#because she was alone and didn’t feel the need to impress anyone

[drefear]

‘Nasty’ By Russ

Summary: Miguel finds something out about you through your recent music choices.

TW: praise, jealousy, smut, praise p in v fantasy, masturbation

You and Miguel started dating fairly recently, and he was so happy about it. He told Jess by accident while discussing you beating up an anomaly, and he just laughed and said ‘I knew it.’

His heart explodes when you’re around and can’t help but see stars.

You’re sitting with Jess and Gwen when he is about to ask you about a report you filed when he hears a conversation he was not prepared for.

“I never even knew he existed.” Gwen said to you, making you laugh.

“Oh, she loves him. It’s almost obsessive.” Jess emphasizes and you blush, rolling your eyes.

“I just- I like- it’s like-“ you stutter and Gwen nods.

“I get it, he’s kinda hot and he’s obviously got some skills, so imagining what he could actually do in bed is totally fair.” That was it, Jess’s words made Miguel’s blood boil. Who else were you trying to sleep with?

His eyes perked up as he walked away and passed you to his office area. You two weren’t in a committed relationship, he had no claim over who you thought about or saw when you weren’t with him, yet it made his blood boil and tension appear between his shoulder blades. He’d long forgotten about the question he was going to ask you about as he summoned you to where he was.

You two were mature adults, you could discuss your feelings without being childish and assuming the worst. Plus, Miguel technically already knew the answer to the question, or so he thought.

You walked up with a bounce before seeing the stress between his eyebrows and frowning gently, something he disliked on that beautiful face of yours. “What’s wrong?” You spoke softly and placed a hand on his arm.

“I need to ask you something and I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable, but I just need to know the truth.” He prefaced and you felt a knot of anxiety form in your gut. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He searched his eyes over your features and found nothing to give away your thoughts until a bright smile formed on your lips and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “This isn’t funny.” He huffed like a petulant child, which made you giggle more.

“Miguel O’Hara, are you jealous?” You teased and poked his bicep, making his nose twitch in self awareness which turned into embarrassment. “No, I’m not seeing anyone else. Who could compare to you?” You smiled wider and slid your hand up his arm to his shoulder, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand fell to your hip and he sighed happily at your touch, but confusion was still evident in his expression. He hummed and you smirked, “Are you? Because if so, I’ll fight her for ya.” You teased and he let out an exasperated chuckle.

“No, not at all. I’m all yours, now dame un besita.” He demanded and you obliged, giving him a soft and sensual kiss.

Letting go of him, you walked towards the door, “How about we hang out tonight? Stay in and order tacos?” You mused and he nodded, sitting back and sighing. You still felt like something was wrong, but you’d discuss that later when you two were alone and could focus without the hovering threat of work surrounding you.

Once you were gone, Miguel instructed Lyla to dig into you and find any other man you could be seeing. Once your glow faded from his presence, the idea hit him hard like a punch to the chest. You’d just lied to him, to his face, and with a smile.

Never once while dating you had he gotten the impression that you were a liar. Actually, he’d found that sometimes you were too honest, so this was more than shocking to him.

He was so focused on some of the videos Lyla had been finding that he didn’t even hear Jess approach from behind him and start asking questions.

“Earth to O’Hara!” Her hand waved in front of his hand and he snapped his eyes to her, relaxing once he realized who it was. “What’s got you so zoned out?” She peaked over his shoulders to see the videos of you being flirted with in a coffee shop, then sighing in disappointment. “Stalking? Really?”

“She lied to me.” He deadpanned and swiped to another video, frustration setting on his lips.

“About what?” Jess inquired in surprise and he glared at the pregnant woman to his side.

“You already know, don’t play dumb.” He hissed, then gained a cold glare from Jessica, “I heard you talking with her and Gwen about another guy in the cafeteria earlier.”

“Another guy?” Jess gapped and then doubled over, laughing so hard she felt tears forming. “You are so stupid sometimes!” She choked out.

“Que?” He flashed an angry expression, bewildered at her name calling.

“That wasn’t about a guy she met, it was about some singer she was listening to. He released a song in her universe and she’s all hot from the lyrics.” She explained, smiling still. “You were worried about her fucking around with some other dude? No, she was talking about how she was imagining you.” She waved her hand and turned to leave, “It’s called Nasty by Ross, by the way. Give it a listen, if you want to know what she likes.” She let out a few more laughs before shutting the door behind her, leaving Miguel speechless.

His hands flew to his keyboard without a second to spare and he lowered the speakers. What did she mean by hot?

As the chorus rang out quietly, he realized what she meant.

Oh.

His tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as the words made his imagination come to life.

“Show me where you wanna take it

Grab the headboard, hold on tight

I think we 'bout to break it”

His eyes widened as he felt himself twitch against his suit, the technologically woven fabric straining against his half hard erection.

You liked this…?

He had touched himself to the thought of you before, but he never imagined if you’d been into anything specific. You came off as a girl who liked things simple, and for lack of a better word, vanilla. He thought you’d prefer missionary and soft “oh god” moans, nothing too drastic. Something he’d feared was scaring you away with his fantasies of biting you and drilling into you hard on his kitchen counter, or fucking you over his balcony.

So this was a very welcomed change.

His head ran wild with the ideas of what you’d want him to do. Listening to how this singer directed the song, it seemed like you wanted someone dominant with a gentle touch, you wanted to hear how good you could make him feel, you wanted him to give you a display of his strength while still keeping a calm head and fucking you until you fell apart on him. Soft, but firm.

He couldn’t help but inwardly break a bit to the visualization that formed behind his eyes, your delicate fingers toying with your clit as he watched, face creased as your nose scrunched from the tension you’d started in yourself, grinding into your cute little hands as his slowly guided his hand up and down the shaft of his dick.

He’d bend down just to flick his tongue against you. Just once. Just a tease, a taste, a smell.

God, how he wanted to smell that pussy. To inhale your scent until he was completely overwhelmed and covered by it, then moving to shove his tongue into your aching core and retracting it.

He wanted to watch you clench and grip around nothing, your body practically calling out to him without making a sound.

Miguel wanted to shove his tongue so deep inside you that you’d think it had a mind of its own.

His hand reached out to his desk as he sat down in a chair he almost never even used, letting the blue around his groin dissipate and freeing his cock as it slapped against his abdomen. His fingers pressed a few buttons to close his doors and have his watch on ‘do not disturb mode.’

“She said, "Spank me, that's the only way I learn"

I said, "Okay, good girl, good girl"

His tongue licked his lips as he thought of you from behind, face in his pillows as he caressed his hands up your ass, then planted a smack against your smooth skin. He’d watch the muscle jiggle and redden from the impact of his slap, admiring the soft mewls you’d make for him. Words fell from his mouth like dripping honey.

“That’s it, good girl, buena niña,” He mumbled and let out a relaxed sigh.

“I know everyone wants a pretty girl like you

You look so good when you put me inside you

Listen

There ain't nothin' like that moan when the tip's in

Good God

Look at you, you're doin' such a good job”

The song painted a vivid picture for him about how you wanted him to treat you, to love you. He inhaled sharply as he saw the image of your ass in the air, pussy fully exposed for him as he nestled the head of his cock against your folds and rubbed against you a few times, gathering your sticky mess to soak him before pushing in just the tip. The hiss he let out when he saw this in his head was almost pornographic, groaning as he rutted into the fist he didn’t know that he wrapped around his cock. More aware now, he spit into his palm and continued rubbing himself as he completely indulged. His mind continued its dreams of you, gripping his headboard as he pushed into you and bent down so your back was completely pressed to his chest, his lips kissing the underside of your jaw and whispering in your ear, whispers he didn’t know he was speaking out loud.

“Taking my cock so good, mi amor, such a perfect cunt for me to sink into, like a champ.” He growled and felt his lips twitch, so close to cumming at the idea of you pushing backwards and wanting to take more of him.

“Girl you're mine now, you were made for me

Cum for me baby, you don't gotta wait for me,”

Miguel’s fangs dug into his bottom lip as he tried to muffle his loud animalistic sounds, thinking about you so asking and tightening around his cock, fucking your through your orgasm as he watched a creamy ring form around his dick. The vision made his saliva pool on his tongue and he swallowed it, along with his words.

“Te ves tan hermosa así, solo para mí.” He grunted in Spanish and felt the tension growing in his dick, his orgasm briefly blinding him as ropes of cum shot from his cock, more than usual as he heaved in heavy pants.

You were so fucking beautiful and as he opened his eyes again, his spent still dripping down his own abdomen, his sight caught the current video feed of you.

You, hiding in a corner as you listened with your ear pressed against his office wall and your hand in your suit as you touched yourself.

“No fucking way.” He whispered to himself, catching his breath once more. Miguel looked around and had an idea. Poking his watch a bit, he called you.

“Y-yes?” Your voice was shaky, which he smiled at darkly.

“I need you to bring me some towels. I had a spill in my office.” He spoke, leaning back and watching the cameras ss your body shook and he could hear you gasping through your receiver.

“Be there soon…” you whimpered and he just laughed.

“Just get here quick, so I can replace that hand in your pants with my face, ok pretty girl?” His voice dropped and you let out a moan.

“Y-yes…!” You nodded frantically and swung to get what he needed, making him smile as he leaned back once more in his chair.

Part 2

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel #angst

[believemedarlin]

Call Me Yours

Aaron Hotcher/Female Reader (9.4k words) Also available on AO3

Summary:

You blamed it on the alcohol.

The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.

OR

Five times you regretted telling Penelope your secret crush and the one time you didn’t.

You blamed it on the alcohol.

The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.

Thankfully, it had only been the two of you in her apartment when you blurted out your long-held thoughts on the BAU’s unit chief. 

Penelope, of course, had been delighted to hear that you were smitten with the boss-man and wasted no time in plotting and planning your confession to him.

To which you had laughed heartily and patted her hand conciliatorily—and perhaps a bit patronizingly at such a silly idea—because there was no way in this great big beautiful world of ours that you would ever say those words to Agent Hotchner’s face.

Because then he would hear them and then he would know and then what would you do?

You supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to pack up and move to someplace like Timbuktu, or Wales, or New Zealand, never to speak with anyone ever again. You’re sure you could find a way to make a living wherever you ended up.

Because you knew that confessing to him could only lead to one thing and you weren’t up for that level of rejection, no matter how gently he tried to deliver it—and you knew he would be as kind as possible. That was an interaction you could live without, thank you very much.

You had planned to keep your burgeoning feelings tucked safely away in a hidden corner of your heart, only to be brought out on special occasions and holidays like fine china. Or, if you were being honest, after every interaction you had with the man and sometimes late at night when the loneliness was at its peak.

But you had never planned on telling anyone, let alone your co-worker turned friend who was notoriously bad at keeping secrets and a world-class meddler.

Thus began a war of wills between you and your friend; Penelope, determined to help you find love and happiness with a man she was convinced was just as smitten with you as you were with him, and you, ready to thwart her at every turn because there was no way a man like him would ever be interested in you. 

***

The first skirmish happened a few days after your drunken divulgence.

You were standing in Penelope’s lair, taking notes on the tasks she needed your help with.

Like her, you were a technical analyst, though you worked in another department. You were nowhere near the caliber of Penelope—few were—but you were capable at your job. That was how you met her, in fact. You had been called in to help with some background checks and surface-level research while Penelope had been tasked with a deep dive that needed her full attention. 

That was also how you met Agent Hotchner. 

You had been hurrying out of the elevator and down the hall to the office your supervisor directed you to, focusing on finding the correct door—both nervous and excited to be assigned to help the prestigious BAU—when you accidentally bumped into a tall man exiting said office. Though bumped into was a gentle way of saying that you rammed your face straight into his chest at full speed.

You heard a low oof as the head-on collision caused you to bounce backward on your heels and you could feel yourself teetering before a large, warm hand steadied you.

You looked up—and up, he really was impressively tall compared to you—into dark eyes set in a rather stern face. The imposing man stared down intently at you with a furrowed brow and for one panic-fueled moment, you felt as though those eyes could see into your very soul.

But then rationality returned and you realized you were standing incredibly close to a stranger that you had literally just run into. 

You had backed up immediately causing his hand to drop from your arm and your traitorous brain had quickly noted multiple things simultaneously; namely that his chest was appealingly firm, that he smelled amazing, and that his hand had felt comfortingly warm. 

Any one of those thoughts would have been enough to make you blush, but the combination created an almost overwhelming heat that quickly flooded your cheeks.

“I am so sorry,” you blurted as you straightened, regaining your balance. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and didn’t see you and I didn’t mean to nearly bowl you over. Are you okay? I really am sorry—”

“Yes, I’m fine,” a low, gruff voice interrupted. “Are you? You hit pretty hard.”

Your face was positively flaming now. 

“I am so sorry.” You shook your head. “I’m okay. No pain beyond excruciating embarrassment. I promise I am usually much more aware of my surroundings.”

The hint of a smile softened his features. “No harm done. Was there something I could help you with?”

You smiled, relieved that he wasn’t upset with you and more than happy to change the topic. “I’m looking for a Miss Garcia? My supervisor Agent O’Neill sent me.”

“Ah, yes. I was expecting you. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, I asked Sam to send me her best.”

The blush that had finally started to recede reared back to life as you grinned sheepishly. “Rest assured, my computer skills are much better than my coordination.”

And that’s when your life as you knew it was changed forever because Aaron Hotchner had the audacity to smile at you. Dimples and all. 

Then he chuckled. Lowly and gruffly and insanely attractively. 

And you were instantly smitten, with no hope of reversing the damage that had been done by the proverbial Cupid’s arrow that he’d just launched at you.

With no regard for your sudden life-altering moment, Agent Hotchner had unceremoniously guided you into Miss Garcia’s office, performed a quick introduction, and then sauntered off without a second glance, unknowingly carrying away a tiny piece of your heart in his hands.

It had taken you a few moments to focus on the task at hand, but Penelope had been patient with you, and once you were able to shake off the effects of meeting Agent Hotchner, the two of you got down to business.

You and Penelope had worked well together that day and you had since been asked back multiple times. Hence your summons to her domain today.

The two of you were wrapping up when a knock sounded at the door and Agent Hotchner entered.

“Garcia, I—Oh, good she’s here. I was just going to suggest you call in some reinforcements if you needed any help but seems you beat me to it.” He smiled at Penelope and acknowledged you with a nod. “Nice to see you again.”

It took you a second to realize he was speaking to you—as focused as you were on his incredibly distracting smile—causing you to rush out your response in a moment of embarrassment. “Oh, yes sir. Nice to see you too, Agent Hotchner.”

His eyes did a cursory scan of you, something you noticed he did every time you saw him, though you guessed that was something ingrained in him at this point after all his years as a profiler. “You can call me Hotch, if you’d like. Everyone else does.”

You prayed your face was not glowing as pink as you thought it was. “Oh, I… Thank you, but I…” 

You sighed, frustrated with how you were stumbling over your words.

Thankfully, his phone rang before things became even more awkward and he excused himself. You could hear his curt “Hotchner” as the door closed behind him.

You kept your back to Penelope, but you could practically feel the elation radiating from her.

“Saved by the cell, huh?” Her teasing tone was only a tiny bit irritating. You couldn’t really blame her. You’d be teasing her if the situation were reversed.

You pressed your hands to your burning cheeks and turned to look at her. “Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how bad was that really?”

“Oh, a solid five.”

You groaned.

“But there is a silver lining.”

“How? I completely forgot the entirety of the English language and I’m sure I could heat the room with my face.”

Penelope chuckled and leaned forward. “Don’t think I didn’t notice him taking a good look at you. Those eyes lingered on their way back up, too.” She smiled smugly. “I told you that skirt was fire.”

“No, I seriously doubt that’s what he was noticing. He was probably just reading my incredibly awkward body language.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d love to study your body in every language.”

“Penelope!”

***

It was two weeks later, and thankfully you hadn’t had another awkward encounter with Agent Hotcher.

Though, you knew it was likely you were living on borrowed time. 

You were arriving to work with Penelope, having met at her favorite cafe to grab breakfast together before heading in. You each had decided to surprise your respective teams with their own treats as well, so you both were juggling your drinks and a large box of delicious-smelling pastries.

As you approached the entrance, one of the guards spotted you and kindly held a door open for you to enter. Not wanting him to wait, you hurried up the steps only to trip on the last one, nearly dropping everything as you stumbled about, trying to regain your balance. You managed to save the pastries, but your half-full coffee tumbled to the ground, the lid popping open and spraying you with the contents. 

Penelope turned back to check on you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tripped.” You looked down to see your new heels completely soaked. 

Bending down, you quickly dabbed at the coffee staining your shoes with the napkins you’d grabbed at the cafe, hoping the liquid would just wipe off. It did not.

You huffed as you stood. “Well, fuck. I just bought these.” 

Good thing you kept an extra pair of shoes in your office.

Penelope blinked. “Did you just cuss?”

You blinked back at her. “Yes?”

She gasped dramatically. “I’ve never heard you cuss before!”

You resisted rolling your eyes as you continued past her into the lobby, thanking the guard who was still gallantly holding the door. You spoke over your shoulder to Penelope. “Oh, come on. It’s just a word.”

“I know but I can’t believe my little Cinnamon Roll just used an expletive!”

“Your Cinnamon Roll? I thought that was Morgan.”

“Nope. He’s my Chocolate Thunder. Or Hot Stuff. Or Angel Face. You are my Cinnamon Roll.”

You snorted as you walked through the metal detectors, gathering your items again on the other side. “How am I the cinnamon roll when you’re here?”

“Because that’s what you are, sugar.” She blew you a kiss as she grabbed her things.

You eyed her suspiciously. “This is going to be what you call me from now on, isn’t it?”

She smiled gleefully. “Yep!” 

“Well, if I’m going to be Cinnamon Roll, then I’m calling you Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Yeah, because cupcakes are all bright and colorful, fun and sweet. Like you.”

Penelope grinned. “Aw, thanks.”

You wrinkled your nose at her. “You’re welcome.” 

You balanced the pastry box in one hand as you pressed the elevator call button. “And I guess I’ll accept being your Cinnamon Roll. Makes a bit of sense, actually. They may not always be the best looking things but they are sweet and a little spicy. Maybe a bit dry sometimes but always enjoyable.”

“What’s dry but enjoyable?”

You startled at the deep voice coming from behind you, turning to see Agent Hotchner looking between the two of you. Beside you, Penelope was grinning mischievously. 

“Cinnamon rolls.” She chirped, looking much too pleased at the turn of events. 

You could feel the blush coming as you heard the ding signaling the arriving elevator.

Being the gentleman that he was, Agent Hotchner reached forward to hold the doors, gesturing for the two of you to enter. He followed you in and hit the buttons for both of your floors.

Penelope glanced at you with a smirk. “You like cinnamon rolls, don’t you sir?”

Agent Hotchner hummed in agreement. “I do. They’re my favorite breakfast treat, actually.”

“Your favorite, huh?” Penelope waggled her eyebrows at you and you thanked everything that was good that Agent Hotcher was standing in front of her and didn’t look around to see her display or the ever-persistent blush on your face his mere presence caused.

“Good thing I grabbed some to share this morning then.” Penelope winked at you.

Agent Hotchner looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes darting to you briefly. “I wouldn’t say no to a cinnamon roll.”

He faced forward again while you tried your hardest not to die on the spot.

Penelope nudged you with her elbow, her face more gleeful than you’d ever seen it.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open to your floor, saving you from more of Penelope’s not-at-all subtle teasing.

Agent Hotcher stepped to the side, allowing you to exit, which you did with a nod, forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. “Have a good day, Pen. Agent Hotchner.”

“You, too.” 

You closed your eyes at the sound. Did he have to say it all low and raspy like that? Didn’t he know he should be careful how he wielded that voice of his? It was dangerous, to both your heart and your knickers.

You rushed down the hall without a second glance.

An hour later, you received a text from Penelope, and you couldn’t help but laugh. She’d sent a photo of the team enjoying their pastries, with a heart drawn around Agent Hotcher as he took a large bite from one of the cinnamon rolls. See, her accompanying text said, he looooves cinnamon rolls.

***

A few days later, you were in the BAU bullpen chatting with Penelope and Morgan before heading home for the day. 

You were chuckling at the back-and-forth banter between the two when a bright voice cried, “Miss Penelope!”

The three of you turned to see an excited Jack Hotchner rushing towards you, his beleaguered aunt not far behind.

You had met Jack a few times and always enjoyed seeing the cheerful boy, who was now giving Penelope a fierce hug.

“Hey, mini Hotch! How’s it going?”

Jack beamed up at Penelope. “I did it! I got an A on that presentation you helped me with. The teacher liked the design and everything! She said it was very creative.”

“That’s awesome!” Penelope cheered.

“Way to go, little man!” Morgan gave Jack a high-five while you and his aunt Jessica shared a grin.

“I was going to take him home like usual,’ Jessica said. “But he insisted he had to tell Miss Penelope immediately.”

“What was the presentation on, Jack?” You asked.

He turned with a grin. “Darth Vader: From Hero to Villian to Heroic Anti-Villian.”

Your lips curled into a matching grin. “That sounds amazing actually.”

“The teacher even let me do part of the presentation in my mask!”

“You have a Darth Vader mask?”

He nodded. “It’s a full mask that lights up and everything.”

“That’s so cool. Does it augment your voice and do the—“ You mimicked Darth Vader’s breathing as best you could. It was a poor imitation, but it made Jack giggle, so you counted it as a win anyway.

“It does! My dad got me the full costume for Halloween.”

“That sounds like the best costume ever. I’m sad I missed seeing it.”

“Oh, Aunt Jessica videoed it. I can show you, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that.” 

You looked to Jessica with a smile as Jack blurted out. “Okay!” 

And with that, he spun and dashed towards his dad’s office.

“Wait, Jack! Don’t… Aaand he’s gone.” You looked towards Jessica, Penelope, and Morgan, who all just shrugged.

Moments later Jack returned, pulling a confused Agent Hotchner behind him. He stopped beside you and looked up at his dad. “I need your phone please.”

Agent Hotchner blinked. “What do you need it for?”

Jack pointed at you. “So I can show her that video of my Vader costume,” he said in a tone that implied he thought the reason was obvious.

“The video that your aunt, who’s standing right beside her, also has on her phone?”

“Yeah.” Jack replied.

“Then why did you need my phone?”

Jack shrugged. “I dunno. You always let me use it when I ask.”

With the long-suffering sigh of a father used to his son’s antics, Agent Hotchner pulled out his phone to pull up the video, then handed it to Jack. “Here.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Jack smiled sweetly at him. 

You could feel your biological clock screaming at you as you witnessed Agent Hotchner completely soften and smile down at his son fondly, all the irritation from a moment ago forgotten.

Holy moly, but fatherhood was a good look on him. You’d never really been interested in the concepts of DILFs, but you certainly were now.

With your ogling, you nearly missed the start of the video when Jack held it a bit too closely to your face in his eagerness to share it with you. You steadied it with your hand and lowered it so you could watch it together.

You grinned as you watched Jack having the time of his life, fully decked out in the coolest Darth Vader costume you had ever seen, as he wielded his lightsaber and used the Force to ‘open’ a set of elevator doors.

You listened as he explained all the features of the costume and lightsaber, and how he still liked to put it on sometimes at home. 

“Dad said the next free weekend we have, we can watch all of the movies together.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. I used to watch them with my mom and we’d stock up on candy and popcorn. Of course, there were only three movies back then.”

“Really? Which is your favorite movie?”

“Return of the Jedi.”

Jack gasped. “That’s Dad’s favorite, too!”

You glanced at Agent Hotchner, shooting him a quick smile, before Jack drew your attention again by asking another question. “Who is your favorite character? I like Darth Vader but Luke is cool too.”

“Princess Leia.”

“Oh,” Jack said sounding a little disappointed. “But she didn’t have a lightsaber or use the Force or anything.”

“No, but she is a princess with a blaster, and she’s just as tough as the guys. She took down Jabba with a chain. And she’s really clever.”

Jack tilted his head and squinted his eyes in thought before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s actually pretty cool for a princess.”

“And her second favorite character is Han Solo.” Penelope chimed in. She turned to you with a much too innocent smile. “Isn’t he the one who inspired your admiration of tall, dark, and handsome men?”

If death by glare were possible, Penelope would become its latest statistic.

Jack spoke excitedly beside you while you kept your lethal glare focused on your friend and pointedly did not look at anyone else. Especially the tall, dark, and handsome man standing nearby. “Dad! She likes Han Solo, too!”

Agent Hotchner chuckled. “Yeah, I heard buddy.”

“She likes your favorite movie and your favorite character!”

“She must have good taste, then.”

“Oh, she does,” Penelope agreed. “Impeccable taste. In fact, you might be pleasantly surprised by the things she loves.”

You couldn’t bear to look at Agent Hotchner’s reaction to that, so you dropped your eyes to your hands, fiddling with the phone you were still holding.

His phone.  

You squeezed your eyes shut before looking back up at him, only to find him already looking at you. 

“Oh,” you breathed and quickly offered the phone back to him. “I’m sorry Agent Hotchner. I forgot I was still holding on to this. Thank you for letting us borrow your phone.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled as he took the phone, his hand brushing against yours and it was just as warm as you remembered. “And it’s Hotch, remember?”

You fought against the urge to drop your head again to hide from his piercing eyes and forced yourself to nod nonchalantly, though your words came out more breathy than you liked. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes seemed to darken at that and you found yourself torn between losing yourself in his gaze and fleeing before he caught on to your desire to do just that.

Luckily, you were saved from having to decide by Jessica’s phone ringing loudly and drawing your attention. She gave an apologetic smile before giving a quick goodbye kiss to Jack and a fond pat on Agent Hotchner’s arm. “Sorry, I have to run. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Seizing the opportunity, you quickly followed suit. “I need to head out, too. I’ll walk with you.” 

You gave everyone a short wave and spun to follow her, not looking back until you were at the elevators. A subtle peek provided you one last view of Agent Hotchner smiling down at his son, prompting your own soft smile. 

You had only meant to steal a glimpse, but you could never resist it when he smiled. Before you could tear your eyes away, he glanced up and caught you watching, his warm smile now directed at you.

You jerked your head forward, embarrassed at being caught and hoping Jessica hadn’t noticed your crimson cheeks.

