#the way andy shakes his head

[pathologicalreid]

stuck between a rock and a hard place | S.R.

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You, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.

who? spencer reid x fem!FBI!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, hospitals, medical inaccuracy, drugs, sex crimes/trafficking, attempted sa, reader works in sex crimes. mentions foyet and also 6x24 (supply and demand). established relationship. word count: 7.7k a/n: this has been sitting in my wip folder for far too long. i am now emotionally attached to these two. i will write more of this specific pairing because now all i want is for them to be happy.

Spencer

It wasn’t every day that men and women in suits piled into the BAU carrying evidence boxes, everyone stood up at their desks. Spencer watched as Andi Swann followed in behind the other agents, not even bothering to greet the team as she went straight to Emily’s office.

Prentiss opened the door, letting Andi in before beckoning for Reid to join them. This had to be about you.

Ignoring the way his heart rate spiked, Spencer stood up from his desk and went up to Emily’s office. On the other side of the bullpen, the rest of the team filed into the roundtable room.

“Spencer, have a seat,” Emily offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Glancing at Agent Swann, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “No, I’ll stand.”

Andi cleared her throat, looking at Spencer, she spoke, “Y/N missed her last two check-ins. As her next of kin, I need to notify you to let you know that as of now, the FBI is considering her missing.”

He wanted to be angry. He wanted so badly to be mad, but he’d seen this before. Years ago, an agent in Andi’s unit missed her check-ins and the BAU helped find her. More than that, he knew how much Andi cared about her agents, so he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“Section Chief Cruz has asked that the BAU help to recover Y/N,” Emily said, looking at Spencer. “You know I have to tell you that you can’t be on this case,” she explained, leaning against her desk, eyes flickering as she tried to read Spencer’s expression.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer looked at Emily, “Y/N’s gone missing, and I’m not allowed to help look for her?”

Sympathetically, Prentiss shook her head, dark hair swaying with the movement. “You know it’s a conflict of interest to be involved with a loved one’s case.”

“Isn’t that kind of what the BAU does?” He could’ve rambled off a list of BAU agents who worked on cases involving their loved ones – including himself and Emily.

Turning to face Agent Swann, Emily suggested she join the rest of the team in the roundtable room. She waited until the door was closed before speaking again, “When’s the last time you saw Y/N?”

Closing his eyes, he remembered the morning of the day you left, the both of you had stayed up late as if you could delay your departure, but the last time he saw you was when he dropped you off at the Sex Crimes Unit before making his way up to the Behavioral Analysis Unit. “We haven’t even spoken since she left,” he answered, almost a month ago now.

“Is there a chance she tried to reach you or her family?” Emily asked. She had to ask, he knew that, but it didn’t make the questions any less ridiculous to him.

Shaking his head, he began to pace around the office, “No, she wouldn’t have done that. She follows the undercover playbook obsessively. She always said freestyling was like signing your death certificate.” He tried. He tried to get you to leave him breadcrumbs, but you never did.

Nodding, Emily watched as he paced back and forth “When did you get married?”

Pressing his lips into a thin white line, he stopped in his tracks, “When I came back after The Believers. It was the next day.” You had offered to sleep on the couch in an attempt to give him space when he asked you to go to the courthouse with him. That was two months ago now.

He didn’t want space. Not from you. Never from you.

Finally, he sat down.

“Did you tell anyone?” Emily asked, sitting down in the chair next to him. “Did you have a witness to sign your marriage certificate?”

Nodding, Spencer reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced three rings, his wedding ring, your engagement ring, and your wedding band. You didn’t have the time to get them soldered together yet. “Rossi was our witness,” he responded, “He was the only one who answered his phone.” He slipped his ring on and closed his fist around your two rings.

After a moment, Emily stood, “I’m going to speak with the rest of the team, but I won’t tell them anything I don’t think is pertinent to the case.” Which was her way of saying ‘Your secret is safe with me.’ “Stay in here as long as you need, Spence,” she offered before walking out, shutting the door tightly behind her.

He thought of the last night you were together. Spencer tried to check in with you, he told you that if your job ever became too much, you just had to tell him, and he’d be there. What he neglected to tell you was that he was beginning to feel like your job was too much for him.

You had given him the opportunity to hold you close, and instead, he let you slip through his fingers.

Opening his fist, he looked down at your rings and the indent they had left on his palm, slipping them back into his pocket before he walked over to the roundtable room. Everyone paused what they were doing to look up at him.

Spencer just shrugged and looked at Emily, “I can’t just do nothing.”

In response, Emily nodded solemnly and suggested he go through the case files with Matt.

It had been hours. The sun had set, jackets had been shed, and takeout had been ordered. The clock behind him showed it was nearly midnight, meaning it had been almost two days since anyone had last heard from you.

“Oh god,” Penelope said, her voice cutting into the thick silence of the roundtable room. Her fingers began frantically typing on her laptop.

Spinning in the office chair, Spencer wheeled over so he could look at the screen, vaguely aware of Emily hovering above him, “What is it? What did you find?”

She hit the keyboard so hard he thought they might break, but she answered, “The trauma center at Johns Hopkins reported a Jane Doe brought in a few hours ago. She matches Y/N’s description.”

“Did they run prints?” Andi asked, of course, there would be red tape if the hospital tried to run your prints, seeing as you were undercover.

Another tap and dozens of files opened, “It looks like she went right into surgery. Uh, the EMTs reported she was listing off a string of numbers when they brought her in… 265D019Z?”

Spencer swallowed thickly, “That’s Y/N’s badge number.”

Shaking her head, JJ looked over at the map of DC on the wall, “It’s a two-hour drive to Baltimore from here.”

“But it’s a thirty-minute flight, Reid, Tara, Swann, and Alvez go. The rest of us will look into what happened from here,” Emily doled out responsibilities, nodding at everyone as the team broke.

Spencer stayed still, still looking at Penelope’s screen, his eyes flickering over the documents. Words jumped out at him, drugged, punctured, and knife. It made his stomach churn. How had you gotten to Baltimore? Your unit had you set up in an apartment near the Hill. When did you travel from the district to Baltimore?

The thirty-minute flight felt like it was hours long, the drive from the airstrip to the hospital dragged on, but thankfully Emily had called the hospital ahead of time to let them know who you were and who was coming for you.

A doctor stopped the four of you from going into the room, a police officer was already stationed outside of the room, and the blinds were closed. Please, Spencer wanted to plead, please just let me see her.

“She’s weak, she just came down from recovery and she hasn’t fully woken up yet,” the doctor said, placing her hands on her hips. “I can’t in good faith let you go in there and badger her with questions. Not with no one in there to focus on her well-being,” she ordered. The doctor stared the four of them down with piercing gray eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer peeked through the doorway when a nurse exited your room. “She’s my wife, I’ll advocate for her,” he responded, hoping the doctor would let him through. He could feel Tara and Luke staring, but he didn’t care.

Nodding, the doctor continued sizing Reid up, “Alright, but just you, for now. She’s not awake enough to be questioned anyway.” Stepping to the side, the doctor let Spencer through before blocking the doorway to everyone else.

In the worst way possible, you took his breath away. Your skin was sallow, you had an IV, nasal cannula, and a chest tube out the left side. Walking to your right, he took a seat next to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss to your bloodied knuckles – evidence that you had put up one hell of a fight. “Oh sweetheart, what did they do to you?” He whispered even though he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Reaching over you, he smoothed your hair from your face, your skin was clammy, probably as a result of blood loss. It looked like they were still transfusing, so you had probably lost a considerable amount of blood.

Shuffling the seat closer to you, Spencer took your hand in his. The doctor came back in holding a tablet, “Dr. Reid?”

He hummed in response, not daring to take his eyes off of you. “What happened to her? Why did she need surgery?”

“She had been bleeding out in an alley, according to the police officers who reported to the scene. The other agents are talking to them now,” the doctor said, tapping a few buttons on the tablet. “She had been stabbed several times in the upper left side, we went in to repair damage to her spleen, liver, and lung. There was some strain to her heart, it appears she was drugged before she was stabbed.”

He intently watched the steady rise and fall of your chest before he spoke up again, “Is she going to be okay?”

Setting the tablet down, the doctor paused before answering, “We’ll know more when she wakes up.”

Spencer leaned back in the chair, finally taking his eyes off of you and looking at the doctor, “Was there anything… did they…” He felt ridiculous, having spent the better part of his adult life in the BAU, and he couldn’t even put the words together.

To his relief, the doctor shook her head, “There were no injuries that suggested she was sexually assaulted.”

Reading the doctor’s badge, Spencer nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Herman.”

“Hit the call button when she wakes up, we’ll need to evaluate her pain and other treatment,” the doctor said, gathering her things before walking out of the room, and shutting the door behind her.

Spencer kept his eyes on you, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently, every once in a while, his phone rang, but he didn’t have the energy to talk on the phone. When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the messages.

Penelope Garcia: How is she? Spencer Reid: Still sleeping. Penelope Garcia: How are you? Spencer Reid: Not sure.

Setting his phone on the table, screen down, he watched you again, every once in a while, your nose would twitch, or your eyes would flutter. Every time he would hold his breath, hoping you’d open your eyes.

He waited, and about an hour after he had arrived, a small, keening noise came from you. His head snapped up at the sound, your eyes were still closed, but you were moving. “Y/N?” He whispered hesitantly, not wanting to wake you up if you weren’t ready. Slowly, he stood up from the chair, not sure if he should keep waiting or if he should hit the call button.

You were muttering something, talking to someone in your sleep, when suddenly you jerked away. Instinctively, Spencer put his hands on your shoulders to stop you from tearing your stitches, and it was that touch that caused your eyes to snap open. “No, no, no, no,” you babbled, frantically looking around the hospital room.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, keeping his hands on your shoulders, “You’re safe, I’m here. You’re at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore.”

With wide eyes, you looked up at him and mouthed the word ‘Baltimore.’ As if you were trying to figure out how you had ended up in Baltimore, something the BAU still hadn’t figured out. “I thought I…” Your voice was nothing more than a rasp, but with the bruises he could now see littering your neck, that didn’t surprise him much. “Did you see it?”

Spencer pushed the call button without you noticing, “Did I see what, love?” He asked, keeping his voice low as he gently sat down on the edge of your hospital bed.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked around the room, “Is Andi here?" Your voice was tight, like you were struggling to breathe. "I need to talk to Andi.”

Helplessly, Spencer watched as the number signifying your heart rate jumped, “Not just yet, alright?” He said, looking up when the doctor and a nurse came through the door.

The doctor introduced herself and started trying to get you to even out your breathing, one of the monitors was beeping like crazy until the nurse hit a button on it.

All he could do was watch, making sure he didn’t get in the way. Listening in to words about medications and making a mental note to research everything. “How’s your pain, Y/N? On a scale from one through ten.” The doctor asked, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Like a seven? When I breathe it’s more like a nine,” you answered, every word was strained. The doctor flashed a light in your eyes, “That isn’t helping,” you said through gritted teeth.

The doctor said something to the nurse, prompting her to nod before pushing something through your IV. After a few moments, Spencer watched as your heart rate lowered and your body visibly relaxed into the mattress. You nodded softly when the nurse asked if that was better.

Dr. Herman left and the nurse scrawled some notes down on your chart, introducing herself as Amelia before she left as well.

“Oh no,” you whispered, looking in the direction of the door. “Is the whole BAU here? How badly did I fuck up?”

Quickly, Spencer shook his head, “You didn’t, at all. It’s just me, Tara, and Luke,” he tried to reassure you as best he could without knowing the full story. “Do you feel up to talking?” He asked, smoothing your hair away from your face.

You nodded gently, “I need to talk to Andi. Alone, if it’s okay with you.”

“I can wait right outside in the hallway,” he offered, holding your hand in his and skimming the pad of his thumb over top of your knuckles.

You hummed contentedly, “Could you see if I can have water?”

Grateful to have something to do, Spencer stood up, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the room, garnering the attention of the agents who were waiting in the hallway, all of them staring at Spencer expectantly, “Andi, she wants to talk to you.”

The Unit Chief nodded and disappeared into the room, leaving the door open just a crack.

He was gone for three minutes, that was the time it took him to walk to the nurses’ station and ask if you were allowed liquids and back, but when he returned the door to your room was wide open. “Where did they go?” He asked, looking over at Tara.

She was still leaning against the taupe hospital walls before nodding in the direction of the red exit sign, “Swann was in there for maybe two minutes before she came out in a huff, she took Alvez with her.” Lewis spoke calmly like it didn’t necessarily mean anything to her.

But it did to him. Walking back into your room, he stood at the side of your bed, “What did you tell Andi that you didn’t want me hearing?”

“Huh?” You sounded tired – rightfully so. Your pupils were dilated, which told Spencer that the drugs that the doctors had given you were working.

It comforted him that you weren’t in as much pain, but you were still hiding something from him. “You asked me to leave while you talked to Andi because you didn’t want me to hear what you were telling her. What did you tell her?”

Your face softened as your eyes filled with a different kind of hurt, “Don’t profile me.” You were too tired to hide the pain in your voice.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “Don’t lie to me,” He countered. You were lying by omission, but what was worse was that you might’ve been putting yourself in danger.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whimpered.

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched your eyes fill with tears, he sat down on the edge of your bed and took your hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere. Why would you think I’d leave you, darling?”

Your eyes were half-closed, “because you…” your voice trailed off and he squeezed your hand to get your attention. “When Scratch had Emily, you wanted to kill him,” you murmured.

The air had been knocked out of his lungs. You hadn’t been talking about a divorce. You were saying that you could identify your assailant, and you didn’t want Spencer to know. “I won’t go,” he whispered, “I’ll be right here.”

“It was Jake,” you mumbled, barely able to open your mouth as you fought your exhaustion.

That hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. He swallowed thickly, “Jake did this to you?” He asked slowly, looking at your hand, your fingers intertwined.

Minutely, you shook your head, “Jake blew my cover, Spence.” Yawning, you proceeded to mumble about him doing it on purpose.

Untangling your fingers, Spencer reached out and smoothed your hair away from your forehead, “Get some sleep, angel. I love you.”

You hummed an ‘I love you’ back, and the next moment your eyes were shut.

A nurse came in and asked for a moment while she checked the output of your chest tube, ushering Spencer and Tara out. “Okay, I’ll bite, who’s Jake?” Tara asked, putting a hand on her hip as she looked expectantly at Reid.

“Jake is her partner. When she’s not undercover and just out in the field, they’re partners,” Spencer explained.

Tara pursed her lips thoughtfully, “So, he would’ve known that she was undercover.”

Nodding as the newly added weight of the situation threatened to pull him down, Spencer turned and faced you, watching as the nurse examined you as you slept. “He blew her cover on purpose,” he reached up and rubbed his eye. Jake knew exactly what he was doing when he blew your cover, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you begged Spencer not to leave you.

“We have to go back in and ask her more questions,” Tara said.

Usually, Spencer agreed with Tara, but not this time. He saw the monitors you were hooked up to, he read your chart, and he watched the concerned looks on the nurses’ faces. They all told him that you weren’t stable enough to be speaking, let alone a cognitive interview. “No,” Spencer said finally.

Clearing her throat lightly, Tara stood next to him in the doorway, “We can’t let them get away, Reid.”

“And I can’t lose her,” he rebutted, ignoring the way his voice broke in his desperation. 

Stepping back slightly, the other agent nodded in understanding. “Okay, I’ll call Emily. You go sit with her.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice; he pulled a chair up impossibly close to your bedside and draped his jacket over the back of it before loosening his tie and sitting down.

You

When you woke up, it was still dark outside, but the bright lights of the hospital room made it hard for you to get any real rest. You were pleased to find that, true to his word, Spencer was right next to you when he woke up.

He was sleeping, resting his head on his hand with his wrist bent awkwardly. “Spence,” You whispered, clearing your throat, “Spencer.” You couldn’t reach out to touch him, but you wanted to wake him up, so his wrist wasn’t sore.

Jolting awake, he looked at you, “Hey, did you just wake up? How do you feel?”

It was a weird question, you felt like an absolute dumpster fire. “Better,” you whispered, “less hurt, achier. Sore. I don’t know, my head feels fuzzy,” you rambled, trying to move higher up on the hospital bed, but being limited by the chest tube. “How long do I have to have it?” You asked, staring at the plastic tubing as if you could make it go away via the power of suggestion.

“At least through the night, but it could be longer,” he said, reaching over and smoothing over the edges of your blanket. “Do you know what they gave you?” Spencer asked, shaking out his wrist.

You hummed in response, “No, it was intravenous though. They were big on amphetamines, but it didn’t feel like a stimulant. Benzos maybe,” you told him, your voice was soft. The pain in your throat had subsided after being intubated during surgery, but you were still swollen from when Cal grabbed you.

None of this made sense to you. The one thing that bothered you more than anything else was why Cal stopped when Jake said to. It couldn’t have been as simple as the money.

Spencer must’ve noticed you burrowing into your memories, “You remember everything?” He asked gently.

He knew what he was implying, in more cases involving severe trauma, victims generally remember everything or remember nothing. It was lucky for law enforcement when they remembered, but bad for the victims. Bad for you. “Mostly,” you breathed, avoiding his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

“Why? You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he tried to reassure you, reaching out and taking your hand in his.

You hummed, “I don’t remember anything after they drugged me, just the stuff before. Just the…” Your voice trailed off as you returned to your confusion. “Who’s still here that I can talk to?”

He squeezed your hand comfortingly, “Do you feel up to it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice,” you answered him despondently.

Spencer nodded before he got up from his chair, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he stepped out into the hallway and let Tara in.

The agent smiled at you gently, “Hey, Y/N, how are you feeling?” She asked, sitting down at a free chair at the end of your hospital bed, leaving the chair at your side available for Spencer to return to.

You gave your best attempt at returning the smile before you answered, “I think I’m going to make it.”

As Spencer sat back down next to you, placing a water cup on your bedside table, Tara opened a file and looked through it, “Can you start by telling me a little bit about your assignment? You were undercover as… Barbara?” She read from the file.

Nodding slowly, you held out your hand for Spencer to hold, “Yeah, but they called me Babs.”

Three days ago...

You shifted self-consciously in the gold dress. It was a silky, slippery number that displayed more than you particularly liked. Spencer would probably like it, but he’d hate how uncomfortable you were in it.

Inadvertently, you smiled at just the thought of your husband. It was late, so he was probably at home, reading next to the fireplace. Maybe he was on a case, off somewhere in the United States and saving lives.

It had been twenty-nine days since you had last seen him.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Babs,” Johnathan McCallister, better known as Cal, told you, reaching out and placing a hand on either one of your shoulders before placing a kiss on both cheeks.

Bashfully, you smiled at him, “You’re too good to me, Cal. I can’t believe you got me in!” Deep down, you knew tonight could be the night, you would be able to take down The Program. At least the D.C. chapter of it.

When it was over, you could be Y/N Reid again, instead of Barbara McFarston.

The Program took women around your age and sold them into sex slavery. The chapter in Washington D.C. was one of the most active, which made sense when you looked around the room and saw a majority of the people were elected officials – men and women alike.

Andi Swann had assured you that taking down this chapter would create a domino effect, causing the other chapters to topple. According to her, if you could take down D.C., Miami, and Los Angeles, The Program would most likely cease to exist.

Turning to ask Cal about the selection tonight, you were startled to see familiar gray eyes on your companion’s other side. You felt your façade slip, but only for a second before you pasted a brilliant smile back on your face.

You tilted your head to the side, “And who might you be?” You asked Jake, wondering if Andi had sent him in to get a status report on you.

“Jake Cohn,” he answered, and goosebumps spread over your exposed skin at his answer. He should’ve said William Jacoby, that was his identity for this case.

In horror, you watched as Jake leaned in to whisper something in Cal’s ear, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You bit your tongue as Cal wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in tightly, “Let’s talk.”

You stumbled a little over your own feet and looked at Jake with wide eyes, the leader forcefully shoved you into a private room, one that would probably light up like a Christmas tree under a blacklight. “What’s wrong, Cal?” You asked, standing up straight.

He reached over and grabbed the back of your neck, gathering the hair at the nape of your neck in his fist. The force of it made you scrunch your shoulders up, “You’re a fucking fed?” He seethed, tossing you to the ground in one swift movement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to convince him. Tried to flip the script so that Jake was the liar instead of you.

Cal grabbed your throat next, holding you down on a booth seat. “Oh, Y/N… Jake’s been one of my best employees for years.” He said, chuckling at the betrayal in your eyes, he only laughed more when you kneed him in the gut. “Oh, I like it when they fight back.”

You shut your eyes tightly as you heard the clinking of his belt buckle, but they snapped back open when you heard the word, “Stop.”

“What? Did you want first go on her?” Cal asked, wiping his cheek – you must’ve scratched him in your struggle.

Jake cleared his throat and met your eyes, “We should keep her clean, you know?” He said, and for a moment you thought he was actually trying to help you, “Think about how much a clean fed would go for here. Especially in D.C.”

And just like that, your hopes were dashed, “he’s right,” you told Cal, trying to formulate a plan.

“Shut up, whore,” Cal spat, causing you to involuntarily flinch.

At least there’s nothing he could call you that you hadn’t heard before, in your line of work, people got very creative.

Cal looked at you, inspecting your neck where he had grabbed you before, “You’ll make me a lot of money, won’t you?” He said, rubbing a hand up and down your arm soothingly before poking you with a needle.

Your legs gave out beneath you, but Jake caught you before you hit the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t think he’d do this. I thought he’d kick you out, but I didn’t think…”

Looking up at him, your throat burned, and you weren’t sure if you were going to cry or throw up, but you shut your eyes. “No, you didn’t.” You don’t just casually tell the leader of a sex trafficking ring that the person with them is an FBI agent.

Present

“And that’s the last thing you remember?” Tara asked, scribbling something down in your file.

You nodded absentmindedly, “I think…” Your voice trailed off as you looked at Spencer, “I think Jake might’ve been in charge the whole time. Pulling the strings from behind the curtain while he waited for the perfect time to catch me off guard. That’s the only reason Cal would’ve backed off when Jake told him to,” You proposed your theory, not missing the way Spencer was holding your hand a little tighter than before.

Tara’s brows were raised, “Jake Cohn has worked in the bureau for almost a decade, it would be hard for him to evade detection for that long.”

“But he knows exactly how to evade it,” you rebutted. “He’d know all of the tricks from Sex Crimes and all of my tricks. He- He set me up,” you realized.

Spencer turned around and looked at your monitor, “Okay, let’s take a break. We can talk more later.”

Getting up, Tara let Spencer know she was going to call the rest of the team before she stepped back into the hallway.

“My chest hurts,” you said, hating how your voice sounded like a whine.

In response, Spencer smoothed your hair back in an attempt to comfort you. “Your heart is racing,” he whispered, “Take a deep breath, okay?”

You nodded slowly, breathing in deeply through your nostrils and letting the air collect in your lungs before blowing it out your mouth. Looking up at Spencer, worry plain in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you came to a decision, “Spence?”

He bowed slightly closer to you so he could hear you better, “What is it, love?” He moved his hand, so it was gently cupping your cheek.

Leaning into his touch, you whispered, “It’s too much.” The only thing you had left was to hope he knew what you were talking about, the words were too hard right now, but you felt them contributing to the burning in your chest.

“Okay,” he answered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about disappointing anyone.”

You practically melted back into the hospital bed; the weight of your job eased off of you. Nodding, you closed your eyes, “It’s good, this is good. I just feel crazy, but a good crazy.”

Spencer smiled at you, “Okay crazy,” he whispered, “I’m going to-“ He was abruptly cut off by his phone ringing, furrowing his brows, he swiped the screen and held the phone up to his ear, “Hey, JJ.”

Cocking your head to the side, you tried to listen to JJ’s side of the conversation, but either she was speaking quietly, or Spencer had his phone volume really low. From the way Spencer’s jaw tightened, you knew that this couldn’t be anything good.

He looked at you before looking at the door, “Do you know where?” He said in a tone entirely unfamiliar to you, it was low and steely. Reaching over you, he nimbly pressed the call button on your bed, “Okay, keep me updated.”

“Spencer, what is going on?” You asked as the nurse came into your room, faltering for a moment as she looked at the two of you.

Placing a hand on the bar of your hospital bed, Spencer looked at the nurse, “Do you have somewhere secure she can be moved to?”

The nurse looked shellshocked, surely the FBI occupying the hospital wasn’t an everyday occurrence, “I don’t… I don’t think so?” She seemed unsure of herself.

“Spencer,” you repeated his name.

He turned to look at you, “Jake’s here and he’s looking for you.” Turning back to the nurse, he pointed at you, “She has to be moved.”

“I don’t… I’m just a student, my preceptor is taking a break. I could try to find-“ The nurse stammered nervously. “We don’t usually just move people.”

Nothing about this situation was usual, but one look at Spencer told you this was life or death. Your life or your death. You sighed in defeat, “This is really going to suck.” Reaching over to your side, you gripped the tube that had been draining blood from outside your lung and pulled it out. Like ripping off a band-aid.

In the process, you tore the stitches holding it in place and set off all kinds of alarms, leading to a crowd of nurses and doctors charging into the room.

As someone held pressure down on where you were bleeding, someone said something about moving you to a sterile procedure room, and the nursing student trailed along, whispering “That was the stupidest smart thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

Everything was blurry when you woke up next and, through the blinds, you could see that the sun was finally rising. The warm, orange light peeking through like lines on a piece of paper.

