he is- you suppose- but you don't miss it.

'Is everything okay?' you ask.

'Just need a drink,' he answers, 'scotch please, love.'

You offer him a short nod as you. turn your back to him and grab a glass from behind you along with the scotch per his request. As you turn back to him, you notice his eyes on you and a distracted air about him. Still, in a state of assumed misery, he appears wise. It's quite striking, hitting your heart like cupids arrow.

'Before James left, he mentioned you used to sing in the pub you worked at,' he says as you pour his drink into the glass.

'I did,' you confirm, 'helped settle people's minds, you know? Everyone needed something uplifting- something to make them forget about everything happening during the war,' you explain.

He offers a short hum, picking the glass up from off of the counter, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip from it. He has little reaction to it, although, you're not surprised counting on the fact that that is all he drinks. Still, you observe him in the hope of seeing his face change.

'We used to sing in the trenches,' he admits, 'nothing special, don't have the voice on me to sing.'

A smile forms on his face as he trails his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb., wiping away the residue of scotch. 'Distract from the gun fire and explosions. Haven't sung since- don't think I ever will.'

His sudden openness with you is somewhat frightening. He addresses you as though you're good friends, not just owner and barmaid, and part of you finds yourself falling into the conversation, the hardened image of John Price melting with the warmth of his body stationed right before you. And how strange it is to address a criminal as a human being- almost inhumane knowing all he has done and why you are there in the first place.

Yet, the heat welling in your stomach with each glance he offers you burns hot enough to melt down the bars of his prison cell and set him free from persecution. Such a fact is something you’re ashamed of even thinking. Truth of the matter is, no matter how terrible of a human he was, he was just like you, a human being.

‘I’ve sung a few times here,’ you confess, ‘nothing special.’

A pass time if nothing else. Something to break up the day and something fun. Besides, your ego absolutely isn’t beyond being fed by the drunken praises of clientele at the Hindsight. In fact, during your time here, you have grown to appreciate it.

‘How come I’ve never heard you sing?’

‘James said you don’t like songs,’ you say, ‘I didn’t want to purposefully upset you if that’s the case.’

He shortly nods, letting out a short breath as rubbing his mouth.

‘It reminds me of the war,’ he explains, ‘I never thought I even think of missing that place, but sometimes I do; at the very least, amidst the chaos, there was still some form of order you know? You shoot a gun without repercussions there, whereas here? Nothin’s the same.’

You perk your ears up at his confession, your eyebrows knitting together.

‘You miss the war?’ you ask.

‘Parts of it,’ he says simply, ‘know I’m probably the one who feels sentimental about the early days, but it’s the truth whether I like it or not.’

He seems to be weighed down by something as he speaks and after finishing, he’s quick to finish off the last of his scotch in his glass before holding it out to you for a refill. You nod your head, happily pouring more into his glass, inwardly hoping that the more he drinks, the more open he’ll be to tell you more. Perhaps even going as far as slipping up.

‘It’s a unique sentiment,’ you confirm, nodding your head.

‘Military has been in my life since I was a teenage,’ he confesses, ‘I served in the war as temporary Captain; had enough experience to get into the position- had been promised by the general that if I made it out alive, I’d be promoted,’ he says.

‘Then how come you’re here?’

He looks at you with a weary look on his face, drinking more liquor from his glass as he stifles out a short laugh. ‘Got caught doin’ somethin’ I shouldn’t have been doin’ and they got rid of me. Lead a brigade which had a hand in winning us the war, but as soon as they’re made aware of one mistake, they threw me to the fuckin’ wolves.’

Anger is present in his tone, and despite your curiosity, you choose not to pry him for answers. So, you simply hum and nod your head, ensuring to maintain politeness. It's the only thing you know for a fact you can do.

'Enough of that,' he says, 'what about you, doll? I hardly know anything about you.'

Unashamedly, you talk into the night with John and the entire time it's as though you're talking with an old friend who you have just only been reunited with. Conversation comes easily to the pair of you and you find yourself being honest for a change. You tell him of your childhood in London, about your position as a barmaid during the war- most things that you know won't cause him to raise any eyebrows.