If the grin on her face was anything to go by, she had. Thankfully, she was kind enough not to tease you about it.

Even when you darted into the elevator before the doors were fully open and wedged yourself in the corner out of view with an unflattering squeak as you pressed your hands to your flaming cheeks.

***

You were making your way to the cafeteria to grab a quick lunch when you heard the rapid staccato of high heels behind you.

“Hey, Cinnamon Roll!” Penelope scurried to catch up with you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You chuckled. “You mean here at the cafeteria where I almost always grab lunch around this time? What are the odds?”

She swatted at you with a tsk as she linked her arm with yours. “Don’t be cheeky.”

“Please. You love me being cheeky.”

“Yeah, but not when it’s directed at me.”

“Whatever you say, Cupcake.”

You made your way into the queue, peeking to see what was on offer for the day. The food was generally good, but sometimes the options were limited. You ended up settling for a sandwich while Penelope went with a salad.

You chatted while you ate, your lunch break going by much more enjoyably with your friend there. 

You were discussing the recent episode of a show you both watched when Penelope looked up. “Huh. What’s he doing here?”

You followed her gaze to find Agent Hotchner in the queue. “Well, using my astute powers of deduction, I’d say he’s getting some food, just like everyone else here.”

She huffed. “You’re at full capacity cheek today. I meant, that he doesn’t usually come to the cafeteria.”

You shrugged. “He did today.”

Penelope hummed and then that mischievous grin you had learned to be weary of crept across her face. 

Your eyes widened because you knew she was about to do something meddlesome.

And you were right.

Before you could stop her, she waved wildly and called out, “Hotch!”

His head swiveled in your direction and you could have sworn his face actually lit up just the tiniest bit when he saw you. He quickly paid and made his way over to your table.

“Hey, you two. Enjoying lunch?”

“We are,” Penelope replied with that puckish grin. “Would you care to join us?”

“Oh,” Agent Hotchner’s brows creased slightly. “I have a meeting soon so I have to run. Sorry.”

Was it just your endless hopefulness regarding him, or did he sound disappointed?

“That’s alright, Agent Hotchner. Don’t let us keep you. We were almost done, anyway.”

His eyes did his now routine scan of you before the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile that almost seemed wistful. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Hotch?”

That ever-constant blush warmed your cheeks yet again. You never knew what to do with yourself whenever he looked at you. This man always made you flustered beyond reason. 

You could see he was waiting for you to respond so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  “At least once more, Agent Hotchner. As always.”

To your dismay, his eyes seemed to dim as the quirk of his lips dropped a fraction.

“Right,” He breathed out.

He studied you for a moment longer before glancing at his watch and giving a quick wince. “I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He pivoted on his heel and was halfway to the exit before either of you could reply.

You watched him leave, barely aware of the open longing on your face. Once he was out of sight, you turned back to Penelope to see her biting her lip to hide a smile and her eyebrows well above her frames.

You tilted your head. “What?”

Her eyes shined merrily as she asked, “Did you just quote the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie at him?”

You didn’t know what to say as you felt heat flood your entire face.

“OMG, you did!” Penelope cackled.

“I panicked, okay? I’m fluent in movie quotes and it just slipped out!” You buried your burning face in your hands.

That only made Penelope laugh even harder. “This is why I love you so much, Cinnamon Roll.”

“I can’t help it! I get so nervous around him.”

“Is that why you refuse to call him Hotch?”

“I don’t refuse to. I just… I don’t know. It feels safer to just call him by his title. Less chance of me slipping and saying something we’d both regret.”

Penelope looked at you thoughtfully. “I’ve known Hotch for a long time and I’m positive he wouldn’t regret hearing that. In fact, I’d bet my favorite fluffy pink pen that he’d welcome it. Be overjoyed by it, even. He might even smile.”

You sighed. “Not this again, Pen. I love how supportive and encouraging you are about everything, but on this, you’re wrong. He does not see me that way and probably never will.”

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try. You should start by calling him Hotch next time you see him and watch his little frown turn upside down.”

“Not gonna happen,” you declared with a petulant shake of your head.

“So you’re just going to call him Agent Hotchner for the rest of your life?”

You crossed your arms defiantly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

She smirked. “Are you gonna call him Agent in bed? Not my kink, but I can see the appeal.”

You gaped at her. “‘Penelope!”

 She cackled again.

***

Your workday was finally over and not a moment too soon.

You slid into your jacket with a huff and snatched up your things, taking yet another deep breath when yet another ping came from your phone as yet another text was received.

They had been increasing in frequency for the last hour.

You stomped down the hall, jabbed the elevator call button, tapped your foot impatiently until it arrived, and darted in the moment the doors opened. Thankfully, it was empty so no one had to bear witness to your increasing frustration at the slowness of the elevator.

When it finally reached your desired floor, you stalked down the hall to your destination. 

Your eyes dropped to the phone in your hand when another text came through as you burst into Penelope’s lair without knocking, already mid-rant. “Penelope Middle Name Garcia! Why have you been spamming me with DILF memes all afternoo—”

You looked up from your phone expecting to see a grinning Penelope, only to find Agent Hotchner there looking at you with a raised brow and bemused smile.

You jerked to a halt, torn between wanting the floor to swallow you whole in your embarrassment or plotting out the imminent demise of your meddlesome friend.

Both seemed like great options at the moment.

Then Penelope leaned out from behind her boss, wearing the most impish smirk you had ever seen.

You narrowed your eyes at her and she batted hers right back. 

Problem solved, then. Plotting her imminent demise it was.

But, unfortunately, that would have to wait until after you’d recovered from your latest display of awkwardness in front of Agent Hotchner. 

Who was still watching you and looked to be enjoying the moment nearly as much as Penelope.

Mortified, you scrambled to say something, anything, to redeem yourself. 

“I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner!” You squeaked—a sound that was high and breathy and not at all attractive.

Now you were rethinking your choice. 

Yes, having the floor open beneath you and saving you from this sounded like the better outcome now.

Why, oh why couldn't you ever act like a normal human being around this man?

Determined to get out of this as unscathed as possible, you cleared your throat and tried again. “I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting with Penelope. Please excuse me.”

You began to turn when he took a step towards you, his hand partly raised towards you. “No, no,” he said in a rush.

His hand clenched and he stuffed it into his pocket. “You didn’t interrupt anything. We were already done.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’m still sorry for bursting in unannounced.”

He chuckled and your heart raced in delight. “Well, it sounds like you had justified cause.” He looked at Penelope over his shoulder. “Maybe refrain from spamming memes during work hours, okay Garcia?”

Penelope smiled and saluted. “Aye aye, sir.”

Agent Hotchner shook his head and turned back to you with a grin you couldn’t help but return. His eyes locked with yours and for a moment, you lost yourself in their depths. You would have been content to remain like that but the moment broke when he cleared his throat. “Well. I’ll leave you ladies to it. I have a bit more work before I can head home.”

He nodded to Penelope and made to leave, pausing at the door. He looked back at you with a sly smile. “Oh, and it’s Grace.”

You tilted your head. “Pardon?”

“Garcia’s middle name. For the next time you want to yell at her for sending you DILF memes.” 

Then he did something that you were in no way prepared for and would never forget in your lifetime. 

Your eyes widened almost painfully as your face flushed.

He winked.

At you.

Agent Hotchner winked at you and was out the door before your brain caught up.

You stood frozen for a long moment before exhaling a shaky breath. You dazedly shuffled to the chair Penelope had acquired for the times you needed to work alongside her and plopped down, your eyes still trained on the door.

“Did…” You slowly turned your head towards an enthusiastically grinning Penelope. “Did Agent Hotchner just wink at me?”

Penelope was nearly bouncing in her seat as she clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! He most assuredly did! And he teased you! Oh, this is the best day ever. I never thought I’d live to see the day Hotch teased a woman about DILF memes. And he winked! I didn’t know he could do that.”

You continued to stare in her direction, but all you could see was a replay of him winking at you. With as flustered as it made you, that wink should be labeled a deadly weapon. You would never be the same. There would be the you before the wink, and the you after.

Scratch that.

There very well may be no you after. Because you’re pretty sure you died. That was it. You were dead and your tombstone would read death by wink and tales would be long told of your tragic demise. 

Because there was no way you were going to survive knowing that Agent Hotchner teased you and then winked, after saying the word DILF, of which he was the prime example.

You knew exactly why Penelope had been sending you increasingly inappropriate memes about DILFs. And it was because of the man that just left you as a puddle on the floor whom you were absolutely besotted with.

But then a horrifying thought struck you.

“Pen?”

“Yeah?”

“How likely is it that he knows those memes were about him?”

Penelope hummed in thought. “Honestly, maybe 20 percent?”

You looked at her skeptically.

“Look, Hotch is a brilliant profiler. One of the best I’ve seen, but when it comes to things like this, he can be completely oblivious.”

You shook your head. “I doubt that.”

“Trust me. He’s often the first to notice when a person is crushing on someone, but never if he’s that someone. He never sees it. Maybe he just doesn’t want to but I think he just can’t imagine anyone finding him attractive.”

“Seriously? Does the man not own a mirror?”

“I know. It’s crazy but he never picks up on it whenever he gets hit on. It’s like he has blinders up just for that.”

“Oh.”

“But,” she grabbed your hand and squeezed gently. “I’ve never seen him act the way he does around you. I’ve told you before but hopefully, you’ll believe me this time. I think he’s interested in you. I think if you were very clear with him, told him straight out that you’re attracted to him and interested in getting to know him, asked him on a date, he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

You worried your bottom lip, anxiety rushing through your veins at the mere idea of confessing to him. “I don’t know, Pen. I’m not… I’ve never done that.” You sighed. “I’ve never been any good at this and the thought of telling him how I feel terrifies me.”

She smiled kindly. “I know. But don’t you think he’s worth it?”

Of course, he is, was your immediate thought. Who could ever think otherwise?

He was handsome, of course, but that wasn’t what truly attracted you to him. 

It was all the little parts of him that caught your attention and drew you in.

It was his kindness, bravery, and strength. It was seeing glimpses of his humor and light-hearted moments. It was witnessing him being a good leader, a better friend, and the best dad.

It was all the things you knew about him and all the things you still wanted to learn.

It was the fact that he was a decent man, an admirable man, a good man.

Yes, you thought. He is absolutely worth it.

***

You sat at the bar, your chin resting in your hand. You glanced at your phone, checking the time again. Penelope had stopped by your office earlier that day, demanding that you meet her for dinner and drinks that night. As you had no plans, you readily agreed.

However, she was late so you were restlessly waiting in the lounge of the restaurant, sipping on a fruity cocktail.

A few minutes passed and you looked towards the entrance again, hoping to see your brightly dressed friend.

She wasn’t there, but someone else you recognized was.

Agent Hotchner was standing there, scanning the room like he was looking for someone.

Even in the low lights of the lounge, he caught your eye. He stood a head above the other mingling patrons, his dark hair softer than he normally kept it at work. He was dressed casually, for him, in a black button shirt and dark jeans. His sleeves were partially rolled, drawing your eyes down his arms to see his fingers tapping on his leg.

You looked up in time to see him notice you. He tilted his head with a smile and made his way through the crowd to you.

”Hello,” you breathed out when he was close enough to hear.

”Hello.” His eyes ran over you in that familiar pattern, lingering for just a moment where your legs crossed as you sat on the stool. “You look lovely.”

Your cheeks flushed, as was their habit when he was near, and you thanked your earlier self for taking the time to dress up a little for the evening. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”

He grinned as he shuffled closer to you in order to let someone pass. “Thanks. It’s nice to be out of the suit for the weekend.”

You had to agree. While he was distractingly attractive in his suits, he was devastatingly handsome dressed like this.

You’d have to remember to thank Penelope later for picking this restaurant. You were very much enjoying the view.

“It’s a pleasant surprise, running into you here.” He looked at the empty stools beside you. “Are you meeting someone?”

“Ah, yes. I’m meeting up with Pen, but I guess she’s running late. You?”

He nodded. “Same. Meeting a friend. Looks like he’s not here yet, either.”

You felt a flash of relief. He’s not on a date then. That’s good.

You smiled, looking up into his eyes as he stood beside you. So far, this had been the best interaction you’d had with him. No awkwardness on your part and no meddling friends nearby.

It was nice, being here with him. You wanted the moment to last.

Gathering all your courage, you decided to take a chance. “I was just having a drink until our table was ready. You’re welcome to join me while you wait.”

His smile grew, his dimples coming out to play. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

He sat on the stool beside you, his long leg nearly brushing yours as he adjusted.

You took a sip of your drink, peeking at Agent Hotchner as he flagged down the bartender. You couldn't keep your eyes from running up the length of his arm, watching his muscles flex and move.

You nearly startled when your phone pinged, buzzing against the bartop and drawing his attention. You shot him an apologetic smile as you reached for your phone, meeting his eye when his own phone buzzed. 

You shared a grin at the coincidence, before you both checked your phones.

Sorry Cinnamon Roll, the text from Penelope read. I’m not going to be able to make it.

Is everything alright? You asked her.

Yes, everything’s fine. A thing came up. Sorry, sugar. You should stay and enjoy yourself though.

You held in a sigh as you began to type your response, stopping when another arrived from Penelope.  Maybe you can find someone else to enjoy the evening with. A certain tall dark and broody someone, perhaps?

Suspicion flared within you and your lips flattened into a thin line. You already know he’s here, don’t you?

Hotch is there? WOW, what a crazy random happenstance!

You glared at your phone, hoping she could feel your wrath on the other end. Penelope Cupcake Garcia! Did you set this up?

You know my middle name’s Grace.

Your lips pressed together even tighter. PEN!

You waited impatiently until her replies came in rapid succession.

I plead the fifth. 

Take a chance. He’s worth it, right?

Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

But definitely do everything I would. 😏

It was moments like these that made you both love and hate Penelope Garcia

You chanced a peek at Agent Hotcher. He was bent over his phone, rapidly typing away. Maybe it was the lighting, but you could have sworn he had the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.

He huffed and glanced at you. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. My night with Pen has been canceled. She can’t make it.”

He hummed. “Dave just canceled on me, too. Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“Does he do that often?”

“Rarely, in fact.”

“Oh.”

“I think our friends may have set us up.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, no. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner. Pen probably planned this whole thing and roped poor Rossi into it and…”

“You call him Rossi but still won’t call me Hotch?”

“I… I don’t… I’m sorry, Agent Hotch—” The look on his face stopped the words in your throat. His head tilted in a way that seemed stern, his eyebrows raised expectantly, but the quirk of his lips looked playful. Impish, even.

Was he teasing you?

“You’re getting closer,” He smirked. “Just drop the Agent and you’ll be there.”

Yep. He was teasing you.

And now you were blushing so hard you were sure he could feel the heat from there.

You pressed your lips together in a small pout. You weren’t sure what to do with a playful Agent Hotchner, but you couldn’t deny you liked it. Still, being teased by the object of your affection was not something you felt equipped to handle at the moment.

You took a fortifying drink of your cocktail, thinking back on Penelope’s encouraging words. You could do this. He was worth it.

“H-Hotch.” 

“There you go. Wasn’t so hard after all.”

You huffed a laugh. “Actually, it was harder than you’d think.”

He ran contemplative eyes over you. “And why’s that?”

You finished off the last of your drink and turned to face him, leaning against the bar. It was your turn to study him. “Surely you know how flustered you make me.”

The corner of his lips turned down. “I had noticed, yes. I know I can be intimidating, but I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“I never said I was uncomfortable.”

His eyes brightened. “Just flustered?”

You hummed. “I know you try not to profile your coworkers, but I’m betting it’s hard to just turn that off. So, what have you noticed about how I act around you versus everyone else?”

He straightened in his seat, bringing his glass to his lips as his eyes stayed focused on you. He took a slow sip before speaking. “You display signs of discomfort and hesitation with me, while you are more open with others, especially Garcia. You only make direct eye contact with me enough to let me know you are acknowledging me, but you often look down or to the side when we speak. You fidget and sometimes stumble over your words. I don’t see you do that with anyone else.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I assumed it was due to my role as unit chief and the perception that I’m a hardass who never smiles.”

You grinned at that. “Now, we both know that’s not true. I’ve seen you smile countless times.”

His cheeks pinkened and your grin grew. “Yes, well. That doesn’t change the fact that others think I’m incapable of it.”

“It’s their loss then. I happen to like seeing you smile.”

His eyes dropped almost shyly and that was definitely a blush spreading across his face. “I… Thank you.”

You watched in awe as he shifted in his seat, exhibiting all the signs you knew you normally did when he was around. Could it be that he was the one flustered now?

You felt a well of confidence spring up inside you. You felt powerful in a way you never had before. You had somehow managed to affect this stoic man enough to fluster him.

You smirked. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

He blinked. “Wrong?”

”That’s not why I acted that way around you.”

”Oh.”

”Can you guess why?”

“Normally, I would think that you didn’t like me. That I had done something to upset or offend you, but if that were the case, I don’t think you’d still be here talking with me.”

”Correct. I definitely don’t dislike you.” At the tilt of his head, you could tell he still didn’t understand. “If you had seen me act that way towards someone else, what conclusion would your observations lead you to?”

He swallowed. “Normally, such behavior would signify attraction or some depth of feeling towards the other person.”

”Did it really not occur to you that was the case here?”

”Honestly, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Didn’t want to assume you felt the same way.”

”The same way?”

The corner of his lip quirked up. “Attraction and some depth of feeling.”

You couldn’t keep the pleased smile from brightening your face. “Oh.”

You shyly tucked some hair behind your ear, his eyes following the motion. “Is… is that really how you feel about me?”

He stayed silent for a long moment, his focus firmly on you as if he were contemplating your features like one would fine art. ”Do you know why I kept asking you to call me Hotch?”

The abrupt change of topic threw you and it took a few seconds for you to respond. ”I thought you were just being nice.”

He shook his head with a soft smile. “It was because I hoped you’d feel comfortable enough to call me by my name someday. If I could get you to call me Hotch, then eventually, I might be able to convince you to call me Aaron.”

Your breath caught when he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours as he quietly spoke words meant only for you. “But what I’d really like, is if someday you’d call me yours.” 

You were pretty sure you had stopped breathing and that all the blood in your body was rushing to your face. Surely you didn’t hear that correctly. “W-what?”

He pulled back, his cheeks attractively flushed. “I apologize if I overstepped. I’m a bit rusty at it, but Dave suggested I try flirting. I’ll admit I got a bit nervous and that just came out.”

“Flirting? With me?”

He must have read something in your face because he smirked. “Yes, flirting with you.” 

He leaned closer again. “Is it working?” 

You’re sure your face is red enough to stop traffic. “Yes,” you managed to squeak out. 

“Good.” He ran his hand down your arm, wrapping his fingers around yours and bringing them up to his lips, pressing a barely there kiss to your knuckles. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. 

He smiled down at you, dimples on full display and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Not here, though.” He glanced around the bar. “I wouldn’t put it past Garcia to hack into their network to watch us.”

You chuckled and nodded knowingly. That was exactly what she would do.

He turned to wave down the bartender. “Please put both our drinks on the tab for David Rossi.” 

You gaped at him and he shrugged with a grin. “He comes here all the time and he would have paid if he had been here. Besides, it’s the least he can do for plotting with Garcia.”

With a giggle, you conceded. “That’s true.”

He stood from his stool, offering you his hand to help you from yours. “Come on. I know a great Italian place nearby.”

He laced his fingers with yours once you were on your feet and led you out of the restaurant.

“It’s only a few blocks away. Since it’s a nice evening, would you like to walk?”

You nodded and allowed him to guide you down the sidewalk, noting that he took care to walk between you and the street.

You walked in companionable silence for a while before he spoke, his eyes trained ahead. “You know, I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

“Really?”

“Since the moment we met.”

You looked at him skeptically. “You mean when I barreled into you and almost knocked you off your feet?”

He grinned down at you. “No almost about it.”

You gasped playfully. “I didn’t make you fall.”

“Sure you did. And all it took was your smile.”

You ducked your head down. “You’re teasing me again.”

“I’m not.” You shot him a leveled look. “Okay, yes, maybe a little. But I’m pretty sure I fell for you the moment you smiled up at me after you finished rambling and were more concerned about me than yourself even though you faceplanted pretty hard. I was worried you might’ve broken something.”

“Hey! I didn’t hit that hard.”

He chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze. “Sorry sweetheart, but you did. I’m surprised there wasn’t an imprint of a button on your face afterward.”

The endearment surprised you but in the most pleasant way. You weren’t sure if it was just a slip of the tongue or a calculated move, but either way, you hoped you’d get to hear it again.

Despite that, you wanted to bury your face—preferably in his chest again, but in a much gentler manner than the last time—to hide your discomfiture. “I’m always so awkward around you. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s endearing.”

“Oh, stop teasing me. There’s no way you find that even the least bit attractive.”

He stopped and you paused alongside him, looking up at him. His expression was serious but his eyes were soft. “I do. I find everything about you attractive. I think you’re beautiful, especially when you smile. Even more so when you’re blushing. You’re kind and sweet and funny. You might be the most charming woman I’ve ever met.”

You could feel your blush creeping down your neck to your chest. At this rate, you would soon be red from head to toe. “Pretty sure it’s you who’s the charming one.”

His lips lifted in a soft smile as his eyes took in the spreading warmth he always caused. “I’m glad you think so. Makes this easier to ask. I know I should wait until the end of the night but…”

He gently cradled your face in one of his hands, warm even against your flushed cheek. “May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The hushed word was barely passed your lips before his were there, stealing the last of it for himself.

The kiss was achingly gentle, a soft press of lips that left no doubt as to his burgeoning feelings for you. It was a slow wooing, a tender plea, a solemn promise. A declaration that this was only the beginning of his intentions towards you. 

It was a kiss full of hope.

Hope that this was only the first kiss of many, that this was the beginning of something wonderful, that you would accept what he was only too happy to offer. Himself.

You slowly broke apart, both breathing heavily.

That was, by far, the best kiss of your life, and you knew that they would only get better from there if Aaron Hotchner was the one kissing you.

That one kiss had conveyed so much and you needed to let him know that you got it, you understood, and you wanted the same.

“Aaron.” His name came out as a shaky sigh, but it was enough for him to freeze before dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

“Yes,” he asked just as quietly, his voice deep and husky.

“I feel the same.”

You felt him relax against you as he let out a stuttered breath.

“I never thought I’d have the courage to tell you this. You’re the brave one. But I just need you to know how I feel about you.”

You swallowed and met his eyes that were watching you intently. 

“I’ve been yours since I crashed into you. You stole a piece of my heart with your kindness that day and I’ve happily given you a little more of it each day since. You make me happy every time I see you, and even though I’m flustered and awkward around you, you make me feel safe. You’re a gentleman, you treat your team like a family, and you’re an amazing dad. And you’re handsome. Like, distractingly good-looking. It’s a problem.”

He chuckled and you were pleased to see a blush brightening his cheeks.

“I like you quite a lot, Aaron Hotchner. And I’d really like it if—if I could call you mine.”

Your answer came with his lips brushing against yours once, twice, before they were insistent in their acquisition of yours.

This kiss was deeper. The celebration of a long-awaited victory that had your toes curling. You lost yourself to it and would have continued to do so were it not for the honking from a passing car.

Aaron gave you one more soft kiss before pulling away, his lips delightfully pink and plump.

“As much as I’d love to carry on, this may not be the best place.” 

Despite his words, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and then another to your forehead. You grinned at him and for a moment, he seemed ready to lean right back in.

Instead, his eyes flicked quickly left and right, stopping on something behind you. With a squeeze of the hand that was still holding yours, he guided you to a recessed section of wall that provided a bit more privacy.

He positioned himself in front of you, his free hand coming to rest on your hip. He ducked down to kiss you once more, a tease of his lips that left you wanting more.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“Never apologize for that. You can kiss me all you want.”

His grip tightened on your hip. “You called me a gentleman, and yet here you are tempting me to prove otherwise.”

You shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Just being honest.”

“Well, since we are being honest with each other,” he said, the words rumbling in his chest, “I feel I need to let you know that while I plan to do this right and take things slow, there is one important fact you need to know about me.” 

“What’s that?” 

He leaned in, his breath low in your ear. “When granted the liberty to do so, I’m going to show you just how much I love having cinnamon rolls for breakfast.” 

You blinked, the words sinking in. “Cin-cinnamon rolls?” 

“They are my favorite, after all.” He hummed as he pressed a kiss beneath your ear. “My little Cinnamon Roll.”

You gasped and pulled back, narrowing your eyes at him. “You heard Pen call me that, didn’t you?”

He chuckled. “Everyone’s heard you call each other Cupcake and Cinnamon Roll. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“No, I meant that day at the elevator.”

“You mean when I told you I wouldn’t say no to one?”

“You…you did hear us!” 

He smirked unrepentantly. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but you weren’t being that quiet. So, I just used it to my advantage.”

You swatted his arm. “I was so embarrassed and you’re saying you were teasing?”

“In my defense, it was Garcia who was the one teasing you. I was flirting.”

You pouted at him. “Everyone’s wrong about you. You’re not a stoic hardass. You’re a menace. All these months pining away for you, all the times I was awkward, and now you tell me you were flirting.”

“If it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, I was pining for you too.”

“It does.” You huffed, only a little begrudgingly. 

He chuckled again and dipped down for one last lingering kiss.

You were breathless by the time he pulled back, smiling dazedly when he guided you back onto the sidewalk and resumed your walk to the restaurant.

Despite it having started because of a plot by your friends, your first date with Aaron Hotchner was everything you dreamed it could be. It was romantic, he was charming, and you were finally able to hold a conversation with the man. 

It went so well in fact, that you soon had a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. And after the fifth date, you found out personally that Aaron Hotchner really did enjoy having cinnamon rolls for breakfast. 

In fact, he enjoyed it so much, he went back for seconds.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #criminal minds fanfiction

[togrowoldinv]

Pour Me

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You meet an intriguing woman while you’re bartending

Note: This is a quick little fic about milf Wanda because I love her lol. Enjoy it!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You never expected to meet the love of your life this way. You never thought that the woman of your dreams would walk through the door as you poured drinks behind the bar.

But there she was. She had a quiet reserve about her. The friends that were with her were the ones who spoke to you first.