“Hey,” Spencer said from right next to you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispered.

You looked away from him, back towards the blinds, “Will you open them?” You rasped, your throat felt raw, and your body felt heavy.

He got up and ambled over to the window, twisting the mechanism until the sun poured into your room. “How are you feeling?”

“Heavy,” you whispered, the mental weight of the past several days was threatening to take you down, but physically you felt like Atlas himself, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Spencer hummed in response, “They sedated you, standard procedure for people who rip their own chest tubes out.” He adjusted the way your gown rested on your shoulders, “Luckily you didn’t do too much damage.”

You took a deep breath and leaned your head so you could look out the window. The outside felt so foreign to you now, you couldn’t remember the last time you had breathed real, fresh air. “So, what is the damage?” Your voice was little more than a murmur but with just the two of you in your room, it wasn’t hard to hear.

“You’re going to be fine; they think the tube can go later today. Then they’ll evaluate whether enough you’re strong enough to go home, it’ll probably be another couple of days,” He explained to you, matching your gentle tone. “Johnathan McCallister is in custody, and Jake Cohn is dead,” he told you, studying your face for any kind of reaction.

Closing your eyes, you felt white hot tears stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, laughing a little despite yourself. He probably thought you were losing it, crying over the death of someone who had nearly had you murdered.

The edge of your mattress dipped down slightly, and you opened your eyes to see Spencer sitting next to you, “You don’t need to be sorry, my love.” Gently, he rested a hand on your hip, skimming his thumb over the rough fabric of your hospital gown, “He was like family to you. I’m not sorry he’s dead – I’m not. I am sorry for that loss, though.”

Nodding, you felt it as your face crumpled, leading Spencer to lean down and hug you as best he could. “I’m sorry I scared you,” you said as he pulled away.

Your furrowed your brows in confusion as he reached into his pocket and produced your wedding ring, taking your left hand, he slid the rings on, “For better or for worse, right?”

A small smile grew on your face as the gem on your finger shimmered in the morning light, “for richer or for poorer,” you continued.

“In sickness and in health,” Spencer whispered, eyes flickering around the hospital room.

You reached up a shaky hand and cupped his cheek with your palm, “to love and to cherish.” You said, feeling a dopey, lovesick grin blooming on your face.

He turned his head and kissed the center of your palm, “until parted by death,” he finished, taking your hand in his.

“No dying,” you insisted, feeling your energy begin to drain, you started to understand why the doctors didn’t want you going home for a few days.

Spencer hummed in response, “You almost did. If you hadn’t been found when you were-“ his voice broke off and you had to tear your eyes away from his for a moment. “I still can’t believe you chose that,” he whispered, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Shrugging as if it was nothing, you melted back into the pillows, “I had a split second to weigh my options – get sold into sex slavery or get stabbed in the chest.”

“A catch-22,” he nodded, wrapping his head around your impossible decision. You couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take until the fear in his eyes left.

You shifted a little in the hospital bed, the sheets rustling as you did, “We get it, you’ve read Joseph Heller.”

He smiled at that, the light teasing seemed to bring brightness to his face, “What is it about blood loss that makes you think you’re funny?”

Laughing lightly, you squeezed his hand as tightly as you could manage, “I am funny. And I’m tired.”

“Go back to sleep then, baby,” he said softly, “it’ll all be here when you wake up.”

There was a party in your hospital room. It started with just Emily, coming in because you were finally up to seeing anyone other than Spencer, and it ended up being the entire BAU.

Someone had gone to the apartment and gathered clothes for you so that, once your chest tube was removed, you could put on real clothes. So now you were sitting up, wearing sweatpants and a ratty old college sweatshirt, and laughing with the BAU. You were leaning heavily on Spencer, who was also sitting on your hospital bed, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with keeping you steady.

Luckily for you, no one in the BAU wanted to ask about what had happened on your assignment, they were more interested in the rings that adorned your and Spencer’s fingers.

“I still can’t believe you two secretly got married,” Penelope said. “Of all of the times for me to not answer my phone.”

Next to her, Luke shrugged, “Honestly, I can believe it. It feels like a very Y/N and Reid thing to do.”

Gently, Spencer rubbed your back. His hovering was quickly going to become insufferable, but right now you were welcoming every touch with open arms.

“Well, we’ll have a party for the two of you. When you’re up for it, of course,” JJ said, smiling from where she was standing next to Emily.

You wanted to shake your head and tell them that it really wasn’t necessary, but asking the BAU to refrain from throwing a party was like asking a shark to stop swimming. Instead of debating, you just smiled and bobbed your head.

Eventually, Andi showed up, just as you knew she would. “Hey, guys,” Emily nodded in the direction of the doorway, “Why don’t we go raid the hospital cafeteria?”

After a few more hugs, including a lingering one from Garcia, the BAU, save for your husband, filtered out, and Andi made her way to the foot of your bed. “Hey,” you said, your voice was soft.

Nine years. You had spent nine years in the sex crimes unit. Spencer had done the math, you’d spent approximately seventy-six percent of that time undercover, missing birthdays, holidays, not ever really looking forward to the future. Until now.

You, the most decorated member of the sex crimes unit, were leaving.

Suspiciously, you eyed the files in Andi’s arms, one was a case file, the other a plain manila folder. She silently handed you the case file, and you shared a look with Spencer before flipping it open. “The Program is gone?” You asked, your eyes skimming the folder.

Swann nodded, her brown hair swaying with the movement, “The arrest of the leader of the D.C. chapter greatly contributed to that, but it was the death of the ringleader that took the remainder of The Program down.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded as you tried to process what she was telling you. Jake had been in charge all along. “Andi, I-“

“It was your intel that did it,” she cut you off. “From your last several assignments, everything you collected directly contributed to the downfall of this trafficking network. One of the largest networks the FBI has ever seen.”

She handed you the next file, labeled with only your name. You flipped it open, well aware that Spencer was reading from over your shoulder. “I don’t qualify for retirement,” you told her, furrowing your eyebrows, and looking at the papers in front of you. You didn’t qualify for retirement, and yet, you were looking at a retirement offer.

Your unit chief nodded understandingly, “I pulled some strings, with some help. Collectively, Prentiss and I know a lot of people.”

Spencer placed a supportive hand on your back, and you looked up at Andi. “I’m only thirty-two?” You asked, it wasn’t a clarification, it was a question.

“And yet,” she answered, “you’ve done more for the Bureau than most agents could hope to do in their whole career. This plan came from the director, Y/N. He wanted you to have it.”

Shaking your head, you handed the folder over to your husband so he could look through it. “I don’t… can I think about it?”

“He’ll want an answer soon but talk it over and give me a call when you’ve come to a decision,” she said, grabbing her things and making her way to the door. “And Y/N?”

You lifted your head up to meet her eyes, “Yeah, Andi?”

She smiled at you, a rare, real smile from her, “Make the right decision for you. You have a small army ready to support you through everything.”

Slowly, your gaze followed her out the door, waiting until you heard the latch of the door secure. Spencer handed the folder back to you, “What do you want to do?”

You flipped through the folder again, it was a lot of money, and there were a few different distribution options, but it was more than you felt you’d ever need. “I don’t really feel like I deserve this,” you whispered, reaching your hand up and rubbing the back of your neck. “The Bureau doesn’t offer early retirement like this, not without extenuating circumstances,” you continued.

“They did it with Hotch,” Spencer said, reading the file over your shoulder.

Shaking your head, you leaned over to look at him, “That was way different, Haley was murdered by a serial killer.”

Spencer sighed, “I think you’re selling yourself short, darling. The Program was trafficking almost 12,000 people across the country. That’s almost 70 percent of the yearly total trafficking victims. You took them down,” he told you earnestly.

Your shoulders slouched forward, “I didn’t do it alone, though.”

“Didn’t you, though? They sent you in with no communication device, no emergency signal, and information that wasn’t even true. Your unit told you Johnathan McCallister was the leader of the ring, but it ended up being a decorated agent and you’re the one who figured that out,” Spencer spoke emphatically. “You almost died in the process, and now there are thousands of victims who are going to go home – all thanks to you.”

Wiping at your eyes, you looked at your husband, “You’re biased.” That felt true, but Spencer was the person who knew you best in the world.

“What’s holding you back?” He murmured gently, sweeping strands of your hair behind your ears.

Smiling unsurely, you closed your eyes, “Fear of the future. In the past nine years, the longest I’ve ever been home was four weeks. I don’t… What do you want me to do?”

He shook his head slowly, “it’s not my decision.” A diplomatic answer, you should’ve guessed.

“But what do you want me to do?” You pressed.

Sighing, you watched him weigh his options, “If my choices are you going back out into the field and getting hurt again, where maybe it doesn’t have this good of an outcome, or you, safe at home, where I get to see you more than approximately three months a year, then the choice is clear.”

When he laid it out for you like that, it was pretty clear. “Maybe I could finally see what all the BAU spouses are talking about. You know, how you’re never home,” you said. Some part of you always felt disconnected from the other BAU family members, Spencer wasn’t the one who was never home, you were.

Spencer laughed lightly, “We could celebrate your birthday together.” That was the one day you always missed. Almost six years together, and something always came up on your birthday.

“I’ve never had this before,” you whispered, there was still something about it that felt tentative, almost frail.

Smilingly softly, Spencer reached out and took your hand in his, “Had what before?”

You beamed, “A future to plan.” Everything was always laid out for you, every day was spent waiting for the next directive, a new assignment. “I mean, not in nine years.”

There were always dreams, late-night murmurs with Spencer about a house with a yard and kids running around, but they were just dreams. The nights when you were able to sleep next to each other. “Do you have plans for us?”

Nodding rapidly, you answered, “Oh yeah, you and me, I’ve got big plans for us.”

next

please remember to like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed :-)

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer x retired!reader

[rainylana]

“My pussy.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

warnings: language, smut, fingering, rough smut, dom!eddie, use of a vibrator, spanking.

summary: eddie finds your vibrator in the bathroom.

to the anonymous user, thank you for requesting!

You were sitting in front of the tv, crisscross on the floor as the Andy Griffith show played in front of you. You were clad in your socked feet and matching pajamas, putting polaroids in your album. It was a calm night, a sweet, romantic one you and Eddie were spending together, just a relaxing night in.

“Hey, babe!” Eddie called from the bathroom. “Come take a look at this! You’ll never believe what I found!”

You grimaced. “In the bathroom? Gross, Eddie! I’ll wait out here, thanks so much.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him.

The sound of a high pitched whirring flooded your ears, and immediately, heat went to your face. You pounced up. “No, no, no, no, no!” You screeched and screamed, running to the bathroom.

You found Eddie, leaned up against the sink and smirking, looking proud and cocky as ever. His hand propped him up against the sink, the other swung your pink vibrator side to side like he was trying to hypnotize someone.

You screamed. “Eddie!” You quickly leapt for it, but he stood tall and held it above your head.

“I don’t think so!” He tsked. “Didn’t know you had one of these laying around. Am I not satisfying you?” His eyes darkened playfully, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please, Eddie, drop it.” You jumped to reach it. “Please, forget you- Jesus, you’re tall!”

He scoffed and handed it to you, buzzing still loud and when you got it, you quickly switched it off, face burning and hands shaking from embarrassment. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He bounced off the sink to follow you into your bedroom. “We could have had some fun!”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I guess it’s just private, I suppose.”

Eddie smirked, taking a long stride over to you. He put his hands on your shoulders. “Well, my dear, I think I’ve been missing out. What do you say we add a little something new to the mix?” He kept his eyes on you, slowly walking you backwards to your shared bed.

You wiggled your brows and hummed, matching his lips in a hot kiss. You both fell to the bed in a heap, clothes flinging off to the floor one by one. You squeaked when he gripped your hips and spun you around, putting you face first into the mattress. He grabbed you and lifted your hips up to meet his face. She smirked, spitting in his fingers and rubbing them up your slick cunt. You gasped, reaching out to grab a pillow.

“Uh, uh.” He smacked your ass, making you squeal. “Keep your hands still.”

He pushed into your pussy, standing behind you at the foot of the bed. You moaned pathetically, drooling into the pillow so quickly it barely had even started. That’s the way sex was with Eddie. He knew you so well, knew all the right buttons to push.

You couldn’t help but blush when the sound of your vibrator turned on, and when it pushed at your clit, body bent over and ass up, you sobbed, a tear pushing past your lids. Eddie knew how stimulated you got and how quickly you did so. “Fuck,” You cried. “Oh, let me me feel you, please!”

“No.” He turned up the speed of the toy, smacking your ass with his free hand. “You wanna play with yourself without me? Then you’ll take your punishment and enjoy it.”

He spanked you again and again from cheek to cheek, making you jump out of your place and yelp from the sting of his hand.

“It’s mine.” He sneered. “My pussy.”

“I’m sorry!” You sobbed. “Just fuck me please!”

He slipped the vibrator into your cunt, the pink tip disappearing inside of you. He thrusted it in and out of you quickly, smacking your ass here and there until you were near purple with bruises. You saw stars as you came, panting heavily and shakily.

When you collapsed. He stood there with a dumb, goofy grin on his face. “See? Fun, right?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #quick read #smut #eddie smut #female reader

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x plus-sized!fem!reader

Summary: When you overhear some of James's friends comment on your weight, James comforts you.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort 🤧💗

Warnings: insecurities, bullying over someone's weight, reader's weight is heavily implied (obviously), crying, swearing, protective!James <3

You hear a snarl, "Did you see what she had for dinner?" Andy laughs loudly, "It isn't surprising she's fat, huh?"

Your heart sinks.

Benjamin hums in approval and adds, "I wonder what James even sees in her."

Their words echo around your head as you twist and turn your way around tables to find James again. He's laughing like a little boy when you see him, his smile so wide it's almost obnoxious as he rests his arm on top of your empty chair.

His cheeks look dusted pink from the wine he'd drank. He's so handsome, you think, and when you see the cake you had wanted earlier your cheeks become warm.

Quiet as a mouse, you slide into your chair and James turns to send you a grin. You send him a weak smile in return and then look down at the small plate in front of you. Raspberry Cheesecake. Your favorite. You look around. None of the other girlfriends have ordered any desserts.

You glance nervously at James again. He's chatting with his friends and he looks so happy. He's been so generous to you all evening, letting you pick anything on the menu because yes this was his teams' celebratory dinner, but as your boyfriend he wouldn't even think of letting you pay for yourself.

Guilt hits you hard. While his teammates girlfriends' had ordered lighter meals, you honestly didn't think much of it when you ordered a larger one. You didn't have the chance to have lunch, and those french fries sounded incredibly delicious.

You pick up your spoon and immediately, your lower lip trembles. Quickly, you sink your teeth into it and the pain soothes your sudden need to burst into embarrassed tears. When James's hand comes to your thigh, a gesture so mundane for him, you jump.

James turns his head and leans in closer to your ear, "What's wrong, darling?" he asks in a whisper, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. When you don't respond like you usually do by leaning in closer to him, he pulls away and looks at you seriously. His eyes bounce around all your features as if he's trying to understand if you're injured or upset.

"It's nothing," you mumble and look at your plate, "I'm just not hungry anymore."

James frowns. "Are you sure? I know this is your favorite," he winks with a teasing smile, recalling how happy you looked when you saw it on the menu.

You nod, freezing when you hear Andy and Benjamin walk back from the restroom. When they sit next to their girlfriends: their gorgeous, slim, girlfriends, you want to wither away as you suddenly feel like an elephant in the same maroon velvet dress you'd felt so pretty in earlier.

Immediately sensing your discomfort, James's smile disappears. He turns to his teammates and then glances at you as he takes your hand, squeezing it. "I'll get you a box, my love. And then I'll pay and we can go home, mmhm?" he says but you shake your head.

"No, you can finish your dinner, Jamie," you insist, your voice small. You don't want to ruin this for him.

James doesn't listen because soon, he's helping you out of your chair, your cheesecake in a box in his hand, as he says his goodbyes to his friends. You feel Andy and Benjamin staring as you leave and, on instinct, you let James walk further in front of you so you don't embarrass him.

However, James's arm links around your waist and moves you in closer to him the moment the fresh evening air hits your skin. You bump into his chest and feel the familiar warmth of his lips press against your temple as he inhales your scent.

"I love you," he says.

You don't answer, instead curling your arms around your stomach protectively. James drops his hand and asks, "Hey, are you cold, lovely?"

You stay quiet again, opting to chew on the inside of your cheek.

James takes your elbow and spins you around so you're facing him. You can't look him in the eyes as your arms hug around you. James gently moves you so you're boxed into the building and his arm as he bends his head to you a little.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened? Talk to me," he holds your chin in his hand and makes you look at him. When he sees how glossy your eyes are, his heart breaks. "Oh, love," his voice is smooth and you can hear the sadness in his words.

At this, you can't help the tears that rapidly cascade down your cheeks. You try wiping them with your palm so he won't see them but it's no use because James has already taken you into his arms and you're practically sobbing into his chest now. You feel him inhale sharply as his hand strokes the back of your head, his fingers intertwining into your hair. He's cooing small, confused, praises into your ear as he holds you.

You can hear in his voice that he doesn't understand, "Baby, please, what happened?" he asks again and his heart shatters even more when he hears your hiccuped cry.

You shake your head into his chest.

I wonder what James even sees in her.

Benjamin's words won't leave your mind and the tears continue to fall.

"Is it something I did? Because if it is, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry I'm making you cry."

You pull away hearing this, shaking your head more frantically as snot runs down your nose. "No James, it's not y-you." You whimper and James uses his free hand to thumb at the tears near your eyes.

"Then what happened?" he asks again.

You look away, suddenly embarrassed, "I- am I- I too fat for you?"

The question is immediately followed by a deafening silence as James's hand slides from your cheeks. You can see his eyes bounce around your face, searching for any sign that you're making a joke. He can't imagine you actually mean what you've just asked him.

"Y/n, why would you ask me that?!" James manages to ask. He sounds upset.

Your lip trembles and the tears resume, "Some of your friends," You start and James's eyes narrow, "I - I heard them make some comments about what I had for dinner and h-how you deserve someone prettier, slimmer and — "

"Who said that?" James interrupts you, his voice stern.

"I mean, they didn't say it in those exact words."

"Who was it, Y/n?" James repeats. He couldn't give any fucks what exactly his friend had said, all he needed to know was that whatever those assholes had said it made you cry, no sob, into his chest.

"It doesn't matter," you sniff, looking away from your boyfriend, "They're right. You deserve someone better than me, someone prettier. You're way out of my league. I have always known that," you force out a heartbroken laugh.

James's voice breaks. "How can you say that?"

He holds your cheek in his hand. Your cheeks warm up as your eyes widen, surprised by the passion and emotion in his movements as James plants a sloppy kiss on your forehead.

He sprinkles kisses all across your face. "Fuck, I love you. I don't want anyone else," His hand slides under your chin and tilts your head up just slightly so he can make sure you're looking at him again. "I'm the one who doesn't deserve to call someone as beautiful and kind as you, mine." He kisses your lips delicately.

You clutch at James's arm, voice shaky when you ask, "So you don't think I'm too fat,"

James shakes his head instantly and presses his forehead against yours, "Oh baby, no. You aren't. There is no such thing when love is involved. I love you like this and I'll love you whatever you decide to look like in the future."

You let him hold you, nuzzling into him as finally your tears start to calm. James's body is warm and it sends goosebumps up your skin. "I love you," you whisper, wanting to hear him say it too.

James doesn't hesitate, "I love you. I absolutely adore you," his lips find your cheek and he kisses you again. He pulls away and looks into your eyes. "Please don't cry like this again, you don't know how much it breaks my heart," his hand comes to push some hair away from your eyes. "Now, can you tell me who put those stupid ideas in your head so I know who I have to beat up?"

You can tell he's only half joking and you chuckle. "I promise it doesn't matter."

"Matters to me," He grumbles but doesn't push you to answer. He turns you around and pulls you in closer by your waist as he continues to walk you home.

Once you arrive at your apartment, you convince James to stay the night – or rather you ask since it didn't take much convincing at all.

As you sit on the couch, waiting for him to come so you can start your movie, James walks into the room with your cheesecake and a spoon. You look up, a small smile curling your lips.

"I said I wasn't hungry," you move over and let him sit next to you.

"Oh shush," James rolls his eyes and hands you the plate. He knows you too well for that excuse. You take the plate into your lap and then reach for the spoon.

James makes a tsk noise and holds it away from you. You pout. "Nuhuh, in this relationship we share," he says, grinning, and lowers his hand in front of you. With a click of metal, just like a magician, he reveals another spoon behind yours and you smirk.

"Prick," you mutter and snatch one of the spoons from him. Despite your insult, you adjust your position so James can easily access the cheesecake.

You turn away from him and take a mouthful as you exaggerate a moan and James scoots closer. He does the same and he also grins.

"Delicious," he says and looks at you. With his spoon, he gently taps your nose. "You have some here, love," he teases as if he isn't the one who just smudged cheesecake all over you.

You lean in and playfully rub your nose over his shirt, which earns a groan as James tries to push you away. "Hey! I like this shirt," he whines.

"You can wash it tomorrow, don't be a baby," you tease him. With a smirk, James takes the plate from you and moves it further from your reach. You frown. "And don't take the cheesecake hostage because you're angry with me."

You reach over to take another spoonful of the dessert, however James intercepts your actions as he swoops under your arm and kisses you.

You laugh into his mouth and feel James grin against your lips. He pulls away and he sounds more serious when he smiles and says, "Next time I want to celebrate just us, mm? Just like this," he kisses you again.

You smile. "That I can do. Now hand over the cheesecake now, or I swear I'll – " James interrupts you with yet another kiss, which earns him one of those giggles he loves so much.

#james potter x reader #james potter #marauders #marauders fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter smut #james potter x you #marauders imagine #james potter blurb #james potter imagines #james potter imagine #james potter fic #marauder james potter #marauders imagines #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders #hp fanfic #hp #hp fandom #maraduers harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x plus-sized!reader

[buckets-and-trees]

Sweet, sweet Aspen. You have been a very bad girl. This soft!dark guy, your boss, caught you doing something wrong—something that could easily get you fired—but he decided maybe, jussst maybe, he should keep your indiscretion, and your resulting punishment, between the two of you. After all, he’s been dreaming about filling you with his cock for ages 😏

(I picked this GIF because it looks like he’s saying, “On your knees.” lolll)

well, dearly beloved sister ho, you know we were thirsting over a particularly ... inspiring gif.

I don't think you anticipated your ask to spawn THIS, but... here we are! THANKS FOR POPPING MY ANDY CHERRY!

Fandom: Chris Evans Characters Title: I'm Your Man Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 3k

Summary: You've spent weeks working to pull off the perfect night for Andy Barber's big charity event. A rush job, but you worked meticulously and diligently over six weeks to coordinate the biggest event of your career to date. You weren't the only one with a plan for the night.

Content Warnings: extortion, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT, spitting, oral - male receiving, spanking, vaginal intercourse, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Logistical Notes: A NAUGHTY submission @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge. Prompts incorporated are in bold.

Additional Notes: I didn't want to write a summary. There's only enough plot here to smut you up. Dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @firefly-graphics.

You sit up straight when you hear the door to Andy’s home office open behind you.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says as he strides across the room and takes a seat in the leather executive desk chair.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barber,” you reply. Every part of your body is tired – tired in a good way from the long day of work – so you were eager to get home, soak in your tiny tub, and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend, but it hadn’t been an incredible inconvenience when he’d asked if he could speak with you before you left.

“Tonight was exquisite, you did well,” he doles out the praise, and you try to quell the blooming in your chest. In the six weeks working with Andy Barber to plan the charity event you’d just executed for his foundation you had seen that he wasn’t one to casually compliment, hard to impress. You had taken more and more satisfaction out of each meeting, email, or text exchange as you consulted and then presented him with options for the event when he had fewer and fewer notes, knowing you had cracked his taste and gained his approval. He’d been your toughest client to date, but by far one of the most rewarding as he had excellent taste.

“Nearly perfect,” he adds.

Your smile falters ever so slightly, and suddenly your chest floods with a chill. “Nearly perfect? I’m sorry, sir, what didn’t live up to your expectations?”

This was far from your first event, you had built an incredible portfolio over the years, and you knew you were finally ascending to be one of the best event coordinators on the eastern seaboard – you had received an email request from a goddamn Vanderbilt to plan a wedding for them in a year and a half that you were going to respond to and accept in the morning. You weren’t arrogant, but you’d worked damn hard and knew you were good.

“You.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I – what?”

“Only one misstep tonight.”

Your brain flies back through the evening, reviewing every moment, raking through trying to determine what you could have possibly missed.

“I’m very particular about what belongs to me, and I cannot abide theft.”

Your jaw drops.

“Empty your bag.”

Now your whole body is buzzing with incredulity. You shake your head.

“I know what’s in there.”

You almost didn’t take this job when it landed in your lap. He was the reason you knew you should have said no. There were whispers about his reputation, his real businesses. But you took the initial consultation because the pitch was more money than you’d made over the last three years. Then when you’d met him, he’d been so normal, so nice, maybe a little charming, and up until this moment you had convinced yourself there was no way any of those rumors had been right.

But before you even put your hand in your bag, you knew you were wrong to have thought he wasn't all those awful things.