In return, he tells you of most of the stuff you have read on his file: his rebellious streak during his early years, how long he served in the army, alongside about the boy's in his brigade. During which he speaks how you imagine a proud father would talk about his children. Oddly, you find your heart warming as he speaks about them.

The pair of you talk into the night and it's only when you look past John during a conversation that you've realised the last drunkard has returned home and it's just you and him remaining in the pub. Immediately, your cheeks flush red.

'I- I'm sorry, I didn't realise the time,' you confess, breaking out of the conversation.

John turns to look over his shoulder, acknowledging the empty pub. Despite the conversation the pair of you have shared, you find yourself awaiting some sort of regret to be on his face; he's a busy man, of course.

'It's fine, love,' he reassures, 'c'mon, let me walk you home,' he offers, 'i's too late for you walk home alone.'

—

Rain pours as you step outside of the pub with the man, your gloved hand rooting in the bag across your frame to ensure you haven't forgotten anything inside. You hear his breath fogging in the winter air as he keeps his eyes trained on you, not daring to look away. It's oddly comforting to feel his eyes on you and you feel as though you're safe from any possible threat from the world the pair of you reside in.

A man like him could chase away a cold. Probably be better than any cure from the chemist.

Turning away from him, you hold the keys to the pub in your hands, pulling the golden handle of the open door. Pulling it closed, your eyebrows furrow upon catching the sound of a metallic scraping against the door. Taking a step backwards from the doors of the pub, you knock into John who is standing behind you. Your mouth falls open as you disregard whatever made the sound, finding yourself all too concerned with you misstep.

'I'm sorry- I didn't mean to─'

His fingers dig into the fabric of your red dress as he gently moves you to stand to the side of him. Moving past you, he approaches the door, his hands grabbing whatever was making that noise. It's difficult to see whatever is in his hand as his broad back shelters you from the very thing that has him letting out a short breath. It's easy to hear in the quiet night, although, even if he had been quiet his attempt of secrecy would have been betrayed by the cold weather.

'What is it?' you ask, 'have someone broken the handle?' you proceed, taking a step closer to the man. Resting your hand against his shoulder, you look to see a leather strap in his hand. Your eyes move downwards to see the metal chain of a dog lead. A small laugh escapes you, 'can you believe how stupid people are? Like, why would they─' you quickly shut up when your eyes meet the end of the leash.

Instead of seeing the end as you expect, it curls upwards. The part of the lead which is supposed to be attached to a dogs collar is clipped to form a noose. You swallow thickly, looking to John for some form of answer. There's nothing on his face from what you can decipher through the shadows- he's void of emotion.

Despite not understanding the very basis of why something like this is left outside the pub, you feel your stomach twisting as your brain fights to come up with some form of satisfactory answer. Had James not been half way out of the city right now, you're sure you'd be more than happy to make the assumption that someone has made a mistake by leaving the lead there.

Although, with Price's money in his pocket and the Hindsight being under new ownership, you're more than sure that this being left here is not some silly mistake. It's as intentional as a violent blow to the stomach of an enemy.

He clenches his fist around the leather strap of the leash, gritting his teeth as he nods to himself silently. You expect him to say something, perhaps a choppy one liner to ease the tension swelling in your stomach, yet, there's nothing. Just that look on his face.

'John?' you quietly ask, grabbing his forearm.

Lifting his head from the sight of the noose hanging in the wind, he looks to you and small smile forms on his face. Chewing on the inside of his mouth, he shifted on his feet as he nods to himself.

'How would you like t' come the races, love?'

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @iizx7y @phantomreadsandreblogs @talooolaaloolla @guiltgoreglory @corpsebasil @ferns-fics @racheldoyle

#cod #call of duty #alternate universe #john price x reader #captain john price #peakyblinder!johnprice #simon riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #phillip graves #john price x you #captain price #peaky blinders au #cod mw2 #john price #price cod #captain johnathan price #john price cod #kate laswell

64 notes · View notes