“This one here,” a redheaded woman said, “just got a divorce. We’re pouring them out for her.”

“Yeah, so pour them strong!” a blonde woman added.

“Can do, ladies,” you said.

You poured their drinks, and they tipped you. It pays when pretty girls come to the bar almost as much as it does when men do. But you much prefer when women come in. The other women walked away and left you alone with the woman at the bar.

“I’m sorry about your divorce,” you told her.

“It’s okay,” she said. You thought you picked up on a slight accent. It’s intriguing. “I’m better off.”

“I’m sure you are, ma’am. I didn’t get your drink order. What would you like?”

“Oh, um- what do you suggest?” She asked.

“I’ve got just the thing,” you said.

She watched as you got to work behind the bar fixing her a drink. It was what you always made when someone didn’t know what they wanted. Nothing special, but she sipped it like it was heaven in a glass.

When you asked her if she wanted another one, she said no. Her friends had convinced her to go out, and she didn’t really like to drink all that much.

“Your friends might end up shutting this place down,” you said to her.

The beautiful woman looked around and back at you. She smiled shyly.

“I’ll tell them we need to go,” she said, grabbing her purse.

“Oh, no you can stay,” you said. “I just need to start cleaning the bar up and I didn’t want you to wonder why.”

“Well, what if I help you?” She asked.

“I couldn’t allow you to help, ma’am. It’s my job,” you said.

“Oh, please it’s nothing. I’ve got two boys at home, so cleaning is my forte.”

“Come on over then,” you said, a smile on your face.

You walked to the open slot in the bar where you let the woman inside. She smiled as she took a rag and wiped the counter with you. She helped you clean for almost an hour before you asked her to help you restock the bar.

“It’s nice back here,” she said, admiring the office you built.

“I designed it myself,” you told her.

“I’m impressed.”

You picked up some crates filled with bottles and the woman watched the way your arms flexed under the weight of them. Really, she had been watching you all night.

“So, how old are your boys?” You asked her, trying to make small talk as she watched you move crates from the office to the bar.

“Ten,” she said. “They’re twins.”

“That’s so cool!” You said.

She grinned and showed you a few pictures of the boys. They looked like her and you couldn’t help but feel like you knew her already.

After you finished with the crates, you leaned against your desk. The woman looked at you intently.

“I should probably get back out there and close the bar,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Oh right,” she said.

You stood up and walked past the woman, but she grabbed your hand. You looked back at her and she looked like she could cry.

“Are you okay?” You asked her.

“Could you- would you- forget it,” she said, pulling her hand away.

“Hey, what is it?” You asked. You have gotten some odd requests working at a bar, but nothing this woman could say to you would be the craziest.

“Would you kiss me?” She asked.

“Oh, I don’t know if I should,” you said.

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry,” she tried to leave the room, but you grabbed her hand this time and pulled her back into your arms.

You looked into each other’s eyes before you leaned in and kissed the woman. The bar noise faded out and the only thing you could feel was her lips against yours. Her sweet, soft lips. You wondered how anyone could ever lose her, and when was the last time she was kissed like this. She was perfect.

The kiss ended when the woman’s friends knocked on the door to your office.

“I should drive them home,” the woman said.

“Ah, you’re right. It was nice to meet you,” you waited for her to fill in her name.

“Wanda,” the woman said. “I’m Wanda.”

“Y/n,” you supplied.

“Y/n,” she tried it out her tongue. Her friends called for her again. “Thank you for tonight. Really.”

“Sure,” you said. You opened the door for her, and her friends pulled her into their arms.  “Hey Wanda, come back sometime?”

“I will,” she promised, a glint in her eye.

And she did come back. She came back every weekend for three months before you asked her out.

And she stands across from you now three years later ready to become your wife. You thank goodness she walked into the bar that night.

#wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff smut

[beetlejuicyy]

Hi again, lovely! Would it be alright to please request Bada x F! Idol reader with smut at the end? Where they've been together for years and are engaged but keeped it private. But then reader decides to surprise Bada at the SWF 2 final to support her and when Bebe wins, Bada can't hold back and runs to reader picking her up and kissing her, shocking everyone, that's how they reveal their relationship to the world. And maybe afterwards  they have their own private celebration at home after team bebes win.

The Winner Takes It All

Pairing: Bada x reader

Synopsis: you attend the swf2 final show to support your very secret fiancée. she decides to spill the secret in front of everyone

Warnings: fluff, only suggestive at the end sorry anon :'(

Note: i just realized that for me it's common sense that the reader is always a girl? that's why i never feel the need to mention it above there but i realized it might not be the case for everyone? so to clarify BADARI IS FOR THE GIRLIES!!!

Masterlist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’ve never thought about getting married, let alone this young. The whole ‘you haven’t met the right man’ rhetoric was the most annoying thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Because you had to meet the right woman. In the span of your six year relationship, Bada had managed to change your entire perspective. In particular, the most impressive thing she did was getting you engaged last year. You didn’t expect it, although she would drop hints and questions here and there to find out if you would say yes. She didn’t want to pressure you but the moment had to be special, unforgettable and most of all a surprise. Of course you said yes.

It didn’t mean that your relationship went public, though. You were quite comfortable with having your closest people only know. You had her only to yourself. No imprudent questions, no expectations and no judgement from anyone. You had her only to yourself and you both enjoyed the quiet and intimate moments you shared. On top of it, Bada had her career which involved a lot of time and networking, not to mention she was gradually getting more and more popular. She was the talk of town and, frankly speaking, neither of you wanted your relationship to be a public subject debated on online forums and social media platforms’ comment section.

She always had to remind you that you were an idol and the relationship would have impacted your carieer even more than hers. You were rarely seen together in public and you were thankful for that because it was already very hard to hide. She was working with SM mostly and you got to meet her through a common friend that was a stylist. You both agreed that if you would ever work together your relationship would be too obvious, so you avoided that as much as you could. Things had to remain secret.

But the exact opposite was happening right now. You leaned your head against your girlfriend’s shoulder, unlocking your phone again.

“Unnie, leave them be.” Minah said, noticing you were checking the comments again. She was sitting next to you at the table and took it upon herself to pour you another shot of alcohol.

“I don’t know why I’m so pressed about it.” You said, sighing and locking the phone and putting it on the table. Bada only looked at you briefly from the side of her eye while taking care of the meat on the grill in the middle of the table.

“What Bada unnie did was sooo cool, though.” Cheche joined. “I’m sure things will be easier now.”

“Maybe you’ll enjoy outdoor dates more now.” Tatter chimed in.

“Guys, we’re here to celebrate we won the show.” Bada said in a cute scolding tone. You knew she noticed talking about it only made you more anxious. “Gimme that.” She took your phone from the table and put it in her pocket.

She had asked you several times if what she did was wrong. And every time your answer was no. Because, to be completely honest, you agreed with Minah. What Bada, your fiancée, did was very cool and very romantic.

Only a couple of hours ago you were still waiting for the final results of the Street Woman Fighter 2 finale. If your girlfriend was popular before, her popularity was now exploding. Joining the show along with her crew had her in the spotlight, and many people found out about her talent through it. But it also meant that she had become busier than ever. More tired than ever. More stressed than ever. There had been so many days when you wanted to drop by and bring some freshly cooked food for her and her team, especially noticing how she was losing weight as much as she was losing sleep. But you couldn’t. All eyes were on her more than ever, and your relationship was still secret.

However, what you could do was be there for her at the most important moment of the show. You didn’t tell her but had been invited by the producers to be one of the few celebrities that attended the live broadcast, especially since people knew you were good friends with most of the 1million girls. In truth, you accepted the invitation because of Bada.

When she saw you for the first time she was sitting in the backstage, anxiously waiting to be called on stage. Daniel asked you to share your feelings on being there so you did your best to cheer on all teams equally and have a professional speech. Her face lit up immediately and it took her all self control not to wave at you through the screen like a five year old full of excitement, knowing she was filmed. She always went the extra mile in dancing whenever you were watching and the performances were completely out of this world. You loved it as a whole, all the team did an amazing job, but your eyes shifted to wherever Bada was at, being completely mesmerized by her. You knew how much she had worked to be there. After the performance was over all you wanted to scream out for everyone to hear was that she was your girl and you were so proud of her. You only cheered along with the audience, hoping she would know your feelings.

The most nerve wrecking moment was Daniel announcing the winner. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you looked at all the girls in BEBE team holding hands, praying their name would be called out.

And it was.

Maybe Bada was too drunk on victory. Or maybe not being able to express her happiness when she saw you in the audience was too much for her to handle. Or maybe she was simply too overwhelmed. In any case, you didn’t expect her following actions. After her never ending speech, thanking everyone she could name, checking her piece of paper where she had previously written her thoughts, she kept looking at you. For a moment, you thought that she would do something reckless and say your name in the speech. But she handed Tatter the microphone instead. They were running out of time anyway.

You wanted to hug her so badly. Tell her how proud you were. How much she meant to you. That you always believed in her. But, as you stood there in the crowd, the stage got full of people as the other contestants went to congratulate the winners. You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress the feeling of your heart aching. You were happy for her. Immensely so. But, for the first time, you hated this secret relationship thing you had. The live broadcast was finished already but your girlfriend was still busy chatting with people on the stage.

You noticed Bada hugging and thanking everyone for their kind words. However, she was growing impatient by the minute and it was harder and harder for her to respect the formalities and avoid being rude to everyone trying to talk to her. She wanted to go to you. She wanted to share this moment with you, her girlfriend, her fiancée, her soulmate. After hugging some people and taking some pictures she’d had enough. Bada hopped down the stage, not even minding to take the stairs on the side. Your eyes widened, not knowing what she was about to do. Or rather, because you knew exactly what she was about to do. She walked in your direction, some people still around you, most of the celebrities already gone after the results were out. You heard them talking, squealing. She only looked at you, her chocolate eyes making you weak in your knees. Bada stopped right in front of you and cupped both of your cheeks as she leaned down and kissed you. Her plump lips pressed against yours firmly, as if she wanted to get under your skin. Your hands instinctively grabbed her blue leather jacket, pulling her closer, forgetting everything and everyone around you for a brief and blissful moment.

To say that everyone was in shock would be an understatement. The sounds of reality came back to you as she pulled away, pressing her lips together and looking at you like a kid that just broke something he was told to be careful with. Around you some people had their phones in their hands, recording. Some started talking quietly to each other, letting out exclamations that weren’t that subtle. Some were too surprised to do anything. Even the loud laughter and chatting from the stage stopped, turning into a faint murmur. You suddenly felt anxious, noticing all those eyes on you.

However, Bada just pulled you by the hand and forced you to follow her up the stage, which for a moment gave you even more anxiety. She took a mic while still holding your hand firmly, speaking on a very bright yet nervous voice.

“Uhm, yes!” She started with a loud voice. She always did that when she was anxious, speaking loudly as if trying to snap herself out of it. “I've known y/n for quite a while and not through our jobs as artists. This is the person I want to give my biggest thanks to, the one who has been next to me at my worst and is here with me at my best. Y/n is my girlfriend, my fiancée and the best person I could ever ask for.”

You didn’t really remember how you got to the restaurant after that. All you knew was that all the contestants flocked around you, congratulating you, calling you pretty, teasing Bada and asking if you were alright since you looked rather pale. Some of them were your fans even and they scolded your girlfriend for not introducing you sooner. The members of team Bebe tried sheltering you as much as they could and you eventually ended up in a car with Tatter driving and Bada sitting with you in the backseat. You only came to your senses after munching on some meat and, most importantly, two shots of alcohol.

All of these events flashed in your mind in the span of a moment and you realized you might have had a panic attack back then. However, going out to celebrate with team Bebe was good for you. They were loud and happy and you would forget the stress of your now public relationship at times. Even if you felt the need to check once again what people were saying and what videos were circulating online, Bada had your phone and she wasn’t going to let you cause more stress to yourself.

***

You got home very late, after driving the younger members home safely. You were both exhausted, especially your girlfriend since she had been up all day, rehearsing, performing, stressing out. However, probably because of the alcohol at the celebration or simply because she was finally alone with you after a long time, she was feeling very frisky. She was touching you with every occasion she got, her hands roaming over your thigh or back more than necessary ever since you were at the table, making you feel a little embarrassed in front of her friends.

When you got home it only got worse. And, even though you were tired, you allowed her to kiss you and touch you all over, loving the way her skin felt on top of yours. However, after letting her have her way, you pushed her away, down against the mattress and she looked at you with surprised eyes, worried she might have done something wrong.

“Are you mad because of what I did?” She asked from the hundredth time. She was only wearing her bra and her hair was scattered on the sheets around her head and over her shoulders.

“I’m actually happy about it.” You said pushing strands of hair away from her chest as an excuse to gently touch her skin.

“But… you’ve been checking whatever people are saying the whole night.” You looked at her plump lips and half opened tired eyes and wondered how you could ever be mad at her. "What's going to happen now?"

“Whatever.” You said. “My management will do some damage control.” You looked at her with a gentle but tired smile on your face, taking in every detail of her face. You didn't need alcohol to be drunk on love. “You’re the winner tonight. You deserve a prize.” She started grinning like an idiot in anticipation.

“What could that be-“ She hummed but her words turned into a moan as you leaned down and licked a line from her collarbone up her neck and under her jaw. Her hands grabbed you by the waist, fingers digging into your skin as you continued to leave wet kisses along her neck. She tried grabbing your face to pull you into a kiss she was desperate for, but you only pulled her hand away above her head.

“I said you deserve a prize. Just sit back and enjoy it.” You said, your lips only inches away from hers, and you felt her hips shift under your weight in an attempt to create some friction between the two of you. “We’ll get to that soon, love.” You continued, knowing exactly what she was looking forward to. Her hand relaxed in your grip and her whole body eased up, ready to received whatever you were about to do.

“Being a winner really is great.” She managed to say before turning into a moaning mess under your touch.

tags: @ssc7514

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #swf2 x reader #bada lee imagine #bada x reader

[ghostboneswrites2]

Could you maybe write something about Daryl with a reader who’s similar to him and has also experienced physical abuse from their father and they just comfort each other and bond over their scars please

Reminders

Note: My laptop cord broke so forgive any formatting errors :( I toyed with a. Few ideas for this but settled on prison era Daryl with non established relationship fem reader. Def some chemistry, but nothing established. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, light profanity

        Daryl squinted in the sun as he chewed on a freshly picked tomato from the garden. The prison yard was busy, buzzing with activity as people focused on their tasks and socialized amongst themselves. He watched them, studied them. It was new territory for him to feel so important yet so alienated at the same time. Sure, the alienation was mostly his own doing, as he wasn’t much of a social butterfly. He considered himself to be more of a moth, fluttering around on his own in the dark, avoiding the sun. Still, with so many people relying on him and admiring him, it felt unnatural to just walk up to somebody and chat about mundane things as if the world were still turning at its normal pace.

        Then, his eyes found you. He never knew what to make of you. You were new — even fresher than the ex-Wooburians. He was the one who found you alone in the forest, yet he had never had a full conversation with you. You were timid and rough on the exterior, never keeping eye contact with anyone unless the sole purpose was intimidation. They almost didn’t let you stick around. It wasn’t until you had a one-on-one with Hershel, where he found you were not all bad, that he talked the rest of the council into keeping you around.

        You proved yourself pretty useful, too. You knew a thing or two about gardening crops, you were good with knives and guns, and you were fast. You were never afraid to do what needed to be done, even if it put your own life at risk. You were sent on a lot of runs for that purpose. With people like you and Daryl out on those runs, casualties were few if any. You were both natural protectors.

         Some of the kids had taking a liking to you, namely Carl and Mika. You liked them, too, if for different reasons. Carl was strong, and he had an understanding for the world and it’s workings. He impressed you. Mika was sweet, and even if she seemed to sweet for the world, you knew there was a part of her that had potential. She was sure to figure things out, maybe even kick some serious ass one day.

        All that aside, Daryl couldn’t read you. Or, maybe he could, and that was the problem. He wasn’t willing to accept how similar the two of you may have been. Hell, he had barely accepted that maybe, somewhere inside him, he was as good as any of these people chattering around him. 

        “Stare any harder and you’ll melt a hole through her head.” Carol’s voice pulled his gaze away from you. He glared at her.

        “Wha’d’ya mean?” 

        “Oh, come on. You’ve been watching her every move this morning.” She nudged her shoulder against his. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

       “Hm.” He grunted with a shrug. “Ain’t like that.”

       “Why not? She’s cute.” Carol persisted. “She’s like you, but pretty. You’d get along.” She teased.

        “Pfft.” He tutted. “She ain’t like me.” 

        “Whatever.” She chuckled. 

        Days would go by where he’d watch you from a distance in between his own tasks. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice or feel his eyes dancing over your skin. It was just that you didn’t know how to react or respond. Daryl wasn’t an ugly man by any stretch of the imagination, and unlike him, you could read him all too well because there was something about him that you recognized in yourself and you were willing to accept that similarity. 

        You snuck your glances in, too. You’d watch from the corner of your eye as his hands gripped the steering wheel on a run, or you’d allow your vision to follow him as he stalked through the gates and into the trees to hunt. You often wondered if he really cared to hunt or if he just wanted to get away. Probably both.

        All in all, it was a sad case of two idiots who couldn’t see past their own insecurities and fears far enough to make a move. And it stayed that way, longer than it should have. 

        One night, when the air was particularly hot and thick with humidity, and he got tired of flipping around on his cot trying to find a cool spot on the sheet, Daryl went outside for a smoke. The prison was fast asleep, save for him, and apparently you. He was about halfway through his cigarette when he noticed a small orange light on the other side of the yard. It would move up and down every so often. He quickly realized it was the cherry of another cigarette. 

        He couldn’t make out who it was in the darkness, nor could he think of anyone else he’d ever seen smoking. So, he strolled across the grounds and decided to make himself known, so that the other smoker could be known to him. Somehow he was shocked to know it was you.

        “Hey.” Your soft voice said casually, not offering even a glance in his direction. You were leaning one shoulder against the chain link fence, watching the quiet forest on the other side.

        “Didn’t know ya smoked.” He commented, gluing his eyes to the tree line as well.

        “Found the ones I like on our last run. Had to grab ‘em.” You shrugged, taking a long drag and enjoying the cooling menthol as it coated your throat.

        “Which ones?” He asked. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

        Instead of telling him, you just held up the pack. 

        “Didn’t take ya for the menthol type.” He mumbled. You sent a quick glance his way.

        “What kind would you take me for, then?” You wondered. 

        “Mm-mm.” He shrugged. “Marlboros. The gold pack.” 

         “Ew.” You chuckled. “I’m a Camel Crush girl, through and through. You?” 

        “Don’t matter.” He admitted. “Just the strong ones.” 

        You nodded and hummed and allowed the silence to creep in. You two stood that way for a few minutes, the only sounds being the noises of puffing and exhaling over a symphony of crickets and night critters. 

        “Why Crush?” He finally asked. “Why not just menthol?”

        “I like having choices.” You said simply. 

        A slight breeze picked up and chilled your sweaty skin. You wore nothing but a tank and shorts, given the boiling temperatures inside. You ran a hand over your arm to combat the chill. His eyes instinctively flickered to the movement and focused on your hand first, then the flesh beneath. Where he expected to find smooth skin, he instead found a rough terrain of keloid scars. 

        He had never noticed them before because your sleeves always covered them.

        “What happened?” He asked. 

        “What?” You looked over to him and realized he was looking at your arms. Your hand impulsively moved and covered the ugly reminders of your past. “Oh. Nothing good.” You said vaguely.

        “Mm.” He nodded, wondering if it was the same kind of bad things that left him with his own scars. 

        “Shit.” You mumbled, realizing that small gust of wind blew the cherry off your cigarette. “Got a light? I used my last match for this.” 

        Wordlessly, he dug in his pocket and handed you his zippo. You lit your cigarette back up and passed his lighter back. More silence followed before he broke it again. 

        “Was it your mom or your dad?” He bravely questioned. 

        Your eyes darted to him harshly, but they softened. You considering not answering him, but decided there wasn’t much of a reason not to.

        “Neither. It was my step dad.” You confessed.

         “My dad was a dick too.” He related.

         “Mine wasn’t. His replacement was.” You sighed.

        “Mm. Merle — my brother — usually just ran away.”

         “From what?”

         “My dad.” He said quietly. 

         “Was your dad like my step-dad?” You asked.

         “Mm.” He nodded. 

         “What was his poison?”

          “Whiskey.” 

        “Oh. Mine liked meth.” You admitted. “Must be a stepdad thing.”

        “Nah.” He shook his head. “Just an asshole thing.” 

        “Sounds right.” You huffed a fry laugh. “Your daddy mark you up like me?”

        “Why?” 

        “How else would you know someone else did this to me?”

        “Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah.”

        “I’m sorry to hear it.” You sympathized the best you could.

        “Don’t matter. It’s in the past.”

        “Yeah, I tell myself that, too, but… It’s hard to leave the past where it belongs when you’re covered in reminders. Tryin’ to hide ‘em all the damn time.” 

        “Yeah.” He agreed. “Maybe they’re just there to remind us we survived.”

        You held onto his sentiments, toying with the phrase, spinning it around in your mind and locking it into memory.

         “One way to put it, I suppose.” 

        “It’s the only way to put it. Only way to move on.” He argued. You took the last drag off your smoke before tossing it. Your eyes caught his and stayed there for some time before you offered a soft smile. 

         “See ya around, Dixon.”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #request

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Road Trip

Plot: Joel, Y/n and Ellie continue to make their way cross country, and Joel and Y/n’s truce is heavily tested.

Warnings: tlou ep.4 spoilers, language, insinuation of killing, mention of a p*rn magazine, guns, (16+)

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: This chapter feels like filler, but there’s still lil’ nuggets that will come into play later. Thanks to HBO for throwing that curveball of a Friday episode, now I gotta hustle to get the next chapter out within two days 😂

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be tagging anyone who does not have their age in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope you all enjoy this one and prepare for the next one because….anyway, enjoy!

———————

June 2nd, 2002. Austin, Texas.

——————

Joel and Y/n had gone out for three weeks, equaling a total five dates. Between their respective work schedules and Joel being a parent, they had to get creative if they wanted to see each other. They’d meet on their lunch breaks or, if they were too busy, Joel would stop by the hardware store in dire need of help finding something and only Y/n could possibly help him. It gave them a good twenty minutes or so to wander the aisles together.

On a particularly slow Tuesday afternoon, Y/n was doing inventory. Joel and her had made plans to grab coffee on his way home and she was counting down the hours till he came through the door.

A small voice broke her out of her daydreams, “Excuse me?”

Y/n turned and met the face of a girl, no older than maybe thirteen. She had dark skin and a head full of curls pulled back with a scrunchie. She looked slightly out of breath, but determined.

“How can I help you?” Y/n asked curiously.

“Are you Y/n?”

She confusedly furrowed her brows, “Yeah…”

The girl huffed with a grin, “Okay, good. I asked, like, three other people where you were and they had no idea.”

Y/n awkwardly smiled along with her, “C-can I ask how you know my name?”

“Oh,” the girl snapped back to the current conversation, “I’m Sarah.”

“Sarah…” Y/n repeated, wracking her mental index of high school friend’s kids, before it hit her. Her eyes widened, “Wait…Sarah…Miller?”

She nodded, “Yeah.”

Y/n’s body locked up, to say she was surprised was an understatement. Joel had told her that he wanted to wait a while before introducing her to Sarah. He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since Sarah’s mom and was trying to figure out the best way for them to meet. Y/n hadn’t taken any offense, she’d supported it, actually. She’d never dated anyone with a kid and she wanted to do everything as close to perfect as she could.

“D-does your-“ Y/n braced herself against her inventory cart, “Does your dad know you’re here?”

Sarah’s mouth twisted, “Not exactly.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, suspicious, “And not exactly means…?”

“Not at all,” Sarah nervously smiled.

Y/n gathered the little oxygen left in her body and laughed. “How did you get down here if you’re by yourself?”

Sarah shrugged, “I took the bus.”

“Ah,” Y/n nodded, “And you ride the bus alone without your dad’s permission a lot?”

The girl gave a guilty smile and balanced on the heels of her Converse. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

“So, why are you here?” Y/n asked, feeling like she was doing something wrong.

Sarah sighed, “I got tired of waiting for my dad to introduce me to you. I’ve asked him, like, ten times and he keeps saying no. I knew you worked here so…I figured this was the only way I could meet you.”

Y/n couldn’t help but be a little touched, and also terrified. She was more nervous about impressing Sarah than she had been Joel.

“I mean,” Y/n rubbed her forehead, “Yeah, I knew your dad was waiting to introduce us but…I didn’t realize his daughter was a secret mastermind.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sarah smiled, resting a hand on Y/n’s cart, “So…you’re dating my dad.”

Y/n nodded, “Seems that way, yeah.”

“Well, he really likes you,” Sarah replied, “Like, really likes you. He’s in a way better mood than usual.”

“Is he now?” Y/n inquired.

“He’s smiling all the time, he’s cooking,” Sarah’s face turned serious, “Which never happens ‘cause he kinda sucks at it. He’s even singing.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Singing?”

Sarah nodded, “Uh-huh. Just under his breath, but still…”

Y/n was trying hard to restrain her grin, but Sarah was making it difficult. It was nice to know Joel was as uplifted by their short time together as she was. She’d practically been floating down the aisles.

“He’s just never this happy and…” Sarah shrugged one arm, “I really wanted to meet whoever was responsible.”

“Well,” Y/n smiled, “Your dad’s pretty great. And he loves you, never stops talking about how well you’re doing in school and in soccer…”

Sarah’s posture visibly improved upon hearing the compliments.

“Look, my dad’s never going to work up the nerve to let us all hang out together,” Sarah began to explain, “But the county fair’s on Friday night, me, him and Uncle Tommy are gonna go and it would be really fun if you came.”

Y/n inhaled deeply, a family outing. Was she ready for that? Were her and Joel at that point?

“I don’t know, Sarah,” she hesitate, “I should really talk to your dad first.”

“No,” Sarah urged, taking hold of one of Y/n’s hands, “He’ll just get all squirmy and frown and say that it’s not time yet.”

Y/n thought for a second, “He does frown a lot.”