Not one, not two, but three Rolex watches nestled in the bottom of the main pocket. Watches you'd never seen - wouldn't even have known where to find them.

You scoop them out and drop them on his desk, eyes burning with tears. “Why?”

“Yes, why? I was already giving you a fat paycheck. What a shame when I had just given your name to the Vanderbilts’ social secretary for their son’s wedding a few days ago, I’ll have to reach out and let them know.”

“No,” you breathe.

“I’ll have to discreetly let everyone in my network know it’s better not to invite someone in their home with such light fingers.”

Your breath hitches and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle an almost sob, trying to hold back the onset of tears. “Andy, no, please.”

His smile softens. “There we are,” he coos, “you finally called me Andy like I’ve told you to so many times.”

He leans forward resting his arms on his desk.

“Now, if you go upstairs, be a good girl, put on what I left for you in my room, and wait for me, maybe I can make all of this little misunderstanding go away.”

His steel blue eyes are hard, they demand an answer.

You cock your chin up wishing you could say no, wishing you could even scowl at him, but aside from the heat and hurt in your eyes, you know you can’t do anything more without risking further ruin, so ultimately you let your chin drop and nod, resigned to the impossible power this man wields.

“Now we’re back on track for a perfect night, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.”

You don’t know how long he makes you wait, using the promise of soon as another show of his power, but long enough that your knees hurt from sitting back on your heels in a submissive, kneeling position with your head lowered, hands folded in your lap, and back to the door as the card in the white box left for you had instructed.

Also in the box had been a set of exquisite black lace and silk balconette bra and cheeky underwear. That they fit you like a glove had been both humiliating and alluring.

Even though Andy was the reason you almost said no to the job, even though he was the humiliating reason you were in this position – extorted into a nearly naked state, no question of what was to come – he was also the reason you took the job.

Dread pooled in your stomach, but along with the dread and humiliation, there were rivulets of shameful desire.

You had taken the job for the money and for how quietly charming he had been. He had never outright flirted with you, but he always left you with the question of whether he was. You worked hard for him because it felt good to win his approval. He praised you and you had preened under his intense blue eyes every time. You had forced yourself to keep everything professional.

All for nothing since you were in the farthest position of professional now.

When you finally hear him enter the room, your sit up straight again.

He tsks and says, “Head down, sweetheart.”

Andy comes around to stand in front of you. You see his perfectly polished shoes, the perfectly tailored trousers. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. He runs his thumb over your lips, circling them.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

You do.

He leans closer, then spits in your mouth, and you blink in surprise, a surge of humiliation running through you, but his grip on your jaw is powerful, so you don’t move away.

“Close your mouth but don’t swallow.”

He moves back from you then, and he begins to silently undress. He had already taken off his jacket, but he doesn’t hurry as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, the buttons down his chest, and then shrugs it off his shoulders. He places it nicely on a plush armchair on the side of the room. Next he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes and socks.

The way he doesn’t watch you but does all of this in your line of vision, knowing you have to watch, is another move meant to communicate who is in control of this situation. Still holding his saliva on your tongue is starting to become uncomfortable. Your instinct is to swallow, but you don’t know what disobedience may mean with Andy, so you fight the urge, not wanting to tempt any more of his darkness.

He stands and takes the shoes and socks to a large closet off to the side of the room, and when he returns, he stands directly in front of you again, takes your jaw in his hands again.

“Show me,” he says.

Your eyes watch his face you open your mouth, showing him the pool of saliva.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs. You hate the small bloom in your chest those words immediately invoke again. He spits into your mouth for a second time, then with a caress that is too tender he urges you to close your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do.

Andy unbuckles his belt, unbuttons the top of his fly, then unzips and pushes down the waist of his trousers with his briefs, and reveals his hard cock for you.

He’s big.

You had gotten yourself off to the thought of him a few of times late at night alone in your bed, most recently a few days ago, and you hated that you had since you were now here like this, forced on your knees in front of him.

Your core is pulsing with heat at the sight of him though – bigger than you had fantasized, and bigger than any man you’ve been with previously. You know he’ll fill you in a way that will ruin you for other men. You want and dread it.

“Take me in your mouth, sweetheart,” he commands.

Instead of forcing his cock into your mouth, this is more possessive, having you submit yourself to pleasing him of your own accord. You know every way he’s manipulating you.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” he trails off, leaving the end open for your imagination.

You plant one hand softly on his hip and wrap your other hand around his shaft, leaning forward to take him in your mouth. As you push forward, he groans. He won’t hold back when he’s pleased with you – he never has, he knows it affects you. His hands go to either side of your head. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sucking him, bobbing up and down his length, and for a while he lets you control the speed and the depth, but his hands let you know he can and will control this when he wants to. After the first couple of minutes, he makes this clear when you push back to take a breath and wipe the mix of your spit and his pre-cum dripping out of your mouth and his hands firmly prevent you from moving off him. Instead, he pushes you down slowly – more slowly than you had been pumping – and doesn’t stop until your nose hits his lower abdomen. You try to push against his hips, and he pushes his hips forward with you still anchored on his dick. Your eyes well up.

“So pretty,” he says, “imagined you like this, but you’re more gorgeous than I thought you would be.”

Something in your chest melts. You wish he wouldn’t say things like that. It makes you weaker – weaker for him. He pulls back just an inch or two, then pushes his length into your throat again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, my perfect fucking girl.”

You whimper, and the tears spill over.

His right hand moves away from your face and around behind him. He’s quick, and when you can see his hand again, it’s to discover he’s taken his phone out of his back pocket. He takes photos of you, angling the phone a few different ways. Then he tosses the phone onto the chair where he’d laid his shirt.

Then he resumes his small, concentrated rutting, only easing out just enough to make the thrust back in worth it for him. As he does, he groans, swears, wipes tears from your cheeks, and the moment before it’s too much, he finally pulls you off him.

You fall forward, gasping for deep lungfuls of air, but he’s already putting a hand under your arm and hauling you up.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, man handling you with surprising ease, doing most of the work your weak and aching legs can’t do to hoist you up onto his Alaskan king bed.

He’s immediately up as well and behind you, the last of his clothing stripped off. His fingers quickly undo the clasp of your bra and pull it off your shoulders and toss it away. He pushes you forward, toppling you down to the mattress. He slaps your ass, and you gasp and jerk. He brings his hand down on your round flesh again, with another sting, but the second one has you moan, and he lets out a satisfied, “Yes,” before giving you a third slap, the hardest, and you moan again, but this one more guttural, and you’d be mortified if you weren’t shocked over the way it translated to pleasure so quickly to your brain.

Then he yanks the lacy underwear roughly down and off your legs, tossing it away as well. He pushes between your legs behind you, splitting your legs open, and his fingers seek your cunt.

He hums in approval, “So wet for me. Ready for me.”

You huff and pant.

He leans over your back, pressing you down into the mattress. “Are you eager for me?”

“Andy,” you whine.

“Say it and I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to. You bury your face in the covers.

He slaps your ass again, and you yelp.

“Admit you want me to fuck you.”

Another slap.

Another.

“Yes,” you finally concede.

“To breed you.”

You gasp, but he’s already hauling you further up the bed, and he drapes himself over your back, arms caging you in on either side of your body. His legs push yours apart as he leans down to press kisses over your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck, along your spine. He uses one hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your leaking entrance. He doesn’t care to stretch you. “Take me in your cunt, sweetheart, it’s mine.”

The only mercy is that he slots himself in slowly.

You press your hands up against the headboard and concentrate on taking deep breaths, on trying to relax your walls completely, because he’s entering you, in you, filling you, unrelenting invasion and it’s pleasure and pain and too much and not enough because every moment of more fullness is exquisite and you can’t even think about holding back the sound he’s pushing out from your diaphragm, up your throat, and out of your mouth, because that’s how it feels as he's filling you.

Once’s he’s fully inside of you, he presses his mouth right next to your ear. “I’m going to fill this pussy with my seed.” He anchors one hand on your hips, then begins pull out, only so he can start thrusting back in. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

You’ve never had an orgasm only from vaginal penetration, but the way he fills you as he fucks you, and at this angle, making you almost forget to keep breathing, you wonder if this is how you’ll go, strung out as his cock punishes you with the pleasure, but then his hand works around beneath you and his fingers quickly find your swollen and aching clit. You cry out, and one of your hands reaches back to cling to him, fingers clutching into his hair. He nips at your neck, chuckling darkly.

“My pretty girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well, you close?”

An immediate, “Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“Then let go,” he commands, pinching your clit harshly.

You see stars, and you cry out for him.

Hearing you scream his name and feeling you clench around him is all he needs, and he pumps his cum into you, saying more dirty, filthy, possessive things, but you don’t know what the words are, because you’re completely lost to coherency.

He sinks his full weight on top of you when he’s completely spent.

Both of you are silent while you come down, heartrates returning to normal.

You wait for him to say whatever he’s going to torment you with next, but he doesn’t speak.

After more long moments, he finally pushes up enough to turn you from your front to your back. He cups your jaw again and strokes his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches at the intimate gesture in the aftermath.

“Aw, why are you crying now, sweetheart?”

No, you didn’t want more tears, and not these - the soft tears. You try to look away, but he forces your face back to look at him.

“I would have slept with you if you’d asked, Andy, why did you have to do it like this?”

“Because this is so much more than that, sweetheart. I didn’t want to just sleep with you, and I needed you to know from here on out that you’re mine. I own you. I’m very particular about what belongs to me. I didn’t want you to have any illusion that there’s a choice here.”

He brushes the tears off your cheek.

“I’ll have my men move your things here in the morning, and we’ll elope in a few weeks. I’m closing the deal on a resort in Lake Como, doesn’t that sound perfect? We’ll tie the knot and then spend our honeymoon there – we can stay all summer if you want.”

You hesitate.

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do. Now I asked you, ‘doesn’t that sound perfect?’”

“Yes, Andy,” you whisper.

“Of course, it does.” He finally kisses you – and it’s dangerously soft. Warm lips engulfing yours, insistent, sucking your bottom lip between his. You whimper, and he licks his tongue into your mouth, lapping you up. He rolls over with you, putting him back on the mattress with you on his chest. He holds you pressed to him with one hand, the other hand securing your head so you can’t escape his kiss until he’s done kissing you.

It isn’t until you think you might pass out from how breathless you are that he finally breaks off the kiss. He shifts his pelvis up against you, his cock hardening again. “And I was serious about you carrying my child. But first you’ll ride my face until I’ve made you cry for a good reason, and then I’ll fill you up with more of my seed. You’re not leaving this bed the rest of the weekend.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

ARE YOU OKAY? AM I? DO WE EVEN CARE IF WE'RE OKAY?

read: -> THE MORNING AFTER

#andy barber x female reader #andy barber smut #soft dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #tw: dubcon #aspen wrote something #navy and roo's sleepover #i'm your man collection

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Silent Treatment | Andy Barber

Pairing -> Husband!Andy Barber x Wife!Reader

Summary -> After a fight with Andy almost a week ago and you ignore and avoid him as much as possible. Then he makes sure you understand that he loves you and that he wants you to listen when he says something.

Warnings -> (E) Minors DNI, 18+, smut, pinning against the wall, dry humping, thigh riding, daddy kink, kinda Dom!Andy, sub!Reader, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (male!receiving), deep throat, unprotected p in v, using of the word slut, kinda dirty talk, praises,

Wordcount -> 2k.

Request -> I had a request if you would be able to write it, where the reader gives Andy the silent treatment and it lasts all week or something and ends with some hot spicy smut 🌶️❤️🥺 craving some hot Andy!! Unless you’ve already have something written… ✨

A/N -> Thank you so much for that request, anon. It makes me feel things I didn’t know I feel for him but you show me with that request haha. The idea is such a good one and I hope you like what I came up with. My request are open, so if you have an ask don’t hesitate to ask.

Masterlist | Andy Barber Masterlist

It’s been a week since the argument with your husband, Andy, but you haven’t talked or interacted a lot with him. Whenever he tried to say something, you interrupted him with anger in your voice. Actually, you’re not that stubborn, but you’re mad, and you want to show him exactly that.

You miss his touch, but you can’t bring yourself to talk to him or let him touch you more than possible. His arms around your waist at night or his kisses along your neck when the two of you sit on the couch. But you’re still mad at him, right? Or do you just want to provoke him and hide it behind anger?

Andy tries to touch you or at least kiss you, but whenever you turn away, he groans. He slowly gets impatient and thinks about a way you can’t say no to him anymore. And your teasing is a good reason for him to tease you as well, but in a more pleasurable way than you do to him.

You’re in the kitchen. You make some lunch for the two of you. You can hear his footsteps behind you before his arms are wrapped around your waist. Andy presses your back against his muscular front. You try to wiggle yourself out of his arms, but he is stronger than you and holds you in place.

“Andy,” you mumble, but he tightens his grip around you.

His fingers dig into your soft skin, and you groan softly. Andy chuckles and lowers his head to place it on your shoulder. Kissing and biting your neck.

“Honey, stop ignoring me,” he groans into your ear.

“I’m not ignoring y-“ you try to say, but you interrupt yourself when Andy turns you around and pushes your back against the kitchen counter.

“You’re not?” he asks, his eyes immediately dark when you shake your head.

His hands are trailing your sides up and down. With one movement, he turns the two of you around and presses you against the wall on the other side of the small room. You gasp when your back touches the hard wall. Andy smiles and takes your hand into his, pressing them above your head against the wall.

“Andy-“ you whimper, pushing your waist against him.

He doesn’t say anything; his thigh parts your legs apart, and he presses it between your legs. You throw your head back when you feel the slight friction. You move on his thigh and feel your arousal dripping out of you, soaking your pants.

“Stop acting like a slut,” he hisses.

You try to stop your movements and do what he tells you, but the pleasure feels too good. His one hand holds your hands still above your head while the other trails down until he reaches your face and grips your chin harshly.

“Stop moving.” His tone is demanding, and you obey; you don’t want to make him mad.

“Andy, please,” you whimper, but he shakes his head.

“You ignored me for almost a week, and now it’s on me how fast or slow you get the pleasure you want,” Andy groans.

You roll your eyes playfully and pretend to move on his thigh again, but Andy takes his knee away and chuckles darkly. His hand around your chin slides along your body until he reaches your covered pussy.

“Desperate, so desperate,” he mumbles when you push your body against his hand.

Andy chuckles and captures your pussy with his hand. You moan softly and look at him with an already fucked-out look. He moves his fingers against the fabric and draws small circles on them, making you whine.

“Andy, please,” you beg, but he just laughs and lets go of you.

“That’s wrong, honey. Say it right,” he demands, and you want to groan in frustration, but his look at you stops you immediately. There is not that much fun or frustration allowed, not yet, with your horny husband in front of you.

“Daddy, please. I need you,” you whine and press yourself more against him.

“Where do you need me to touch you, honey?”

“Down there.”

Andy chuckles darkly when those words leave your lips as a whimper. He knows exactly what you want, and he will give it to you, but not yet. First, he wants you on your knees like a good girl and sucking his dick as an apology for ignoring him.

“You think it’s that easy to get what you want after ignoring you?” he asks, and you nod. Maybe he wants you to say yes, and then he finally fucks you, but he just shakes his head. “You will beg, and you will obey,” Andy whispers, and you moan softly.

Your husband lays one of his hands on your head and grips your hair harshly, pressing you down until you’re on your knees. He smiles at you and pulls your face closer to his dick. Your nose almost touches the bulge in his pants.

“Open them and pull them down,” he commands, and you do.

With your hands, you open his belt and pull his pants down. His boxers cover his dick. You don’t hesitate before you let his boxers slide down his legs, and his length springs free. It slaps against his stomach, the tip already leaking with pre-cum.

“Open your mouth, baby girl. And suck it, give Daddy a reason to give you your reward,” Andy groans and pushes your head further to his dick.

You open your mouth and take one of your hands around his dick. Andy looks with pure lust in his eyes at you and grins. You kiss the tip of his dick, moving your hand slowly up and down. Your husband groans and pushes his hips in your direction, his cock pushing against your mouth.

He guides his dick deep into your mouth and down your throat. A groan leaves his lips when you almost gag around his length. Your hands rest on his thighs while he slowly pulls out of your mouth. His tip is still in your mouth, and you can still taste him.

"It's so pretty when you look like an innocent little girl, but you’re actually a little slut for my dick. My little cock slut, aren’t you?” he asks.

Before you can answer, he pushes his hips forward and pulls your head closer by your hair. His cock is sliding down your throat again. The tears burn in your eyes when he hits a spot in your throat that you didn’t know he could reach. His grip on your hair tightens while he waits a moment before he pulls it out of your mouth again. The creams that leave his mouth make you almost go crazy.

“Swallow,” he says sternly.

Andy doesn’t hesitate to push into your mouth again, ignoring your gagging around him. You both know that as long as you don’t use your safe word or slap him two times on his thigh, he can do this. You talked a lot before you changed from vanilla to some kinky activities in bed.

When you control your breathing again, you swallow and make Andy moan loudly. He adores the feeling of your throat feeling even tighter when you swallow. The warmth of your mouth, your tongue gliding along his shaft, and the tight feeling around his huge dick.

Your husband's dick is twitching in your mouth, and you know he is close. You move your head a bit, but Andy stops you with his grip on your hair and lets his dick slide out of your mouth. You groan in frustration, getting a dark chuckle from Andy.

“Want me to cum in your mouth? Not only my cock slut, but also a little cum slut,” he laughs, gripping your chin with his free hand.

You still have the tears in your eyes, and a few are rolling down your cheeks. Andy shows you, with some pressure under your chin, to stand up. Your legs are shaking, and you wrap your arms around his muscular arms to hold you. Andy lets go of your hair and holds you by your waist.

“I want to fuck you against the wall; I can’t wait to push my dick so deep into your wet and tight hole, honey,” he groans, stroking your cheek softly. “You did so well for me when you sucked my dick; now be a good girl and let Daddy fuck you right here and right now,” Andy mumbles, and you nod.

You hear the sound of your clothes tearing up while he smiles at you. The cold air blows against your wet folds, and you shiver slightly. Andy’s hand is wrapped around his cock, the tip sliding through your folds, and you place your hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Andy pushes him slowly inside of you. Your walls clench around him while he pushes himself deeper inside of you. A moan escapes your lips, and you throw your head back when he finally meets your sweet spot.

“Andy, please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his skin.

“Try again, honey.”

“Daddy, please. Move, making me cum.”

Your husband chuckles and pulls almost completely out of you before he pushes his dick inside of you again. Your fingers are scratching over his skin, and you are probably leaving bruises there, but neither you nor Andy care about it.

“Faster, please,” you whimper.

Andy leans closer; you feel his breath against your ear and his groans when he pounds into you.

“You really think you can tell me what to do, honey?”

You shake your head but press your hips closer, so he pushes in another angle inside of you. His tip hits your sweet spot again, and you clench around him. Andy kisses along your neck, biting softly into the skin, before he lets go of you and looks into your eyes. His hands are holding your waist.

“You want me to be rough; I’ll be rough,” he says with a grin.

With your head leaning against the wall, you let your husband fuck you against it. Your skin is sweaty, and you try to ground yourself with your fingers on his back. His movements become sloppy, and you feel his thick cock twitching between your clenching walls.

“So tight for me. But you take me so well, honey,” he praises, and you smile softly.

Andy slides one of his hands between your legs and draws circles on your clit. His fingers slide through your folds before he plays with your clit again. You moan, your hips pushing further against him, and when he hits your sweet spot a few more times, you almost scream while the orgasm rushes through your body.

“Squeezing me so well,” Andy groans, pounding into you.

Your eyes roll back, and you feel his dick twitching between your walls. Your tight walls clench with every thrust more around his length, and it doesn’t take long for him to fill you with his cum. Andy groans and lets his head fall against your shoulder. His breath is heavy, but he still moves slowly into you.

“I’m not pulling out of you,” he mumbles, holding your waist to lift you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he walks with you in his arms out of the kitchen.

“The food,” you say and point to the desk, but he just chuckles.

“You can have something else, but first we take a shower.

You groan playfully, knowing that he talks about more sex later. Andy carries you into the bathroom before he finally lets you down and presses his lips on yours.

“Don’t ignore me again, or I won’t be so soft,” Andy mumbles against your lips, and you nod. His cum drips out of you while he prepares everything for a warm bath together. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Andy. But next time, just fuck me a few days earlier, then I don’t have to ignore you for so long,” you joke around, and he raises his eyebrows with a smirk at you.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @rogersbarber | @kandis-mom | @km-ffluv | @identity2212 | @bookishtheaterlover7 |@lunaalovesyouu

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[cranberryjuice-posts]

- this butch this butch -

Pairings - Butch Abby x housewife! Milf! reader

IMPORTANT - takes Place in the 40’s / Abby is referred to as Abby and is written with He/Him pronouns UNTIL reader finds out she’s a she

If ur currious what the Lingerie looked like

Tw - SHITTY SMUT‼️‼️ oral sex, fingering, erm that’s abt it guys it takes place in the 40’s idk 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

An - the smut is like kinda at the end and short bc idk

Rushing around the house you struggled to prepare dinner. Tonight was important, your father had decided to come by for dinner bringing along his understudy Andy Anderson, your husband was currently out in the living room entertaining your father and your baby girl June was currently playing on the kitchen floor with her blocks.

“Ok ok.. steak for main course and I’ll do lobster bisque for the appetizer” you mumbled while grabbing the ingredients you needed.

“Mama” your daughter asked from where she sat, walking over to your todler you crouched down to her smiling. “Yes baby?”

“Square” she held up a block. Letting out a content sigh you took the wooden toy from your daughter, setting it aside you kissed her forehead. “Yes baby that’s a square, now mommy has to take care of dinner ok so be a good girl and play with your toys” Getting back up you returned to your meal prep.

After an hour the door opened, stepping in John. As he entered the kitchen your dusted the flour off of your hands while he found his way over to you, bending down he placed a soft kiss on your lips before heading towards the liquor cabinet. “John.. common I’m making dinner and June is up, can’t you wait until later”

He didn’t respond. “John p—“

“I heard you the first time” he snapped. Your breath caught in your throat, being married to your husband for the past 6 years you’ve learned quickly about his temper. And his hand.

Nodding slowly you started baking again. Checking on your soup June started crying as she hit her hand on a chair. “Your daughter is crying” John spoke as he prepared two glasses. “Yes.. uh could you please get her I’m sorry I’m just busy with dinner”

John however ignored you, walking out while heading back towards the living room. “God..” you sighed with your daughter practically screaming, before you could walk over to her the door opened once again making you pause in your step, being faced to face with a long forgotten crush of yours.. Andy . “Oh my god Andy I— please you don’t-“ you stumbled against your words while you tried to clean yourself up some. Andy chuckled shaking his head while picking up June. “It’s ok, I don’t mind helping out”

“Thank you” giving him a grateful smile. Sitting down at the counter Andy started to watch as your Finshed your meal. Normally you preferred being in the kitchen alone, but Andy was different. Being around him made you happy, it also didn’t help that he was insanely attractive. His strong arms and short well kept Blonde hair, and for some reason being around him gave you this flustered feeling. It was a wonder how he hadn’t been swooped up by some lucky woman .“so how’s your marriage going” Andy asked drawing your attention.

“Hm? Me oh it’s going.. nothing to bad though” you chuckled trying to make light of the situation. “Oh by the way Andy could you please take June out and set her in her high chair? You’d be doing me a major favor” you pleadingly asked, he of coursed nodded leaving to do as you asked.

——

All you asked for was a normal dinner. Sitting across the table from you was Andy. You knew he liked you, you may of been younger than him by a couple years but you could tell how he tried to peek at your cleavage through your dress or how he appreciated your victory curls. Though you didn’t mind the attention as it was more than you received from your husband.

Cleaning up the now emptied plates, you smiled as your dad complimented your cooking skills. “Aw dad it’s nothing to write home about”

“Ha! As if im Gonna Need you to start cookin for me every night” he laughed pulling a cigar out his pocket. Going outside you expected your husband to follow him the same as Andy only this time he followed you to the kitchen. “Well I think tonight went gr—“ the next thing you knew your jaw hit the sink then you laid on the floor.

“First thing Sunday you will go to the priest and confess about how you practically eye fucked another man infront of me.” John simply spoke while adjusting his shirt sleeve. “What?” You quietly asked, your tears staining the floor bellow you.

He scoffed. “Don’t act suprised you knew what you were doing. I saw how you act with Andy. Clean yourself up and get this nasty kitchen cleaned as well” he harshly spoke before leaving.

———

“Annnd here’s mommy” Andy smiled as he brought June into the kitchen, your daughter laughing excitedly. Almost immediately Andy noticed your closed off stance. Setting your daughter down He mumbled “Go find your grandpa ok” making sure the young girl was gone he made his way towards you

“What’s wrong” he asked standing behind you. You both had known each-other for a few years at this point, thus a friendship had grown over time. “Nothing” you mumbled.

He knew. You knew he knew. It was obivous. A small stain of blood on the floor, the first aid kit open and your formerly perfect curls now distressed.

Letting out a deep sigh he moved to be Standing beside you at the sink, now rinsing off the dishes he stayed quiet. “I’ve got it Andy”

He shrugged his shoulders “I know.”