“A lot,” Sarah chortled, Y/n joining in soon after, “Just think about it. Please?”

Y/n was between a rock and a hard place, or rather, the guy she was dating and his crafty daughter. She wanted Sarah to like her and they were already a step in the right direction. She didn’t want to blow it.

“Okay,” she relented, “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes,” Sarah cheered under her breath, still holding onto Y/n’s hand. “I gotta go, the bus is gonna be back any minute.”

As she moved to go, Y/n took a step forward. “I-I really don’t like the thought of you on the bus by yourself,” she objected, “Why don’t I drive you?”

“But you’re working,” Sarah replied.

Y/n gestured to the empty space around them. “I think they’ll survive without me for twenty minutes.”

Sarah gave a small smile, she was getting to spend more time with the woman she had a million questions about. Sneaking around had paid off substantially.

“Come on,” Y/n removed her apron, draped it across her cart and pulled her keys from her pocket, “You can tell me what your dad’s been singing on the way.”

The two girls headed out of the store, giggling to themselves as Sarah did an impression of her father humming old country tunes to himself while washing dishes.

—————————

Later that afternoon, Joel arrived to pick Y/n up for their quick coffee. When he arrived, she was nowhere to be found. After asking around, and finding out she had stepped out momentarily, he decided to wait at the empty checkout line for her.

Y/n walked back into the store with a new spring in her step. Sarah had not only spilled a lot of dirt on Joel, but she had talked about herself a lot. Y/n felt like she’d already been able to make a connection.

Joel spotted her before she did him, waving a little to catch her eye.

“Hey,” Y/n greeted, apprehension taking over.

“Hey,” Joel replied, his smiling fading the closer he got, “What’s that look?”

“What look?” Y/n asked, unaware of how nervous she appeared.

“You look like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar,” Joel smirked, taking her hand lightly into his, “What’s going on?”

Y/n sighed, she’d been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Sarah all the way back to the store. Joel’s gentle touch was only heightening her nerves. “Why don’t I drive us to coffee?”

Joel squinted in confusion, “Okay…”

The two of them drove off in Y/n’s old Toyota, but she waited until they had their drinks in hand and were walking down the main street to start talking.

“So Sarah came by today,” she blurted out.

Joel nearly choked on the sip he’d been taking, “My Sarah?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n nodded, anxiously holding the cup close to her chest.

“H-how’d she get down the-“ Joel began to ask before pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes, “She took the bus, didn’t she?”

“Yep,” Y/n answered.

Joel sighed, he was already starting to find grey hairs across his head. Sarah was going to turn the whole thing silver before she was 16.

“She said she was tired of waiting for you to introduce us so she was going to do it herself,” Y/n retold the story.

“Yeah, sounds like her…” Joel replied with a loud sigh, “Look, I know you wanted to meet her-“

“Yeah, but I was perfectly fine with waiting,” Y/n was quick to say, “You said you wanted to do this the right way.”

“Yeah, well, the right way was decided for us,” Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “So what’d you two talk about?”

Y/n smirked over her coffee cup, details of the conversation still fresh in her mind. “Girl stuff,” she answered, quickly taking a drink.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Joel asked with an eyebrow cocked.

“She, uh, she invited me to the fair this weekend,” Y/n changed topics, “With you guys.”

“Ah,” Joel nodded, he didn’t know whether or not to thank Sarah for speeding his relationship up. Lord knows, he was too nervous to do it.

Y/n held a hand up to Joel, “But I didn’t give her an answer. I wanted to talk to you first.”

With the obstacle of Sarah’s approval out of the way, there was nothing to stop him from saying yes. And he didn’t want there to be, he was just used to using excessive caution around his family that anything else felt unnatural. 

“You should come,” Joel answered, turning to Y/n with a shy smile.

Y/n inched back a little, placing her hand on Joel’s arm, “Are you sure? Joel, I don’t want to insert myself anywhere.”

“How can you insert yourself somewhere you were invited?” Joel replied, settling his hand over Y/n’s, “Come.”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n knew that this was a big step for them. Joel’s daughter was his world, and Y/n was being given the privilege of being a part of it.

She blew out her cheeks, “Okay.”

Joel’s smile was earnest, rubbing his thumb over the back of Y/n’s hand. 

“If all goes well, I won’t have to hide you so much,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re doing that great a job,” Y/n chuckled at Joel’s confusion, “Johnny Cash?”

Joel’s face turned sour, “Can’t believe she told you ‘bout that.”

“Hey, I thought it was a cute story,” Y/n held her hands up in surrender, “Your daughter thought it was a laugh riot.”

Joel lightly rolled his eyes, letting them rest afterwards on Y/n’s face. A stray bit of hair had fallen in her face, thanks to the breeze, and Joel brushed it away, cupping her cheek.

Joel and Y/n had made the decision that they wouldn’t take their relationship any further without having Sarah’s approval. They had yet to even kiss.

“If this works out,” Y/n started, “You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.”

“Who says I want to?” Joel muttered, their close proximity allowed him to lower his voice.

They both knew if they stayed in the moment a second longer, their wills could cave. Y/n shoved her coffee cup between their mouths, allowing them both a breathy laugh.

“Come on,” Joel reached down and clasped Y/n’s hand, “I gotcha for a little while longer.”

The two of them walked off into the Austin evening, savoring every short second they got together.

—————

2023. Somewhere in rural America.

Joel, Ellie and Y/n had been driving for one day and no one had yet to end up in a body bag. A win if ever there were one.

That wasn’t to say they hadn’t come close. Joel and Y/n’s truce was an uneasy one and with the promise made to Ellie that they’d get along, their arguments had phased to thin lipped smiles barely concealing their disdain for one another. Still, their guns had stayed in the holsters. That was progress.

Joel pulled over at an abandoned gas station somewhere, needing to refuel. Ellie headed off to the bathrooms while Y/n and Joel went about setting up the siphon.

As Y/n handed Joel a rag, she noticed the state of his hand. It was still healing, and after using it so much in one day, it was beginning to shake.

48 hours ago, she would have let him suffer, but in the interest of a truce…

“Here,” she scooted closer, taking the siphon into her hand.

“I got it,” Joel protested.

“I know you do,” she placated him, gently prying his hand off the device, “Now move.”

She inched him out of the way and took over attaching the device. Joel crouched next to her in the dust, he felt useless if he wasn’t working.

Footsteps signaled that Ellie was coming back. She glanced over the abandoned car at Y/n and Joel.

“We have to do this every hour?”  

“Gas breaks down over time,” Joel answered, “This stuff’s almost water. Back in the day, we’d drive 10, 12 hours on one tank. You could go anywhere.”

“So where’d you go?” Ellie asked.

Y/n continued working, bouncing the memories off that threatened to stick in her mind. 

“Pretty much nowhere,” Joel answered, it was technically the truth, but so there was unclaimed life resting in his ‘pretty much.’

Y/n huffed a large breath into the siphon, the gasoline dripping into their canister.

“Nice,” Ellie complimented, “How does that work?”

“It’s a siphon,” Joel explained as Y/n monitored their levels, “It’s when liquid…travels against gravity because pressure-“

Ellie nodded smugly, “You don’t know.”

“I know it works,” Joel quickly replied.

Y/n smirked and looked over her shoulder, “Please teach us more about physics, professor.”

Joel frowned at his ex before turning his attention back to a walking Ellie, “No wandering.”

Ellie thought a moment, “Okay,” she went into her backpack, “This is your fault then.”

She whipped out a small paperback that made Y/n shut her eyes in exhaustion. “Oh, sweet Moses, not that book…” she muttered.

Joel started to speak, “Wha-“

“‘It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope,’” Ellie recited, “‘It’ll still be stationary.’”

Joel blinked, Y/n let her forehead rest against the car.

“‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too’ by Will Livingston,” Ellie held up the book to Joel, “Volume Too. Look, you get it? Too? Like t-o-o?”

Joel mumbled something under his breath and got up.

“‘What did the mermaid wear to her math class?’” Ellie asked her captive audience, building tension in the silence, “‘An algae bra,” she laughed, “Like algae bra. ‘I stayed up all night-“

“No,” Joel shook his head, like that word carried an ounce of power with Ellie.

“‘Wondering where the sun went,” the girl continued, “‘And then it dawned on me.”

“Feel free to wait in the truck,” Joel suggested, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, Y/n thought it was funny,” Ellie retorted, she’d tested the jokes our on her watcher back in the QZ.

“I laughed at one out of, like, fifteen, Ellie,” Y/n grunted as she got to her feet, “That’s not the win you think it is.”

“Okay, but just know,” Ellie held up the book again, “You can’t escape Will Livingston. He’ll be back. There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

Ellie took her backpack and her jokes and walked back to the Chevy, leaving Joel and Y/n by themselves.

“You get that book,” Joel started, trying to break the silence, “I’ll roll down the window.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of ‘em,” Y/n replied, wiggling the toe of her boot into the ground, “But they make her smile. Like I’m in any position to put a stop to that.”

Joel glanced over at Y/n, taking a temperature reading of her once again. It was hard to see so much of the person you’d once loved with your whole heart mixed with who they’d become. Every once in a while, he got flashes of his ex-girlfriend in the light she used to radiate. But something inevitably came through and blew out her flame. More than often, all it took was his mere presence.

“We should be good,” he said, changing his train of thought and kneeling down to pack up the siphon.

Y/n took the gas they’d collected and carried it back to the truck. Heavy as it was, she wasn’t about to ask Joel to help her. She’d lived through twenty years of their dystopian hell-space, a gas can wasn’t about to best her.

Once the truck was filled up, Joel and Y/n hopped in the front seats with Ellie sitting in the back.

“Must’ve been some truck,” Ellie commented, staring out the back window at the fleet deserted vehicles.

“Yeah, they used to stick big-ass plows on them and clear the roads for their tanks and such,” Joel said.

Ellie spun around in her seat, “I wanna see a tank!”

“You will,” Joel replied, “Tanks, choppers, all that stuff. But they’ll fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now.”

By now, Joel was background noise to Ellie as she dug around the back of Bill’s truck.

“I got somethin’,” she announced proudly, waving another cassette tape in between Y/n and Joel. “Here, does this make you all nostalgic?”

Joel took the tape from her, it was Hank Williams. Y/n and him shared a sideways glance, if Ellie had any musical knowledge, they’d have been insulted. 

“This is actually before our time,” Joel handled the cassette.

“Great,” Ellie settled back in her seat, unamused.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not good,” Y/n stated, watching Joel pop the tape into the player and adjust the volume.

The speakers flooded with the warm sounds of the country legend. Something about it made both Joel and Y/n relax into their seats a little more.

“Oh, man,” Joel mumbled to himself, briefly closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him.

“Yeah,” Y/n absentmindedly replied, staring out her window.

“Got somethin’ else,” Ellie announced, the sounds of magazine pages flipping behind Joel and Y/n, “It’s, uh, light on the reading, but it has some interesting pictures.”

Y/n and Joel peered into the dashboard mirror, catching a graphic cover. Their protests overlapped.

“Oh, no, no, no, put that back.”

“Ellie, don’t read that.”

“That’s not for kids, Ellie.”

“There’s nothing you need to see-“

Ellie opened up the centerfold of the x-rated magazine, her jaw dropping at the sight, “How would he even walk around with that thing?”

“Ellie,” Y/n unbuckled her seat belt, flipping around in her chair and stretching into the backseat, “Put it back.”

The girl slid to Joel’s side of the truck, too far away for Y/n to reach. “Hold you horses,” she argued, “I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

While Joel watched nervously through the mirror, Y/n was not so easily defeated. She kept clawing at the air, trying to rip the magazine out of Ellie’s hands. Ellie turned away just enough so Y/n’s fingertips barely touched the paper.

“Why are all the pages stuck together?” Ellie asked.

“Uh,” Joel elongated, unsure of what to do, “The-“

“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” Ellie burst into laughter, reaching past Y/n and slapping Joel’s shoulder with the magazine.

Y/n slid back into her seat, moving as far away as she could from Joel’s shoulder.

Ellie unrolled the back window, the whipping winds blowing through the truck. She tossed the magazine out with a grin, “Bye-bye, dude!”

Y/n sighed and put her hand to her temple, nearly laughing at the absurdity of the moment.

They drove for most of the day, answering Ellie’s occasional question, but mostly sitting in silence. Somberness would fall over the truck whenever they passed by some piece of the old world, ruined and rusted by time. They drove by an abandoned amusement park, a rickety coaster still standing. A sign for what used to be a Love’s truck stop. A bridge that had collapsed at some point in the last two decades. To Ellie, it was a lost future. To Joel and Y/n, it was the world they didn’t know if they’d ever see again.

When the skies grew began to grow dark, there wasn’t much driving left for them to do.

“All right,” Joel announced to the truck, “That’s enough for the day.”

One part of their agreement was that Y/n would trust Joel’s ability to get them to Wyoming. Her rebellion against his every word made her want to argue that they could go a little longer, but she was trying to keep up her end of the deal.

Joel pulled off the main road and drove them into the nearby forest. They set up camp deep enough that they were hidden, but close enough to the road to escape quickly, should the need arise. Joel and Y/n took care of preparing dinner, using a portable stove and cutlery they’d taken from Bill’s house.

Eventually, they all sat down to a lukewarm meal of ravioli. Ellie practically inhaled it while Joel and Y/n tried to make it last.

“Slow down,” Joel cautioned.

“This is slow,” Ellie replied with a full mouth, “What am I even eating?”

“That is 20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli,” Joel answered.

“That guy was good,” Ellie complimented, stuffing another piece in her mouth.

Joel stared down at his meal, “I actually agree.”

Y/n swirled a piece around her plate, “It’s technically food.”

“How long are we staying out here?” Ellie inquired.

“I figure I sleep tonight,” Joel answered, “And drive tomorrow, all day, all night, and get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.”

“You know I can take a shift, right?” Y/n asked, Joel’s stony silence served as his reply, “Ah, so you do know and you’re choosing to ignore it.”

“In the interest of gettin’ us there the quickest, it’s better I drive,” he stated.

“Yes, navigating a highway,” Y/n retorted, taking a sarcastic tone, “That’s men’s work.”

“What happened to getting along?” Ellie smirked as she watched the exchange.

Joel and Y/n glanced over at her and backed down. They had to watch themselves.

“So can we start a fire?” Ellie changed the subject, “I’m freezing.”

“Now, why am I gonna tell you no?” Joel replied shortly.

Ellie shrugged in defeat, “Because Infected will see the smoke.”

“No, fungus isn’t that smart,” Joel said, “This is too remote for Infected, anyway.”

“People?” Ellie came back with.

Joel nodded.

“So what are they gonna do? Rob us?”

“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind than that,” Joel answered, never once looking up from his plate.

Y/n had lived a vastly different life than Joel had, post apocalypse, but she knew the horrors people willingly committed against each other. Being cold for a night was the ideal.

Once the sun set, the three of them rolled out their sleeping bags, another courtesy of Bill and Frank, and set up for the night. Y/n laid her head next to Ellie’s, while Joel stayed on the complete opposite side of them.

Ellie took a whiff of the inside of her bag, “Actually smells kinda good.”

“Well, that would be Frank’s then,” Joel quipped.

“If mine smells like gunpowder,” Y/n held her sleeping bag up, “I’m gonna assume-“

“Bill,” Joel took no time in answering.

Y/n nodded, “Copy that.”

Before they could lay down for the night, Joel and Y/n made a point of each checking their shotguns and laying them at their sides.

Ellie and Y/n nestled into their accommodations beside one another, Ellie pulling something out of her backpack before switching the lantern off and turning on her flashlight. Y/n’s back was turned, or else she would have put a stop to what was about to happen

“Joel?” Ellie eventually called out, “Y/n? Joel?”

“What?” Joel jumped to attention, he still moved with the urgency of a father. 

Y/n turned over, “What is it?”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Yeah,” Joel said for both of them.

Ellie sighed deeply, “‘Why did the scarecrow get an award?’”

Y/n and Joel both looked over at the same time to shoot Ellie a glare. She kept a straight face as if she really needed the answer.

“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Joel answered.

Y/n groaned, “Oh, God, there’s two of you.”

“You dick,” Ellie laughed, “Did you read this?”

“No,” Joel turned over, smirking only to himself, “Now go to sleep.”

Ellie victoriously smiled, having successfully chipped away at a little bit of the ice man’s exterior.

“Admit it,” Ellie whispered to Y/n, “You like them.”

“I will smother you in your sleep,” Y/n mumbled into her pillow. She’d never admit to cracking a smile.

They had just settled back into the sleepy silence when Ellie spoke up again, this time truly serious.

“Those people you said…there’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right? No one’s gonna find us.”

Joel and Y/n both stiffened, they could only guarantee so much. Where they were was as close to safe as they could get. But that wasn’t something you told a scared kid who wouldn’t admit to being scared. You gave them hope, confidence.

“No one’s gonna find us,” Joel confirmed.

“Okay,” Ellie accepted the answer and flipped over. 

Y/n lay on her back, staring up at the stars. Her paranoia had softened the longer she survived, but laying in the middle of the open woods with a big flashing red sign above that read ‘FREE KILL HERE’ was resuscitating it.

A few feet away, Joel was feeling the same thing. He couldn’t pretend like he was fearless leaving himself completely vulnerable. And now that he knew Ellie was nervous, it only woke him up further. He eyed the shotgun, calculating in his head how little sleep he could make the drive on. If he counted on Y/n to take one of the shifts, they could still make good time…

They both unzipped their sleeping bags at the same time, turning to one another in the dark. No matter how hard they tried, they were on the same wavelength.

Y/n sighed, “You take the first shift?”

Joel’s nod had a heaviness to it, “Yeah.”

Y/n settled back onto her side, this time facing where Joel was heading to take up his post. She fell into an uneasy sleep, only after keeping watch over Joel until her exhaustion forced her to stop.

——————

It was a few hours later, Joel eyelids were beginning to droop. His ears were beginning to ring. He needed sleep.

After doing one last scan of the area, he walked back to their campsite. He came over to Y/n’s sleeping bag, ready to wake her, but stopped.

He stared down at her, her lips slightly parted, her hair framing her face and her lashes fanned across her cheeks. The frown she carried throughout the day faded in sleep, softening to a content expression as if she was between the bliss of unconsciousness and the evil of the waking world. It was the most at peace Joel had seen her in the last few days.

He couldn’t bring himself to wake her up.

She’d be mad at him in the morning, he knew it. She’d berate him for thinking he didn’t need her and probably make a crack about him falling asleep at the wheel. That was fine, he thought as he went back to his post, he’d take it. Anger and nostalgia were waging a battle within him, and right now, he was allowing his wistful memories to win.

——————

Y/n woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the rustling of something in their truck. Seeing that Joel wasn’t in his sleeping bag, she grabbed her shotgun and bolted upright. The barrel of the weapon found Joel, packing up the truck, cocking a brow at her.

Y/n exhaled and set down her gun, running a relieved hand over her face. “You didn’t wake me up,” she said when she came to fully.

“I had it covered,” Joel said softly, not wanting to wake Ellie yet.

“I didn’t ask that,” Y/n replied as she stretched, already annoyed with him. She rolled out of her sleeping bag and got to her feet. “Well, I’m driving this morning. I’m not ending up dead just because you’re stubborn.”

Joel didn’t look up as he tied his sleeping bag up. Right on cue.

“Coffee’s on,” he changed the subject.

Y/n felt like Joel knew that would distract her enough to move on. He wasn’t wrong. She reached over to grab her backpack, feeling around for her travel mug. Her hand graced the plastic butterfly she’d taken from Joel’s apartment, freezing as she did.

Grief, much like heartbreak, had to be danced around. If you got too close, self destruction would swallow you whole. Y/n collected her thoughts and led them back to where she was, quickly finding her mug and zipping the pack up again.

Ellie rolled over, awake finally, and sniffed the air. She scooted over to where Joel had the coffee boiling and carefully opened the lid. 

“Ugh,” she gagged, “What the fuck is that?”

Joel turned to her, “You don’t like coffee?”

Ellie grimaced, watching the bubbling brew a second longer before throwing the lid back down and rolling back onto her pillow.

“Uh-uh,” Y/n shook her head, nudging Ellie with her boot, “Up and at ‘em, come on.”

Ellie stuck her middle finger out, “Fuck you, man.”

“Up,” Y/n repeated, tugging on the bottom of Ellie’s sleeping bag.

The girl moaned and sat up, glaring at Y/n, who went to pour her mug of coffee. Whether it was the first sip of caffeine shifting her mood or she simply was making an effort, she wasn’t sure, but when Joel walked over with his mug, Y/n poured it for him.

“Thanks,” Joel mumbled, “Why don’t I drive for three hours, you take over after?”

“Two,” Y/n countered, “Those bags under your eyes make you look like you’re in a fucking Tim Burton movie.”

Joel sighed, remembering the truce. “Fine.”

Y/n and Joel finished packing up their supplies and the three of them were back on the road in minutes.

“Is that what the Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” Ellie asked, eyeing Joel’s mug.

“Well, there’s was a lot fresher than what Bill saved up, but yeah,” Joel answered, “This is what they sold.”

“The world used to run on this stuff,” Y/n added.

“Smells like burnt shit,” Ellie mused, smirking over at Joel.

Joel, straight faced as could be, raised his mug and took a big slurping sip. Y/n bit down on her lip to keep from rewarding him a laugh. 

“Eyes on the map,” Joel ordered.

“76 west and then 70 west for, like, ever…” Ellie read, Y/n had taught her how to navigate directions and she was still getting the hang of it.

“Where in Wyoming did you say your brother was?” Ellie asked Joel.

“Last contact came through a radio tower close to Cody,” Joel answered.

Ellie scanned the map, “Cody. Cody…Cody…ah, man. That is deep up in there.”

Y/n peekd over Ellie’s shoulder to take a look, “Do you know where he would have gone other than there?”

“Odds are he’ll be near a settlement,” Joel answered, “Probably close to another city out there. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming.”

The second part of his reply was meant more for Ellie. She was getting a crash course in geography.

“Chee-Yen,” she read off.

“Cheyenne,” Joel corrected, he’d studied that map so intensively that he could have found his way around the state blindfolded.

“Chey- really?” Ellie double checked before reading again, “Cheyenne…Laramie…Casper? What’s his name?”

“Whose name?” Joel asked, avoiding the question another five seconds.

“Your brother,” Ellie replied.

Joel paused, “Tommy.”

A wave of nostalgia crashed around Y/n, hearing his name made her think of cheap beer and belly laughter.

“Younger or older?” Ellie continued to question Joel.

“Younger.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

Joel sighed, stretching his neck out slightly, “A long story.”

“Is it longer than 25 hours? ‘Cause I think that’s what we got,” Ellie asked, turning around to Y/n, “Do you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Y/n clocked Joel in the dashboard mirror, “And if I’m risking my life to find him, I think I deserve to know.”

Joel met her eyes in a fleeting glance, she was backing him up against a wall.

“Tommy’s what we used to call a “joiner,” he began to explain, “Dreams of becomin’ a hero. So he enlisted in the Army right outta high school. A few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm,” he allowed for Ellie’s confused gaze, “That’s what they called that war, it doesn’t matter. Point is, bein’ in the Army didn’t make him feel much like a hero. Cut to twelve years late, outbreak happens. He convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did…mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive.”

Y/n’s stomach turned, she wasn’t just hearing about what had become of Tommy…she was hearing about what had happened to Joel after they broke up. Gaps she’d wanted filled for twenty years.

“It’s where we met Tess,” Joel continued, breaking for a sip of coffee, “And that whole crew, we, uh…well, for what it was, it worked. And then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen,” Joel’s tone turned bitter, his voice quivering an almost undetectable amount, “Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him. Fireflies, all of ‘em…” he didn’t dare meet Y/n’s eyes, “Delusional.”

Y/n lifted her feet up and hugged her knees, she knew the remark was meant for both her and Tommy. And while her anger with Joel hadn’t lost its momentum, she let him continue. He needed to get it all out.

“‘Course last I heard, he quit the Fireflies too,” Joel went on, “So now he’s on his own out there, and…I gotta go get him.”

The car was washed in a somber silence. Only one of them was brave enough to break it.

“If you don’t think there’s hope for the world,” Ellie said, “Why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?”

“You haven’t seen the world,” Joel said, a little wistful, “So you don’t know. You keep goin’ for family. That’s about it.”

The five words pierced through Y/n’s heart, the wooden arrow splintering inside the chambers. Each syllable was like taking a knife to the carefully placed stitches around her soul.

“I’m not family,” Ellie said, blissfully unaware of the situation surrounding her.

“No,” Joel agreed, “You’re cargo. And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family.”

Numbness set in and Y/n rested her head against the window, focusing on the rolling fields of rural America. If Ellie wasn’t in the car, she would have let herself go off on Joel, but it wasn’t the time.

“What if you don’t find him?” Ellie asked the man.

“I will,” Joel replied,

“How do you know?” 

“I’m persistent,” Joel stated before switching gears, “You got up pretty early, if you wanna grab more sleep.”

Ellie scoffed, “I’m not even tired.”

Within a few minutes, Ellie was beginning to doze off. Y/n gently tapped her shoulder, gesturing for her to climb into the backseat. She helped pull her through and Ellie settled against the opposite window.

Joel drove them for an hour in silence before Y/n couldn’t stand being still anymore.

“Pull over,” she told him, “Let’s switch.”

Joel was tired enough to listen to her, stopping the car in the middle of the road. They unbuckled and got out, meeting at the front. 

“You’re wrong, you know,” Y/n said once they were face to face, “About Tommy, about the Fireflies…all of it.”

“You wanna prove me wrong, have at it,” Joel replied, disgruntled by the whole idea.

“Tommy wanting to be a hero is him wanting to help people,” Y/n kept going, “To fight. To do the right thing. When has that ever been a bad thing?”

Joel nearly scoffed, “Maybe when it gets him killed.”

“If he’s still here after all these years, maybe you need to stop looking at him like he’s some idiot kid. You don’t get to judge the people who are trying to get some of this,” Y/n spread her arms out to the wide open space around them, “Any of this back. It’s a hell of a lot more than you seem to be doing.”

Joel rested a hand on the truck’s hood, “Maybe I don’t feel the need to waste my time on a pointless cause. Last time I checked, that was all the Fireflies ever accomplished.”

“At least I’m doing something,” Y/n fought back, “I’d rather spend the rest of my life on a pointless cause and go to sleep with what’s left of my soul than sell it to the devil and not recognize my own damn reflection.”

Joel felt the last part of her sentence push into his gut like the tip of a spear. She was hitting too close to home without knowing it.

“‘Keep going for family,’” Y/n repeated, practically spitting the last words, “When was the last time you fought for anything?”

Joel reached out, grabbing Y/n’s arm roughly as she turned away and spun her around. If she hadn’t dug her boots into the asphalt, she would have fallen right into him.

“You don’t know what I’ve fought for,” he growled, his eyes boring into hers.

Y/n’s chest rose and fell rapidly with rage, inching her face closer to his to show him she wasn’t afraid of him. “Neither do you,” she seethed.

Their breaths mingled in the few inches left separating their mouths. Neither one of them were making any real threats, there was simply too much tension between them to ensure a safe car ride. They needed to let it out.

Joel realized his fingers were digging into Y/n’s arm, it had happened when she had moved closer to him. Habits were tricky to break, but the body didn’t hold grudges like the mind.

The close proximity wasn’t lost on Y/n, but she was able to free herself from it before muscle memory took over. She yanked her arm out of Joel’s grip and took the keys from his other hand, stomping around to the driver’s seat and getting in. Joel unhappily followed, and their wordless journey continued…

—————————

Joel caught maybe thirty consecutive minutes of sleep while Y/n drove them. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver, he just wasn’t used to not being in control of a situation. He gripped the map tightly as they drove into downtown Kansas City.

Surrounding them were rusted abandoned vehicles, but the tunnel in which they needed to go through was blocked entirely by a semi. Y/n brought the car to a halt, glancing over at Joel knowingly.

“Wait here,” she told Ellie, who had just woken up.

Joel and Y/n got out, Joel grabbing their shotguns from the backseat. He handed hers over and the team took calculated steps towards the tunnel. Joel crouched down to get a peek at the open road waiting on the other side of the mess. The semi was parked that way deliberately.

Joel walked back to the truck, Y/n only a step behind him. They got back in their seats seat, Ellie squeezing over the glove compartment. 

“Where are we?”

“Kansas City,” Joel answered quickly, taking the map from her. The three of them studied it.

“How far back do we have to go to get around this?” Ellie asked.

Joel traced their route with his fingertip, Y/n tugged the map closer so she could study it too. There weren’t a lot of options if they had a prayer of getting to Wyoming within their time frame. They could either go back, costing them a few more hours, or take their chances passing through the city.

Y/n sighed, everything she was about to say went against what she wanted to say….

“It’s your call.”

Joel was honestly surprised that she had relented so quick. “Screw it,” he muttered, “Head back ‘round the tunnel, get on the next ramp. We’ll be back on the road, minute tops.”

Y/n put the truck in reverse and backed them up, swinging around a shoulder of road that would take them into the city.

“You guys are my eyes,” Y/n said as she navigated the first set of streets, 

“Tell me where to go.”

“Look for any signs,” Joel instructed while Ellie read the map.

They drove for about five minutes, having gotten no closer to finding the open road.

“Where the fuck is the highway?” Joel complained.

“I can’t tell from this,” Ellie let her hand fall against the map, “I’m all turned around.”

Joel was trying to help Ellie navigate while also keeping an eye peeled for potential threats. “Well, don’t look at the state map, look at the inset,” he directed.

Ellie groaned, “Well, I don’t know where we are in that either! This is my second day in a fucking car, man. I mean, I think we’re heading north?”

“I don’t even see any fucking signs,” Y/n mentioned.

“It’s gotta be the right,” Joel said, shaking his head, ”What the fuck?”

“Y/n stop,” Ellie exclaimed.

Y/n threw on the brake, bringing them to a halt in the middle of the street.

“Is that the QZ?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide as she peered over Y/n, “Where the fuck is FEDRA?”

Joel and Y/n got a look at where the Quarantine Zone should have been, zero military presence. That was unfathomable.

“Hey,” a voice called, their attention was drawn to a man limping towards their truck, “Please help.”

Y/n and Joel’s blood ran cold, they knew exactly what was about to go down.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Joel told Ellie, throwing his on as well.

“Aren’t we gonna help him?” Ellie asked innocently.

Y/n said a silent prayer to anyone who was listening for survival.

“No,” Joel answered, looking to his ex, “Drive. Now.”

Y/n pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, the “injured” leaping out of the way. The man cried something out she couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in her ears.

“Y/N!” Ellie screamed.

Y/n was too busy driving to see what Ellie and Joel were watching, but the message was received when a large object got dropped on their windshield. Y/n swerved, Joel reached over to steady the wheel as she regained control. In their mad dash effort, they didn’t notice the strip of nails ahead of them. The truck shook as its tires began to deflate. 

“Fuck!” Y/n yelled, “What do we do?”

“Hard right into that building,” Joel shouted, there was another guy in their path, “Now!”

Instincts ignored, Y/n pulled to the right, holding her breath as they smashed through the glass windows of the nearest building.

——————

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #twenty years later

[strawbeerossi]

Nights Like These

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After a grueling case, your best friend and roommate Spencer comes home a lot more cuddly and hands on. So much so you two have to share a bed because he just doesn’t wanna be alone.

Content Warning: Some light case discussion, light angst due to Spencer being in distress from the case, one of the many versions of the one bed trope, best friends with hidden feelings trope, Spencer ends up having a wet dream, admitted feelings, some sweet fluff, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, some cockwarming in the end.

Word Count: 2.5K

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Tags 🏷️ @beardedhotchh @nyx-tella @multifandom-on-the-side @morgthemagpie @eveyez-exe @avis-writeshq

This is purely self indulgent. Also new format of not doing purely 3rd person. Let me know if I should do this more often.

You knew how hard it was for Spencer on emotionally draining cases. He had feared being alone after them, his experience in prison making him more prone to the occasional outburst, which he desperately tried avoiding.

They could take an everlasting impact on him if he wasn’t careful enough, the idea of losing all control and being faced with the trauma that continued stacking against him was not what he needed.

He struggled enough with his day to day life, his therapist only able to give him so much advice and do so much for him. He liked to say that she helped but she wasn’t a miracle worker. He seemed to never be comfortable in the past.

Until he met you.

He’d found solace with you.

The way you would play with his hair and let him get as close as possible to you so he could cling for comfort were things that he appreciated. You weren’t the type to push him away and tell him to deal with his own issues, no, you took care of him.

You’d met whenever Spencer put out an ad for a new roommate, living in DC was something he could afford due to the luxury of working with the FBI for fifteen years, however he didn’t like being alone. 

He was fresh out of prison at the time, the silence being too eery to deal with. He knew he couldn’t live in the chaos of JJ’s house, nor could he turn to much of anyone else on the team. He felt like a burden to them. A piece of him died in the prison cell he was left in,the nights of being awake due to the impending doom that was gonna strike granted the inmates found out he was a federal agent.

When he had gotten into contact with you due to you being the first one to speak with him, he had already found some sense in comfort with you. You were kind and always had a smile on your face, not to mention that you had a sense of cleanliness that Spencer could definitely deal with.

 Due to his busy life, his apartment could tend to be littered with books that he’d started before he got a call, he would have case files piling up, even the occasional coffee cup or two was left out. He wasn’t a slob, yet he could definitely benefit from a roommate who would teach him the ways of organization.

The both of you really seemed to hit it off, your energies feeding into one another really well. You learned he knew way too much, joking how you didn’t know how his brain could hold the vast amount of knowledge that stuck with him. He learned that you were really into science fiction novels and films, being impressed with your knowledge of Doctor Who and Star Trek. 

Both of you were seemingly cut from the same piece of cloth, making it easier for you to upgrade from just being roommates to best friends as well.

It was a late Tuesday night whenever Spencer was quietly walking through the front door. He could smell the familiar scent of lemon, associating the smell with the cleaner that you’d mop the floors with. 

He was toeing his shoes off by the front door, knowing you’d kill him if you woke up to anything on the freshly mopped floors. “Y/N?” He called, walking deeper into the apartment. His voice was hoarse, presumably from yelling at some point. 

“In my room!” You call, glancing up from the book in your hands while watching Spencer quietly push the door open. He looked exhausted. Being familiar already with that look, you were placing your book down before holding your arms out to Spencer with a soft sigh.

As he approached your bed and you felt his body collapse in your arms, you were slowly rubbing his back.The heaviness of his heart could be felt by the way his grip tightened on you, his face buried in your neck as his body shifted to get comfortable on the bed beside you. 

Your fingers were threading through the touseled curls on his head, nails occasionally scratching his scalp in an effort to help soothe him. It seemed to work, his grip loosening and his head lifting soon after, cheek against the fluffy pillow that he could’ve swore that you had added to your bed just for him.

“It was a hard case.” He stated the obvious, making your head nod. “I can imagine. Do you wanna talk about it?” The softness of your voice brought Spencer comfort, a soft sigh falling from his lips. “The unsub targeted male and female best friends. Apparently, his ex-girlfriend had left him for someone who was her best friend. We found out they recently got married and he just snapped.”

He neglected to mention how the duos reminded him of the friendship you two shared.

It was something that a partner wouldnt understand without immediately jumping to the worst conclusions. It made him think of how that very well could’ve been you two, a man killing you for his own failed relationship and pushing blame on everyone else.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.. You’re safe now, more importantly, he’s behind bars.” Your reassurance made his head nod slowly. “You’re right.” He offered a small smile, his head turning to face you easier. “Do you mind if I sleep with you?”

The question was a silly one to ask, already knowing the answer whenever he was being told to turn off the bedside lamp closest to him. 

You didn’t mind sharing a bed with Spencer, enjoying the comforting presence of a loving companion. Truth be told, you’d always had the tiniest crush on him. He made sure you were okay both physically and mentally, not to mention that he was truly an amazing roommate and friend. He carried a sense of warmth, one that could draw anyone in.

As you began to drift off to sleep, things felt right. 

The feeling of his arms wrapped around your frame always made you feel a sense of safety, not to mention the butterflies in your belly would come to life when he’d pull you closer in the night.

Tonight was different.

You’d been sleeping for a good four hours now, the sounds of labored breathing filling the room from your slumber combined with Spencer’s, his snores not being unbearably loud. However, at some point you two had ended up in a spooning situation, your body being engulfed by his arms as he pulled you tight to his chest.You were stirring awake to the sounds of soft whispers coming from Spencer, his face buried in your neck. 

It wasn’t rare for him to talk in his sleep, you finding it silly at times because you could have full conversations with him. 

In your drowsy state, you hadn’t registered the way his hips were rutting into yours, his hard cock pressing firm against your clothed ass under the sheets. What you did register though, was a warm hand under the sheets trailing up your thigh, warm and wet kisses being pressed against the flesh of your neck. It took his thumb running over your clothed clit that had you jolting to life. 

“Spencer.” Your voice was raised in an attempt to wake him up, thankfully succeeding as his movements slowed, eyes slowly blinking open. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice was deep, laced with sleep.

“You were uh-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, Spencer’s realization hitting as he was quickly pulling away, body jolting up. “Oh, my god! I’m sorry.” His voice was at a high octave, his cheeks bright red with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe himself. 

“N-No it’s okay! You were sleeping.” Your body was sitting up, thighs pressed tightly together due to the fact that arousal had already settled in, your panties wet enough just from a small touch and some grinding. 

You were more touch deprived than you thought.

“I’m sorry. I should go to my room. No, I am gonna go to my room.”

“Wait!” 

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, your hand reaching to quickly grab his wrist. “Do you want help?” The words made Spencer’s mouth run dry, winded from just the mere suggestion. “Help?” He repeated, as if he wanted to hear you say it again.

“Yeah. We are both mature adults.”

“For the most part.”

His words made you crack a smile, soft laughter erupting between the both of you. Though as it died down, the sound of Spencer clicking his tongue could be heard. “You’re sure?” He then asked, not completely against the idea. “Because I really like you, Y/N. Seriously, you have no idea.” 

He liked you. You liked him. This was an invitation if you’d ever seen one.

“I’m one hundred percent sure. I have had a crush on you since i met-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek, tugging you close to easily connect his lips to yours.

The kiss was filled with need and desire, his hand slowly moving from your cheek and down to your waist. You felt dizzy, the tantalizing nature of his tongue slipping into your mouth as the hunger for more was beginning to bubble under the surface. 

His hands were pushing you back on the mattress, his body now hovering over yours, your body being trapped under his weight. However, you definitely weren’t complaining. As your kiss grew more needy and sloppy, his nimble fingers were trailing up your inner thigh, hands bunching up the nightgown that you were wearing to your stomach. 

The sexual tension hung thick, his fingers continuing to tease your skin that was already burning with desire that was growing into desperation. As his fingertips slowly trailed to your panties, he was slowly pushing them to the side. 

You could feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs as one of his fingers trailed up your slick folds before making their way to your clit. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” Spencer wasn’t one to swear, normally being reluctant to use such language. It was pathetic on how it contributed to the arousal pool. 

His finger was massaging your pearl as if it needed to be polished and put on display, the sounds of your little gasps and moans spurring him on. His hand was moving away from your throbbing clit, chuckling at your whining for more. Instead of saying anything, he was disappearing under the blankets.

His large hands were pushing your thighs apart, lips pressing tantalizing kisses against your inner thighs before his tongue was licking a fat stripe up your slick folds. Your hands were sliding under the sheets, mouth falling open once he was licking and slurping at your cunt, your taste being intoxicating. 

He ate like a man starved, lapping up every ounce of arousal that seemed to gush out of your pussy with every movement. Drinking in everything you had to offer, his jaw was growing wet with the sweet nectar that he’d been so focused on milking out of you. 

It wasn’t long until his tongue was being replaced by two fingers, a cry of pleasure leaving your lips as the long digits were putting in the work, his fingers curling and brushing against the spongy button inside of you that had you roughly pushing his face into your slick cunt more. 

His tongue was licking over your clit coupled with two fingers scissoring your tight cunt open was causing your legs to shake, the knot of pleasure inside of your tummy getting tighter and tighter, your pussy walls spasming around his fingers as you were so close to your orgasm.

Then Spencer pulled away.

Before you could voice your frustrations, your open mouth was silenced by two fingers slipping into your mouth. Not needing to be told twice, your eyes were fluttering shut while letting your tongue lap up any evidence of shimmering arousal from his fingers, your moans vibrating around his finger from the taste of slick. 

With a ‘pop’, Spencer was pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “You look so beautiful, Y/N.” His words were soft, only leaning down to connect your lips in a chaste kiss. You were growing impatient, your hands quickly pushing his pants and his boxers down his legs soon after. It wasn’t enough to completely undress him, mainly because you both weren’t waiting that long. 

Spencer let his hand wrap around his hard cock, stroking a few times go get himself hard enough to his liking before tapping the thick tip against your clit, causing electricity to shoot through your body as you shivered softly at the contact. 

“Ready?” He asked, pushing the blunt head past your folds. That was when he was pushing his cock inside of you, your hands gripping his shoulders while you both shared a deep kiss.

The girth of his base had given you a delicious burn, making you hiss at the pleasurable pain. “Fuck. You take my cock so well. Like this pussy was made for me.” He grunted, the filth of his words causing a moan to fall from your lips. Never once did you expect this behavior nor this kind of language from Spencer. 

He was pulling you out of your dazed thoughts as he was slowly rolling his hips into yours, cock nestled inside of your tight cunt.

It was almost as if you could feel every vein, every curve.. It was a sensation that you’d never actually felt before. Who knows, maybe you just paid extra attention because you’ve been dreaming of this moment. 

Those slow thrusts were soon upgrading to harder and faster ones, a cry of pleasure falling from your lips as your head hit the pillow behind you. The sounds of skin slapping together as well as the sinful sounds of squelching from your wet pussy and the moans, whimpers and cries falling from your lips were filling the bedroom.

Spencer continued to ram his cock into your tight hole, a thin shine of sweat on his forehead as he was relentlessly fucking into you. The feeling of your warm, plushy walls convulsing around him was enough for his cock to twitch. He was close and so were you, both of your bodily reactions being dead giveaways. 

As your cunt squeezed tight around his cock, your nails were digging into the shirt he was wearing as you let your eyes screw shut, your creamy cum slowly sliding down his cock and surely making a mess of the sheets while he was giving a few more hard thrusts before shooting long ropes of cum inside of you, surely coating your cervix in the process. 

With a few more sloppy thrusts to ride out both of your orgasms, it wasn’t long until his body was collapsing on top of yours. As he tried to pull away though, your legs were tightening around his waist. “Wait.” She whispered, her head tilting back. “Wanna feel you inside for a little bit longer.” She blabbered out, grip loosening as Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you wanna go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid drabble #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid cm #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid scenario

[goldengalore]

Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #anxious!reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #my writing

[aheathen-conceivably]

Josephine was sitting at the vanity table that Giorgio had restored for her, tracing her hand along the same wood grain that she had when she arrived over two years before. Only her nails weren’t painted any longer; they were bare and chipped, fingers permanently raw from hours of soaking and scrubbing.

She was staring at them intently, like their presence alone was enough to make her feel like she was a different woman than who she thought she had been her whole life. Out of the corner of his eye Giorgio could see that she was lost in thought, a small downturned frown playing on her lips. He barely had time to register just how unlike herself she seemed before she blurted out, “Do you ever think about having children?”

Gio nearly choked on the cigarette he had just lit. There were certain things he had given up on when he fell in love with her, things that he now told himself were for the best. He looked up at her suspiciously, now wary of the traps he knew she could set. The lost look in her eyes was vacillating with something that looked like what, suspicion? Like she didn’t trust him to answer correctly despite his years of acquiescence on the topic.

But as she addressed him through the warped glass, he got the impression that she wasn't actually speaking to him at all, “It would be stupid, you know that, right? Violette would hate it. She could learn to share, I know. But something tells me she wouldn’t. She would only get worse.”

Then she turned to look him dead in the eyes, and he realized he had been right. She was challenging him, even though he had only recently told her that he didn’t mind her near militant precautions against pregnancy any more now than he had in New Orleans. As she spoke her resolve became more palpable and the uncharacteristic insecurity that had been there moments before was replaced by something he was more familiar with: anger. “And Jesus Christ we can barely feed ourselves as it is. It would be stupid. Absolutely stupid. Why would anyone ever think otherwise? It’s a horrible, horrible idea.”

As she finished speaking she continued to stare straight at him, and he had to look away to escape the intensity of her eyes. It was nothing that he didn’t know; she had told him from day one that she would never have children, not for any love in the world. He had been young enough then to want nothing other than her, and over time his feelings had morphed into hers. It was never a dream he had, and it wasn’t as though he had a name he was proud to pass on. He had come here to hide from it, and it had done nothing but convince him that he would have no more sons to pass the name or the horrors onto. 

As he gathered himself to look at her, his eyes cut through the tension that hung in the air like cigarette smoke. Because he had said it all a dozen times before, and that look was all she needed to know that he agreed; not just with her logic, but even to her aversion of having your life taken from you in that way, so that your dreams and your choices were no longer for yourself anymore. They would always have to be made in adherence to someone else, and they could barely do that for each other, much less a child.

He put his lit cigarette in the ashtray the moment she stood to walk nearer. Up close, the challenge in her eyes transformed into something like relief, like she had sated a fear that for however much he might ask her to give, at least he would never ask for that. Or maybe, unbeknowst to him, she had just talked herself off a ledge that he would never know had been an option at all.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, bringing one knee onto the bed beside him and the other one between his legs. His breath caught in his throat as his body responded to the movement, “Are you…sure? I thought we still couldn’t. I — I lost count of the days.”

Her voice took on a soft note of mockery, exactly the way it did when she knew more than the other person, “As you always do.”

He took that to mean that they were once again free to do as they pleased for a few weeks, before the cycle of counting and caution began all over again. Yet even after all this time those days in the center of the month went by the slowest, so he immediately hooked his hand around her hips to pull her down on top of him.

She left one foot on the ground as she gave into his weight, letting him move her robe aside and bring his hands to her thighs. All the while she was sure to remain balanced on the tip of her foot, keeping herself from giving in completely even as she climbed far enough atop of him to let him think that it was fully off the ground.

Then she leaned back onto it, leaving him stranded on the bed as she moved her hand off of his neck, down his shirt front, and just above the button of his pants. She took it between her fingers and kept her eyes on his, silently telling him that she could unhook it without ever looking down, “But I never do; and I don’t make mistakes. So not until I say so, my love. Then, and only then.”

As his smile faded, she trailed her hand back up his shirtfront to his chin, letting it linger on his lips before she bent down to kiss him. He knew better now than to try and pull her down again, or even to bring his hands to her hips as they hovered above him. She moved away and looked down into his eyes as though to say, good boy. Then she walked away back to her well-worn seat at the vanity, leaving him with nothing but his half smoked cigarette and unspent longing.

#1932 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Josephine Duplanchier #Giorgio Mistretta #sim spice

[honeybeefae]

Unexpected Visitors (Bat Boys x Reader)

Kinktober Day Four: In Heat

Summary// With your mother only being half river nymph, you didn’t expect to have to deal with hardly any of the things that full nymphs have to go through, especially heat. However, after a few days of painful cramping and unrelenting need, Madja diagnosed you with the thing you had thought would skip over you. So when you isolate yourself from your friends, specifically three Illyrian males, to ride it out, the last thing you expect is for them to come to your door offering help.

(My first multiple fic, my first heat fic, my first bat boys fic…ya girl is stressed but ready to impress. I hope it meets every wild fantasy you have because let's be honest, who hasn’t thought about being in the middle of them? Let me know how you like it!)

WARNINGS: 18+, smut, multiple partners, one reader, dirty talk, just so messy, oral (m&f), anal, everyone gets a hole lol, teasing, multiple orgasms, masturbation, cum eating, double penetration, 

After Madja had sent you off to your apartment, giving her best advice to just ride it out until the hunger and fever broke, you felt like sobbing. The room was too hot, the feeling of your clothes on your skin stimulating you too much, and with every agonizing step towards your bedroom, you cursed your mother and her entire bloodline.

River nymphs had heats every year, it was what kept their species alive, and you couldn’t fault them for that. But you did fault your mother, who granted was only half nymph, for dismissing your concerns over the same thing happening to you and explaining that you were hardly considered one of them, your blood holding more faerie than nymph. 

She had only experienced them every ten or so years so after you had hit the age of maturity and showed no signs, your mother assumed you were in the clear. If she were here now, you would be stomping your feet and shouting like a child for her lack of information that could help you at your most desperate hour. 

“I’m going to die here.” You groaned, stripping off your clothes and letting the air try to dry your sweat-slicked body. “I have nothing, no one, to help and by the time anyone finds me I will be dust from how bloody hot my skin is.”

A sharp cramp twisted your stomach, sending you to your knees as you cried out in pain. Madja had given you a few tips to help you, most of them being some form of intercourse or sexual gratification, but you could barely gain the strength to use your own hand let alone prowl the streets for a poor guy.

Suddenly you remembered her suggestion of an ice bath, knowing it would at least curb the heat, and you crawled to your bathroom to turn on the tap to the coldest setting. You didn’t even wait for it to fill up, slinking all the way down as the water rose slowly.

It made you hiss at the drastic change, your skin now feeling like it was getting freezer burned, but you gritted your teeth and closed your eyes to try and meditate through the pain.

I can do this. I can get through this. I am more than my pain.

“Motherfucker.” You grunt, feeling like a knife is slicing open your belly while a fresh wave of need makes your already wet sex even wetter. Using your foot to turn off the water that was now up to your neck, you let your other hand slide into the tub and between your folds.

As soon as you touched your clit the tension in your neck and shoulders started to disappear. It was like drinking water after going through a desert, an orgasm already building up quicker than your fingers could rub.

Your mind flickered through different people, and different scenarios, trying to find one to settle on to bring you over the edge. The coil was getting tighter and tighter, your body screaming for release just as you imagine your friends, three of them to be exact, watching you hungrily as you chased your release.

The image stayed front and center in your mind, molding to them fisting their own cocks as they watched, and you felt your orgasm start to travel up your body. 

Until loud, insistent knocking ripped you from your fantasy. 

You let out a shriek of frustration, almost falling out of the bathtub as you got up and wrapped a towel around yourself to march over to the door. Whoever it was was still knocking, and when you yanked it open, you opened your mouth to scream at them to leave you the hell alone before letting it snap shut in shock.

Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian stood outside your apartment looking somewhat uncomfortable, all of them fidgeting in their spots as you stood there dripping wet. 

Literally and figuratively.

“W-what are you guys doing here?” You stuttered, grasping your towel closer to your body while trying not to think about what you had just imagined in the bathroom. Madja had told you she would explain your condition to them, but you hadn’t expected them to come over. 

“Uh, Madja told us you were sick, so we just wanted to check on you.” Cassian said while rubbing the back of his head. You knew they could smell your arousal, but you were praying to the Mother that they wouldn’t mention it, that they would just leave before the cramps came back.

“Yeah, she said you were hurting pretty bad.” Azriel added, mouth tight and hands clenched. You pinched the bridge of your nose and looked over to your High Lord, watching his eyebrows draw together in concern.

“Do you need anything, Y/N?” Rhysand asked with sincerity, making your heart flip at the kindness. They all had your best interest at heart, the four of you had been friends for years, but it was coming at the worst time possible.

“Yeah no, I’m okay.” You smiled before grunting as your cramps came back, making you grasp the doorframe with all of your strength as if it was calling out your lie. “Really, I-I’ll be fine!” The last word was more of a wheeze and you shut your eyes to take in some deep breaths.

“By the gods, Y/N, are you alright?” Rhysand cursed, catching you in his arms when your knees buckled. His warmth and scent immediately had your mind going into a frenzy, moaning as your common sense started to drift out the door when he unconsciously pulled you closer.

It felt so nice, he felt so nice, and you couldn’t stop yourself from burying your head into his neck and inhaling his smell. You missed the look he was sharing with his brothers, looking to them for answers. They licked their lips, practically tasting your arousal in the air, and Cassian motioned for everyone to go inside. 