“Andy this is a woman’s job please” You tried to push him back only he didn’t move. Giving up you stepped back watching while Andy finished off the plates putting them now in the drying rack.

Turning around He dried his hands before gently grabbing your face, rubbing a thumb over your bruising cheek and jaw. His critical gaze felt as though he knew how you felt. Your pain. Your cheeks flushed somewhat from his touch. Without realizing it you leaned into Andy kissing him.

A moment later you pulled back realizing he hadn’t kiss you back. “I’m sorry” you covered the bottom half of your face while holding your head low. “No no.. it’s not you trust me” his tone shocked as he quickly tried to assure you— you were in the right by squeezing your arms. “Your absolutely perfect in every way it’s just that.. there’s some stuff about me that you wouldn’t approve of, that would make you reject me”

Looking up confused you tilted your head. “What is it..” keeping eye contact with him. You knew he wouldn’t tell you without you putting up a fight. “I swear on everything Andy that I won’t tell.. if I do then you can tell John how I kissed you…. So please what is it” debating for a moment he finally sighed giving into you. Taking his hands away from you but keeping your bodies close he untucked his shirt pulling it open.

That’s when you realized it. Andy wasn’t a man.. rather he was a woman. “Your..”

“Yeah..” she sighed, Closing her shirt. “My Name is Abigail— Abby for short, not Andy. Legally a few years ago I changed my name to Andy because I couldn’t stand the thought of being a mans wife. So I changed. I changed everything about me and I ended up landing a pretty good spot at your fathers company” she slightly chuckled.

You kept your hands towards your chest. Out of everything Andy actually being named Abigail and being a woman was not what you expected. Pulling your eyes away from Abby you finally reached out, softly touching her chest which was covered by a thin tanktop. You felt the woman’s breath falter.

Standing on your tippy toes once again you placed your lips onto Abby’s. It was a quick peck. “Your not disgusted” she asked quietly with her hands on the counter behind you. “No.. if anything you being a woman makes you even more attractive”

That was all it took before Abby quickly jerking you into her kissing you hungerily. Bringing your hands to the girls face and wrapping an arm around her neck you deepend the kiss with Abby’s hands finding that special spot in your back as if to say ‘she’s got you’.

You’ve heard of lesbians before. It was a new term but still far away from being a socially acceptable term. From an early age you knew you liked women. It was hard not to but you knew that it was either conform to society and marry a man, have a kid and a family or be an outcast and alone forever. However in this moment you were prepared to throw everything out of the window if it meant to be with her

Pulling back you panted keeping Abby close. “John’s gonna leave.. he says it’s because the office needs him but I know he’s going to fuck his secretary. Midnight come by at 12, I know he won’t be back til morning and June will be long asleep” stepping back from the woman you tried to fix your curls in the mirror on the liquor cabinet. “The back door will be unlocked for you”

“What are You saying” she chuckled fixing her shirt some, Abby’s cheeks were completely red. “You know what I’m saying..” looking back over at her, there was this unspoken agreement between you both.

“Ok. I’ll be back at 12:00am sharp” she gave a small smile, kissing you softly once again.

———

Just as You Said John had left soon after your father. Spending the next hour you put June to bed, now leaving you with three hours to get ready.

Once midnight came around Abby walked in through the back door of your house finding it unlocked like you promised. Making her way upstairs she stopped at your door. Hesitant like this was all some fucked up dream. After a small mental pep talk she softly knocked on the door before stepping in.

Stepping inside the woman paused. You stood by your bed wearing a black lingerie set. The simple black bra and silk shorts with fishnets underneath. A few candles were lit and your hair redone. Shyly standing fiddling with your hands.

“My god.” Abby spoke breathless as she closed the door. Walking to you she held your hips admiring your body. “I.. I tried, um.. I had originally got this for John and I’s sixth anniversary but I figured this was a much better occasion”

Abby leaned forward trailing soft kisses from your jaw to your lips. Her hands dragged up loving your skin while you kissed. Bitting your bottom lip you let out a soft moan allowing Abby to slip her tongue in.

The kiss repeating multiple times until she pushed you down onto the bed. Her knee finding itself between your legs. “Off” she whispered. “What?” You asked breathless. Abby hooked her finger under the bra strap pulling it down. Once realizing you quickly took the top off setting it aside.

The blonde kissed down your neck, finding her way to your breast. Licking over the sensitive nipple she smiled as you tried to hold back a moan. Sucking on your breast she showed the same love towards the other with her hand.

She rhymathically rubbed her knee against your aching core. Covering your mouth you tried your best to hide a loud cry. Feeling yourself grow wetter you couldn’t help but start to grind your hips against the woman’s leg.

“Abby..” you softly cried grabbing at her short mannish hair. “I know sweet girl I know” she whispered still kissing your chest. Switching her mouth to the second revelishing in the fact you never felt like this with your husband.

Letting go of your nipple with a pop like sound she stood up from where she previously was. Taking off her suspenders Abby made quick work of her button down and pants leaving her in her briefs and wife beater pleaser. Taking a moment to admire Abby’s muscular physique, you looked away embarrassed

Getting down into her knees she pulled you to the edge of the bed. Bringing your underwear and fishnet socks down Abby had to restrain herself from loosing control. After your daughter birth you never managed to loose all the pregnancy weight, your lower half of stomach having a noticeable pudge with dark stretch marks.

Feeling Abby’s eyes on you, you tried to hide your stomach with your hands however she forced them away. “Abby please it’s disgusting”

“Oh sweet sweet girl.. it’s the furthest thing from disgusting, baby I’m having to restrain myself even now from fucking your senseless. You are the most attractive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on”

Her words making you turn red. Embarrassed still you stopped resisting Abby’s gaze and let yourself relax. Watching as the woman positioned herself between you, she looked up asking for your permission. You nodded at first which she didn’t appreciate “common sweet girl I need you to give me a yes or I’m not doing anything”

“Yes damnit Abby” you whined. She grinned at your neediness, not wanting to make you wait any longer she leaned in kissing your clit.

A whole new feeling of pleasure courses through your body as you felt Abby start to suck on your sensitive bud. Lapping her tongue through your folds and even teasing your throbbing hole.

Trying to keep quiet you gave soft breathy moans while having a firm grip on her hair. Abby tightly held your thighs as she continued to sloppily lick at you, your juices running down her chin.

Abby looked up at you slapping your thigh to get your attention you looked down. Her free hand now running lines with her thumb over your sopping cunt. “You keep your eyes on me, if you don’t then I’ll stop” agreeing faster than you should of you kept your gaze down at the blonde

Abby knew she wasn’t one to deny you, almost immediately going back to what she had previously been doing.

After taking a few moments she slipped a finger into you. Moaning loud you covered your mouth worried your daughter might wake up. There was a momentarily pause where you both kept an ear out incase June had indeed woken up. You could feel Abby laughing against your leg making you softly hit you with your thigh.

She rolled her eyes before moving back down between your legs. Her thick finger moving in and out as she continued to suck on your clit you felt a long forgotten feeling building up. Abby knew you were close, by how your breath started to increase and how you started to grind yourself against her face wanting— needing more.

Before you realized it yourself you had came. Falling back as you had no strength to keep yourself up, Abby continued to lick at you until you were completely cleaned.

Coming back up she towered over you pinning you down to the bed capturing you in one final kiss.

———

Laying in your bed together both nude you laughed softly as abby held you close finding one of the dumb jokes she had told you amusing. Hiding your face in her neck you realized that this was where you always wanted to be. To be in her arms, to be in her bed, hearing her dumb jokes, To be her wife.

“Abby” you mumbled against her skin.

“Yeah” she Hummed while playing with one of your curls. “John’s gettin enlisted into the army for the war. He told me a week ago. He leaves in a few days.. while he’s gone if he comes back alive I’ll divorce him and if he dies it’ll make this next part easier.” You spoke with a gentle tone.

Pulling back from Abby you shifted around until you sat up looking down at her. “I’ve known you since I was 18.. the past 8 years I couldn’t of asked for a better friend and now I know what I want.. Abigail Anderson. I want you to be mine.. in public you will be my husband but behind closed doors, in the comfort of our home and in our bedroom away from prying eyes you will be my wife”

Abby stayed quiet for a moment. Trying to search her eyes for an answer you noticed as the strong woman started to cry. Worried you said something wrong you tried to speak but were quickly cut off by her sitting up to kiss you. “I would like nothing more then that.. my wife” she pulled you into her hugging you close.

#lesbian #wlw #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby headcanons #abby anderson x reader #tlou smut #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | sex shop

pairing | sex shop owner!andy barber x innocent!reader

warnings | age gap (reader sees andy as a total dilf.) reader is very innocent and also so scared to be there (understandably.) soft!andy, comforting vibes, he talks her through everything. humiliation kink is strong in this one. no real smut, just suggestive themes (sex shop, toys, talks of solo and guided masturbation.)

word count | 987

an | this little story is dedicated to andy's #1 girl, @worksby-d 🥺 dest i super hope you enjoy our favorite dilf here!! i tried to make him the big warm teddy bear we know and love, with a little hint of naughtiness shining through at the end hehe <3 happy holidays to you friend!!

imagine going to a sex shop for the very first time, aalllll by yourself, and meeting a very handsome dilf who helps you pick out your very first big girl toy 😏

parking as far away as possible (it’s at the end of a little strip mall in a tiny little town you’ve never been to before, you wanted to make sure you wouldn’t bump into anyone you knew!) spending like 10 minutes just sitting in your car hyping yourself up, you’re so nervous but you’ve wanted to do this for so long 🥺

eventually you build up your courage and make your way up the parking lot, to the front door of the place. a little silvery bell rings as you enter. you’re surprised at how clean and neat the place is. you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is better than you had been hoping. it’s not too big, a single large room with a counter in the middle. at first glance, you're alone, no other customers or employees in sight

the store has different sections with hanging signs directing you where to go. you can feel heat rising in your cheeks as you pass the racks of lingerie and intimates. just as you make it over to the toys for her section, you hear something from across the little shop. looking over, you see someone has entered through a doorway in the back. a man, but you don’t get too long of a look. your eyes quickly drop to the ground as you feel your embarrassment worsening

please don’t come over here. please don’t come over here. please don’t-

your silent prayers are ignored as footsteps approach. you take a step back from the wall of products, forcing yourself to look up at the stranger. your jaw almost drops at the sight of him, oh god, you’re thinking to yourself, why is he hot 😭

there andy stands in all of his glory, the epitome of dilfy deliciousness with his worn navy t-shirt and scruffy beard. scratching his head a bit awkwardly, he greets you, “hey, sorry. didn’t meant to startle you. can i help you find anything?”

your heart’s pounding in your throat as you look around stupidly before your eyes return to the absolute unit of a man before you. you blink like a deer in the headlights. oh my god. he works here, you’re a little slow to put things together

andy sees your surprise, letting out a gentle chuckle. “i’m the owner,” he explains. “you okay, honey? you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

a part of you knows this is an extremely sketchy situation. you’re alone in a sex shop with a dude probably twice your age (who apparently owns the place), out in a town you can’t remember the name of, with nothing to defend yourself except your two bare hands (which are now shaking)

but there’s something about the man before you that you just find so… warm? disarming? (…attractive? 😳) the gentle smile on his face, the way he softens his voice when he senses your nervousness...

you’re a little ball of conflicting feelings, half nerves and half head-over-heels for this unknown man. again, you blink, unable to find your voice to respond

“you’re alright, just take it easy,” he tries to help you relax. “this your first time in a place like this?” all you can manage is a nod. he gives you an understanding smile, “that’s perfectly fine. i’m here to help. can you tell me what you’re looking for, sweetheart?”

your eyes glance quickly back at the wall of toys in front of you before returning to him. he must see the increasing humiliation on your face. “u-um…” you’re finally able to stutter, “i-i don’t… i’m not… i guess i'm…”

he’s so patient and attentive it’s only making the butterflies in your tummy worse 😭 “not sure where to start?” he finishes for you. when you nod, he hums thoughtfully, “that’s okay, honey. do you have anything already that you like? is this for you to use on your own?"

you grit your teeth, nodding through the waves of embarrassment. “d-don’t have anything, sir. looking for something to start out with”

“i see,” he nods, looking over the selection on the wall before the two of you. “a bullet is a great beginner toy. simple, quiet, different levels of intensity to fit your needs. do you like clitoral stimulation?”

you have to fight yourself to keep from rubbing your thighs together right then and there 😩 something about the way he’s talking you through everything is sooo 🥲🥲 a feeling of dread hits as you realize you’re already getting wet

you force out a nod. he looks at a few options before picking out a small, discreet box. offering it to you, he explains, “this one’s my favorite. it’s nice and smooth, hard to hurt yourself with. rechargeable, medical-grade silicon. six levels of intensity. and the pink matches your nails,” he says sweetly, nodding at the shiny polish on the tips of your fingers

you clumsily accept the box, looking it over briefly. “there are instructions on the inside. the internet can be helpful too,” he suggests. the burning in your tummy worsens as he sees right through you, sniffing your complete innocence and inexperience with ease

“o-okay. this looks good. thank you,” you agree

“of course,” he nods with a sheepish smile. “once you get comfortable with that, we can work you up to something more sophisticated” you never implied that you’d be returning to him, but now that he’s said it, you know you couldn’t refuse. “and if you have any trouble, you can always come see me. i got a room in the back, we can take some time and find what works for you”

i might have to write that follow-up visit someday this is making me 🫠🫠

#eun's writing #kinkmas 2023 #andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber headcanon #andy barber drabble #andy barber blurb #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

[andvys]

sooo... I saw that your requests are open so maybe something with Henderson!reader who secretly has a crush on Eddie/Steve (you know I love them both so it's your choice here 🤭) and she has a fight with Dustin and this little shrimp (with all the love Dusty-bun) and his big mouth scream in nerves something about said crush and of course Eddie/Steve hears it, happy ending here pretty please 🥹

of course you don't have to write it if you don't like the idea! no pressure here, hope you have an amazing day Andy 🩷

My only angel E.M.

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of unrequited feelings, mutual pining, happy ending of course, mostly fluff

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Note: thank you for this request bestie! I loved writing it!

stranger things masterlist

-

You love your brother, you really do but that little shrimp, how Eddie likes to call him, can truly get on your nerves sometimes. You do anything for him, which is probably why he is so insatiable. You always spoiled him, that was probably your first mistake but you love getting him things that he loves so much, whether it’s new comics, books, movies or anything DnD related. A lot of your savings are spent on him, you know it’s not your job to get him all this stuff all the time but he is your little brother and you love seeing that big smile on his face whenever he gets excited about the things you get him. 

You drive him around when Steve is too busy to do it, you cook him lunch and dinner when your mom has no time to do it, you bake things for him and his friends and you let him host movie nights even though you love having the living room to yourself on Friday nights. 

You always say yes to him. 

But not this time. 

“Come on, are you serious?” Dustin exclaims, rolling his eyes at you as he follows you to your locker. 

“Very serious, Dustin!” 

“You can literally do it any other night, y/n!” 

Mike, Will and Lucas are tagging along with him, giving you their best puppy eyes. 

You open your locker, staring into blank space as you take a deep breath before you turn back around to look at the teens. 

“You know what? I’ve been waiting for this night for weeks! Mom is out of town, you were supposed to be at Mike’s place if I remember correctly and I was supposed to have the house to myself!” 

Mike furrows his brows, “why can’t you have your girls night at our place? You can have the basement,” he shrugs. 

“Yeah, the basement is nice!” Will smiles, though he doesn’t look like he wants to be a part of this argument. 

“Yeah, I’m sure Nancy and Robin would be fine with that,” Lucas says, giving you an unsure grin. 

“Exactly!” Dustin rolls his eyes. 

You tilt your head, “why don’t you host your DnD thing in your basement? That’s where you always used to play!” 

Dustin puts his hand on his forehead, “or you can just hang out in your room and we’ll have the living room to ourselves, that way we can all have what we want!”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, “I want the living room, in fact, I want the whole house to myself, for once!” 

Dustin scrunches his face up in confusion, “oh come on, y/n, please!” 

Mike and Lucas nod along, “please, we don’t want any parents around, they aren’t exactly fans of Eddie.” 

Your features soften a little, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by your little brother. 

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head. You, Nancy and Robin have planned your only girls night for weeks, there is no way that you will let any boys interrupt it. 

“Nope.” 

Dustin’s face grows red, he rolls his eyes and throws his hands up, “son of a bitch,” he mumbles to himself, “is it because of your crush on Eddie? Are you scared that you will embarrass yourself when he’s around the way you always do?”

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen as you look at your brother. 

Mike’s eyes widen as well, he opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again when he sees the metalhead behind you, his expression mirroring yours. 

Will looks down, feeling sorry for you. 

Lucas cups his mouth, looking like he’s about to burst into laughter. 

Dustin’s face grows pale, regret flickering in his eyes when he sees the shocked and embarrassed look on your face and the surprised one on Eddie’s. 

“What?!” 

That’s the question you ask yourself, internally. That voice did not belong to you though, this is Eddie’s voice. 

Your blood runs cold and your stomach churns. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. Oh, how you wish the ground would just swallow you whole. Your cheeks heat up and embarrassment rushes through you. 

Eddie, whose face is more flustered than ever, steps around you, staring at you with wide eyes, “y/n, is that the truth?” 

You can only imagine what he thinks and what he feels, you spare yourself the embarrassment of being rejected. You don’t look at him, you don’t even bother to answer the question, you slam your locker shut, “host your goddamn campaign, Dustin,” you spit before you walk away without sparing any of them a single look. 

Eddie’s big eyes follow you, watching you walk away with your head hung low. His heart skips a beat, butterflies swirling in his stomach. You have a crush on him? The girl he has been pining for, feels the same? 

“Dustin,” Will mumbles, “how can you embarrass your own sister like that?” He shakes his head. 

“Yeah, dude,” Lucas mumbles.

Mike scratches his head and glances at Eddie who looks awestruck.

“Shit,” Dustin mumbles, closing his eyes. 

Eddie finally turns to look at him, putting his hand on the teen’s shoulder, he looks down at him, “Henderson, is that the truth?” Eddie asks, “your sister has a crush on me– on me?” He points to himself in confusion. 

Mike and Lucas share a look, smirking a little. 

Dustin finally opens his eyes, looking nervously up at his dungeon master, he is unsure of what to say, not wanting to embarrass you any further, he shrugs. 

Lucas sighs, rolling his eyes at his friend, “yes, Eddie. She has a crush on you.” 

Mike nods, “yeah, she was actually talking about you with my sister.” 

Eddie looks at them, “really?” 

Dustin squints his eyes, taking in the excited look on Eddie’s face, “wait,” he mumbles, “do you like my sister?” 

Eddie swallows, cheeks growing red.

“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaims as the three teens start smirking at him but before any of them can say anything else, Eddie turns around and runs off just the way you did, leaving them all giggling. 

-

You and Eddie aren’t the closest friends, that is probably because of your huge crush on him. Dustin isn’t wrong, you do tend to embarrass yourself in front of him. 

Whenever he is around, you turn into a blushing mess, you barely manage to form a sentence when he talks to you, all he ever gets are short responses, shy smiles and little waves. The poor guy probably thinks you hate him but he really just makes you incredibly nervous. 

You always had a crush on him, from the first moment you had laid your eyes on him, you had a special place in your heart for the handsome metalhead, not knowing that he feels just the same. 

You never talked much to him, only when you sat next to each other during class or saw him outside of school but you weren’t brave enough to make the move to become his friend or anything more than that. 

When your brother befriended him and he started coming around, stealing your job of driving him around, he always left you a blushing mess. Eddie was always a flirt, throwing random pickup lines at you, gifting you a flower that he picked from your mother’s garden or someone else’s property, holding doors open for you or carrying your books to classes but you never thought much of it, you thought that he’s like that with every girl. 

He is not. 

You fear that, that is over now, that he is weirded out by your crush on him. Thanks to your brother and his big mouth, your day and the rest of your week is ruined. 

All day, you have been avoiding Eddie, trying your best to avoid eye contact. The thought of being confronted and rejected makes you feel both mortified and heartbroken. 

You successfully manage to get through the day without running into him again. Now, you’re alone in your room, sulking, listening to Tears for Fears and glaring at your diary, the one that Dustin must’ve read, how else would he know of your crush and your hopeless feelings for Eddie? 

A knock on your window pulls you out of your thoughts, startling you a little. You throw the ripped out pages on your bed and turn around, eyes widening when you see Eddie who stands in front of your window with a smile on his face, waving at you shyly.

Your heart begins to race, your eyes widen. Nervously, you make your way towards it, he purses his lips, staring at you in excitement. Sliding the window open, you lick your lips and take a deep breath, “h-hi?” You mumble nervously. 

He is not here to reject you is he? 

Eddie smiles and you just now notice the flowers in his hands.

Surely, a guy who is about to reject you, won’t show up with flowers and a smile on his face, right?

“Hello princess,” he grins, looking giddy as he eyes you. 

You blush at the pet name, breaking eye contact, you look down. 

“Can I come in?” 

You nod and step aside to let him in, you dig your nails into your palms, a nervous habit that you have picked up on, years ago. You look down at yourself, growing incredibly flustered when you realize that you’re only wearing a big shirt and underwear. 

He climbs inside and shuts the window before he turns around to face you, he can’t even fight the smile off his face when he sees how nervous you are, “here, these are for you,” he whispers, holding out the flowers for you. 

Your eyes light up, looking up at him, you notice the excitement in his dark eyes, his plump lips are set in a bright smile. 

You reach for the flowers, your fingertips graze his knuckles as you take the flowers from him, “thank you,” you smile, glancing at the pink and yellow flowers, “those are not from mom’s garden,” you giggle. 

Eddie shakes his head, “no, they’re not,” he smiles, “I picked them out just for you, there’s a huge field of flowers close to Lover’s Lake,” he explains. He licks his lips, looking around the room that he has only passed by whenever he came over to pick up Dustin, “maybe I could take you there…. tomorrow? To Lover’s Lake, I mean.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest, excitement bubbling in your stomach. 

“To do what?” You ask, tilting your head, “isn’t that like a popular makeout spot?” 

His eyes widen and he chuckles, “no, according to all the jocks at school, skull rock is a popular makeout spot,” he says, stepping closer to you, he smiles as he watches you smelling the flowers, “but we could always make Lover’s Lake a new makeout spot, just for us, of course.” 

Your eyes widen even more, your cheeks grow incredibly hot. 

Your reaction makes him smirk, a sense of pride rushing through him for being so ‘smooth’. 

You giggle, forgetting all about the embarrassment and the fear you have felt before.

“Just for us?” 

He steps even closer to you, bringing his hand up, he brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ear, “I wouldn’t want to take any other girl there, sweetheart,” he says, eyes softening, “but you gotta stop running away from me, I’ve been trying to catch you all day.” 

You draw your brows together and look up at him with big eyes, it makes him weak in the knees. 

“Tell me, is that little shrimp telling the truth?” He asks with big and hopeful eyes. 

You blink, your breathing quickens and you grow nervous all over again. 

“If he is, then I’d be the happiest and luckiest man in the world, princess.” 

Your heart leaps to your throat, you can’t believe it. 

“Really?” You breathe. 

He nods with a large smile on his face. 

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m like really obsessed with you,” he admits, cheeks redder than ever. 

“Wait what?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head as he cups your cheek, “I thought, I made it pretty obvious.” 

Not only does Eddie use every opportunity to talk to you, to spend time with you, he also creates DnD characters based on you, he drives around Hawkins, searching for the perfect flowers for you, he picks up Dustin just so he can see you, even if it’s only for one minute, he does anything to see you and to be with you and he explains all that to you, leaving you standing there with a shocked and awestruck look on your face. 

“I-I thought you do that for every girl,” you admit. 

“Never!” Eddie frowns, “I only want one girl,” he says as he reaches for your hand, bringing it up to his lips, he keeps looking into your eyes as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “I only want you, sweetheart. So, will you take pity on my cynical heart and do me the honor and go on a date with me?” He asks, dramatically and with a teasing look in his eyes. 

Your giggle makes his soul happy.

Eddie is so crazy about you. He loves your beautiful voice, it always makes his heart flutter. He loves your sweet smile. He loves the way you get so flustered whenever he just looks at you. He loves your perfume. He loves the way you make him feel. The way you have always been so good and sweet to him, the way you always make him smile and happy, even on his worst days.

You're his angel.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Eddie Munson,” you smile. 

“Really?” He exclaims happily. 

“Yes!” 

He fist bumps the air before he scoops you up in his arms and twirls you around, giggling at the squeal that leaves your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, still holding the flowers in your hands. 

“This is the best day of my life,” he whispers when he places you back on the ground, giving you a toothy grin, he can’t even help himself, leaning closer, he kisses your cheek, “can’t believe that your little brother made it the best day.” 

“You should’ve asked me out before,” you whisper. 

“Sweetheart, I didn’t think you were into me, I feel like I’ve been flirting with you for months!” 

“I didn’t think you were flirting!” 

“Wasn’t I obvious?” 

You shrug, “I thought that you were just a flirt!” 

He scoffs, putting his hands on the small of your back, he pulls you tightly against him, “only for you.” 

You smile at him. Raising your hand, you run your fingers through his hair and push it back, reaching for one of the smaller flowers in your little bouquet, you pick it out and tuck the stem behind his ear. 

Eddie chuckles at your action but his heart flutters when you lean in and kiss his cheek. 