Whatever was going to happen didn’t need to be done in the hallway. 

“Fuck this place is covered in her scent.” Azriel noted, his cock stirring in his pants as they went further in until they found your bedroom. He turned to look at you squirming in Rhys’s arms, noticing how you were rubbing your thighs together in need, and even he couldn’t control how his shadows slid out and down his arms in excitement and curiosity.

Rhysand laid you on the bed gingerly, groaning loudly as you all but ripped the towel off of your body. All three of them felt their morals slip, eyeing you up like a piece of meat as you reached for the closest male…who turned out to be Cassian.

You looked up at him with big, doe eyes and a pout on your lips. “Please, please touch me, I can’t do this alone…” You pleaded while moving your hands down to the front of his pants, palming the large erection that made your walls throb in want. “Cassian, please!”

He took a deep breath through his nostrils before grasping both of your hands in his own, holding you still as more pretty cries left your mouth. “What do we do? We can’t just leave her but I don’t think I can take much more of this, Rhys.”

They shared another look, as if they were speaking in their own language, before Rhys took Cassian’s place and bent down to your eye level. He grasped your face firmly, trying to use pain to get you to come back to reality for a moment so he could ask for your consent. 

“Y/N? Y/N.” He said sternly, watching the light return to your eyes briefly. “You need help. We can help you but we need your consent.”

The world around was blurry, your primal instincts fighting with all their might to take back control, but you tried your best to focus on his words. They wanted to help you through this, like the good friends they were, but…

“All of you?” You questioned, words slurring while looking at Cassian and Azriel. “At the same time?”

Azriel chuckled, coming up behind you while Cassian joined Rhys in front of you. “If you can take us, angel.” He teased, one of his shadows caressing your bare arm which made a shiver overtake your body momentarily.

Rhys shot him a glare, knowing he wasn’t helping, before softening his gaze when he looked at you again. “You’re in pain, darling. Let us help you.” He cooed, his own lust prickling his blood while Cassian ran a large hand up your leg. 

“We’ll take care of you sweetheart, we promise.” Cassian smirked, watching your eyes flutter at all of the attention your body was craving. It wasn’t even up for debate at the point you were out, your body so desperate for them that you would sooner throw yourself out the window than say no to the men that you dreamed of. 

You licked your lips and nodded, looking deep into Rhysand’s eyes as you softly whispered, “Yes, please. I want it. I want all of you.” 

As soon as you gave your permission, they descended on you, three pairs of mouths claiming you in different places. Azriel had moved your hair so he could kiss your neck, his tongue easing the fire under your skin while Cassian lifted one of your legs to start kissing up your inner calf and thigh. Rhysand had taken your lips, molding them perfectly against your own and groaning at your taste. 

It was hard to focus on who to pay attention to so you decided to finally give in fully to your heat and let your body guide you. One of your hands went behind you to grasp Azriel’s hair, nails digging into his scalp while your other went down to Rhys’s collar to pull him closer.

They continued their coordinated attacks for a few more minutes before Cassian grew tired of being at the bottom. He grabbed both of your legs and threw them sideways so that you were now fully on the bed, ignoring his brothers growls as he quickly found a home between your legs. 

“Look at how wet you are for us, Y/N…” He grinned, spreading you open as Azriel and Rhys bent over to look. All three of them moaned as they saw how sticky you were, the juices of your arousal now sliding down your ass from how much you wanted them. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Cassian murmured before licking your pussy clean, his long tongue going in every crevice to taste as much as he could. You gasped loudly, your hands flying to grasp at the sheets as he ate you out.

Your hips immediately started to grind against his face while Azriel bent down to start playing with your breasts, pinching and squeezing the soft mounds that caused your sounds to grow even louder. He watched you with those dark, amber eyes as he took a nipple into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue at the same time Cassian flicked your clit.

The pleasure was making you go insane. Your head tilted back only to blink in surprise when Rhysand stared back at you, a feline grin gracing his lips as he went behind you and held your arms above your head so that you were powerless against them. He then forced your head back down so that you were watching his brothers touch you, whispering into your ear to add to your experience.

“Look at how they are touching you, darling. How desperate they are for just a taste of you.” He purred, licking the shell of your ear while you started to pant. Another coil winded tightly in your belly and they could sense it, helping you get closer to your release. “I can’t wait to see for myself but I want you to cum first, can you do that?”

You nodded shakily, your mouth opening as all of the sensations of their touches grew to be too much. Cassian’s tongue snaking into your hole and Azriel’s teeth tugging your nipple was what pushed you over the edge, babbling out incoherently as your orgasm hit you like a shooting star.

Rhysand talked you through it, his cock throbbing steadily as he watched you coat Cassian’s face in your cum. Azriel removed himself from your breasts and started to take off his clothes, his brothers following suit until you were all naked and horny.

All of their cocks were of various sizes and girths but you wanted to taste and fuck them all, your body moving on its own as you crawled towards Azriel and started to fist his cock. You were on all fours, ass out, and you didn’t even flinch when you felt one of them slap their cock against your cunt.

When Cassian appeared beside you, you realized who was behind you, turning to look as the High Lord of the Night Court eased himself into you. It was a stretch but you didn’t feel any pain, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat as he wasted no time in grabbing your hips and picking up speed.

“Angel,” Azriel called, his shadows curling around your face to turn you to look back at him and Cassian. “Don’t forget about us.” 

Your hand resumed its pace while you turned to Cassian and gazed up at him innocently, opening your mouth wide enough so he could guide his dick into your mouth so you wouldn’t lose your balance. Both Illyrians growled above you, Cassian using your hair as leverage while Azriel thrusts his hips in time with your hand. 

“That’s it, darling, that’s it.” Rhysand praised behind you, enjoying how tight you were squeezing him and also how much you were into this. He wishes he could freeze this moment forever. You looked so beautiful, taking them all like this, and he knew his brothers felt the same. 

“Mmmmm, fucsks!” You garbled around Cassian, drool trailing down your chin as Rhys abused your hole like he owned it. You switched your positions so that Azriel was now in your mouth, taking him all the way down which had him shouting your name while you let Cass fuck your hand.

The room smelled like sex and sweat, an intoxicating combination as Rhysand felt his own orgasm swell in his balls. Your body sensed it as well, catching up easily as your walls fluttered around him. Azriel’s thrusts were starting to get sloppy as well and before you knew it, they were both filling you up with their cum. 

Both of your holes couldn’t handle the amount of seed and when they pulled away, it leaked out of the corners of your mouth and cunt. Rhysand used two fingers to catch what had fallen and stuff it back inside, smirking at how you sucked his fingers back in.

Cassian’s release was right there and you turned to face him, opening wide as he moaned your name and coated your face and chin with his finish. It was hot and sticky but you loved it, swishing around the mixture of him and Azriel before swallowing it.

Two strong, scarred hands lifted you up and brought you to his height, kissing you and tasting himself and Cassian on your tongue. The fire that was once burning uncontrollably was now dying down but you still needed more. You wanted them all.

“I need more.” You panted, turning to look at them pitifully. “Please, I need more of you all. To be stuffed full.”

They chuckled at how desperate you sounded, as if they would deny you of that. Cassian snatched you from Az’s arms and laid himself back onto the bed, getting comfy as you reached down to line him up to your cunt. He was longer than Rhys, hitting that button inside of you immediately. You grunted when he bottomed out inside of you, enjoying as his hands came up to grope your tits as you started to ride him.

“So perfect,” Azriel said, coming up behind you and kissing down your neck as you felt one of his fingers prod against your asshole. It felt foreign but you didn’t care, arching your back to give him easier access. “You think you can take both of us, Y/N?”

Rhysand came up to your side and tilted your face to look at him, brushing the hair out of your eyes while taking in your cum-stained beauty. “Of course she can, Azriel. She’s a good girl.” The words sent a chill down your spine and he smirked, bending down to kiss you gently at the same time Azriel pushed into your ass. 

A loud whimper came from your chest at the feeling, nails digging into Rhys’s skin so deeply that blood pooled at the sight. He could care less though, pulling away so he could wrap a hand around your throat to watch you lose yourself in their presence. 

After a moment you motioned for Cassian and Azriel to move, eyebrows knitting together at just how good they felt being in you at the same time. It was your wildest fantasy and judging from the sounds of everyone else, it was theirs as well.

“Oh my gods…” You moaned, your face still turned to Rhys’s. He stuck a thumb in your open mouth and you immediately wrapped your lips around it and began to suck it. 

Meanwhile, Cassian and Azriel looked like they were in heaven. The former had his eyes screwed shut as you bounced on his cock like you were made for him while the latter was biting and kissing any bare skin he could get to. The sound of everyone’s skin slapping against something had your ears ringing and despite your best effort to hold off, your body wanted to cum again.

You looked down and saw Rhysand’s cock standing tall but lonely, trying to reach for it but he tightened his grip on your throat and shook his head. “I enjoy watching as much as I enjoy partaking, Y/N Darling.” He cooed, pushing his thumb farther back until you gagged. “Just enjoy what my brothers are giving you.” 

A nod was your only response as he let you go, Azriel taking full advantage and pulling your face towards him for a searing kiss. Rhys started to stroke his own cock as Cassian started to get close to another release, smacking your ass roughly.

“M’gonna fill you up, sweetheart, fuck.” He panted, watching you tongue fuck Azriel’s face which only spurred him closer to the edge. “Cauldron help me. You’re going to be the death of me Y/N.”

His cock throbbed inside of you and when you left Azriel to kiss him, he lost in. Cassian’s mouth was dominating as he thrust sharply into you, groaning into your mouth as he emptied his balls into you. Azriel was right behind, grasping your hips and moaning loudly.

The feeling of both of them stuffing you full had you finishing with them, your body slumping forward and onto Cassian’s chest as you barely had any energy to even cry out. It felt like the first wave of your heat was finally done, your body exhausted, as they both pulled out of you.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you realized Rhys hadn’t came and when you turned to him, he smiled sweetly and kissed your forehead. “Go to sleep, Y/N. We can continue this when you wake up.”

Your body immediately listened to him, eyes shutting as you fell asleep quickly on Cassian’s chest. They all looked at each other, everyone tired and fucked out, before Azriel said, “When she wakes up?”

“Oh yes, heats like these come in waves,” Rhys explained, heading towards the bathroom to grab some towels for everyone. When he returned, he threw them at his brothers with a smile, looking at you sleeping peacefully and saying, “We’re definitely doing this again.”

“Can’t wait.” Cassian grinned, kissing your temple. Azriel nodded in agreement and joined the two of you in bed. It was going to be one hell of a week. 

#acotar #acotar kinktober #kinktober #rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhys acotar #rhysand #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #cassian smut #cassian #azriel reader #bat boys #reverse harem #in heat #acotar imagine #acofs #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #smut #acotar smut

[yanderederee]

Alright, let’s talk about Ken Wakui’s newest work

Negai no Astro

Or Astro Royal, whatever you prefer.

I will be giving no blatant spoilers in this post, only speculations:)

Manga PV here; ITS SO GOOD!!!!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Let’s get the obvious out of the way, Ken Wakui has a very distinct art style. And I love it! A lot of people are making fun of it (mostly on Twitter/X), and it’s really sad. I love his style, and character development.

I have high hopes for this manga, and want to paint a picture of what to expect for those who also want to get into it♡

Let’s start Character Designs

—our main-trio—

We’re only one chapter in so far, so we’ve only met the main two boys, Terasu and Hibaru (left to right).

Terasu Yotsurugi - 12th Son

Loving Terasu’s take-no-shit personality so far. Simultaneously, he seems very kind and loyal to Hibaru’s ideals.

Terasu is giving Ryusei/Chifuyu lovechild.

Hibaru Yotsurugi - only Biological Son

I love Hibaru’s chivalrous/“old-fashion” ideology. He may seem ‘generic shonen protagonist’ right now, but i don’t care. I will appreciate him.

Hibaru is giving Mikey/Takemitchi lovechild.

As for our blue eyes beauty over here, we have yet to see her yet. She seems very cute though.

She’s also giving lovechild vibes; Senju/Hina specifically…

—The Yotsurugi family—

There are 13 Siblings of the Yotsurugi family, whom has a history of being Yakuza.

12/13 Siblings are adopted.

So far, we only have designs for 11 siblings.

We do not know a lot of names thus far, WHICH I NEED BTW, so let’s go over what we do have, and my first impressions of them.

—Names going Left to Right per image

Shio Yotsurugi - Eldest Son

He’s giving Timeskip!Taiju vibes. Anyone who says he looks like Ran…. I can’t see it. He’s too beefy- sorry.

I just know I’m not going to like this guy.

Has a lot of the people’s support, but not mine.

Probably thinks he’s going to make the family better when he’s really ruining it:(

Unnamed Glasses Guy - maybe 2nd Son?

Mmmmm no thoughts.

Token megane character—

Probably corrupt.

I hope he proves me wrong.

Kou Yotsurugi - 11th Son

Middle child vibes

He will be deranged and misguided.

Probably “hates” Hibaru because he’s so much like their father, who I assume he respects, but doesn’t agree with.

He probably secretly admires them both though.

Unnamed Hottie - maybe 9th Son?

MINE. 👹👹👹 RAPID. FERAL. BARKBARKBARK—

I NEED NAMES, NOW WAKUI. NOW.

Who is he. Where was he. I must know.

also lowkey giving Angry’s blue-ogre vibes…

Based on vibes alone, I lay claim. Awoogaawooga♡

Didn’t appear in chapter 1 though so:( </3

Unnamed ScarGuy - maybe 10th Son?

Eyes always closed, speaks with ♡ at the end of his sentences…

Seems charming. I mean, look at those eyelashes��♡

Wanna give him a kith.

I have a feeling he and Unnamed Hottie are biological brothers… not sure.

Wakui please, sir, just one chance—-

Unnamed BraidGuy - maybe 8th Son?

Mr. I’ll just stay in my lane. Respect.

Realistically, I think he’ll be my first/second favorite eye candy, depending on how these characters personalities/canons end up being explored.

I’m sorry I have a thing for men with long hair!

Cool earrings too lol

Seems neutral to who’s in charge.

Wakui, seriously, I CAN TAKE HIM—!!!

BENKEI???? - maybe 5th Son?

Has lion-like eyes and sharp canines….big nose

My size kink is acting up—no, please nO—!

Okay but seriously. I’m not sure what to expect from him yet.

He seems honest, but I can see him getting power hungry:(

Handsome Lady - Maybe 3rd Daughter?

Cooler older sister vibes.

Awoogawooga

Please be a lesbian or at least bisexual—

Seems logical and cool. Probably doesn’t coddle innocence.

Mr.BigNose - Maybe 4th son?

Uh-uh. No thanks. Not bc of his appearance, but bc his character is depicted as insufferable so far.

Probably sexist.

Probably too coward to admit it, but if things with the family bond start turning south, he’s the first one OUT.

Hehe I may have left this screenshot wide to show off the One Panel that shows Mr. Unnamed Hottie *twirls hair*

I mean seriously look at him I’m going to scream without the s

Story Direction and Expectations

I trust Wakui. The way he explores his stories is through character bonds and personal ideals.

This is one of the reasons why I grew so fond of Tokyo Revengers.

Plus… it’s Found-Family Gang activity. It’s my soft spot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I would say Yakuza but I want to be respectful in how I throw that word around, so I’ll avoid it for now if I can.

The supernatural powers that get involved will surely lead to a type of succession war between the siblings.

“What it means to be strong” will probably be the fundamental lesson of the story.

I am so excited to see how Negai no Astro will progress!

Please support Ken Wakui however you can by reading Chapter 1 onwards!♡

#negai no astro #astro royale #ken wakui #Hibaru #Hibaru Yotsurugi #Terasu #Terasu yotsurugi #shio #Shio Yotsurugi #Kou #Kou Yotsurugi #yotsurugi family

[your-yandere-bestfriend]

���　　　　ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.Wet dreams.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Todoroki Shoto

Based off the song Wet Dreamz by J. Cole.

(Guys do I drop this after a 2 year hiatus or no )

。。。 Though it was the second day of school already, there had already been talk of a new student—most likely gossip overheard from the U.A. staff. Typically a new student wasn’t of much appeal, this was a huge school after all, even though it was prestigious, but what made the U.A. students so chatty about this new student was the fact that she was a foreigner. There had only even been three American students in the long history of U.A. high school, so getting a transfer was not only impressive, due to the fact that she wasn’t required to participate in the entrance exams, and also exciting.

The bell chimed for second blocks end, and next for the students of class 3.A., was the drowse inducing subject. Math. The teachers filtered out in order to teach their proper subject, after all just because this was a hero school didn’t mean that they were excused from engaging in normal, more uneventful subjects. Todoroki sat with perfect posture in the back of the room, awaiting the teachers entrance. His ears perked up when he heard Midoriya speak of the new girl who might’ve been making her first entrance today, though he didn’t quite care for a new student, it honestly had nothing to do with him, he hadn’t found a need for more friends, Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, and Floppy felt plentiful.

The door slid open, the chattering of the class going still. In walked Cemento, but it wasn’t just him, it was also the new girl, and now that he has seen her with his own eyes, he could understand what the excitement was for. She had mesmerizing, smooth skin, she was delicate looking, with the such pretty eyes, they put his heterochromia ones to shame. Along with her pretty eyes and gorgeous figure her hair was long, around 30 inches, and red just like his left side, Todoroki couldn’t care less if it was real or not. He was sure his mouth was keenly open, but he knew he wasn’t alone, even the girls in the class were shocked at her appearance.

Cemento guided her to the front of the large classroom, in front of the expensive smart board that wasn’t yet displaying geometry problems, thankfully.

Cemento was preparing to give her the go ahead to start speaking but she already took that initiative for herself.

“Hi everyone it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you all! I’m … and I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you,” she beamed.

Sure she was already beautiful but todoroki could feel fire coming out his right side when she smiled revealing a straight line of pretty, white teeth. His multicolored eyes glanced around his classroom, and even the notorious Bakugou was in awe, a sight he has never yet seen.

“It is an absolute honor to have you here … ! Your Japanese is impressive!” Iida stood up moving his arm in the odd robotic like motions, but todoroki doubted anyone missed the telltale pink blush flushed across his pale face.

… bowed in response, traditional Japanese etiquette that she had obviously studied along with the language.

His eyes followed her long legs as she walked to the only empty seat in the room. Right next to him.

#shouto todoroki #anime #bnha #shoto smut #mha #todoroki smut #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #kittens #mha shoto #shoto x you #shotoncanon #todoroki

[yanderecrazysie]

Hiii!!! I haven’t really requested anything before so I hope I’m doing this right, but could I please request the training camp with manger reader, character of your choice bc I really couldn’t decide lmao😭😭😭

I really wasn’t sure what to do for this, so I just chose Bokuto because… well, because. XD

Title: Enamor

Pairings: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, manager! reader

Summary: Bokuto develops a crush on the Shinzen High manager.

enamor

/verb/

be filled with a feeling of love for

Bokuto’s attention was easily won, but just as easily lost.

His attention was fleeting, bouncing from one person to another like a volleyball. Until it stopped.

On you.

Bokuto had already met Kyoko, but he had no real interest in her. She looked beautiful, sure, but she didn’t have much in the way of personality to hold his attention. You, on the other hand, were beautiful and energetic.

You were the manager of the Shinzen High Volleyball Club. You stood on the sidelines of every match and cheered your heart out for the team. Where other managers clapped or just watched silently, you jumped up and down and hollered out praise.

When each match was finished, you would fling yourself onto the group of boys- high fives if they won, hugs if they lost. Shinzen High wasn’t exactly the best team there (though they were no Karasuno), so there were quite a few losses and quite a few hugs.

Bokuto pouted every time you gave a round of hugs to them, eyes narrowing whenever you lingered a little too long. He found himself wishing he could be on the Shinzen High team, just to get a hug or high five from you.

Akaashi noticed something was wrong when Bokuto went into “emo mode” before the next match even started. His eyes surveyed the gym, surprised to notice where Bokuto’s attention was.

The broccoli-headed guy had an arm around your waist as the team talked. You didn’t seem bothered by it, merely talking casually as though it weren’t there. 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi warned, “We have to start the next match.”

“Just play without me, Akaashi,” Bokuto said dramatically, “I have a broken heart, I can’t play.”

Akaashi closed his eyes and tried to think what would cheer him up, “But, Bokuto, don’t you want to impress her with your volleyball skills?” Bokuto perked up, but only a little.

The next few matches were torture for Fukorodani. They were good at playing without Bokuto, but they needed him to get over his emo mode at least at some point in the match. Instead, he spent the entire time moping around- not trying to spike or receive and serving half-heartedly.

The coach was furious and, in the next match, he didn’t even put Bokuto in. “Deal with it or don’t play,” he had said.

Bokuto found himself walking up to you in a daze. You turned to him and gave him a polite smile, “Yes? Can I help you?”

“What’s your name?” Bokuto asked.

“Oh, it’s (Y/n),” you said, looking a little confused, “And you’re Bokuto, right?”

Bokuto’s emo mode disappeared instantly, “That’s me!” He puffed his chest out in pride.

“Why aren’t you playing?” you asked, confusedly looking over at his team.

“I wanted to talk to you!” Bokuto said, “I love you!”

You stared blankly at him, “You just learned my name, how do you love me? Or is that, like, an over exaggeration?”

Bokuto gave you a look like a kicked puppy. Didn’t you understand that he had fallen in love at first sight? That he was enamored with your very being?

Apparently you didn’t understand, because you turned back to your team, cheering as they made a point. You turned back, looking surprised that Bokuto was still there.

That was okay, he’d find a way to show you how much he loved you before training camp was over. Whether it was through bubbly praise or confronting you in the locker room, alone… he would have you.

He’d never been this enamored with anyone else before. 

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!! #one shot #yandere bokuto #bokuto koutarou

[themultifandomgal]

Hey I got a request for Tommy Shelby

So basically you are are Tommy Shelby daughter age 16 and you was at a family meeting and you was having this pains and turns out you was pregnant and you didn’t know and you give birth and it was the next day Tommy came round and was yelling at you for getting pregnant then you put your daughter in his arms and was like looking at you beautiful granddaughter hope that make sense

Tommy Shelby- Granddaughter

Trigger Warning- teen pregnancy

Pt2

I've been sat in my dad meeting now for the last hour, feeling sick and having stomach pains. As the meeting goes on the cramps get worse and worse. Im not even sure why I'm even sat in here listening to the family business since I'm only 16. 

I'm no longer paying attention to what anyone is saying. I've never had cramps like these before

"YN what's wrong?"

"Sorry dad. Just don't feel to good"

"We're nearly done" I nod my head replying to my dad.

Another 20 minutes later and dad says I can leave and head up to bed

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit"

"Language"

"You, Uncle John, Uncle Arthur and Uncle Finn swear all the time"

"Yes but your a lady and"

"Aunt Polly swears" dad sighs

"YN"

"Sorry"

"I'm heading to London now. I'll be back tomorrow evening. Will you be ok here with Aunt Poll?"

"Yeah. I'm sure I'll be fine by tomorrow"

"Ok" dad leans down and kisses my forehead before leaving me alone to sleep off whatever is going on.

That evening I barley eat anything and now Aunt Polly is getting worried

"I'm ringing your dad"

"No it's fine. I'm sure it's just my monthly finally starting"

"Finally?" Polly questions

"Yeah I've missed the last 3 months. That's why it's super painful" I give Polly a shrug

"I swear that mother of yours hasn't taught you anything. Honey that's not how periods work. Yes they can might not be regular but 3 months is a long time. These pains what are they like?"

"Erm it's like somethings squeezing my inside then releasing it. Like bad cramps"

"Sweetheart have you had sex?"

"What?" I frown looking at my Aunt

"It's ok if you have, hell only knows what I was doing at your age"

"Polly what's happening?" Worry starts to set in

"You need to answer my question first"

"He said that I wouldn't get pregnant the first time. Said that it was ok"

"Who?" I shake my head not wanting to tell her "YN who told you that?"

"James, he was my boyfriend"

"Was?"

"After we... he broke up with me"

"Fuck"

"Polly I'm not pregnant am I?"

"I think your going into labour" panic sets in. I can't have a baby now! Dads going to go mad "it's still early on. Try to get some sleep and I'll check in with you later"

Try to sleep she said. Easier said than done. Now it's the following afternoon, my waters broke 2 hours ago and now Aunt Ada has arrived with Aunt Esme and dads wife Grace is now here

"Ok YN looks like your ready to push" not really thinking about it, my body takes over and I have to push. Grace places a cool wet rag on my forehead while Esme and Ada are gathering warm water and towels

"Grace. You gotta make sure dad doesn't kill me"

"He won't. He's not going to be impressed that he's a grandfather, but he will fall in love with them where they're here"

"Im scared"

"I know. I was scared when I had Charles, but your going to be ok. Your in the best hands. Promise" with that she takes my hand and I push again.

After being in labour for over 24 hours I finally give birth to a baby girl who I've named Eloise

"She's beautiful" Grace coos stroking the babies cheek. Before I can respond the door opens and dad walks in. He stands shocked staring at me

"Grace please tell that baby is ours" he finally says "or Esmes"

"Tommy you might need to sit down"

"Grace, who's baby is that because I know that's definitely not my daughters" I wince hearing his harsh tone. I look at Esme for help but she looks at me with sympathy

"YN how can you be so stupid!" He yells waking the baby up who starts screaming

"Let me have her" Ada says taking the newborn out of my arms and into hers. She leaves the room hushing the little one

"Out! All of you out!"

"Tom..." Grace tries

"Out!" everyone leaves the room leaving me and dad alone

"Why didn't you tell me. I could have helped you get rid of it"

"Her names Eloise"

"I don't care. My 16 year old daughter just had a fucking baby"

"Dad I didn't know"

"Of course sex leads to pregnancy did you not learn from me and Grace?"

"I'm sorry" I quietly say. Ada comes back into the room with a now quiet baby. She hands her back to me while dad paces back and forth

"How stupid could you be?"