“You’re pretty, Eddie.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, blushing. 

You nod. 

“I think you’re prettier,” he whispers, smiling at you, “you’re the prettiest.” 

“No, that’s you.” 

“No, you!” 

Neither of you notice the hushed whispers outside of your door, too busy and focused on each other.

“Oh, they’re so gross already,” Dustin mumbles with a disgusted look on his face. 

Lucas and Mike giggle. 

“I think, they’re super cute,” Will smiles with a happy look on his face. 

“I think Eddie will come over for something other than the campaign this weekend,” Lucas says, wiggling his brows. 

Dustin groans, shaking his head, “ew!” 

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things drabble #henderson!sister #henderson!reader

[nickfowlerrr]

all i want

pairing: andy barber x curvy!reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only. cockwarming. little tiny bit of teasing. liiiittle bit of a daddy kink.

notes: shockingly enough, this was meant to be a drabble. it very much is not. enjoy!

inspired by this txt post, this is one of seven characters i’m writing this prompt of sorts for. thank you in advance for reading and as always, reblogs and comments and welcome and so appreciated.

It’s all perfectly innocent to start the night, really it is. Your yearly tradition of watching Miracle on 34th Street after trimming the tree is one that neither of you would want to skip out on. And so far this season, between the trial that has had Andy so stressed and your long shifts at the hospital, there has been quite a bit you’ve ended up skipping.

You paid to have the Christmas lights strung up instead of decorating yourselves, the Christmas tree this year came from the grocery store parking lot Andy passed on his way home yesterday instead of the tree farm you always went to to chop down your own, and your annual Christmas Eve party is a no go this year, too. You’re both too busy, too stressed, too tired.

Andy sits on the couch, getting the movie ready to play, while you’re in the kitchen. You slide the bowl of cookie dough you whipped up into the fridge to chill for an hour or two before baking right as the kettle begins to whistle.

You walk back over to the stove, moving it off the burner before carefully pouring the boiling water into the waiting mugs of coco powder.

“Andy, do you want marshmallows?” you call, knowing your voice will carry into the next room. You stir the powder as you wait for his response, plopping a few mini marshmallows into your mug before your face scrunches up a bit. You turn, ready to peek into the living room to repeat yourself, and jump a bit as you’re met with Andy leaning in the doorway.

His arms are crossed over his chest and you are momentarily distracted by how big his arms look in his sweater. You know it’s soft and you can’t wait to cuddle into him and finally have a chance to relax while you watch the movie.

Your eyes flit to his and then you finally see the look of incredulity on his handsome, bearded face. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he speaks before you can.

“Did you just call me Andy?” he asked, sounding disgusted and a little distraught.

You gape a moment, thinking back to what it was you said, and almost immediately realize that you indeed did. You flounder for only a second before shaking your head, “No,” you lie, “I dont think so.”

“Yes,” he states, pushing off the doorframe and starting toward you, “you did.”

You back up, bumping into the counter behind you as he stalks closer. You fight your smile as a thrill runs through you when he cages you in, his arms either side of you as he stands right before you. He leaves almost no space between you and you can see in his eyes what you’re sure he can see in yours.

Longing, desire, and maybe just a hint of desperation…

It’s been two weeks since you have had anything close to alone time together. Your shifts have been all over the place and you’re either heading to work as Andy is coming home, or leaving just as he gets up to start getting ready for his day. Even your weekends have been taken over. Andy has been working nonstop, but you both promised each other that this weekend would be just for you two. No work, no parties, no distractions. The closest thing to intimate you’ve gotten in two weeks has been your parting kisses. You’ve only shared the bed a few days this past week and you’ve both been so exhausted that the furthest you’ve gotten has been cuddling.

So right here and now, that look in his eyes, you know you’re both thinking about the same thing.

“I’m sorry,” you offer in your attempt to appease him.

“You’re sorry …,” he prompts, waiting for you to address him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you press against him, a smile playing on your lips. “Babe…honey…love,” you continue with the pet names, your fingers dancing across his sweater clad chest before you lean in real close, your lips against his ear before you whisper breathily, “Daddy.”

The sharp breath he takes at the title has you biting your lip to stop the smirk threatening to break out.

You let a hand come up, squeezing the back of his neck gently before your fingers find his hair, almost playing with it as you massage his neck a bit. Andy drops his head as his eyes close under your touch, pressing you back against the counter as he leans into you. He lets out a heavy sigh as your other hand comes up to cup his cheek.

“You’re so tense,” you say, leaning in to kiss him softly. He returns the kiss, his arms coming closer and wrapping around you, pulling you flush to him.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, your noses brushing.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you kiss him gently once more before letting him go, turning back around to the mugs of coco waiting for you.

Andy doesn’t let you go, just watches as you finish making the cups.

You lean your head back, “marshmallows?” you ask again, earning a smile and a nod from him.

-

The still warm mugs of hot chocolate are on the coffee table before you as you snuggle into Andy.

That tingle you got earlier in the kitchen still hasn’t gone away as you hug Andy, his arm holding you to him in turn.

You don’t want to force anything. You’re both tired, that’s obvious, but god, you miss him. All of him.

You don’t even really want to have sex right now, you just want to be closer. You need him closer.

His eyes are open but you can see the exhaustion in the slightest squint of his eyes as he watches the screen. You lean up, pressing your lips delicately against his exposed throat, once, twice, three times as you work your way up.

“Mmm,” he breathes deeply, holding back a moan under your attention. “Baby,” he warns.

“I know,” you say, a hand rising to stroke his hair as you sit up and move into his lap. “I know, I’m tired, too. We don’t have to do anything,” you let your head rest against his, your noses brushing once more, “I just… I just want to feel you,” you speak so quietly but he can hear the plea in your voice and it squeezes his chest. And he can’t lie and say that the desperation he hears isn’t turning him on a bit, either.

If you want to feel him, he’ll make sure you feel him.

Your hands are lightly in his hair, holding his head as you lean in to kiss him. One kiss, you breathe into him as you pause against each others lips, then another, and another, before your tongue licks into his mouth. He sucks on you lightly before his tongue takes over, his effortless dominance always winning out.

You can feel him growing beneath you and you feel yourself growing slicker in turn.

You pull away from his kiss reluctantly to stand and rid yourself of your pajama pants, while he drags his sweats down. His cock is hard and you inhale sharply at the sight. It’s only been two weeks but you’d almost forgotten just how big he really is.

You hold his shoulder, his hands coming to your chubby waist as you come back to your spot on his lap. You’re on your knees, straddling him as you position yourself above him. One of his hands comes to his cock, the other sliding down your curves as he grips your hip.

He moves his dick up and down your pussy, playing with your wetness as your eyes shut in delight at the feeling, your hands squeezing his shoulders.

He gets himself wet with your slick before he lines the head of his cock up to your entrance. His hand on your hip urges you down, and you slowly sink onto his thick length. You moan in unison as you take him in, a “fuck” leaving Andy’s lips when the first inch of him was finally inside of you.

His hand is holding you, his thumb rubbing the soft, blemished skin of your hip as he urges you to take more of him with his sweet praises.

“You take me so well, baby. Just a little bit more, I know you can do it. Doing so good, sweetheart. Always so fucking good,” he full on moans the last few words as you sit fully on his strong lap with a whimper. He’s seated completely inside of you as you bury your head in his neck.

You feel his lips as he kisses your head, his hand rubbing your back soothingly while the other lightly kneads your thick thigh.

You sigh heavily, relaxing into him as you rest your head against his chest, your velvety walls squeezing his cock of their own volition every so often, earning moans from both of you as he keeps you full of him, the movie still playing as you try to focus on that instead.

But you’re so tired, and so content in Andy’s hold, the pleasure and closeness enough to lull you asleep, you do just that. The cookies can wait until tomorrow.

Andy is smiling to himself as he holds you, he hasn’t been this relaxed since before the start of his current trial. Because with you this close, he’s calm and more than content. This is what he’s been needing. You.

He tenses just a little when your walls squeeze him again, a soft moan slipping past your lips. He moans quietly in turn, still holding you tight.

A moment passes and he has to laugh at the soft snore that leaves you next. He doesn’t want to leave your warmth just yet, he wants to feel you - it’s been too long. So he’ll finish the movie and then he’ll bring you to bed. You’ll cuddle and sleep in each other’s embrace, and all the while he’ll be sure to keep you full of him.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night with his cock still inside of you, your wetness leaking out from around his thick length, he won’t mind one bit about getting woken up by you fucking yourself stupid on his cock. He’s all yours, whenever you want him. And he still owes you for your teasing in the kitchen. He’ll make sure to show you exactly just how much Daddy has missed you.

#i woke up at 6:20 am and this is how i spend my morning? #idk how long the others will be but this def got way longer than i intended lol #andy barber x curvy!reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x plus size!reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

#andy barber #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #dark andy barber #dark lloyd hansen #dark ransom drysdale #dark!andy barber #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!ransom drysdale #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #the gray man #defending jacob #au #multicharacter #multifandom #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #three for one

[mabelstone]

I Could Be Yours

hozier x f!reader

part one of lullabies <3

hi i have risen from the dead... new matt stone will be coming soon i promise!! i've just become infatuated with hozier recently so i had no choice but to devote a new fic to him <3

i didn't proof read because it's bedtime, i will fix tomorrow if there's any errors!! soz

cw: none really... just a shitty boyfriend and drinking. still 18+

word count: 3.5k

“That’s your man, ‘uh?” The deep voice behind me made me jump, forcing me to peel my eyes from Joe and the leggy blonde he was laughing with.

“Stop doing that!” I gasp, clutching a hand over my chest, jokingly punching Andrew in the arm. “But yes. That’s him,” I sigh, wanting to cut the conversation before it had a chance to start. Andrew was far too friendly to be talking to my walking storm cloud of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know his sister was playing tonight,” he confessed casually, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Which one is she?”

“He doesn’t have a sister,” I shake my head, quirking an eyebrow at the human tower before me. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Huh?” He played dumb, though a soft pink blush tinted his cheeks, looking like he wished he could eat his words.

“Where did you hear that?” I repeated, the room suddenly too hot for comfort, despite Joe's protests that I was dressed like a 'tart,' in his words.

“I’m sure I misheard, hearing’s a bit shot,” he lied through his teeth, and he must be a fool to believed I'd let him play it off.

“Andy," I faced him now, trying to force him to meet my eyes he was so desperately avoiding. "Who did he say that to?”

“That woman,” his voice sounded pained, as if he were almost ashamed to tell me. He was too smart, he could read me, and if anyone could read the room, it was him. I just went quiet, his warm calloused hand placed on my shoulder, feeling like it might burn a hole in my dress. “You deserve better,” he professed sincerely, pulling that horrid face at me, the type you pull when you feel really sorry for someone.

I huffed some pathetic excuse of a response, forcing my eyes to the ground. There seemed to be a magnetic pull, forcing my eyes back to Joe, hurting my own feelings again and again. I can’t recall a time he’d ever looked that interested in me. Not unless he was trying to bed me, which was usually after a stressful day at work or after a massive fight.

“If you were my girl, every man and their dog would know. You’re too good for him,” his voice was warm, like being pulled from a frozen over lake and straight into an oven. His Irish brogue more apparent than ever, and I cursed myself for the way my heart leapt in my chest.

He just slipped past me onto the stage for his set, unaware that he just made me feel nearly every emotion in the span of two minutes.

“That’s not even a real job,” Joe scoffed, shaking his head indignantly like he always did, as if everyone were beneath him. He’s always looked down at others for as long as I’ve known him. His Napoleon Complex makes him feel like he’s six foot eleven, when in reality, I barely have to tilt my head to kiss him.

I bit my cheek to suppress an angry concoction of insults, swallowing it down and opting for, “so my job isn’t a real job?”

“Babe,” he groaned, one soft hand slipping off the steering wheel onto my thigh. “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just not very manly, is all. He should be doing something that’s not just for chicks.”

“He’s a carpenter, actually,” I lied, arms barricaded across my chest as I tried to focus on the London Bridge we were rolling over. “Manly enough for you?”

“Could you relax? Jesus Christ…” he pulled his hand from me quicker than he placed it there, sighing emphatically. “You gettin’ your period or something?”

“No!” It was my turn to scoff now, turning to face him. His stupid face was contorted like it always was, as if he’d smelt something rotten. “You’ve hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Oh, everything hurts your fucking feelings,” he seethed, hooking a turn so sharp I just about fell into the driver’s side. I muttered under my breath, gripping onto the handle at the top of my door, as it was highly likely I was going to need it for the rest of the trip. That’s my Joe. Sickly sweet when you first meet him, then cold and sharp when he drops the act. “I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this shit.”

“Excuse me?” I straightened up, my stomach twisting in that familiar nauseating knot.

“You. Your shit,” he rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time, turning his head to me, deadpan. “Constantly starting arguments, whining about everything. You’re exhausting me.”

Then the rest of the entourage strides in on cue. The searing pain in my throat, the tears prickling into my eyes. The shame and embarrassment that pummel me like waves in a storm. Oh, God, the embarrassment. I feel my cheeks glow red, and suddenly the chill of late Autumn is comparable to a sauna, and there’s not enough air in the passenger side to satiate my lungs.

“Don’t cry,” he groans again, refusing to look at me again. And suddenly, I’m twelve again, trying to cry silently in my father’s car. Sigmund Freud would be laughing in his grave right now. “I’m sorry," he sighs, reaching for my leg again. I jerk away. "Shouldn’t have taken it so far.”

Though his apologies are just words at this point. I’ve walked this road too many times to not know any better. The rest of the ride home is silent, my knees pressed into the passenger door, trying to focus on anything but the fact that I will probably never leave. I will board this train wreck until he beats me down to nothing.

"He just has this weird infatuation for you. A blind man could see it," he tsked, shaking his head as if it were my fault. "And you just egg him on. He's a proper knob."

"He's the knob? What'd you think of your sister's set, hm?" I seethed, silently letting the tears fall as if I were in some sappy drama.

We didn't speak for the rest of the night, Joe slamming his car door, storming inside to lock himself in our bedroom. I washed my face in the kitchen sink and fell asleep on the couch in the small hours of the morning.

Joe didn't come to my show tonight, opting for the local pub with his work mates. I can't lie and say I was upset about it. Another thing I couldn't lie about is how Andrew's words played on a loop in my head for the rest of that night and all day today. I know he was just saying it to comfort me, but is it sad that I've never been so flattered?

"Hey," I smiled, the condensation from my breath hanging between us as I walked up to Andy. “Thought you were quitting.”

He was leaning against the brick wall outside the bar, a halfway smoked cigarette to his lips. He looked nice tonight. His usual unruly curls framing his face so perfectly, two layers under his dark denim jacket. He grinned infectiously as always, never once tearing his eyes from mine as he shrugged, “I’m no quitter.”

“Shut up,” I groaned, finding my spot beside him, now pressing my back to the cold bricks.

“So, where’s Jake tonight?” Now his eyes were fixed on the busy street before us, his arm brushing mine each time he’d put the cigarette to his lips.

“It’s Joe,” I corrected with an eye roll, though there was no malice in my expression. “And he’s watching the game with his mates. We’ve barely spoken since last night.” My heart ached a bit at the reminder of what he’d said to me on the drive home. You’re exhausting me. If his wish was for me to rethink the past five years, he certainly got it.

He gave me that pathetic poor you look again. "Come on. I'll buy ya' a drink. I insist."

"Who am I to deny you?" I grinned, following close behind him as he stubbed his cigarette out under his boot, holding the bar door open for me.

He ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks, a coconut margarita for me. We slid into a small booth at the back, the walls practically vibrating from the drunken chatter and the obnoxious drum solo on the stage.

"She's busy tonight, eh?" He half shouted across to me, leaning over his drink.

"I know, right? I've never seen the place like this," I agreed, taking in just how alive the atmosphere was tonight. "Remember me when you're famous."

"You're not easy to forget. You remember me!" He grinned at me, taking a large swig of his drink. I couldn't tear my eyes from his Adam's apple bobbing with each sip, his eyes dark in the dim lighting. I felt extreme guilt, forcing my eyes anywhere but his direction.

He must've sensed it. This man could read me like a book. Thankfully, he steered the conversation smoothly, "what're you playing tonight?"

"Oh, no. I'm not singing tonight," I shook my head, polishing off my drink in a sip a little bit too big for my mouth. "Want another drink? My shout."

"Why aren't you singing?" He ignored me, pulling a face that screamed, are you mad? "If there's any night for it, it's tonight."

"Honestly, I just want to get pissed and be the observer for once." I smiled sweetly, hoping he couldn't see through the facade. "What're you singing then?"

"An original," he smiled coyly, eyes faltering.

"Oh, Andy! How exciting," I cheered, genuinely happy for him. He'd shown me some of his poetry, and with such a beautiful voice, there's no possibility he could go wrong. "You're going to blow the roof off. This calls for another drink."

"As you wish," he grinned, holding eye contact as he finished off his glass, the faintest pink tinge to his cheeks.

When I made my way back to the table, my heart sunk a bit when I saw a girl leaning against our table giggling, tucking thick red locks behind her ears. He was laughing too, body language practically begging for more. I might be exaggerating. Why did I even care? I am in a committed relationship.

Funny, he looks just as amused as Joe did last night.

I made my way to the table, sliding his drink to him.

"Hi, I'm Harper," she smiled wide, a beautiful array of pearly teeth on full display.

"Lovely to meet you. Y/N," I smiled back, unable to look at Andrew. "I'm gonna go watch the show. I'll leave you to it."

I turned my back just as he was about to protest, sipping at my drink as I kept my word, finding a seat before the stage. I couldn't really focus on the music though, my mind reeling over what Joe was up to. He hadn't even texted or calls. His location was off too. I grabbed another couple drinks, bumping into Andrew when I made my way back to the stage.

"Y/N," he reached for my arm, a sincerely apologetic tone to his voice. "I'm sorry for earlier, that was rude."

"No it wasn't," I replied a bit too quick, brushing off the apology. "You're single, you can do whatever."

"I meant having someone at our table," shit. Was that the wrong thing to say? Their margaritas are always too strong. "I was enjoying just having you and I time."

"No worries, there's always next time," I smiled sweetly, though really, I just wanted to get in the nearest cab, pack all my shit at home and move back to Bristol. "You're nearly on! I'll be front row." I turned away again, finding my way back to the nice girls I made small talk with earlier.

Sure enough, Andrew was up within the next fifteen minutes. The announcer, somewhere hidden backstage spoke, "please give your warmest welcome to our absolute favourite, Andrew Hozier-Byrne!"

He walked onto the stage, acoustic guitar hanging from his neck as he awkwardly made his way onto the stage, adjusting the microphone to his height as he did each night.

"Ehm, this song is called I Could Be Yours," he offered a tight lipped smile to the crowd, a few cheers heard here and there. "Thanks guys."

I couldn't help but grin at his shyness, the complete opposite of how he was with me.

I could be soft and sweet, I could be hard and loud.

I could be everything you'd ever need somehow.

Why don't you hear me sing out from the lost and found,

I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

He seemed to be scanning the crowd, probably for Harper, meanwhile all eyes were on him, basking in his glory. As if he were rain in a drought, not a single soul in the audience not mesmerised by his syrupy voice. Myself included, wide eyed, the epitome of awe.

Why don't you try on me? Why don't you take me home?

I'll match the colour scheme of your bedroom walls.

Oh, take a dose of me, it doesn't hurt at all.

I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

His skilled fingers danced along the strings, his eyes, when not scanning the crowd focused on his measured movements. To say I was moved was an understatement. His voice thick and sweet as honey, his eyes shining under the stage lights, the hypnotic effect he had on the crowd. Unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Then his eyes found mine. It was almost like nothing existed in the same realm as him and I. Just us.

Oh God, I'd benefit from your sweet tenderness.

Oh, thank God, it could've been, 'cause nothing comes from it.

That'd be a helpful thought if I could remember it,

but I could be yours, I could be yours, I could be yours.

"Thanks," he nodded awkwardly to the crowd, eyes leaving mine as he did the stage, the audience cheering and clapping.

I couldn't put into words the feelings I felt if you held a gun to my head. No doubt my eyes glistened back at his, tears of joy swimming at my waterline, completely estranged from last nights'.

"He was looking right at you!" One of the women I'd met shouted over the cheers, shaking me by the shoulder. I just hummed some response, smiling and beelining for the exit.

The bite of the outdoors was a stark comparison to the warmth of the bar, my nervous system seeming to reset instantaneously. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 8:45pm. I told Joe I wouldn't be home til midnight and not to wait up for me.

It was wrong to feel this way about Andrew. He was my friend. I had Joe. Even if we had our rough patches.

My phone buzzed wildly in my hand, and when I checked the caller ID, I nearly didn't pick up.

I sighed. "Hello?"

"Hey," Andrew spoke loudly over the drunken chatter, a few good one mate, and, good on ya's here and there. "Where'd you run off to?"

"I, uh, had too much to drink," I lied through my teeth, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet. "I'm just heading home."

"Oh..."

"I'm out the front," I piped up, not wanting him to think he caused this. Or that I was running away. Because I was not. Right?

He hung up and shortly after, his tall figure emerged, his shadow reaching me before he did.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "Great song, Andy. Really beautiful." I meant it.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you," he smiled, looking down at his boots. "How're you getting home?"

"I was gonna get a cab, or an Uber, or something." I shrugged, acutely aware of how breathy I sounded. Beyond tired. I wasn't lying when I said I'd had too much to drink.

"No need, I'll take you." He offered, digging his hands into his pockets and gesturing with his head for me to follow.

"It's okay, Andy, really," I countered, giving him my must sincere smile I could muster. I was too confused right now. Nobody had ever made me feel this way while I've been with Joe. "Get in there and mingle. They loved you."

"I'd rather know you're safe."

I ended up in the passenger seat of his car. He'd kindly put the heater on full blast, though no doubt, he'd be sweating under all those layers. I protested, but he kept fretting about how red my nose was from the cold.

"You alright?" He asked, my head leaned against his window.

"Yeah," I breathed, struggling to keep my eyes open, though my mind was very much awake and racing.

"You've been acting funny, did I upset you?" He glanced over at me, concern written all over his features. Had he always been this handsome?

"It's not you. I'm sorry," I lifted my head to look at him. Tequila and I are not friends. I flipped down the visor mirror to see a tiny it of smudged mascara under my eyes. I wiped it away, sighing for the hundredth time. "Joe just... things aren't going well. I slept on the couch last night. Well, barely. He's just so mean, you know?" I babbled drunkenly, a huge weight lifting after finally telling someone. "He always picks at everything I do. You complain all the time. You put too much salt in this. That isn't a real sustainable job, babe. We never shag anymore... Shag? Isn't that disgusting, Andy?"

I continued my drunken spiel, probably including more details than I should have. Andrew just kept his eyes on the road, sharing glances here and there to let me know he was listening.

The grande finale, "why can't all men just be like you? You would make a wonderful husband, you know. You wouldn't tell your girlfriend she's too lively in bed, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," he laughed, shaking his head. He looked at me fondly. For once, it wasn't a look of sympathy. It was kind of sad, almost.

"I've said too much, haven't I?" I probably looked like a kicked puppy at the realisation, but one smile from him eased any disconcertion I had.

"Not at all," he sighed, staring at his hands on the wheel. "I have a lot to say. I just don't think I should be the one saying it."

"Well, now you have to tell me," I countered, lolling my head to the side to face him.

"He's a fuckwit," he shook his head, his grip on the wheel tightening. "He doesn't deserve you. Not even a little bit. He's going to fuck it up and won't realise what he's lost until it's too late. And you know what? Good."

He pulled onto the road before my house with perfect timing, getting out of the car to open my door for me. He took my hand in his, helping me out, and thank goodness he did, because I still nearly rolled my ankle. I laughed and let myself fall into his chest, steadying myself after a hearty, obnoxious laugh.

"Oh my God, I've made a complete fool of myself tonight," I sighed, this time it felt like a release, not a breath weighing me down. "Thank you for taking care of me, Andy."

"Anytime at all," he grinned leaning against his car. I couldn't help myself, lurching forward at him, wrapping my arms around his torso. My head barely reached his shoulder, even when standing on the curb.

"I loved your song," I murmured against his chest, pulling back to grab his face. He turned ghost white. "You are my favourite singer. Ever."

His cheeks darkened as he looked away, chuckling softly with the shake of his head.

"Drink lots of water for me tonight. That's an order as your favourite singer."

"Yes, Mr. Hozier-Byrne," I grinned, turning on my heels and heading for the door. The garage door was 1/4 open. Joe must be home early.

I fumbled through my purse for my keys, finding them after what felt like an eternity of great difficulty. I was going in with a good attitude. I was going to sit him down and hash this out. We can fix this. We've been together nearly 6 years, this is just a rough patch.

I walked up to my bedroom, sure my ears were deceiving me. When I opened my bedroom door, I saw red.

omg angst... just hear me out i have good direction for this one. i hope u enjoyed <3

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier smut #andrew hozier

[pathologicalreid]

this is the job | S.R.

next

You and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.

who? spencer reid x retired!reader content warnings: takes place before the events of stuck between a rock and a hard place (so like circa 9x20), retired!reader is not actually retired yet, slight bickering, spoilers for season 6 finale (supply and demand), reader is female word count: 1.13k a/n: just a little shorty piece about my beloved spencer and retired!reader, im having a lot of fun writing this little vignette style series. i know it's short but the next piece will be long and very hurt/comfort heavy.

When the phone started ringing, you thought it was Spencer’s phone, but after letting it go for a few rings, you begrudgingly realized it was your ringtone. Groaning, you turned in Spencer’s arms and grabbed your phone off of your bedside table before answering the call. “Hello?” You greeted groggily.

There was only one person who would be calling you at two in the morning. Andi Swann’s voice rang through the receiver, “We need you to come in.”

“Now?” You asked, blinking sleep out of your eyes. Next to you, Spencer started to wake up. Using his thumb, he rubbed small, soothing circles over your hip while you talked on the phone.

It was a pointless question, you already knew the answer, and that was why you were already getting out of bed. “Yes, we need to get you out as soon as possible. We might have a lead on The Program.”

You sighed, looking over at Spencer, who was now sitting up, as you nodded, “Okay, I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way.” You hung up the phone, setting it back down on the bedside table before you made your way to the closet to retrieve your go bag.

“You’re leaving?” Spencer asked, burning both of your retinas when he leaned over to turn on a lamp.

Hesitantly, you started grabbing clothes out of your side of the dresser. Most of your clothes would be in the apartment that the bureau would set you up in, but you could bring some of your things. Basics, mostly. “Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Peering over at you while you tugged on a pair of jeans, Spencer furrowed his brow. “You just got back,” he responded, getting out of bed himself.

“I know, but that was Andi. She says they might have a lead on The Program, so I have to go in,” You informed him, trying not to topple over while you put your socks on.

Sat on the edge of the bed, your boyfriend leaned back and watched you pack. “I believe the operative word there is ‘might’. Tell them to send someone else,” he urged, not wanting you to leave.

Shaking your head, you zipped your bag shut, “You know they don’t have anyone else.” It was true – you were the only female undercover agent that Swann had.

Spencer clenched his jaw, “I know they don’t have anyone else, that’s part of the problem. They need to hire someone else to split the burden with you, it shouldn’t be all on you.”

“This is my job, Spence. I can’t just tell them I’m not coming in. You drop everything as soon as Hotch calls,” you reminded him.

Reaching out for your hands, Spencer pulled you in, so you were standing between his legs. “Hotch would let me spend a night in my own bed before calling me back in. You got home at ten, baby. It’s been four hours and eight minutes,” he said, keeping his voice low in the dead of the night.

Giving in a little, you leaned into him, “Our jobs are different. We have different demands.” You brushed off his concern. There was at least a part of you that knew he was right. As usual, you called Spencer as soon as you had debriefed with Andi. He picked you up and brought you home.

He placed his hands gently on your waist, “You’re burning the candle at both ends. You don’t eat or sleep enough when you’re undercover, and that won’t do anyone any good.”

Stepping back, you wiped a hand down your face, “I know, but there are so many people out there who need my help. I could save those people.” You bargained with him.

Spencer shook his head, “We’ve spent a total of four nights together this calendar year. It’s April.”

You knew that. You kept track just as much as he did, but that didn’t change the fact that you had a job to do, “You knew the score when you asked me out, Spence.” Your tone was a warning. When he asked you out after you worked with the BAU to rescue Renee Matlin, you warned him that you weren’t around much.

Admittedly, you hadn’t expected to fall in love with him.

Slipping your phone into your back pocket, you inclined your head toward him, “This is the job.” This job was who you were, Spencer knew that just as well as you did.

“This isn’t the job, love. You’re acting like you don’t have an option. It’s almost as if…” his voice trailed off as if he was stopping himself from saying something he’d later regret.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “You might as well say it.” Maybe he’d give you a reason to walk out the door.

He shrugged helplessly, “Fine, I think Andi’s taking advantage of your selflessness and your need to please everyone.” He narrowed his gaze, “You were just gone for five weeks, and now you’re leaving again.”

What crushed you the most was that he was right. “I don’t want to let anyone down,” you murmured. Padding over to him, you wrapped your arms around him, holding your breath until he reciprocated. “That includes you,” you admitted, chest tight, “I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

Taking a deep breath, Spencer smoothed your hair at the back of your head, “You’re gonna go save some lives, because that’s what you do.” His voice was low and steady, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

You jumped when a phone started ringing, this time it actually was Spencer’s.

He picked it up and answered the phone, “Hey,” he greeted, face falling as the other person spoke. “I’ll be right there.”

Eyeing him hesitantly, you saw his entire demeanor change. The BAU had a case. Checking the time, you pulled back, “I should go.”

“Y/N,” he said. “I don’t want to part on bad terms,” he revealed to you as he started to get dressed himself.

Peering up at him, you offered your boyfriend a small smile, “We’re never on bad terms, angel boy.” You were just navigating a complicated relationship.

He raised his eyebrows like that statement surprised him, “but if I’m not going to see you for another month, then we can at least drive in together.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you had already made your decision, “If we drive in together, then I have to call you for a ride when I get back.” You settled your hands in your lap, crossing one leg over the other.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Spencer responded, leaning over you to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

next

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer x retired!reader

[joshslater]

Emergency Model

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"Excuse me, what's your shoe size?"

Bewildered I looked around to find the man who asked the random question, like out of that old episode of Monty Python. Off to the side, almost behind me, was a thirty-ish man in polo shirt, jeans, and glasses with plastic rims that looked purposefully selected to make him look like a film director or architect. He looked unsure or stressed. "Eight, eight and a half. Who's asking?"

Immediately he brightened up. "Hello. I'm Ben Atkinson, " he said and extended his hand. "We're making a photo shoot of the supplemental collection of sporting clothes," he continued without waiting for me to shake it. "It's all for the online shop, so simple stuff. White background, a few poses." Tentatively I shook his hand. "Pretty fast rotation of models. Unfortunately one of them has called in sick. You have the right look, but more importantly the right build and size."

"Uhum," I answered, sensing where this was going. It was a Saturday morning, and I was on my way to meet up with some friends at Wayland's Deli.

"This is quite sudden, but we are on a tight deadline. If you're willing to model for us I'll give you twice the normal rate."

"Ok," I said, not waiting to hear what the normal rate was. I'm sure Stuart would not stop giving me grief about it for the rest of the year, but I would technically be a photo model which wouldn't be a negative in Sarah's eyes. Turned out that it would also be double my monthly earnings as well, so maybe I could shut Stuart up as well.

We entered the building, which apparently was an office space that had been taken over for the day for the shoot. There were racks of clothes everywhere, lots of people with iPads tracking what item was where, who should wear it, and in what conference room they should shoot it. It was bustling with activity. After some exchange of information with Ben, and signing papers, I was handed over to a conference room turned makeup and styling studio. Most of the furniture was stacked in one corner and the floor was covered by transparent plastic that had been rolled out. To one side was a table with lots of makeup tools and bottles and stuff I wouldn't know how to use, except maybe the hand mirror and the scissors, and even that I'm not confident with. A pair of strong LED lamps on stands lit a chair placed at the center of the plastic. 

"I'm Julia, pleased to meet you. So you are the last one," said the stylist, carefully surveying me and in particular my face and hair. "We're short on time, so we have to work quickly. Are you ok with a buzz cut and tight fade?" Not what I would have chosen, but it's starting to get warm outside and it's only hair. I'd be back to my current length after the summer. "Sure."

She seated me in the chair and began the work with a corded trimmer, and soon a flurry of detail work with smaller trimmers and some of her tools from the table. Probably took her about ten minutes for the haircut. Then some time with a straight razor blade and a tweezer to pluck and shave all over my face and then arms. I told her that this was all new to me, having literally just been picked from the street. She reassured me that there wasn't much to it. Just be no-nonsense about it. Take whatever the stylist decides, change clothes quickly, do the poses the photographer asks for, and repeat.

"All done," she said and handed me the hand mirror as if I had any say in this. I looked so different than just moments before. The hair was shorter than I've ever had it, with a razor sharp fringe line. The fade on the sides was basically just an inch tall from the head and down the temple, then skin tight down, and presumably the same around the back of the head as well. The total amount of hair I was left with could fit a shot glass. "If you go down the corridor to the break room there is a shower in the bathroom there. Ask Andy outside to let you in. Take a quick rinse to get rid of stray hairs, change into these, put your stuff in one of the plastic boxes there, and come back to me for a final touch-up." She handed me a pair of white briefs and white socks. I hesitated a bit, and she was quick to jump ahead of my thoughts. "Everyone around here are used to see gorgeous bodies without clothes. Act as if it is normal, because to us it is. You can't be self-conscious. Oh, and Andy is the only one with a key, so your valuables are safe." Another boy showed up at the door saying he needed a new application. I told Julia thanks and went to look for Andy.

Andy unlocked the door to the office lunch room for me and I did as Julia had told me. I stripped naked and put everyting, clothes, wallet, phone, keys, shoes, into one of the plastic boxes, wrote my name on it with a whiteboard marker and placed it next to all the other boxes. Eight boxes in total. I went into the bathroom, took a 90 seconds shower, and dried myself off with one of the towels from the pile. I put on the briefs and socks, had Julia apply her things to me, and within ten minutes I was dressed in Nike shoes, joggers, and a fleece hoodie, being ordered by a photographer who didn't have time to introduce himself to look left, turn around, put my hands in my pockets, pull up the hood, sit down on the floor, and on and on. Then out change, and back with the next item.

It was going non-stop since they were behind on my stuff, so I had barely time to talk to anyone. There wasn't any proper lunch break either, just a protein bar together with two of the other models, Mark and Andrew. At first they thought it was funny that I had just been snatched off the street for the shoot, but when I told them how much more money I got they were like "fuck you, go back to work". Well the break was over anyway, so I don't know how serious they were.

It continued with item after item, until I realized I was the only model left. The others had taken off without saying goodbye, not that we had any relation. People were moving things out of the office, and when I asked about the hurry they said there was a firm deadline when they had to be out so the cleaning crew could put everything back to a working office again. I could feel the pressure as it was my item changes that held up everyone. I swapped into a pair of MRKNTN underwear that probably was like half a size too small but decided to just power through with the shoot. As soon as the last photo had been taken, they started to dismantle the light rigs. As I walked back to the lunch room I could see that most of the clothes racks were gone. The makeup room was back to looking like a conference room. I couldn't find Andy anywhere though, and the lunch room with my stuff was still locked. I wanted my stuff for sure, but more importantly I wanted to get out of the underwear that kept squeezing and chafing. I couldn't go more than 30 seconds without having my hands down the joggers to adjust them.

Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen either. I asked one of the remaining people and he said they had all left, working on getting all the stuff back and preparing the "delivery pipeline" for the photos. Probably Andy had checked off everyone from his list, and it was printed before I was recruited. "Just keep the clothes you have on and you can come back here Monday and pick up your stuff," he said.

Fuck.

No point in hanging around any longer. Everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I just left and headed towards the bus stop. It was getting late and with no phone on me I couldn't call home and say what was going on.

Fuck.

I didn't have anything to pay the bus fare with. I could perhaps go back to the office building and see if I could catch anyone exiting, use their phone, and call for someone to pick me up. But there was no telling if and when I would get hold of anyone. Just walking back there would make me miss the next bus, so that would set me back at least an hour. I could just as well ask someone else to use their phone. Or perhaps ask them to cover the bus fare.

That's when I saw them, a little bit further down the street, past the bus stop. Six boys huddled at the corner, talking and messing around as if no one else was around. One had a bike. All of them dressed in the kind of clothes I had spent all day modeling in, track suits, hoodies, trainers. All of them were smoking. I figured I'd have as good a chance with them as with anyone else now, looking the way I looked.

As I was getting closer one of them alerted the others and they had some kind of conversation about me. "Hello, excuse me. Could I borrow money for the bus fare from any of you?" There was a second of silence before a mixed snicker erupted, and one of them answered "No, bruv. I don't think so."

I don't know why, but for some reason I was mortified by how I had been dismissed. I could feel my face turning red, so I quickly turned away from them to make my way back to the bus stop, without any plan of what to do next.

"Oi, bruv!" I heard from behind me. Looking back at them I could see three boys had gotten up and were heading my way. "Callum's grafting down at the barber's for some extra quid and need someone to practice on. What if he can do some practice while we cover the fare and take you home safely? Fair, innit?"

"I barely have any hair," I said and let my hand touch my fresh skin fade, almost shocking myself with how radically different it felt.

"Won't be much of a nick then, bruv."

He was right. There wasn't much he could ruin. I had only a few millimeters of hair so in the worst case scenario I could shave completely and it would be back within the week.

"Good lad. A deal innit."

"Yes," I said, unsure if it was expected. The guy who had spoken and Callum flanked me while the third lad walked behind me, enveloping me with the scent of smoke and body spray. After a silent moment the guy spoke again, introducing himself as Iwan and the third guy as Rob, and asked where I lived. I gave him the bus stop, Hillside Garden North, about 18 minutes ride. Would have been busy during the week, but at weekends there wouldn't be many on the bus.

We didn't have to wait long for the bus to arrive, but instead of entering by the driver they all bunched up again with me in the middle and entered through the exit doors as a single unit. Then they quickly moved to the back of the bus and pushed me into a seat next to Callum, facing Iwan and Rob in the furthest back seat. I half expected the driver to say something over the speakers, but there was barely a delay, if any, before the bus was moving as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I looked at Iwan with perhaps a bit of surprise and he just shrugged as if to say "what did you expect? That the driver would confront us?"

Then he nodded at Callum next to me, backpack in his lap, who answered "Aye" and got up. He placed the bag on the seat and positioned himself right in front of me, one leg on either side of mine, his knees hitting the edge of the seat, and his left hand grabbing the rail behind me. It felt both imposing and intimate. He opened the backpack and rummaged around with his right hand until he found a small trimmer in a zip-lock bag.

He opened it with both hands and threw the plastic bag into the backpack. Then he looked out and waited for the bus to drive on straight and even road before he turned the trimmer on. Then slowly he moved it in an arched line from my temple and along the side of my head until he reached the neck. Then he studied for a few seconds before he made a few additional buzzes along the same line.

"Not bad, innit?" he said while shifting his body so Iwan and Rob could see. "Fucking mint, mate," Iwan answered.

Then he turned on the trimmer again and unexpectedly extended the line by buzzing my eyebrow for a few seconds. I hadn't even considered my eyebrows. Callum reached into his backpack again to put the trimmer in the zip-lock, but without moving his feet so his body pressed even closer to me. While I couldn't see much, I could certainly feel his body spray filling my nostrils while I felt my eyebrows with my fingers. I guess there would be a lot to explain to mother anyway, so this would just be yet another detail.

I could just see it for a fraction of a second. It looked like a small glue gun in off-white plastic. Then before I could realize what it was it was pressed against my ear, it made a snapping sound, and I felt a sharp pain. "What the!" I said, more in surprise than pain.

"18G piercing. Hurts more, heals slower, but much better," Callum offered, as if it was the type of piercing that was in question, not that he had done it at all. He reloaded the piercing gun and I struggled with what to do. Just take it like the first one? Why should I? But then one piercing was the real threshold. Once you pass that, two is if anything better than one. This would soon be over anyway.

He was just as quick with the second one as the first one. "These need to stay in 30 days, you hear me?" he said, still standing essentially on top of me. "Yes, I understand," I said with a sinking feeling of all the implications. He put the gun back into the bag and went searching for something again. Finally he pulled out some sort of pliers, then held my earlobe with one hand while doing something with the pliers with the other. "Making sure they don't fall off," he explained before sitting down again on his seat. I could see Iwan and Rob again, and booth looked pleased. Iwan looked absolutely chuffed. "Fucking proper, innit" he said and pat me hard on the shoulder. "Fucking proper."

After than Iwan opened up and started to ask me all kinds of questions, starting with my name, which I realized I hadn't given him when he presented everyone. I was soon giving the highlights of the day as a photo model until we arrived my stop. To my surprise everyone got off with me. "Said we would take you home safe." We continued to chat all the way home and it turned out me Iwan and Rob had the same taste in electronic music while Callum was more of a rock guy.

"Ok, this is my stop," I said once we reached my house. "Meet us Monday, same time and place," Iwan said. "What?" "You owe us £2 for the bus, bruv." "But..." "You going back on our deal?" "No, I'll come by." "And wear the same clothes. Underwear too." "No! I have classes." "You'll figure it out, bruv." Callum opened his backpack again and tossed something to Iwan. "And use this," he said and handed over a can of Lynx Jungle body spray. "What if I don't? What if I don't do any of that?" "Where you live isn't a secret, innit? See you Monday, bruv."

[andi-kook]

DEAD KIDS ✦ Chapter 2

SUMMARY: A group of university students kidnaps their rich batchmate for ransom. However, things take a darker turn when the new recruit grows a dangerous obsession with the captive and all hell breaks loose.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Slow burn Yandere, Crime AU

WARNINGS: Not suitable for audiences below 18. Please do not engage with the story if you are underage. WATCH OUT FOR: dark and morally corrupt characters, foul language, mention of Catholicism, slut shaming and objectification of women, mention of inappropriate relationship between professor/student, mentions and depiction of “rape” and “rape fantasy” throughout the story, masturbation, threats, MC has an NSFW blog with hard kinks and fantasies, non consensual touching. Overall, this is a disturbing chapter – based on my standards – so if you are not comfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Inspired by the film, Dead Kids (2019).

TAGLIST: @hopeworldsupremacy @aliajomarie011 @ackercute @tatumrileyslover @ane102 @jjk174 @dontcallmeelle @merrygo1427 @taekritimin123 @r1r111 @gguksfilter @coralmusicblaze

If I didn’t tag you – either your blog doesn’t exist according to Tumblr or because you did not show your age in your blog. Thank you!

ANDI: I send my love to the beautiful souls who sent me asks about Dead Kids as well as these equally beautiful souls – @.taekritimin123 @.hellbornsworld @.tinytangerineangel @.namjesusdaughter – for commenting on Chapter 1. I cannot express just how much I appreciate your words. I would have tagged you directly, but I wasn’t sure if you would want that. But I wanted to show my appreciation.

WORD COUNT: 3K

“Why did you really want to take her?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as they sit and eat the ramen he cooked around the living area. Beside him, Yoongi and Hoseok are fast asleep, the latter clutching onto the former’s arm like it’s his plushie while the former has his head thrown against the headrest.

Namjoon, who is seated on the other makeshift sofa, gulps down the soup from his ramen before letting out a satisfied sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth. “How many times do we have to say that we kidnapped Y/N for ransom?”

“I’m not stupid, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “We’re already tied to this shit until the ransom drop. The least you can do is be upfront on why you did this in the first place. I’m not taking a bullet for you or anyone.”

The buzz-cut haired man leans his back against the sofa, which unlike his premium one, is built from scratch by Jungkook using old wood and cases of beers around the warehouse. He gazes at Jungkook for a while, studying him while swimming in his own thoughts. The tattooed man wonders if Namjoon is contemplating telling him the truth. He wonders if the two sleeping men beside him also knew the truth.

They claim to have been friends since the fourth grade, but does time really make you know a person inside out?

“My father didn’t used to be the way he is now – corrupt. Growing up, I looked up to him because of how honest and upstanding he was as a cop. I knew he did some off-the-books shit, but he still had a moral compass, still had lines he didn’t cross. But then he met Y/N’s father, Kim Seokjin, when I was ten. Suddenly, everything changed,” Namjoon narrates, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head and rubs his palms on his baggy jeans. “He went from being a great husband and father to my mother and I to a complete asshole. We didn’t have religion but after meeting Kim Seokjin, we were suddenly Catholics, attending church with his family every Sunday. I was baptized and Kim Seokjin became my godfather. But the worst part was seeing him erase all the lines he drew and swore never to cross when he began to use his position as a detective and then eventually sergeant to now the chief of the entire police force in Seoul to protect Kim Seokjin and his criminal empire.”

Jungkook inhales deeply. “So, kidnapping Y/N is you taking on revenge against Kim Seokjin for corrupting your father? It is personal. It’s never about the money?”

“Of course, the money is important and integral to the plan. But yes, you are correct – I want to avenge my father from Kim Seokjin by hitting him where I know it will hurt the most: his only daughter, Y/N.”

“You promised that we are not going to hurt her,” Jungkook counters immediately.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “If you do that – what makes you different than Kim Seokjin?”

“Why are you so protective of her?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “What? Just because she gave you a boner, you’re suddenly fucking in love with her? Don’t think I didn’t notice. We all did. Yoongi is right – drop the morally upright act, Jeon. You’re just as demented as we are. The moment you agreed to this plan, you’re just as fucked up.”

The sudden call out makes Jungkook turn crimson and Namjoon smirks, placing his leg over the other. “Don’t worry – unlike you, I don’t judge people. To each our own. If shit like that turns you on, then that’s on you. Why don’t you take the opportunity to act on it?”

His eyes widen, shocked and disgusted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jungkook knows exactly what Namjoon is talking about, but he is completely aghast at the insinuation.

The de facto leader only widens his smirk, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter from the front pocket of his large, oversized coat. “You know what I’m talking about, Jeon. A pretty naked girl tied to a chair in your warehouse – it’s perfectly normal to feel aroused by such sight. We won’t judge you if you just get it over and done with.”

“You’re more than fucked up,” Jungkook hisses, face flushed and veins popping out on his neck. “I’m not going to fucking touch her.”

Namjoon lights the cigarette in between his lips. Then, he inhales, and smoke leaves his lips as he replies, “Why not? Y/N is a dirty slut who fucks her married professor with kids her age after church and dinner every Sunday night and more – I bet you all my cut that she’s not going to resist you because she’s probably into fucking someone having their own way with her. No, in fact, I can tell you she’s going to enjoy it.”  

Jungkook feels hot. Images of your naked trembling body and whimpering pleas filling his mind and ears.

“She has a blog, you know? A secret blog where she writes these fantasies and kinks she has. Posts her nudes on there too. Do you wanna know what is one fantasy she keeps on writing about?”

“No, I really don’t,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth.

“It’s a rape fantasy, Jungkook. What a fucking dirty slut she is, right? I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

He stands up in a jolt, hitting his knee on the makeshift table he made from old tires and steel roof and stammering some excuse that he needs to go the bathroom or air – he can’t remember. Jungkook finds himself in his room, back pressed against the door. His shirt sticks to his skin because of the sweat, and he takes it off, leaving it discarded on the floor. Namjoon’s words mixed with the flashing images of your perky nipples, smooth skin, sound of your whimpers, pleas, your smell – it makes him hard. Harder than he’s ever been.

Before he knows it, Jungkook is unbuttoning his jeans, pulling it down along with his boxers, his erection springing free. He spits on his palm before he begins stroking his length, shuddering at the touch, making his mouth dry. He presses the back of his head against the door, eyes closed as he imagines you on your knees – like you were with the professor – those lips around his shaft, head bobbing as you suck him dry. He imagines hearing your moans, imagines his dick hitting the back of your throat as you go deeper and beg him to fuck your mouth like a whore. Jungkook’s stroking himself faster. He imagines hearing you gag as he fucks your mouth, not stopping even when you’re clearly suffocating. Then, he cums, toes curling and a guttural groan escaping his lips.

As he comes back from his high, Jungkook stares at the white sticky substance covering his hand and cock. He just jerked off to you, a girl they kidnapped, and he knows it won’t be the last time.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi hisses at him the moment he comes back from his room, showered and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Jungkook deliberately ignores the stare of Namjoon and flops on the seat beside Hoseok who is eating the remaining ramen. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m going to punch this kid, I swear to God,” Yoongi grumbles, rolling his eyes. “We’re making the ransom call, you dumb fuck. Or rather, you are.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “What? Why me?”

“Every one of us here has already encountered Y/N’s father at least once. The man remembers everyone he encounters. You’re the only exception,” Namjoon explains as he hands you a black phone. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable. I took it from my dad. And this is what you’re going to say – make sure you sound intimidating at least. Put it on speaker too.”

Namjoon places his phone on the makeshift table and Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The deal was you only use my warehouse. So far, you got me doing far more than that.”

“Do you want 25 million or not?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cos if you do, you better start calling Kim Seokjin.”

I’m going to punch you soon, Jungkook tells himself before he unlocks the phone and goes to the contact list where Kim Seokjin’s name is the only one listed. He takes a deep breath, going over the script on Namjoon’s phone before clicking on the contact and putting the call on speaker. The ringing sound echoes throughout the warehouse. The tension is palpable again, like it was back in the car earlier that night.

After a few more rings, Kim Seokjin’s voice fills the warehouse. It’s light but a hint of roughness and irritation is noticeable right away.

“Who is this?”

Jungkook licks his lips as he read the script in front of him. “We have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 million won and bring it to 2020 this Friday night. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see her is on the news, dead.”

Hoseok covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing while Yoongi stares hard at the phone. Namjoon, on the other hand, is relaxed on his seat, smoking.

“You sound young, boy,” Seokjin remarks. “You are not the first person to call me in the middle of the night asking for ransom. Do you really have any idea what you’re doing?”

Namjoon motions for him to repeat what he just said.

“If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 mill—,”

“Don’t you think I would be able to find my daughter faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

That triggers Jungkook. He’s been hearing that question – that discrimination his entire life and he’s sick of it. He’s fucking sick of it.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Either you give us 100 million in exchange for your whore of a daughter or I will personally make you watch as we do everything we want with her, make you watch as she begs you to make it stop, make you listen as she takes her last breath before I fucking slit her throat so deep her head nearly decapitates. You have until Friday night – and you better make sure the police don’t get involved. Don’t fucking ask me who the fuck you are again.”