"Maybe if she had a mother she'd have known all of this?" Ada mumbles

"Don't you dare blame me for her mother leaving"

"I'm not I'm blaming her. Either way you now have a choice, either except that you have a granddaughter or loose both you daughter and granddaughter it's your choice" Ada leaves the room again. Dad walks over and sits on the sofa next to me. Without giving him a choice I place the baby in his arms. Immediately I can see how my dad is in love and I know will protect like he has me. Just got to stop him from going on a warpath finding the dad.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #tommy shelby

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Four

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's nothing warning worthy in this chapter. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~3.3k

A/N : I decided to post this chapter a little earlier than planned as my own little celebration at hitting 21 followers (I genuinely did not expect anyone to read any of this when I started) Thank you so much to everyone who's still following along with this! Honestly all the nice comments have really made my week.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

Two days after the party, you found yourself standing outside the Anvil building, eyes trailing up the side of the building while Karen adjusted her bag on her shoulder. It felt surreal how you’d somehow ended up there again, despite promising yourself over and over that you’d never go anywhere near Billy Russo again.

“Impressive, isn’t it? Big, definitely compensating for something,” Karen smirked.

When she’d called you and offered you some work, Karen had been pretty vague on the details; she just needed some quick portraits while she interviewed some businessman about his charity work. It was supposed to be easy money for a couple of hour's worth of work. Karen had even offered to pick you up, so everything about the job had seemed great. Until you were standing outside of Anvil and you realised you were going to have to see Billy again.

You were silent as you followed her through the building, trying not to think about how impressive it all seemed. His office was on the top floor - because, of course it was - and his assistant was a pretty, petite brunette with strikingly blue eyes, adding to the overall air of perfection and making you feel like you didn’t belong. She waved you into Billy’s office and your gaze dropped to the carpet, awkwardly adjusting your camera bag on your shoulder and the hard case with your lighting gear in your hand, doing anything you could to avoid looking up until you heard Karen introduce you.

Finally, you lifted your head, and there he was, stepping towards you and holding out his hand. You took it and let him introduce himself as if you weren’t already well acquainted with him, and you tried not to hold his gaze for too long.

“Okay, so, we’ll get set up, get the photos done, and I need to ask you a few questions, get a few quotes - you know the drill.” Karen explained.

“Whatever you need, Karen,” he smiled, moving towards his desk, choosing to lean against it rather than taking a seat.

“Need any help?” She asked you as you started to unpack and, of course, you didn’t, so she simply stood to the side.

“Frank’s in his office if you want to say hi,” Billy offered, smiling at Karen, “you’d be doing me a huge favour, he’s been in a shitty mood all morning, nearly took a couple of heads off in this morning’s briefing.”

Karen looked at you for a moment, not needing to give voice to the question; she wanted to go check in with her boyfriend and wondered if you’d be alright without her. Of course, she didn’t know about your history with Billy, she didn’t know that he was just trying to get rid of her. And you didn’t want her to know, you didn’t want to have to explain any of it to her, so you nodded. 

“I’ll be five minutes - it’ll give you time to get set up and decide what you want to do for the shoot.” You nodded but obviously looked uncomfortable enough for Karen to add; “don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.”

A few mumbled I’ll be fine’s later and she was gone, leaving you alone with Billy.

“Did you do this?” You asked before he could speak, letting the wave of anger carry you. “Did you set all this up just to get me here?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation and you found that you didn’t quite know how to respond.

At least he was honest - not that honesty would buy him much goodwill from you. 

He moved towards you and you shrank back, eyes flitting towards the door, hating the way you suddenly felt so small. But the moment he noticed your discomfort, Billy stopped in his tracks, leaving half the room between you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, though you didn’t know which part of things he was apologising for.

“For someone who says that as much as you do, you don’t seem to stop doing the things you’re sorry for.”

“Because I don’t know what I did wrong,” Billy sighed, his shoulder ticking upwards, “I just know that something I did upset you and that’s the last thing I wanted. I wanted to make sure you were alright and I didn’t exactly have any other way of getting you to talk to me. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me showing up at your place again...”

He sounded contrite, like he was really bothered by what had happened between you, and it was so at odds with everything you’d made yourself believe about him that you really didn’t know what to say.

What had he done wrong? Really? Thinking about it, you found that you couldn’t actually name a single thing; you were the one who’d gotten drunk and jealous, you were the one who went along with everything that had happened. No, not just went along with it, you’d wanted it, you’d enjoyed it. You just let your own neurotic bullshit get the better of you at the end of it all. All Billy had really done was try to ask you out, maybe a little too enthusiastically, but you didn’t feel like anything he’d done had been malicious.

“I shouldn’t’ve...” he decided not to go into detail about the other night and everything he’d done, “we’d both been drinking, and I know I said I’d leave you alone...”

“I didn’t exactly tell you to stop,” you admitted quietly, dropping your gaze and fixing it on his shoes.

“You shouldn’t have had to, I should’ve known that you didn’t want -” the tone of his voice broke your heart, the blame he carried for something that was just as much your fault, if not more than his.

“Billy, I didn’t tell you to stop because I didn’t want you to stop.” You interrupted.

As much as you hated admitting it, you knew it wasn’t fair to let him blame himself completely, to let him think that he’d forced you into something that you’d been a willing participant in. Yes, he’d kissed you, but you’d kissed back and no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have stopped if you’d wanted him to. (In fact, he had stopped, he’d let you leave the second you needed to.)

“What?” Because it didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him. He dared to take a step towards you.

“I wanted it, I wanted what happened, it’s just - it's complicated, okay?” Frustration quickly filled your voice and you hated yourself for not being able to explain it. “I told you, I don’t date. And I don’t exactly do one night stands either. So, it’s been a really long time since I let anyone get that close to me and after everything, I panicked.”

Again, there was a silence that seemed to last an eternity, both of you trying to come to terms with the moment.

“I thought I’d hurt you,” Billy finally said. Your chest ached at the sadness in his voice, at the worry you must have put him through. “That’s why I set all this up, I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Billy,” this time you were the one who dared to take a step forward. “And, I’m sorry. I didn’t think that you’d care, or that you’d worry...” Though you regretted sharing that thought when you saw the look on his face. Of course he’d cared; he’d never said or done anything to indicate that he didn’t, even when he’d been trying to convince you to go to dinner with him, Billy had always been respectful of your boundaries, and you’d left him believing that he’d practically assaulted you.

“I should’ve left you alone,” he repeated, “but I thought I could get you to change your mind, and that wasn’t fair on you. I’m not used to being told no and I thought you were just playing hard to get.”

“I didn’t want you to leave me alone,” you dared to admit. Billy fell silent, wanting you to go on but not daring to ask you for more. For a few seconds, you struggled with what you wanted to tell him, but knowing that you might never get another chance you decided to be honest. “I was upset. I didn’t know Tammy was throwing the party and I didn’t know that you’d be there, and when I saw you with Michelle...” your gaze dropped to his shoes again. “I was jealous. I saw her and it made me think that you’d never really been interested in me, that I’d just been some distraction for you, and it made me so angry.”

Still Billy remained silent, letting you get it all out.

“And when you kissed me, I wanted to prove to you that I was worth more than that. But, at the end, all I could think about was how you might take her home when you were done with me.” You paused again, eyes still fixed on his feet. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, too scared of what you might see. After everything you put him through Billy had every right to be upset. But you needed to finish. You needed him to know one last thing. “And, the truth is, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you either.”

You don’t know if he started moving before or after your final admission but, when you looked up, he was standing in front of you. His hand moved towards your cheek but hesitated, like he was waiting for permission to touch you, and when you didn’t pull away from him, he tenderly cupped your cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he told you softly, and you weren’t sure if it was meant as a reassurance or a warning. Regardless, you leaned into his touch. “Can I kiss you?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you offered him the slightest of nods. Again, there was a breathless moment of hesitation before, finally, Billy leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It wasn’t what you were expecting, given every other time that he’d kissed you; it was sweet and gentle, chaste even (a word that you never thought you’d associate with a man like Billy). 

“Are you okay?” He asked, hand lingering on your cheek even as the kiss broke.

“Yes.”

Billy smiled before kissing you again, this time in a way that was a little closer to what you were used to. His tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and you opened for him, letting the kiss deepen. Your hands found his hips, fingers grasping the fabric of his suit jacket, not wanting to let go, not wanting to let your fear get the better of you.

“One night,” you muttered against his lips when the kiss finally ended.

“One night?” Billy repeated, confused. 

“You asked me to give you one night. I - I’ve changed my mind, I want one night with you.”

“Do you still want to go to Pizza Hut?” He joked, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb, and you laughed.

“No, I want a real night out. I want the whole Billy Russo experience.” You told him, despite the way that your legs were trembling beneath you.

“Friday night, there’s a charity gala,” Billy explained, “be my date.”

“Okay,” nerves quickly crept into your tone. You’d never been to a charity gala, you had no idea what to expect from any of it. But you had three days to think about it, to figure it all out.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.” Before you could answer, he was kissing you again.

You would have been content to stay there, your body pressed against his as he kissed you, but then you heard a voice and the sound of a door opening. You sprang back, turning away from Billy while he remained exactly where he was, his gaze darkening for a moment as he looked at Karen.

“Everything alright?” She asked, eyeing you and then Billy. Karen wasn’t an idiot, you knew she could see the embarrassment written all over your face, she just couldn’t figure out why. “Did he behave himself?” She asked you a moment later.

“Please, Karen, you know I don’t know how to behave myself.” Billy joked, and you almost winced.

“Everything’s fine, Mr Russo was just offering a few suggestions about how he wants his picture taken.”

“Of course he was,” Karen laughed, rolling her eyes at him, “wouldn’t want to get your bad side.”

“What bad side?” Billy retorted with that smirk that made your knees feel weak.

Karen and Billy carried on their little back and forth while you finished getting your camera and lighting set up. It was almost endearing listening to them both; you weren’t sure why, but you got the feeling that Billy didn’t have many people in his life that he could talk to like that. Or, rather, you got the impression that most people didn’t want the dumb, playful side of Billy.

Photographing him was some of the easiest work you’d ever done - and, he was right, he didn’t have a bad side. He talked with Karen while you got more shots that you’d ever really need, managing to catch every flicker of a smile and the way his face would light up whenever he laughed. And, from time to time, he’d look at you with those dark eyes and you’d get goosebumps.

You only half-listened as Karen conducted her interview, but it all sounded very impressive; Anvil had been donating money to veterans charities all across the state, millions so far, and Billy had no plan of stopping any time soon.

When the interview was over, you packed away your gear, and you and Billy continued your little act, keeping everything professional. You said your goodbyes, and Billy mouthed the word ‘Friday’ at you the second Karen had turned her back. You followed after a moment later, heading back towards the elevator.

“So,” Karen said, letting the word hang in the air a couple of seconds too long for comfort before continuing, “are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

“What what was about?” Though you could already feel the panic knotting your insides.

“Seriously, you’re going to make me spell it out?” She laughed, and that definitely didn’t make you feel any better about things. “I saw the way Billy was looking at you. Did he come on to you when I went to see Frank? Because if he made you uncomfortable --

“He asked me out,” you practically blurted out. The last thing you wanted was to admit it to her, but you didn’t want her storming back into his office and kicking his ass on your behalf, either. “I’m going to some charity gala with him on Friday.” 

“You said yes to him?” Obviously confused by the very sparse sequence of events that you’d presented her with.

You let out a sigh, knowing how unprofessional you were going to end up looking when she knew the whole story, but you didn’t want to lie to her.

“We’ve met before. A couple of times. He asked me to dinner and I said no, but then - I don’t know, something changed and I said yes this time.” You shrugged. “But when you offered me this gig, I swear, I didn’t know that it was here or that it was him.”

If she cared about the professionalism of it all, Karen didn’t show it. Instead she was fighting back a smirk.

“Oh my god, suddenly it all makes sense.”

“What does?” You dared to ask.

“He specifically asked for you to be his photographer, only he did it by finding some of your work and requesting that he had that photographer; he didn’t mention you by name. Sneaky bastard.”

“Yeah, he told me he set this up,” you practically grimaced at how ridiculous it must have seemed to her.

“At least he was honest, I guess,” Karen remarked before; “I still can’t believe you said yes to Billy Russo,” she shook a head and your cheeks felt like they were burning, “I mean, I get it, he’s very nice to look at but -”

“Who’s nice to look at?” The sudden interruption startled you, but Karen didn’t notice. Instead her eyes were fixed on the man who’d just appeared in the corridor behind you. 

“Billy,” Karen laughed, “she’s agreed to be his date for the gala on Friday.”

“Another good woman lost to Billy the beaut’s charms,” he shook his head, grinning as he held out his hand and introduced himself. Frank. Karen’s Frank. You took his hand and gave him your name, all the while hoping that the ground would open beneath your feet and swallow you whole.

You stepped back and let Frank and Karen talk for a moment; they were deciding where they wanted to go for dinner, Karen said something about her friends Foggy and Matt and, finally, Frank told her he’d call when he got off work.

“I guess I’ll see you again on Friday,” he said to you as he turned to head back to his office.

“Friday? What did he mean by that?” You asked and Karen laughed.

“We’re going to the gala too.” Somehow, that made everything worse, and you wondered why Billy had gone through the charade of not saying anything in front of Karen about it.

On the way out of the building you made small talk, Karen told you what to expect at the gala; lots of free alcohol and people wearing some very expensive clothes. And she tried to set your mind at ease a little (obviously she noticed just how uncomfortable the whole thing had made you).

“As much as we like giving Billy shit, he’s not a bad guy,” she explained once you were finally outside and away from anyone who might overhear, “he saved Frank’s life, they’re like brothers.” You nodded but decided against asking any questions and, instead let Karen carry on. “He just - I don’t think he knows how to settle, I mean not that I’m surprised given the way he grew up, but he keeps picking all the wrong women.” She paused, looking at you for a moment, “not that I think you’re wrong for him, you’re definitely not -”

“Not his usual type? I know.” You shrugged. “But it’s just one night, I don’t think it’ll go anywhere.”

“Give him a chance, he might surprise you.” Her attention soon turned up unlocking her car and opening the trunk so you could put your gear down. “And, I think you might be good for him? Billy doesn’t have many real friends in his life, most people only ever get to see half the picture, you know?”

Yeah, you’d started to pick up on as much, but you didn’t know how to explain that to Karen. You’d seen the sweet and playful side of him when you’d gone for coffee, you’d dealt with the persistent side of him, and you’d even gotten a glimpse of what it might be like to spend a night in his bed. 

“And, if he pisses you off at the gala you can come hang out at the bar with me and Frank because he hates those things.”

You spent the drive home asking as many questions as you could about the gala, trying to figure out just what you’d agreed to.

Chapter Five

END NOTES : I hope this one wasn't too slow going, I just really enjoy cute moments where Billy and Reader actually talk to sort their shit out. The next part should be finished and up at the end of next week. I've got tag list now so feel free to drop me a comment if you want adding to it!

Hope you have a wonder day!

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x female reader #cmiyc ff #ben barnes

[natrogersfics]

So It Goes... - A Romanogers Oneshot

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3 Never compromise your client. If there was ever a golden rule in private security that should not be bent, it’s this one. When it comes to the person you’re assigned to serve and protect, you are not to touch. You are not to get too close. And you are definitely not to wonder what her cherry-lacquered lips taste like.

Those are the rules, and the point of rules is to follow them. It’s a value that was instilled in Steve during his time in the Army, and it’s this same value he’s founded his company upon – a company he’s not only proud of, but also one that’s responsible for the livelihoods of dozens of employees. If only for that reason alone, he knows that he must remain steadfast. A professional.

As he enters the elevator, though, every reason he’s just ruminated on becomes that much more difficult to remember. Next to him, Natasha stands silently, looking every bit the sight that she is in a black silk dress and a crisp white coat draped over her shoulders. The doors whizz shut, and as the car begins to ascend to her penthouse, the familiar scent of her lavender perfume fills his senses, and he has to clench both his hands into fists to fight off every urge he has to reach out to her.

Natasha Romanoff is his job. Ensuring she’s safe and that she remains safe is his mission, and because of that, he can’t be thinking of her this way. And, more saliently, he can’t take any of the events this evening personally.

Only problem is, everything about this job has felt personal from the outset. He couldn’t explain it, but from the moment her parents had approached him, seeking his company’s services to protect their daughter from the stalker who had already evaded security once, deftly slipping past them to hold Natasha at knifepoint in the very elevator bank they were just standing in, all he’s ever thought about is never again. Never again would someone get the opportunity to harm her. Not if he had anything to do about it.

Then he met her. Just as he had done for every new client, he had done his research. As one of the children adopted by Alexei and Melina Shostakov, she was one of the heirs to Red Guardian Realty, the largest real estate conglomerate in the country. It didn’t come as a surprise that she had attended the most prestigious schools, graduating top of her class at university and adding accomplished ballerina on top of an already impressive resume. In his experience, when it came to dealing with society’s upper echelon, that merely came with the territory. What did catch his attention, though, was the fact that he couldn’t find much else. Unlike the rest of her siblings whose faces were plastered across the tabloids every week, details about Natasha’s personal life remained elusive. He had seen pictures of her, of course, mostly next to her parents at official events, but none of those quite did her justice – none of them quite capturing how captivating her smile actually is or how her presence could command the attention of an entire room despite her petite frame. And that’s not to mention her eyes, verdant as the forest in the Summer and bright as day. He wishes he could say it was something as rudimentary as instant attraction, but even that didn’t feel encompassing enough to describe the need he felt to protect her the second his eyes met hers.

And it’s what he’s done for the last three hundred and eighty-nine days since. For more than a year, he’s been by her side, getting to know her. Keeping her out of harm’s way. Uncovering the various layers of Natasha Romanoff – the woman, who despite growing up in extreme privilege and largesse, has never treated anyone as anything but her equal. Who would go out of her way in a heartbeat to take care of those she cared about.

The more he got to know her, the more personal his mission became. And as much as he hates to admit it, she’s become more than just his job. At the very least, he had come to see her as a friend. A confidant. He convinces himself that that’s why the events of tonight have felt so personal, the ire from what he had seen unfold slowly but surely clawing its way under his skin. That’s the thing about being by Natasha’s side as often as he is. It’s like getting a front row seat to everything that happens to her. Sometimes it’s as joyous as the children at the orphanage she frequents running into her arms the second she drops by for a visit. Other times, like tonight, it’s watching the unfair way she’s treated, and hearing the vile things spewed her way.

His thoughts are interrupted by a touch as light as a feather. He stills, looking forward at the reflection on the brushed metals doors to see that Natasha’s stepped closer to him, her fingers working to unclench his fist.

“Natasha,” he whispers, but whether it’s in warning or relief, he’s unsure. Luckily, he doesn’t have to linger on the question for too long as the elevator dings, signaling their arrival on her floor. He gestures to the doors as they slide open. “After you.”

This isn’t her. The thought rushes through Natasha as she leads Steve down the hall and to her suite. If there is one thing she didn’t do, it’s get involved with the people on her payroll. And that’s what Steve Rogers is – a person paid to keep her safe.

If only that were the whole truth.

In reality, he’s also the person she’s spent the most time with in the last year, his ever looming presence giving her the peace of mind she’s had to go without for longer than she cares to admit. Gone were the days of her looking over her shoulder, of her stomach feeling unsettled over the idea that there were unwanted eyes on her. Not that the scrutiny ever went away, of course. For as long as she can recall, that’s been part of her life. The unintended consequence of her privilege. Now, though, she could rest easy knowing that she also had Steve’s eyes, his sharp, watchful gaze looking out for her.

But it’s not only Steve’s presence that’s allowed her to revel in safety. She was still reeling from her brush with her stalker when her parents had hired Steve, and even with him shadowing her, she knew that if she was ever going to live without fear ever again, she needed to learn to defend herself. To never feel the helplessness she felt that night as that mad man pressed a blade to her skin. Her parents were less than thrilled with the idea (let Steve do his job, her mother had insisted), but much to her surprise, Steve was very much all in. And so began their weekly ritual. Every Wednesday after work, Steve would train her to fight, teaching her all the ways she could protect herself.

If she had to think of the moment she felt her relationship with Steve begin to shift, it was here. Maybe it was the late hour or the exhaustion from the day, but she found that Steve was more willing to let his guard down after those sessions. It’s as they were sitting on the mats, trying to catch their breath between sets at the gym, that she learned all the details about him that she’s grown to admire, like how big an influence his father was in his choice to join the Army. How much he missed his mom. What a little shit he could be with a quip.

Before she really knew it, Steve had become more than just her bodyguard. He had become her sounding board, and she trusted him implicitly – which was more than she could say about some people she called family.

Families were complicated, but hers was a little more so. Their parents had loved them fiercely, of that there was no doubt. But she and her siblings were all cut from different cloths, and after that fateful car crash that had suddenly taken their parents, the very glue that held them together, that couldn’t be more apparent. Those differences were on full display tonight at the first board meeting since their parents’ passing. Weeks of anticipation had ended with the board announcing that they had selected her to be the next CEO, her father’s successor. Her sisters were practically apathetic – Yelena shrugged, and while Antonia rolled her eyes, she said nothing more. Her brothers, though, were incandescent. Helmut had branded her a manipulative snake. But it was John who had the most to say, all but accusing her of sleeping her way into the position. Not that she was the least bit surprised. Of all her siblings, their relationship had always had the most friction. They had been adopted practically at the same time, at the same age, and knowingly or not, were pitted against each other for the same things. So when he had the audacity to level such accusations at her tonight, it hadn’t come as a shock.

What did come as a shock was Steve’s reaction. He was standing by the door of the conference room, but from her periphery, she caught the way his entire demeanor went rigid the second her brothers had voiced their outrage. On the car ride back to her building, he remained silent, only speaking into his ear piece to alert the rest of his team of their impending arrival. Otherwise, he gazed out the windshield pensively, his jaw set. The tension that had found its way to his shoulders had never subsided either, and she’s certain if she looked back at him now, she could still find it in his stance.

She couldn’t lie. The idea of this man, who she had come to know as the very epitome of composure and level-headedness, getting incensed on her behalf… it did things to her. While she prided herself in being a consummate professional, with Steve, she found that to be an arduous task. As anyone with a pulse and a pair of eyes could deduce, with his broad shoulders, strong arms, and blue eyes so intense it made you feel as though you were being swallowed whole by the ocean, Steve Rogers was a specimen. Couple that with the fact that she has never felt safer in someone’s presence than when she’s around his, and well. It’s no wonder that this man has been the star of her filthiest dreams for months.

As they near her door, she reaches for her keys in her coat pocket, letting her mind wander back to Steve’s reaction to her touch in the elevator mere moments ago. She bites her lip as she recalls the way he had said her name, as though he was at odds with himself, trying to keep himself together. She wonders how quick he would be to keep his composure if he knew every which way she has thought of his lips on hers, of his hands on her body, and his weight holding her down.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t realize that her keys have slipped from her grasp until she sees a flash of movement as Steve reaches out in front of her, catching them in his palm. Not that she’s surprised. His eyes are never not on her, watching her, and though she knows he’s just doing his job, secretly, she savors it. When she finally looks up at him, the concern that’s been pooling in his eyes all night has somehow intensified, and she finds herself holding in a breath at their sudden proximity. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, but the tightness in his expression tells her he doesn’t quite believe her. She mumbles a thanks as she takes her keys back from him, and as they make it to her door, she waits. If all the nights he’s walked her to this very spot were anything to go by, this is where he leaves her. But as she pushes the key into the lock, he remains rooted in place, and a rush of excitement fills her chest as she opens the door to her suite.

He should turn around now. The idea gnaws away at him even as he nods at Bucky at the opposite end of the hall, officially passing the night shift onto his colleague. But even so, like a moth to a flame, he finds himself following Natasha inside.

“Thank you,” she says as they cross the threshold and he helps her shrug out of her coat. He nods in acknowledgement, stowing it away. “Can I pour you a drink?”

He looks to see that she’s made her way to the living room, glancing at him from over her shoulder as she stands by the credenza, one hand already on the decanter. “I’m still on the clock.”

“That’s what you always say,” she says cheekily, turning her attention back to the crystal before her. It could end here, he tells himself. He could bid her goodnight, turn around, and make his way back home the way he’s done every night. Instead, he pads forward still. “Besides, I saw James out there. As far as I’m concerned, you’re off duty.”

“Is that an order?” he asks as he comes to stand next to her, eyeing the two tumblers she now has in her hands.

The corner of her lips turns up in a sly grin. “It could be.”

He shakes his head, biting back a groan. “Natasha-”

“Please?”

The way she’s looking at him from underneath the fan of her darkened lashes is just not fair. The spark in her eyes is Goliath, and his self-restraint, what little remains of it anyway, is merely David. He sighs in concession. “One drink.”

“One drink,” she parrots, her expression lighting up in victory as she extends the other drink towards him. It wasn’t a secret to him that she’s fond of winning. What is novel is the effervescent feeling that rushes through him knowing he’s letting her, and it’s one he finds he could dangerously get addicted to. They clink glasses before taking a sip, and he relishes the familiar burn of liquor down his throat. “Besides,” she says a beat later, “if a nearly hundred year old scotch can’t turn that frown upside down, what will?” His lips press into a hard line at that, and he watches the way she tilts her head to the side. “Want to tell me what that’s about?”

He wants to. God knows the words have been hanging on the tip of his tongue the entire night, begging to be said. He so desperately wants to tell her that her brothers are low lives. That she deserves better. That it kills him that he couldn’t say or do anything in her defense because not only does she not need him to fight her battles, but also it’s simply not his place. This isn’t a discussion a bodyguard has with his client, which is why he settles for, “Your brothers are a piece of work.”

She hums in agreement. “You knew that, though.”

He did. Her brothers may have never had the audacity to speak to her the way they did tonight when their parents were still around, but the animosity has always been palpable from their backhanded comments to the outright callousness with which they viewed the situation with her stalker, practically ridiculing Natasha for needing round-the-clock security. The latter makes his blood boil – the idea that they think their sister’s safety is something to trivialize, and this time, he isn’t able to hold back. “I should’ve beat John to a pulp.”

The regret sets in the second the words leave his mouth, and he admonishes himself internally. His lips part to apologize, but before he can, Natasha chuckles. “Believe me, he isn’t worth the bruised knuckles or the assault charge.”

“Maybe I’d like to be the judge of that.”

“Such a man,” she says teasingly, taking another sip of her drink.