He ends the call, gripping the phone tightly.

“What the fuck was that? Why the hell didn’t you stick to the script?! Are you trying to get us all a one way ticket to prison?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Did you not hear what he’s saying? He caught on that we are fucking amateurs. I saved our asses – you should be fucking grateful,” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw. “If you didn’t want me to do the call, maybe the three of you should have done it yourselves. Fucking useless bastards.”

“Hey! What did you say?” Hoseok stands, pushing Jungkook by placing his hands on his chest. “Who are you calling useless, huh?”

“Who do you think?” He scoffs.

“Let’s fucking kill this son of a bitch, Hobi.”

“Gladly.”

“Enough,” Namjoon says sternly. “No one is going to kill anyone. Not amongst ourselves. What Jungkook did is right, Yoongi. Jungkook saved our asses. And you,” He turns to the long-haired man, glaring at him. “Mind your fucking tone and language with us. We’re not fucking useless. Remember that we recruited you. Not the other way around. If anyone should be grateful to someone, it’s you. We’re the reason you’ll get out of this shit hole.”

Nobody says a word.

“It’s getting late. Let’s gather here tomorrow after our classes. Just go about your usual days until the drop. Don’t be suspicious,” The de facto leader reminds. “Jungkook, keep an eye out, okay? Don’t forget to check in on our little friend from time to time. Make sure she’s still breathing.” He smirks as he pats his shoulder on his way out.

Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit. Once Jungkook hears Namjoon driving off his – rather his aunt’s – property, he resigns to the sofa behind him. He buries his face into his hands. Five days. You’ll be stuck with him at the warehouse for five fucking days. Granted, he has classes to attend to, so he won’t be at home all day, but he’s sure you won’t leave his mind wherever he goes.

The phone in his hand buzzes and he stares at the new notification on the screen – a text message from an unknown number. Jungkook unlocks the phone, goes to the messaging app, and clicks on the new text.

avirgins1ut on tumblr if you wanna read some things tonight

“Fuck you, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. However, when he goes to his room, grabs his shitty phone and opens his data – he installs the app despite knowing it will consume almost all the remaining gigabytes he has left.

Jungkook lies down on his bed and creates his profile. He doesn’t bother customizing it, going straight to your blog which is all black and hot pink. Instantly, he’s drawn to your profile picture – a simple mirror shot of you hiding your bare chest with your arms, head tilt slightly to the side and a black panty covering your cunt. He swallows the lump in his throat as he scrolls down, reading your pinned post:

“Hey. You can call me Angel. I’m 23 years old. This blog is filled with all my fantasies and kinks, sometimes my nudes. Feel free to send me yours too.

My kinks: cnc, free use, somnophilia, spit, slapping, marking, choking, daddy, and more.

My favorite fantasies: rape play, kidnapped, kept as sex slave, knife/gun play, forced gangbang, and more – why don’t you help me unlock those? DMs and asks open for all your threats and nudes.

Update: already got myself a master/daddy. Asks and messages are off.”

As he scrolls further down your blog, Jungkook doesn’t even realize he already has his hand wrapped around his dick as he masturbates to your the latest fantasy you wrote albeit months ago.

I can’t stop masturbating to this dark fantasy of mine – being raped by someone so brutally after they kidnap me. How they would keep me chained to the bed, always naked so they can easily rape me whenever and however they want. They would mock me whenever I would tell them to stop (“You shouldn’t have worn those skirts if you didn’t want to be raped. But you did. So, this isn’t rape. You were clearly asking for this like some depraved filthy bitch in heat. You’re fucking loving this, don’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”) and choke me as they pound into my wet and clenching pussy relentlessly. They would slap and spit on my face, abusing my cunt for hours until I’m full of theirs and their friends’ cum whom they called to let them have a taste of their new toy.

They would rape me day in and out until my body gets so used to it that I start asking for it – crying and begging to be fucked. “Shh, angel, daddy’s going to fuck you, okay? Don’t cry.” Slowly, I would forget all my autonomy and identity, wholly submitting myself to them because I was never my own in the first place – I was always theirs.

“Fuck, Y/N!” His entire body shakes as he cums again. Jungkook can’t stop – he wants to read more, see more as you posted a picture of your cum covered cunt at the end of the post and he imagines it’s his. But he gets a notification that he is out of data and Jungkook slams his phone on his bed, frustrated beyond bounds. He is still hard. He still wants to see more of you, read more of your fantasies.

Namjoon’s words echo in his mind. I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

And before he knows it – he is standing across from your limp body. You’re still unconscious – sack over your head, tied and bound on the metal chair. Jungkook walks towards you, gently touching your shoulders to see if you would react but you don’t. He bites his lower lip as his eyes fall on your naked chest. He reaches down to trace its curves before ultimately cupping one breast in hand, fondling, squeezing, twisting the nipple and pinching it. No response.

He begins to stroke himself as he continues to fondle your breasts. This is wrong, but why does it feel so good?

“F-Fucking slut, you’re asking for this,” Jungkook hisses through his teeth. He’s not going to last any longer – not when those perky nipples are so inviting and moments later, he cums all over tits. He’s panting, an exhilarating feeling he hasn’t felt before rising within him as he stares at your cum covered chest. He swallows, breathing heavily. Should he stop now or keep going? He doesn’t have data anymore, but he does have the real thing right in front of him. But you twitch and he jumps in surprise. Suddenly, the realization of his actions washes upon him. He feels a coil in his stomach. What has he done? He scrambles out of the room and dash straight to the bathroom where he extensively washes his hand and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he throws himself on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling as he pants. Namjoon is right – he’s just as fucked up as they are.

CHAPTER 3 is coming soon.

TAGLIST: Wanna be part of Dead Kids’ taglist? Fill out this form and don’t forget to read the short note in order for me to tag you.

ANDI: I do not condone the behaviors exhibited in this story. The characters of Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok do not reflect who they are in real life. Fanfiction is just fanfiction. I have no schedule in writing – I write whenever I can. Please try to refrain from sending asks about updates (or at least be kind and polite about it) and let me know your feedbacks instead as they help a lot in motivation and inspiration! 🦉

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCED, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.

#yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts au #dark jungkook #dark bts #andi.writes 💭

[astonmartingf]

MAKE BELIEVE ; LH44

— people assuming you’re a couple is a common misconception whenever you’re out together, most of the time you shrug it off but every now and then lewis acts along making you feel some type of way you’ve never felt before

masterlist

The first time it happened you were both teenagers, Lewis was home after competing in the British Formula 3, you two on your way to some gasoline station for snacks. You could barely remember what exactly happened yet the memory seemed to linger in your head whenever you think about it.

On your way to pay for the food, Lewis stopped you- “I’ll pay for these.”

You frowned, pushing him lightly away from the counter. “No. This is my celebration for you, there’s no way you’re paying.” You smile at the lady, placing the tub of ice cream and chips on the counter.

Lewis on the other hand was not having it, “Okay if it’s my celebration it’s only fair I pay for half of it.”

Raising your brows you shake your head disagreeing with his statement, “That’s not how it works Lew- just let me have it. We barely see each other, let me buy you a bag of chips and ice cream.”

Shaking his head Lewis contemplates before leaving towards the back of the store. A sigh left your lips before facing the clerk, listening in your conversation. “Are you two in a long distance relationship?”

You gawk as your arms scramble into a wave, head shaking, repeatedly saying “No, no, no… We’re just friends. It’s been a while since we met since he’s busy racing all over Europe, someday he’ll be a Formula 1 driver!”

Your excitement over the moon, at the thought of Lewis getting into the big tracks all over the world. “That’s exciting, what about you sweetheart?”

You shrug, nose scrunching, unable to answer the question, “Nothing special, just studying.”

The lady nods as she puts the items in a bag, “Well, I’m sure it’s not nothing. He must be lucky to have a supportive friend like you.”

You smile as the conversation turns back to Lewis, somehow it’s easy to talk about him, you could go on and on praising and telling the whole world about him. You smile, taking the change from her hands.

From the corner, Lewis comes back with two bottles of drink in his hands. “If you’re buying the food, let me pay for the drinks.”

Rolling your eyes you reluctantly agree letting him buy drinks for you two. On the way out he grabs the bag from your hand, carrying it as he lets you lead the way to the local park in the area.

The second time it happened was on your birthday dinner, during one of his free days, he asked you out for a celebratory dinner. “Just the two of us, like the old times.” Lewis raised his glass as you tip yours to his.

“It’s definitely been a while since we sat and talked, how is Formula 1 treating you?” Lewis blew raspberries, shaking his head.

“This is your day, we’re not talking about racing. How are you? Is university treating you well?”

You sense his deflection from the topic, during breaks you find yourself checking updates on Lewis’ race. Many articles are written about him, rumors and hearsay about him, but you’re not one to believe what’s written, rather listen to what he has to say.

“This is us catching up, I’m supposed to ask you questions as well.”

Lewis nods his head, “Answer my question first then I’ll tell you what’s up.”

Knowing you’ll never win against him, you humor him with stories from university, all the drama and chaos that is happening in your internship program.

Lewis tilts his head, grimacing at the details of your professor Andy and his unconventional methods of teaching, which led to two students fighting during class. Laughing, Lewis takes a sip of his drink, “Aren’t I glad I skipped out on college drama.”

This time it was you who laughed at his statement, “Yeah, because racing drama is way much better, and on a bigger scale.” you whisper as Lewis gives you a pointed look.

“You read some stuff, now tell me what it is that you’re so desperate to know?”

You shake in excitement as you tread your thoughts on the questions you prepared to ask him, the top of your head, the rumors of him dating a certain Pussycat Dolls singer. But as you opened your mouth, you were cut off by a string of waiters bringing in cake in the direction of your table, singing “Happy Birthday” catching you off-guard.

“What is this Lewis?” You hiss under your breath, staring at him in bewilderment before smiling politely at the waiters clapping along to them singing.

After their song, they placed a chocolate cake slice in front of you with a lit candle. Staring expectedly at you, “Hey, this only happens once a year. Now go make a wish and blow your candle.”

You laugh at Lewis who gestured towards the cake in front of you. You laugh, shaking your head as you blow the candles. Hearing the cheers of the waiters and Lewis, thanking him with a side hug.

“Do you want us to take a photo of you and your boyfriend to commemorate this moment?” One of the waiters spoke, holding a digital camera in his hand.

“We’re not-” You glance over at Lewis who was already posing, clearly brushing off the comment, “yes you can.”

The waiter nods his head gesturing you to move closer together, looking straight at the camera with a small smile on your face. After a few more pictures the waiters left, leaving you alone with Lewis.

“So what was it that you wanted to ask?”

You shake your head, “Now I forgot about it, maybe next time.”

Lewis smiles before taking a bite of your cake, “Happy Birthday YN, Cheers to us and here’s to more memories with you.”

A small smile breaks the line of your lips, as you take in a small bite of the cake.

Other times it just happens as you go out on walks together. The amount of times you’ve been stopped by elderly women telling how “you look so good together” or been asked, “how long have you two been dating each other?”

Which often leads to the both of you laughing, you more awkwardly, as you shake your heads and deny.

There were awkward moments especially back when Lewis was still dating, the efforts you made as to not be seen with him out of respect and only coming when there are many people invited.

Now in the present, it’s obviously easier to smile and shake off their statements. You’ve gotten used to being asked and it’s almost automatic, the response, your hands waving, head shaking and saying “No.”

It’s been so long, surely you would’ve gotten used to it, especially when Lewis was keen to play along as a couple after you’ve gotten stopped a couple of times. One thing which you’re always against doing, and Lewis respects that.

You never thought about it more than a harmless prank, knowing that people don’t have to know your real relationship- because it was clear to both of you that you are friends. Then and now, but in the eyes of the others it may seem that you’re a couple.

One which you don’t understand, can’t people be friends these days? But it’s not like you can see the honey-dripping off of Lewis’ eyes when he looks at you, prioritizing you when you’re out in public, and doing polite gestures to you. It was normal for you- his actions, you grew up with him, and you certainly watched Lewis grow up to be a fine man.

And you can’t deny how that affected you as the people around you seem to wonder if you haven’t felt that way towards Lewis. And as much as you hate to admit, there are times where he has made your heart flutter.

Once in the Mercedes garage, you were on your way to pick up Roscoe volunteering to look after him. It wasn’t your first time there, but it wasn’t like you were the closest with everyone. You knew a few people, enough to ask for help when you’re lost during the bustling race days. Entering the hospitality, Roscoe must’ve sensed you as he ran over to greet you, patting him on the head, “You missed didn’t you? Where is your father, why are you alone?”

Your eyes wander looking around the hospitality for Lewis. “Excuse me, do you have a pass to be in here?” Raising your head you notice a male staff in front of you. “Oh, I do have it in my bag if you want to check, I’m just waiting for someone.”

Turning around you looked for your pass, but before you could show it to the male staff he disregarded your presence asking you to leave. “Excuse me?”

“I asked you to leave the vicinity please. This is exclusive for VIP and guests, fans can wait outside.”

You stand frozen, bewildered even. Pressing your lips in a thin line you contemplate on what or how to react. Usually you’d rather keep your peace and leave quietly, but it’s not like you don’t have a pass. You are a guest of Lewis.

Sighing, you stare at the male staff, looking him in his eyes showing him your pass. “I am a guest of Lewis Hamilton, I think I can wait right here.”

Despite showing your pass the staff seemed suspicious continuing to ask you questions about your relationship with Lewis, as if the pass wasn’t enough proof. “So, are you like dating him or something?”

You scoff at his statement, rolling your eyes, you take a deep breath going over the response you’ve formulated in your head to shut him off. “My relationship-”

“Yes, she’s with me. Thank you for showing your hospitality.” Lewis appeared from behind, his snarky comment didn’t go unnoticed by you as you snorted by the side.

“I missed you sweetheart, I see that Roscoe came running towards you. I completely lost him inside.” Pulling you into a hug, Lewis gave you a small peck on the cheek ignoring the presence of the staff with us.

“Thank you, I had that handled but somehow you always appear at the right time.”

“I know you can handle it, but there’s no need for you to explain to anyone why you’re here. And I don’t care if it’s about formality or whatever, next time just call me and I’ll come pick you up, or I can ask one of the people from my team to get you.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “You don’t have to do that, I barely go on races, it's fine. I’m just here to pick Roscoe up like I promised.”

Lewis nodded his head, grabbing the bag on the sofa with Roscoe’s name embroidered in the handle. “I’ll walk you to the garage?”

You shake your head, “No need, I actually came from the back like you asked so my car is right outside.” Lewis smiled before handing you Roscoe’s leash.

“I’ll walk you to your car then, I’ll help you bring Roscoe’s stuff.”

Inside your car you settle Roscoe at the back seat, turning on the ignition you hear the soft rumble of the car. From your car mirror, you watch Lewis wave you and Roscoe goodbye.

Outside the circuit, you think back on the situation that had transpired, “Your dad is a sweetheart isn’t he Roscoe? Got me feeling some type of way… Lewis… I’m glad we’re friends.” talking to yourself knowing fully there’s no way you’d admit that to Lewis himself, instead you open up to his dog.

Opening the app on his phone, Lewis watches you drive away safely through the lens inside Roscoe’s leash. There had been many moments he saw between you and Roscoe, including your conversation with the male staff.

It was something he checked every now and then, especially when he’s away from Roscoe. Rest assured, he feels safe knowing he’s left in your hands. Ensuring you two are safe, Lewis swiped to exit the app but not before he heard your voice through the speaker.

“Your dad is a sweetheart isn’t he Roscoe? Got me feeling some type of way… Lewis… I’m glad we’re friends.”

Lewis let out a breathy laugh,leaning back into his seat, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a big smile. Pressing his hands into his face, he feels the rush of heat into his face laughing to himself. “If only you knew sweetheart… Got me feeling some type of way as well…”

At least now Lewis knows, his feelings won’t lead him astray.

#f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton imagine

[libraryofloveletters]

Portugal Pretenders

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating, the boys love to tease virg, past players make an appearance, takes place at robbo's wedding (I just made up random dates, forgive me if it's not accurate lmao), begging for a favour, wedding softness, some teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a few awkward moments, julia and thiago are their biggest fans, some nsfw humour, virg doesn't know how to use an iron, some childishness at the end, all around sweetness.

Word Count: 7.9k

Author's Note: okay, I've come back to bring you all a new virg fic, since you've been living in my inbox, asking for it. hopefully you like it as much as I do.

---

"And this one's for you," Andy says, passing the light green envelope over to Virgil, catching his friend on his way out. "You've got a plus one, make sure you bring that girlfriend of yours you're always talking about."

Virgil nods, a smile on his face as he takes the invite from Andy. The panic fills his head, slowly moving down to his chest as he walks out of the training centre.

Andy's wedding was coming up in a few weeks. The boys have known about it for months, and as much as Andy insisted to Rachel that they don't need actual invites, she still sent them with her husband to be.

The defender finds himself driving home, thinking about how on earth he was going to find someone to join him at this wedding.

See, the thing was, the boys thought he was seeing something. That wasn't a total lie, as he was seeing someone but it ended as quickly as it started. He wasn't sure how to tell his friends that it was over and it spiralled, coming up with random details to tell them every time they asked about this non-existent girlfriend.

He didn't think Andy would go as far as giving him a plus one.

Virgil pulls into the driveway, opening the envelope as he reads the invite.

Celebrating the marriage of Andy Robertson and Rachel Roberts.

Rehearsal Dinner: July 2nd, 2022 at 7pm

Wedding Ceremony: July 3rd, 2022 at 3pm - Evening Reception to follow.

Join us in Faro, Portugal!

The rest of the details were on the back of the card, the invite was white with green accents to match the envelope. Must be their theme, he thinks, making a mental note to see if he has anything green to match.

He gets out of the car, putting the envelope in his pocket when he sees his neighbour, y/n, pulling into her driveway. He waves to her, the woman smiles at him as she pops her trunk open, a million bags waiting to be taken into the house.

"Need some help?" He offers, crossing the lawn to her driveway.

You smile, nodding. "Sure. Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil starts taking the bags out of the trunk, carrying them over to the front door as you unlock it. "I'm surprised you're home so early." He says.

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"No," he shakes his head, cheeks red. "I meant.. I usually see you come in late."

"Closed the clinic early today, we've got a staff party tomorrow, hence.." You gestured to the bags. Virgil nods, helping her carry them into her kitchen.

The two of you were on friendly terms, Virgil often helped you out around the house if you were busy. Despite being a footballer, he tended to take care of the yard work and you stopped by to make sure were in order at his place if he was away for a match or pre season training.

"How about a cup of tea?" You offered and he smiled, "you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Not a bother at all, make yourself at home. It's the least I could do to thank you for your help."

"It wasn't much help, I only carried the bags to the kitchen." He chuckles, sitting on a stool by the counter.

You shrugged, "still. It would have taken me like, 12 trips to get all of them, you used your big footballer muscles and did it in one."

Virgil smiles, watching as you filled the kettle with water and took two mugs out of the cupboard across from him; one with little flowers along the rim of it and the other a red mug Liverpool logo on the front.

"Surprised you have that," he says, you drop the teabags into the mug. "What? This?" You nodded to the red mug. "It'd just be wrong not to support the local team." You two laughed, you referred to Liverpool as if it was a rec league team.

You two are there in silence, you leaned on the counter as you stood across from the footballer. The man looked around while you looked at him, counting to yourself quietly. Once Virgil hears your whispers, he looks over at you with furrowed brows.

"What are you counting?"

"Your wrinkles," you say nonchalantly, pointing to his forehead as you count each one. Virgil rolls his eyes playfully, swatting your hand away. "You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"You sure? I mean, you usually can't see the wrinkles on that big forehead on yours. So unless you've aged drastically since I've last seen you, I'd say you're worried about something."

"Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. L/n?"

"Yup," you nodded, smiling at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. "100%, now tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Well," he sighs as he starts. "I was invited to a wedding today."

"And? Is it for an ex or some cousin you hate?"

"No, nothing like that. It's actually Andy, you know, Robbo?"

You nodded, shutting the stove off when the kettle begans whistling. "He finally put a ring on Rachel? Good for them, tell them congratulations for me."

Virgil smiles, "I will."

"Wait, so if it's for Andy, what's the problem? I thought you two were good friends."

Virgil makes a face, wondering if he should really tell you what's bothering him. "We are, I uh.. I need a date for a wedding."

You laughed, "that's what's worrying you? C'mon Virgil, you're a footballer. You're handsome, you're young..ish- regardless, it shouldn't be too hard for you to get a date."

He rolls his eyes at your comment, "yeah well, easier said than done. Especially since I've - never mind."

"Oh no," you turn to face him after pouring the water into the mugs. "You're not going to leave me hanging like that! What, since you've..?

"Since I've been telling the guys I have a girlfriend. That's why Andy gave me a plus one, I really thought he wouldn't do that."

Your brows furrowed, you were beyond confused now. "Okay, you've officially lost me. You're nervous to ask her to be your date? Or - oh my god! Is she a married woman, Virgil?!"

"No!" He laughed, shaking his head at your outrageous suggestion. "I'd never date a married woman, in fact, I'm not dating anyone."

You were getting the milk from the fridge when what he said finally processed. You turn to face the man, "so wait, let me see if I got this right. You've been telling them you're seeing someone but you're not actually seeing anyone?" You say, looking for some clarification. Virgil nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Why would you lie to them?"

"I really didn't mean too! It wasn't a lie in the beginning. I was seeing this girl, she was cool but we didn't want the same things so it just sort of.. ended? They kept asking and I don't know why I didn't want to tell them the truth but I wasn't sure what to say so I played along and now, well, you know where I've ended up."

You sigh, unsure what to tell him. You didn't even think there was advice to help someone who's gotten themselves into such a position.

"That's a messed up thing you're in, dude." You added the milk to his mug, handing him the one with the flowers. Virgil nods, stirring the spoon in the mug.

"Do you have sugar?"

"Mhm hm," you turned, reaching up into the cupboard to get the sugar from the middle shelf.

Virgil watched, admiring you; not only on a surface level but deeper than that. He likes spending time with you, even if it was something as simple as a chat across the lawn. You were beautiful and kind, funny and smart, your humour was witty and you were charming. You could talk yourself out of a crime if need be - you were exactly who he was looking for.

Seems his lies have sent him in your direction; imagine if he hadn't helped you take your bags in today.

You turned to him with the sugar, you could feel him staring at you but he was sitting there, elbow on the counter with his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he smiled at you.

"What?"

"Will you be my date to the wedding?" He asks and you laugh, taking the top off the sugar jar.

"You're not serious."

"I am, what are you doing in 3 weeks?"

"Probably work, but I can't be your date, virgil."

He pouts, much like a child when they're told no. "Why not?"

"How would that work?"

"It's fine, I'll handle everything y/n. You just need to pack your bags and get the time off work. Hotels, flights, everything we need there, I'll take care of."

"Wait, the wedding isn't here?"

"Portugal," he says, doesn't miss the slight raise of your eyebrows.

"I've always said I'd go back to Portugal, even if it's just for a short time."

"See," Virgil says, "it's like my lying led us here, this can be a good thing for both of us. I'll have a girlfriend for the weekend and you get to visit Portugal again."

You can't help but laugh at his justification. "Please," he says, "I'm begging you now. I'll own you big time." His hands clasped together under his chin as he looked at you with big, brown, puppy eyes.

"Like season passes to your box at Anfield big time?" You asked, a raised eyebrow. Virgil laughs, nodding. "Exactly like that."

"You've got a deal then." You tell him, he smiles. "Perfect, I can't thank you enough."

"Mhm hm, now drink your tea before it gets cold."

--

The week of the wedding arrives faster than expected, you had been in prep mode all week; getting your hair and nails done, trying to pack whatever you think you'd need for a wedding.

A celebrity's wedding isn't different from a normal one, is it? Is that what a footballer is? A celebrity ? Can you call it a celebrity wedding- Your thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

It's Virgil, a big smile on his face despite it being 8am. "Why are you so happy?" You asked upon opening the door.

"Oh, good morning to you too, sunshine. Are you ready to go?" He makes a face, chuckling. He starts carrying your luggage out of the house as you make one last walk through, assuming you had everything and things were in place for the few days you'd be away.

"Yup, all set." You notice he was putting your suitcase into his car. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be faster than an Uber."

"We've got," you glanced at your phone, "4 hours before our flight."

"I know, it's fine." He waves you off, shutting the trunk before opening the passenger side door for you. You lock up and walk over the lawn to his driveway, getting into the car.

It was a short drive to the airport, the music played quietly and Virgil hummed as he drove. He glances over to see you typing away on your phone. "Who are you texting so early?"

"Playing the possessive boyfriend already, Virgil?" A raised eyebrow as you looked at the man. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head. "I'm kidding," you rested a hand on his knee. He looks down and you move your hand. "I was just replying to some work stuff, I've never left them for so long."

"It's only 3 days, they'll be fine. Plus, don't they know you're on vacation?"

"Not really," you set the phone on your lap, "I told them I had some family stuff, couldn't exactly explain that Virgil Van Dijk was asking me- no, begging me, to be his fake wedding date."