For the first time since they entered the conference room this evening, he feels his lips lifting into a little smile. If Natasha could find levity in the situation, shrug it off, surely he could, too. And perhaps it’s the liquid courage giving him the audacity to do so, but before he lets the subject go completely, he finds himself finally asking the one question that’s been eating away at him all night. “Natasha, why didn’t you say anything?”

She’s silent for a while, her eyes studying his face. What she’s searching for, he’s unsure. Nevertheless, he holds her gaze, waiting, because none of the events tonight made sense to him. He’s been with her in countless meetings this year, some of which have bordered on incendiary, and while she’s not one to be prone to an outburst, she also doesn’t turn the other cheek the way she did in front of her family tonight.

Eventually, Natasha shrugs. “Because there’s no point.”

“No point?” he asks. “Natasha, I don’t understand.” He’s overstepping now, he knows, but the words slip from his lips just the same. “They shouldn’t be able to speak about you that way! None of what they said is true. The board chose you because you earned it. You submitted the best proposal to take the company forward, not them! And they have the audacity-”

“What choice do I have, Steve?” Natasha interrupts, and for a moment, he can only stand there, frozen, taken aback by her question. As she stares at him, the playful mood she’s been intent on upholding dissipates, and she sighs. “I know none of what my brothers say or think about me is true, but what choice do I have but to take it?”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Natasha, you’re allowed to defend yourself.”

“I wish that were true,” she says, smiling ruefully. “I want this job because I care about continuing my parents’ legacy. But the board?” The resentment in her tone is clear as day she adds, “all they care about is making it seem like there was a clear succession plan so our stock price doesn’t dip.” Her shoulders lift as she scoffs. “If I react… If I so much as show them that my brothers get under my skin, I’m too emotional. Too soft to run this company. But if I respond in kind… I’m a bitch that’ll run it to the ground out of spite.” She shakes her head. “Much as I’d like to wipe that smug look off John’s face, I have to play the long game.”

“Natasha…” he says, placing his drink down on the credenza. He’s been so lost in his anger tonight that he forgot, momentarily, that the stakes are, and have always been, different for her. It wasn’t fair, but the bar for her has always been higher, the fall from the top always steeper. It’s why she’s careful to keep as much of her private life out of the press. Why she meticulously plans her every move, demanding perfection of herself even as her siblings – her brothers, especially – are given seemingly endless leeway for their transgressions. He steps closer to her, putting a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be.”

Her eyes go from the hand he has on her arm to his face. “It is,” she says, agreeing to the sentiment without any specifics. Somehow, that pulls even more at his heart strings. Because it’s all of it, all the time, he realizes.

He sighs. “I wish-”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought as she pushes on the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his. The kiss is soft, sweet, tender. She pulls away a moment too soon, but not soon enough for him not to catch a taste of the heady mix that’s her lipstick, the scotch, and something uniquely Natasha.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says a beat later when the silence between them lingers. “I thought-”

A growl rips from the back of his throat, and before he can stop himself, his hands come up to cup her face as he pulls her into a searing kiss. The tumbler in hand falls from her grasp, hitting the ground and shattering into a million pieces by their feet, but neither of them pay it any mind as he backs them towards the nearest wall.

“I want you,” he confesses, exhaling deeply as he leans his forehead against hers, “so much I can barely think straight. Barely breathe.”

Her hands wrap around him, pulling him closer. “It’s the same for me.”

“Fuck,” the curse falls unbidden from his lips as he hears her confirm their mutual longing. As absurd as it seems at this moment, he could still put a stop to all this. They’re both toeing the line, but with one step back, he still could pull them away from it. Go back to what they were, what they ought to be. Client and bodyguard. Business associates. Friends. He could tell himself that what they’re doing is wrong, verboten. But as he looks down at her, he finds that he can’t. He doesn’t want to. Because there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that feels wrong about having Natasha Romanoff in his arms. Whatever line there is, he’s sprinting well and truly past it.

“What do you want me to do, Nat?” There’s a part of him that already knows the answer. Even so, he wants – needs – to hear her say it.

Her eyes twinkle, and her response is the gush of wind that sends the house of cards that’s his restraint crumbling. “Kiss me.”

With that, he finds her lips again, kissing her passionately as if one kiss could make up for months and months of not having her. He doesn’t hold back, and based on the way she gasps, her hands finding purchase on his arms, squeezing tightly, he suspects that she doesn’t want him to. It’s when he takes her hands, pinning them above her head with his own as his lips find their way down to her neck that she cries out, voicing her approval when he pushes his pelvis flush against her, letting her feel the effect she has on him.

“Been wanting this for so long,” she says, and when he looks back up at her, her eyes are dazed as she tries to catch her breath.

He lowers one hand to her face, running his thumb over her cheek as he, too, forces air into his lungs. “Yeah?”

She nods, swallowing hard. “Every night when you go home, I keep thinking you’ll come back. Bring me to bed.”

His hands slide down to her waist, digging into the silk of her dress. “Then what do I do, Nat?”

“You take me hard and dirty,” she says without an ounce of hesitation. “So much that every time I move, all I can think about is you.”

He groans her name, stealing the breath right out of her lungs with another bruising kiss. “You’re all I think about when I come home, too.” He trails his lips up her jaw, to the shell of her ear to whisper, “I spread you out on my bed, kiss every inch of your skin until you’re begging me to let you come.” His words elicit a moan from her, and he feels her nails dig into his biceps through the material of his button up. “I’ll take you any way you want me to, Nat. Hard, dirty, rough… All you have to do is tell me.”

She shudders in his hold, and he pulls away just enough to see her expression drunk with unadulterated lust. There’s a mischievous glint in her eye as she contemplates the possibilities. “I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.” She brings her arms up, wrapping it around his neck. “Tell me how I want to be fucked, Steve.”

Months of wanting, months of wondering… They’ve all led to this very moment, and as she looks out into the expanse of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the skyline filtering in from the panel of floor-to-ceiling windows right across, she feels her heart race in anticipation.

“Quite the view you’ve chosen here,” she says, her voice sounding breathier than usual even to her own ears. She wasn’t sure where they were headed when Steve had scooped her up into his arms, and in all honesty, she didn’t quite care. But the second he had crossed the hall into her office, it’s as if a fresh wave of desire shot straight through her veins.

“Hadn’t noticed,” Steve says from where he stands behind her, crowding her against the desk. His hands find the thin straps of her dress, and she can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine when he pushes them off her shoulders.

“Why are we here, Steve?” she finds herself asking, sucking in a breath as he begins to pull on her zipper. As it reaches the end, the garment slinks down her body, the material shimmering in the dark in a pool by her feet. He mutters a curse under his breath, and feeling emboldened, she turns around. The first thing she notices is that he’s shed his suit jacket, draped it on the back of her chair, but she can only glance at it fleetingly because the second she looks at his face, her stomach flutters. His typically bright eyes have gone dark, the hunger evident in them as he takes in the sight of her standing before him in nothing but a lacy black thong and heels. “You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to start feeling a tad obscene.”

“You don’t stare at a work of art,” he counters. “You admire it.” Heat rushes to her cheeks, and inwardly, she marvels at the irony. Here she is, standing before this man in nearly nothing, and somehow, it’s his words that have her blushing. She bites back a smile, trying to busy herself by stepping out of her heels when she feels his fingers encircle her wrist. There’s a devious glint in his eyes when she looks up. “Leave them on.”

She arches a brow in intrigue, but doesn’t question the request. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

The grin that creeps onto his lips is trouble personified, and she finds herself holding her breath as he steps forward, erasing what little distance was left between them. “You told me to tell you how you want to be fucked,” he says, reaching for her waist and making her gasp as he hoists her up onto her desk as if she weighs nothing. He nudges her knees apart, standing between her legs and whispering down into her ear. “You want it hard, Nat.” She bites her lip, goosebumps prickling her skin as his breath dances across it, and she’s so entranced by his words that she doesn’t even realize he’s pulled on the pin of her bun until it comes loose at the base of her neck, her hair cascading down her back like a crimson waterfall. “You want it so rough you’ll feel me for days.” Her eyes fall shut when he leans down to press a kiss to her pulse, and as his other hand trails up, cupping her breast and making her nipple pebble underneath his ministrations, she can only throw her head back. “And I think you might even want it to hurt a little.”

He tugs on her nipple, making her gasp, and instantly, she feels herself grow wetter between her legs. “God, yes.”

“Is that what you want?”

She leans further into his touch. “That’s exactly what I want.”

He smiles against her skin. “And that’s what you’ll get,” he promises. “But first, I think you want me to spread you out on this desk…” He pulls away enough to look at her, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear with his free hand. The gesture is so tender, the complete and polar opposite of what he’s promising to do to her right now, that it makes her head spin. “Eat you out right where you spend your days telling people what to do, making all those important decisions… Tease you with my mouth until you’re out of your mind.” She sucks in a gasp. “How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” she manages to heave out. “That sounds perfect.”

“Then lean back, Nat.”

She does as commanded, moving her palms behind her and watching him take a step back, his eyes never once breaking contact with hers while unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt. As he rolls his sleeves up his forearms, it occurs to her that while she’s all but laid out bare before him, he’s still fully dressed. But even with this imbalance, something about the way his licentious gaze trails up her body, taking her in, makes her feel desired in a way she’s never felt before.

It’s when he slides a hand down the flat of her belly, reaching the lace of her thong and ripping the delicate material away with one flick of his wrist that she feels her sex pulse. “Oh, God.”

“Do you know what it does to me?” he asks as he settles down on her chair. “Knowing that I’ve seen you at this desk, taking all those meetings… Making all those calls.” He hikes her legs up, setting her heels at the edge of her desk and licking his lips at the sight of her arousal glistening between her thighs. “In these shoes.” When he dusts a kiss just above where the strap rests on her ankle, the soft hair of his beard brushing against her skin, she can only whimper knowing his mouth is so close yet still so far from where she’s aching to feel him. “And now here you are, so wet for me…” He brushes a finger teasingly at her entrance, her vision blurring when she hears him groan. “Aching to be touched.”

There’s a part of her that wishes he would tell her. Tell her every single detail of the effect she has on him, to know that he’s as desperate for her touch as she is for his. But then he’s pushing in, her body taking him without any resistance. “Steve,” she whines, her gaze falling between her legs, watching every movement of his hand. For a moment, it’s as though she can’t breathe, too lost in her own pleasure and too mesmerized by seeing everything as it happens to her. Her hips cant upwards when he adds another finger. “Oh.”

He looks up at her, and his voice is tight as he speaks, as though he’s feeling just as inebriated with desire as she is right now. “Good, baby?”

When she mewls out another yes, he dips his head between her legs, his lips grazing her heat, and with his hands and mouth working her in tandem, she falls back on the desk, her arms no longer able to hold her up. Her hands fly to his hair, pulling, needing something, anything, to keep her from drowning in this ecstasy. She’s so turned on beyond words, that when he licks a broad stripe up her center, all she can do is cry out his name. Of all the nights she had fantasized about this, none of them could hold a candle to the pleasure she feels right now. The way he teases her, licking tantalizingly at her folds and sucking at her bundle of nerves until she’s just there, only to pull away before she crests… It’s deliriously good, a high she’s fast becoming hooked on.

“You look so good like this, Nat,” Steve says, easing his mouth off her to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh even as he continues to work her with his fingers. “Look at you, just begging to fall apart.”

“Steve,” she begins to say, only for her words to be replaced by a moan when he nips at the flesh of her inner thigh, the little sting of pain making her back bow off the mahogany. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Come for me, Nat,” he says, bringing his mouth back to her center, his lips finding her bundle of nerves. She arches against his face, seeking out more contact, more everything, and as white-hot pleasure permeates throughout her every nerve ending, she finds exactly what she’s been craving. All of her worries, her laundry list of things to do… they all fade into nothing, and all she can think about is the heat unfurling low in her stomach, building. Rising.

“No!” She whimpers when Steve pulls his fingers out, tears nearly stinging her eyes as her walls flutter around nothing. Vaguely, she’s aware of him shushing her gently, of his hand moving lower, and then even lower still. “Oh, my God,” she gasps when she feels his finger at her other entrance, teasing. She tenses – unsure of how far he’ll take this, how far she’ll let him. But before she can give it more thought, her body answers for her, a long, needy moan escaping from her lips as his tongue flicks at her clit and his finger presses in. And then her body is trembling, her orgasm washing over her like waves crashing violently to shore.

She’s not sure how long she revels in bliss. Seconds, maybe, but with the intensity of the aftershocks, it feels like an eternity. It takes her a moment, but eventually, she recognizes the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled. Her eyes flutter open, and with what strength she still has, she sits up just as Steve brings a hand to his length, stroking.

Her mouth falls open, and despite the earth-shattering climax he’s just wringed out of her, she feels her nipples already tightening at the sight before her. She’s not entirely certain how her body could still crave more, but as she watches Steve’s hand shuttle up and down his hardness, his gaze trained on her and only her, it does. The scene playing out before her feels like a cut straight out of her dirtiest fantasy, and she couldn’t look away if she tried.

It’s when Steve’s hand slows at the head, his thumb gathering the bead of liquid, that their eyes meet. He’s always been adept at anticipating her needs, and when it comes to her base desires, it seems it’s no different. He brings his thumb to her mouth, slowly sliding his arousal over her lip, and as the salty taste of him hits her tongue, she moans, taking his hand between both of hers and drawing him all the way in.

“Christ, Nat,” Steve says, groaning when she nips at the skin of his thumb only to soothe it over with her tongue, sucking. She’s lost count of the number of nights she’s spent wondering what he tastes like, and now that she knows, she's ravenous with how much she wants more. With a pained groan, Steve pulls his hand away, his lips finding hers before she can so much as blink. The kiss is intoxicating – tasting of her, of him, of them. By the time they separate, she’s practically writhing, the heat between her legs once again unbearable. “Going to bend you over this desk now.”

With a smile, she slides off, stands, and turns. Behind her, she can hear the tearing of foil as he pulls out a condom and rolls it on, and then his hand is between her shoulder blades, pushing her down. She rests her cheek against the wood, and as he presses against her entrance, she cries out in need. In need of the rightness of this very moment. The covetousness. The tabooness of them, together, as Steve widens her stance, spreads her open, and sinks right into her in a single thrust. Her name falls from his lips, his tone gravelly. Intoxicated. She feels it just the same, her nails scratching at the wood as he bottoms out.

Steve curls his body over hers, and as he sets a rhythm with his hips that’s as delectable as it is punishing, she lets her eyes fall shut, the glow of Manhattan below them disappearing as she loses herself in the sensation. The sensation of finally having the man she’s been fantasizing over, of him buried deep inside of her, of him letting her indulge in her wildest desires right in her office, not a single soul knowing what they’re up to.

His lips pepper every inch of her skin that he can find, every kiss like another one of their dirty little secrets that she’ll keep. He’s not the least bit gentle, and when he slides his hands around her, cupping her breasts, she yelps when he pinches at her nipples.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, because even when he’s doing exactly as she’s asked, she knows him, knows he could never live with himself if he hurt her.

“It’s not,” she assures him, letting out another whimper when he repeats the motion and she basks in the sharp tingle that follows. “It’s so good. So fucking good.”

Her moans fall freely now, if not a little muffled by the desk, but she couldn't care less. As she tethers between pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain, the seesaw of sensations is like gasoline slowly but surely dripping into the fire of her lust.

“What do you need, Nat?” Steve asks not a moment too soon, sensing her longing before she does in that uncanny way only he can.

She wishes she knew. She can feel the pleasure coiling at her spine, threatening to burst over her, and yet it’s as though she’s searching for that little extra spark to set her ablaze – a spark that she hadn’t even known she wanted, much less needed, until Steve had shown her tonight. As the frustration of tethering on the edge begins to set in, she whimpers. “Steve,” she breathes out, moaning at a particularly delicious thrust of his hips. “More.”

In her haze, she doesn’t quite catch what Steve murmurs in response, feeling only the kiss he presses to her cheek as his hands let go of her breasts, traveling down her sides, until they’re past her waist.

“Ah!” she cries out when his palm collides with her backside, the sound reverberating across the room. The burn dissolves into pleasure, and she keens. “Again,” she says, hearing Steve growl in response, hips driving deeper into her as he raises his palm and swats her once more. “Oh, just like that.”

He obliges her request, once, twice. And then another time, until soon, all the sensations brew into one outrageous storm, and as Steve reaches around her and down to where they’re joined, circling her bundle of nerves, it breaks. With a litany of incoherent sounds falling from her mouth, she falls apart, taking Steve right down the edge with her.

Just once. That’s what he had told himself when he decided to throw caution to the wind and kiss Natasha senseless. When he slipped that dress off her body, hoisted her up on that desk. One time to get her out of his system. One time to make him stop wondering.

But now that he knows what it’s like to have her in his arms, knows what she sounds like just as she’s on the brink of falling apart, he doesn’t think he can ever get enough.

He should leave, put as much distance between him and the temptation that is Natasha Romanoff. But as he pulls his pants up and disposes of the condom, he finds that he can’t just yet. “Come on, gorgeous,” he says as he lifts her into his arms, mindful of her pinkened skin. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A sated sigh slips from her lips as she settles against his chest. He pads out of her office, making his way to the other side of her suite enroute to her bedroom and right into the ensuite bathroom. When he reaches the large soaking tub, he sets her on the ledge, watching as she winces. He frowns. “I told you to tell me if it was too much.”

“It wasn’t,” she says firmly as he turns on the tap, adjusting the temperature. She leans forward, running her hand under the running water. A smile breaks out on her face. “Just how I like it.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to lie,” she says, yawning. “I think I might just doze off.”

“I’ll turn this off,” he says, already reaching to shut the water. “The last thing we want is for you to drown in your own tub.”

“No!” she says, her lower lip jutting out in a pout, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “You know I can’t turn down a good bubble bath.”

“That I also know,” he says softly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He shouldn’t feel such joy at knowing these things about her. In fact, he shouldn’t even have all these little details in his brain, like the fact that she loves daisies and that her guilty pleasure is watermelon-flavored Sour Patch Kids, so much so that she always keeps an emergency stash of them in the bottom drawer of her desk. Or the fact that she got her love of candy from her mom, who would always have a pack in her bag ready for them to share. It’s also why she makes sure to carry some with her when she goes to visit the kids, sneaking them treats even though she knows the staff at the orphanage frowns upon the sugary delights.

But that was Natasha. Ever caring, ever kind-hearted. Always trying to do good with the privilege bestowed upon her.

There isn’t a goddamn thing that he doesn’t like about this woman, he realizes. Mind, soul, and now body – it attracts him all.

Which is why he shouldn’t be privy to all these things about her. None of it has to do with him doing his job. With keeping her safe.

He has to leave.

“Steve.” Natasha’s voice breaks him out of his reverie, and when he looks at her, he finds her brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“All good,” he assures her. He wishes he could give her more than a few words, but he doesn’t trust himself not to crack open now, to confess to her that the absolute last thing he wants to do is leave.

“Well, then…” she begins, a sheepish expression suddenly painting her features. “Do you mind stepping out for a bit while I use the little girl’s room?” Despite his thoughts being at war, he finds that he can’t help but chuckle at her request. She gasps, shoving his arm even as she tries desperately not to crack a smile. “Don’t laugh! Everyone pees.”

“Really? I never knew,” he quips, prompting her to roll her eyes.

“You just fucked me into oblivion,” she adds. “Peeing is not optional.”

He arches a brow at her. “You’ll say things like that, but God forbid I watch you pee?”

“A little mystery never killed anybody.”

He shakes his head. “I can just go.”

“No,” she says, reaching out to catch his arm again. “I only need a minute.” She looks up at him, eyes wide. “Come back, please.”

He’s not sure if it’s the please she added at the end of her request or the vulnerability in her eyes as she said it, but either way, it renders any thoughts he had of walking out of her front door right now moot. With a nod, he makes his way out of her bathroom, leaving the door just ajar.

As he waits, he paces her bedroom, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He stops by her windowsill, looking out into the glimmering city. Below, he finds the crowds still bustling, going about their night, the image only serving to highlight his current solitude. Here he is, standing atop one of the tallest skyscrapers in town, alone in the bedroom of the woman he’s just slept with. A woman who also happens to be his client, his assignment. A woman he had no business touching, much less having.

He leans his forehead against the glass, sighing. It’s when he finds himself at a crossroads like this that he truly missed his mom the most. What he would give to be able to pick up the phone and give her a ring again. But even though that’s no longer a possibility, he still knows what she would tell him – the only answer she deemed right and universal to every predicament.

When in doubt, do the right thing.

Guilt washes over him from the top of his head down to his toes. If there’s one thing that’s crystallized for him tonight, it’s that being with Natasha impaired his judgment, and that’s just not something he could afford, given his job. The very same job that not only requires him to make decisions on the fly, but that also demands that he make the right ones. Mistakes didn’t come cheap in his field. At best, they led to injury. At worst, they were fatal. The last thought brings a chill down his spine, and he reminds himself of the file he has in his office, the very same file Alexei had brought to him way back when, filled with stolen pictures of Natasha that the maniac had coveted, and letters that he had written to her. The endless reports that detailed every which way that poor excuse of a human being used to subvert security. He reminds himself that if not for that one detective who had gotten there in time, he may never have gotten the chance to meet Natasha.

He implores himself to remember all of that. To sear into his memory what was at stake if he chooses to be selfish right now, and what the consequences could be. With that, he moves away from the window, rapping softly on the frame of the open door.

“All clear!”

Given the clearance, he walks in, and the sight that greets him has him cursing under his breath for the umpteenth time this evening. In the tub, Natasha sits surrounded by bubbles, her hair piled high up in a bun.

“Hi,” she says, her tone soft and her face all but glowing. She pats the space he had set her down on not long ago. “Come sit.” His only response is to nod, making his way over to her to perch on the marble ledge. “We should talk.”

“We should,” he says, resisting the urge to push the strands of hair that have fallen loose from her bun away from her face.

“I can tell you’re wound up, Steve,” she says.

His lips quirk up slightly. “Isn’t that what I usually tell you?”

She cracks a smile, but it lasts but a second as she reaches for his hand. “You regret this.”

“What? Natasha, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Never. Don’t you ever think that.”

She bites her lip. “Really?”

“Of course,” he says without skipping a beat, his hand reaching to cup her face. “Being with you was a dream come true.”

She sighs, relief washing over her face as she leans into his touch. “It was a dream come true for me, too.”

“It was incredible,” he adds, swallowing the tightness that’s suddenly formed in his throat. “I could never regret it.” He sighs, dreading his next words. But he has to say them. Has to be honest. “But, Nat, it can’t happen again.” The sadness that fills her eyes is a dagger straight to his heart, but he soldiers on. Do the right thing, he reminds himself. “My head isn’t clear when I’m with you, and I need it to be in order to do my job. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“You would never let anything happen to me.”

The way she says it, with so much trust and certainty, floors him. And it’s this, the amount of faith she has in him and in his ability to keep her out of harm’s way, that gives him the strength to remain steadfast. “And it’s going to stay that way,” he promises. “You haven’t a clue what it would do to me if something happened to you.”

“Tell me,” she says, eyes imploring.

He shakes his head, his mind refusing to entertain the possibility. “It’s not going to happen.”

She reaches for the hand he has on her face, clasping it between her own. “Having you by my side this last year… I’ve never felt safer.”

“Good,” he says, allowing his lips to pull up in a little smile. “I’m glad.”

Easily, if not a little too easily, they slip into conversation as if it’s the end of just another night for them at the gym. She talks about the plans she’s made for the upcoming bachelor party of her best friend, and they both laugh at how ridiculous some of the decorations she’s ordered are going to turn out. In turn, he gives her his assessment of what he thinks is blooming between the doorman and the receptionist in her building.

“You suspected there was something going on between those two and you’re only telling me now?” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “You know I’ve been trying to play matchmaker for weeks!”

“I needed to make sure my intel was- hey!” he exclaims, barely dodging the water she splashes his way. As she sticks her tongue out at him, he glares at her witheringly.

“Serves you right for withholding information,” she says, only to gasp when he suddenly retaliates. “Rogers!”

The image of her cheek and shoulder marred by bubbles causes him to burst out in laughter. “I’m sorry!” he says, and despite her best effort, she too begins laughing. “Here, let me help you.”

“You better,” she mutters, and he rolls his lips to prevent another laugh from slipping.

He reaches forward, gingerly wiping away the suds from her cheek with the back of his hand, doing the same with the ones on her shoulder. “Your skin is so soft.”

“It’s all the bath oils,” she says, taking his hand. “You should try them sometime.” She scoops some water into her palm to pour it over his, massaging his fingers. “Or, better yet… you could come join me.”

As she looks at him, she bites her lip, and he can only groan. “You, Natasha Romanoff, are trouble.” Her only response is to shrug, and it takes every bit of restraint he has left in his body to not lean in and kiss that little smirk off her lips. Focus. “That… person. He could have easily harmed you, and all he got was a measly six months of jail time.”

“And he hasn’t sniffed this place since,” she points out. “You’re exceptional at your job, Steve. As is your team. I haven’t even gotten so much as a suspicious letter.”

“And that’s how it’s going to remain,” he says, adamant.

She huffs out a breath that’s long and winded. “You’re really not going to touch me again, are you?”

He shakes his head no, smiling sadly as his response elicits another disappointed sigh from her. He lifts their joined hands, bringing it up to press a kiss to the back of hers. “But know, in my dreams, I have you every night.” She throws her head back, groaning, and he chuckles. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” she says, tilting her head playfully to the side. “You keep saying that.”

He grins. “Can I get you a towel?”

“Please.”

He stands to retrieve a towel from the rack, grabbing the fluffiest one, and when he returns to her, he finds that smile playing on her lips again. “What?”

“Well, if you’re going to leave, I guess you better turn around.”

It shouldn’t be that hard to do. But when all he wants is to wrap this towel around her, pull her in, and carry her to bed, the effort feels Herculean. He chuckles, setting the cloth down by the ledge before making his way out. “Goodnight, Natasha.”

“Goodnight, Steve,” she says, and though he couldn’t see her face, the amusement in her tone is all the confirmation he needs to know that she hasn’t wiped that smirk off her face. “See you tomorrow.”

Read Part 2: Blinding Lights here

#Romanogers #So It Goes... #natrogers #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Bodyguard AU