"Technically," he points a finger at you, "it's a real wedding date, you're just my fake girlfriend."

"Technicalities, Virgil."

He laughs, pulling into the parking lot. The two of you head into the airport and after checking in, the woman sends the two of you down a hallway that seemed like a dead end.

You didn't travel often but you knew this seemed.. sketchy to say the least.

"Where are we going?" You asked Virgil, the man opens the door for you and leads you right onto the tarmac. There's a plane a few feet away and you turn to look at him, dot connecting in your head. "Private?" You asked him another question.

He nods, "figured I'd spoil my girlfriend," he jokes, smiling at you as you two walked over to the plane.

You sat across from Virgil, checking your phone for the millionth time since you've left home. "You know, they won't be able to reach you when we're in the air, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I know," you switched it off and set it down before the plane took off.

The two of you were eating breakfast, a rather large spread for being in the air and considering the flight was barely 3 hours.

"So," you set the fork down on the plate, "get me the details, who's gonna be at the wedding?"

Virgil takes a sip of his coffee, "well, Andy and Rachel obviously."

"Obviously," you chuckled.

"Thiago, Jordan, Millie, Adam and their wives, Ox and his girlfriend, us and then Trent."

"What, Trent doesn't get a plus one?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, I don't think he's seeing anyone right now. Plus he's in the states, he said he's coming but we have to see."

You nod, the two of you chat a bit more. Virgil updates you on a few matches, how they think they're going to do, what it's like being captain. You tell him how the clinic is doing, how you're liking it so far compared to when you used to work at the hospital. Just small details that might come up in a conversation with his teammates.

Once you landed, Virgil collected your luggage and you were off to the hotel. It was a short walk to the venue from the hotel, the two of you put your stuff away and decided to go for a walk, grabbing a coffee before heading back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner was in a few hours, giving you two more than enough time to get ready. "We need to get our story straight," he says to you when you come in from the balcony.

"What story ?"

"Our outfits," he says with total seriousness, "what are you wearing tonight?"

You shook your head with a small smile on your face, taking the two dresses out of the wardrobe to show him; a light blue dress with a halter top, the small white flowers going from the waist to the bottom hem and the other was a burnt orange that was backless.

"I figured the blue was a bit more family friendly, classy enough without being too dressy," you hold it up to yourself to show him. He nods, "yeah, good. It's pretty."

You hung it back in the wardrobe before turning to him. "What are you going to wear?"

"We need to match." He was already searching through his suitcase for the shirt to match your dress. "Do we really need to?" You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

He nods, pulling out the baby blue shirt. "This is close enough, no?"

"Yeah, but why does it look like you've had it rolled up in the bottom of a box for like.. 4 years?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the state of it. Virgil shakes the shirt, trying to rid it of the permanent wrinkles. "Do you not have an iron, Virgil?"

"I do, but uh, I forgot to iron it."

You shook your head, getting up to search for the iron you knew you saw. You find it in the drawer in the wardrobe, handing it to him. Virgil spreads the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron in before fiddling with the settings. He looks between the iron, the shirt and you, a bit clueless before attempting to iron the shirt.

He works on the sleeve, making it worse than it was before, you watch as he helplessly works at the shirt. You figured maybe you were making him nervous in some weird way so you excused yourself to the bathroom to unpack your makeup and hair stuff.

When you came back, 7 minutes later, he was still working on the same sleeve. Your lips pressed together, arms folded over your chest as you watched.

"What?" He asked, glancing at you.

"You're terrible at that. Do you not know how to iron?"

He sighs, "it's been years since I've had to do it, I usually just get my stuff dry cleaned."

You smiled as you walked over, taking the iron from him and putting him out of his misery. "If I leave you to iron this, you might take the whole 3 hours to finish it. Why don't you go shower or whatever you need to do, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go. Before you ruin the shirt," you shook your head, switching the setting from wool to cotton. You wondered how he ended up on wool to begin with. "Thank you," he smiles, walking into the bathroom.

While he showers, you finish up on his shirt and hang it on a hanger in the wardrobe. You also looked for his pants, ironing the 3 pairs of dress pants he had brought as you didn't know which one he'd be wearing.

Virgil returns to the room post shower, white towel wrapped around him that sat right below his hips, and you had just shut the wardrobe after hanging up his pants. You turn to find him behind you, your eyes fixed on the man; the water dripping down his chest, down to his stomach and it stops at the towel wrapped around his waist.

"You're staring, y/n." He says, you can hear the smirk on his face before your eyes meet his face.

It's not like you've never seen him shirtless before, he used the pool in his yard quite often, not to mention the glimpse of him you catch in the media or what the Liverpool account posts.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before speaking. "I uh, I ironed your pants as well, I wasn't sure which ones you were gonna wear so I ironed all of them."

He smiles, "thanks."

You nod, excusing yourself to the bathroom to shower. You shut the door, back pressed to it for a moment before going about your routine. You weren't sure how long you were in there but you had showered, done your hair and you were mid way through your makeup when there was a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Virgil calls from the other side of the door. "I need to fix my hair." He says and you open the door for him, concealer all over your face, hair pinned up with the robe wrapped around you.

He smiles when he sees you; you look so.. well, beautiful but there was something else, a domesticity of sorts. The two of you getting ready in the same bathroom, there's some intimate in the way you were seeing each other right now. Moving in silence as you both did your own thing beside one another.

You break the silence, "how did we meet?"

"We're neighbours..?" His eyes meet yours in the mirror, confusion all over his face.

"I mean if they ask, your teammates. What did you tell them?"

"Oh," he says, wrapping the hair tie around his hair. "I told them we met through mutual friends, my friend, Kevin. His wife knows you and we were all at the same party and we hit it off from there."

You hum, finishing up on your makeup. You were searching for your lipstick, "and how long have we been together?" You find the one you were looking for.

"Almost a year. If my math is right, it should be like.. 10 months?"

The lipstick in your hand, you look at Virgil with a shocked look on your face. "You've been lying to them for almost a year? How the hell did you manage that?"

His lips pressed together then he shrugs, which makes you laugh. "Okay," you nod, "almost a year it is." You turn back to the mirror, applying your lipstick.

Virgil watches as you do it, your hands steady while you go over your lips, pressing them together to make the colour even. "What do we think?" You asked, turning to him when you notice he's watching.

"Beautiful," he smiles, "truly."

"So cheesy," you chuckled, walking out of the bathroom to change into your dress.

The two of you head down to the venue a few minutes later, all dressed and ready to meet his teammates at the rehearsal dinner.

Before you walked in, Virgil grabbed your hand which caught you off guard. Your fingers interlocked with his and it took you a moment to realize why he did that; the two of you were a couple, of course.

It was already full in there, most of their family had already arrived and a few friends were scattered through the venue. You see a few of his teammates but Virgil leads you to the front, tapping Andy on the shoulder.

"Virg!" Andy smiles, pulling Virgil into a hug. "You made it," he steps back and sees you next to the man, his grin only widening. "You must be the famous girlfriend we hear about all the time."

"That would be me," you smiled, "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, this is Rachel, bride to be." He introduces you to his fiancee. You smiled at her, the two of you exchanging niceties.

"It's nice of you to make it, Andy was saying how he was certain Virgil wouldn't be bringing you." Rachel says, her arm interlocked with Andy's.

"Well to be fair, Virg seemed a bit nervous to ask me to come but I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't think I've said it but congratulations."

Virgil's heart skips a beat, it wasn't out of ordinary that someone called him Virg, but you've never had. You always called him Virgil, so to hear the nickname come out of your mouth, make him rather.. soft.

"It's my fault," Andy starts, "we did tell Virg to bring you around before but he always said you were busy with work. So I think it's fair of me to think you were fake."

You laughed, "I can assure you I'm alive and real, feel free to pinch me to confirm." Andy laughed at your comment, smiling at his teammate in approval of you. Virgil returns the smile.

"Anyways, make yourselves comfortable, we're going to start the rehearsal soon." Rachel tells the two of you, leading Andy off to greet someone else.

Virgil's hand rests on your lower back, the two of you sitting towards the middle of the chairs, watching as they went through the rehearsal. It was mostly family, his teammates were only there so they could all mingle and catch up as they had been on break for a few weeks at this point.

At some point after they were done the run through, Virgil suggested drinks and you followed him to the bar, his hand once again on your lower back.

"Virg!" You hear someone call for him, the two of you turning at the same time to see who was coming his way. Both Jordan and Millie were making their way over to the two of you.

"Hey," Virgil smiles at his teammates. "Guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend. This is Jordan and James."

You smiled at the men, "it's nice to meet you both."

"We thought you weren't coming," Millie says and Jordan follows up with a, "it's nice to meet you, we thought you weren't real."

"That seems to be the general consensus tonight," you laughed.

Ox makes his way over to the bar, seeing his teammate with a woman he's never seen before. "You must be Virgil's girlfriend, I'm Ox." He introduces himself.

"I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"I can't believe you're actually here."

You turn to Virgil, making a face at him. "Why do all your teammates think I'm not real?"

"He wouldn't show us pictures," Millie says, shrugging. "I guess that's true," you nudged Virgil, "between Virg's practices and games, and then with my work, we barely get time to see each other and when we do, we're not on our phones."

Jordan makes a face, looking between you and Virgil and you instantly know what he's thinking. "No!" You laughed, shaking your head. "That's so not what I meant."

"What is it that you do, y/n?" Ox pipes up.

"I'm a doctor, an OB actually."

"Oh wow," Ox smiles at his teammate. "She's good, you've got good taste, big man. I see why she hasn't been around."

You smile, your phone buzzing in your hand. You excuse yourself, walking away to take the phone call. You can hear the boys talking behind you, you glance over your shoulder and smile at Virgil, the man's heart skipping a beat. Despite you not being his actual girlfriend, it did feel good to get the approval from his teammates.

Virgil hadn't even realized how long he had been chatting with his teammates, he went in search of you and found you just outside, chatting with Julia, the two of you talking about their kids.

"There you are," Virgil says, walking down the steps towards you. You smile at him, "I see you've met Julia." He gives the woman a quick hug before standing beside you.

"Yeah," you smiled at her, "I'm mad at you, you know."

"What for?" His brows furrowed, looking at you. He's wondering what he could have possibly done.

"You've been hiding me from her, Julia and I are best friends now."

The blonde smiles at you, "yes we are. We've already made plans to get lunch when we get back to Liverpool. I can't believe you've never brought her around before, Virgil." She tells him, her voice similar to the one she uses when she scolded her children, and or Thiago, when they misbehave.

"Oh well, I'm sure y/n's told you about her hectic schedule. Blame her, not me. I do hope you two have fun at this lunch." He laughs, his arm over your shoulder.

The rest of the night was quiet, everyone caught up with each other with their summer plans and you met the rest of the players and their partners over the course of the night. Eventually you two decide to call it a night, heading back to the hotel.

You were by the door, taking your heels off when you saw Virgil stop in the middle of the room, in front of the bed.

"What's wrong?" You asked him, walking over. You seem to realize what he's thinking; there's only one bed.

Not like they've taken a bed out of the room while you were gone but you two had been too tired and too busy getting ready for the dinner that neither of you seemed to register that there was in fact, only one bed in the room.

It didn't occur to Virgil when booking the room that you'd need a separate bed, you weren't really a couple after all.

"I'll take the couch," you tell him, not wanting him to feel bad for his slight mess up.

He shook his head, turning to you. "No, it's fine. I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

You glance at the couch next to the window, it was spacious - that's if you were under 5 foot. There's no way he'd sleep comfortably if he did manage to fit on it.

"You know what, we're both adults. We'll sleep together." You tell him, his eyes widening at your words. "Not what I meant," you smack his arm. "We can both fit on the bed comfortably, no need for either of us to suffer on the couch."

"You're sure?" He asks and you nod, "of course, but hands to yourself mister." You pointed a finger to him, making him laugh.

Virgil raises his hands, "I swear I'll be on my best behaviour," he says, watching you walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

--

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you from your sleep. You shut your eyes, trying to get a few more minutes but you can hear the shower running and then shuts off followed by the bathroom door opening. The smell of Virgil's body wash fills the room and you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

"Mornin' sunshine," he smiles at you, sitting on the edge of the bed. You yawn, stretching as you try to wake yourself up. "What time is it?"

"10:27," he looks at the clock, "how about some breakfast?"

"Yes please," you get out of bed, fixing the comforter as you walk to the bathroom. "Lots of coffee please," you smiled at him, shutting the door.

Virgil orders room service while you shower, you return to the room just as it arrives. The two of you sit on the couch, eating breakfast in comfortable silence. Virgil grabs his phone, "Andy sent over some pictures from last night," he shows you a few photos that the groom to be had sent.

"Those are cute, send them to me."

Your phone buzzes on the bed and you look over at the clock, "shit, I've got to do my hair." You set the cup down on the table and walk towards the bathroom. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"No, I'm good." he tells you, "do your thing."

You walk in and walk back out, leaning on the door frame. "What are you wearing today?"

He smiles, "don't worry, I ironed it and put it in the closet."

"Properly?" You asked, walking over to confirm.

"Yes," he shook his head, watching as you took the shirt out to confirm that he did in fact iron it properly. "Wow, good job. Big upgrade from yesterday."

"Watched a YouTube video," he says, making you laugh.

You leave Virgil in the room, off to shower and then to start on your makeup and hair as you weren't 100% sure what look you wanted to do. Virgil left you alone, letting you get ready in peace. He could hear the music playing, your humming accompanying the melody.

He thought to himself that it was something he could get used to, that his house would feel so quiet and empty without you humming.

The line between real and fake seemed to be getting blurred more and more as the time went by.

"Virg?" You called for the man, he got up from his spot on the couch. He had been ready for some time, you still had an hour before you needed to leave. "Yeah?"

"Can you zip me up?"

You stepped out of the bathroom, hair pulled over your shoulder with your dress on. He smiles, nodding as he walks over to you; the sage green dress hugged your body in the right places, it was as if the dress was made for you and only you.

Virgil's hand rests on your waist, the other holds the zipper and gives it a soft tug, pulling it up to the top. The hand holding the zipper now turns into fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, coming to rest on the other side of your hip. "There you go."

Turning around to face him, Virgil's hands remained on your hips. "Thank you," you look up. He nods, "you look.. wow."

You can't help but laugh, straightening his shirt. "You look pretty wow yourself."

Virgil lets go of you when you take a step back, walking to the vanity to put your jewelry on. It takes the two of you half an hour to gather the last minute things you needed, assuring you were ready before heading out for the ceremony.

It's a short walk to the venue, everyone was being ushered into the church to take their seats while the bridal party was lining up to walk in when you two arrived.

The weather was beautiful, the sun was out and the church was full with their families and friends; they couldn't ask for a better start to their wedding day.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Andy and Rachel exchanging vows and promises, everyone was beyond happy for them.

Most of the guests were now outside, the doors to the church open as everyone was heading out.

You stood next to Virgil by the stairs, letting him block the sun from your face as you checked your phone. You hear the footsteps before you hear the voice. "You're actually here, you're real?" The Scouse accent thick, Trent.

"I am real," you looked up, smiling at the man who looks like he's seen better days. "You must be Trent."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Excuse me." He says, covering a yawn with his hand.

Before you two could speak, Andy was calling the two players over for a group photo. You stop Virgil, standing on your tiptoes to reach his collar, his hand on your hip you keep you steady as you fix it before sending him on his way; a small act of intimacy that you'd only find between a couple.

You had been checking your emails, something you knew Virgil would complain about if he caught you doing it yet again. You were so caught up that you hadn't noticed him calling your name. When you do, you look up, making a hand motion as to ask him what he wants. He waved you over, pointing to the spot in front of him. Your brows furrowed, still unsure what he wanted as the dots didn't seem to connect. Virgil realized as much, pointing towards the photographer and then back to the spot in front of him.

Only then did it click what he meant.

You head over, joining the other girlfriends and wives in the photo. Andy and Rachel were front and centre, the rest of you around them.

"Alright everyone, squeeze in a bit more please!" The photographer shouts, showing you all with his hands to move closer to each other.

Virgil moves you from beside him to in front of him, his arm over your shoulder and your hand instinctively reaches up, fingers interlocking with his.

The photographer gives everyone a moment to situate themselves, "perfect, alright everyone look here! Smile!"

A few moments later, you were all allowed to move. Andy and Rachel were off to take some more photos, there was only about 30 minutes before the reception which wasn't too far from the church.

Everyone makes their way over, waiting for the official entrance from Andy and Rachel as Mr and Mrs Robertson for the first time.

You were sat next to Virgil, Jordan and his wife, Rebecca, to the right of Virgil and Thiago and Julia to your left.

Andy and Rachel were having their first dance, the whole venue was quiet as you all watched the two of them, wrapped up in love and giggling as they whispered to each other mid dance.

You wiped the outer corner of your eye, blinking a few times in an attempt to save your makeup. Virgil turns slightly when he hears a small sniffle. He sees your watery eyes, smiling to himself and leans in to whisper to you; "are you crying?"

"Shut up," you whispered back, turning him back around with a small nudge. "Weddings make me emotional."

The evening was quiet, dinner consisted of everyone chatting, Andy and Rachel made the rounds to say hello to everyone who they didn't get a chance to talk to at the church. Eventually they reopened the bar and the dance floor, everyone started making their way around, mingling, drinking and dancing.

You were replying to a message when Virgil came over, two shot glasses in hand. He passes one to you, "to Andy and Rachel," he says, tapping his glass to you. The two of you down the shots, tequila, based on the after taste.

"Okay, let's go dance!"

"I don't dance, Virg."

"It's a wedding, you have to dance!" He takes your phone from you, putting it into his pocket and grabbing your hand. "Virg," you groaned, the man ignores your pleas and takes you to the dance floor, spinning you around.

Before you know it, the two of you are giggling and dancing, his arms over your shoulders as he hugs you from behind, swaying to the music.

"I'm gonna get a drink," you tell him and the man lets you go while nodding before shimmying his way over to Trent, who looks like he was about to fall asleep in his chair. You laughed, leaving Virgil to bother Trent as you walked to the bar.

You had barely made it to the bar when someone shouted for you. "Y/n!" You see Thiago off to the side, "can you take a picture for us?"

"Sure," you take the phone from him, he and Julia standing together, arms wrapped around each other as they smiled, then Thiago kissed her.

Sometimes you wonder what it'd be like if you had a stable and loving relationship like theirs.

"I thought you got lost!" Virgil says, walking towards you. You shook your head, handing the phone back over to Thiago. The Spaniard then turns, passing the phone to Virgil. "Okay now you come in, let him take the picture."

"Are you sure?" You asked, Thiago was already pulling you into the photo.

He nods, you and Julia on either side of him, the 3 of you smiling as Virgil takes the photo, the camera flashing. Thiago steps out, letting you and Julia have some together, his wife telling him something about they have enough pictures of them together. You laughed, the two of you smiling for the camera.

"Do you want one together?" Thiago looks at Virgil, who then looks at you and you shrug, waving him over. Virgil hands his phone to Thiago while Julia replaces him by her husband's side.

Virgil's arm over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, the two of you smiling while Virgil pulls you into his side. "Alright Virg, give your lady a kiss." Thiago says, smiling.

Your 'boyfriend's' cheeks are red, a flush he can blame on the Portuguese heat or the liquor but you know the real reason. "Come on man, what are you waiting for?!" Thiago says, laughing at Virgil's shyness.

"Leave them alone," Julia tells her husband, rolling her eyes at his childishness.

"It's fine," you whisper to Virgil, turning to him a bit. He looks at you, whispering back, "you sure?" You stood close, the air between you two charged with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

"Mhm hm," your hand rests on his chest while he leans down, you tip toe a bit, meeting him half way when he kisses you.

But as your hand found its way to Virgil's cheek and your lips met against each other's, something shifted. What was meant to be a quick moment blossomed into something real, something raw. When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, a shared realization dawned upon them.

The kiss may have been staged, but the feelings it stirred within were undeniably genuine.

As you glanced at each other, a silent understanding passed between you and Virgil. This fake relationship may have begun as a charade, but perhaps, just perhaps, it held the promise of something more.

Thiago grinned, "perfect. The picture of love," he says, handing the phone back to Virgil. You smiled, your own cheeks now flushed and red. You reached over, your thumb brushed over his lips to wipe away the lipstick left behind. Virgil's arm wraps around your shoulder, the two of you chatting as you join Thiago and Julia for a round of shots.

The night wrapped up just after midnight, everyone waiting at the front to wish Andy and Rachel well, seeing them off as they left before everyone else headed to wherever home was after that.

Virgil's jacket over your shoulders while you walked back to the hotel. Despite the humidity earlier in the day, there was now a slight chill in the air.

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, opening the door for you. "I did," you walk in, waiting for the elevator to your room. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Thank you for coming, you really saved my ass."

It hits you in the moment that this was in fact, fake. You were doing him a favour, you weren't a couple, you never will be. Just a good friend helping him out in a tough situation.

When you returned to the room, Virgil announced that he's gonna go take a shower while you got ready for bed. The two of you moved in silence, you sat at the vanity taking your makeup off while the sound of the water running filled the room. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't real yet again.

All the feelings felt over the weekend were just for show. Certainly Virgil didn't feel the same way you did.

The steam filled the bathroom, Virgil lets the water run as he stands there. The kiss was real, the moments you shared were real, his feelings for you were real.

How the hell was he used to bring it up without it being awkward?

The shower shut off just as you were about to get into bed. Your phone bus is on the nightstand, and you reach over to grab it. There's a notification from Instagram.

juliavigas tagged you in a post. - 2mins ago.

You opened it, checking to see what she posted. There's a few photos from the wedding. Some of her and Thiago, the venue, one of you and her, as well as the one with you, her and Thiago. She also included the one in front of the church, Virgil's arm wrapped around you as you all smiled.

Virgil finds his way to the bed, sitting next to you. "What's so interesting?"

"Julia posted some pictures," you show your phone, letting him scroll through the pictures. "I guess everyone will think we're together now." He looks at the one in front of the church before handing the phone back to you.

"Wasn't that the whole point?" You ask, setting your phone on the nightstand.

"I guess so," he shrugs, the two of you sitting there in silence, the tv playing quietly in the background. There's a million thoughts going through his head at this very moment.

As he looked over at you, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Virgil couldn't help but admire your beauty, the way your eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored a flickering flame. It was in shared moments like these that he felt a pull, a force pulling him closer, urging him to take that leap of faith. But as the silence went on, Virgil felt the weight of his hesitation, suffocating him with its embrace.

How could he confess his feelings when the fear of rejection spun around in his mind, an unwelcome shadow over his every thought?

He glances at you once more, your eyes meeting in a brief exchange, Virgil felt a sense of longing wash over him, a wave of emotion threatening to consume him whole.

Still, the words remained unspoken, trapped behind the barricade of his uncertainty.

He had to take the leap of faith, he wouldn't know if he didn't try.

"What are we?" He blurts out, breaking the silence.

You turn, looking at him with a confused expression. "What are.. what do you mean?"

"Well.. we.. we kissed, so like, are we.. what are we?"

"We're not in high school, Virg. A kiss is a kiss, no?"

His smile fades, your heart breaking the moment you see that. He nods, turning his attention back to the tv. "Yeah, no. Of course."

"I'm kidding," your hand rests over his on the bed, "if you're asking me if I like.. if I like you, then I'll only answer if you put it into a note, like high school." You raised your eyebrows, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, okay." He nods. The topic was dropped, the tension lifting slightly.

--

The next morning, you and Virgil leave bright and early, heading to the airport for your flight back to England. The plane had barely taken off and you were still not fully awake, nursing your coffee as Virgil's fingers drummed on his knee.

"Dude," you groaned, "I have a headache, it sounds like you're playing a gong right now."

He stops tapping on his leg, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a weird expression. "Can you play a gong? Is that what it is?"

"I don't know, you know what I mean." You tell him, leaning your head back, eyes shut. You barely got all but 3 minutes of silence before Virgil speaks up again. "Do you have a pen?"

You open your eyes, reaching over to dig through your purse next to you before fishing out a pen and handing it to him. You watch him as he uncaps it, scribbling something down on the napkin in front of him, sliding it over the table to you with the pen.

'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' The two little boxes labeled yes and no under his question.

You smile, shaking your head at his childishness and the fact that he took what you said seriously. You picked up the pen, checking a box and sliding it over to him.

The yes was checked, Virgil glances at you with a cheeky smile before picking up the pen, flipping over the napkin and writing something else before sliding it back to you.

'Will you be my girlfriend?' the same yes and no boxes drawn under the question.

Your answer was yes but you wouldn't give into him so quickly. You picked up the pen, chin in the palm of your head thinking as if it was the hardest question of your life. You can see Virgil shifting nervously in his seat, and it's as if you can hear him overthinking his decision to ask you.

To put him out of his misery, you check a box and slide it back over to him.

There's a sigh of relief when he sees you've checked yes. You toss the pen at him playfully, shaking your head. "You're so cheesy."

"You said to ask it in a note!" He says, folding the napkin and putting it into his pocket.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" You laughed, the man shook his head and unbuckled, leaving over the table. His hands cupping your face, smiling at you before he kisses you.

Your hand interlocked with his, stretched over the table when he sat back down. "How about when we get back, I take you on an actual date?"

Your thumb brushes over his hand. "Not sick of me yet?"

"Could never get sick of you, y/n."

--

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