#AND NOW I CAN SEND OFF MY FILES AND REST | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honestsycrets · 1 year ago

Text

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

13K notes · View notes

atlabeth · 4 months ago

Text

heat lightning

pt 1

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you end up at the heart of the bau's latest case.

a/n: took way too long but here's more gideon reader! just as irritable as ever with some actual human emotions this time around. send help and prayers bc she's gonna need it. and before you ask there will in fact be some more parts to close up this case, i just have to write them first and it may take approximately 10 years. thank you for your consideration

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): reader still has daddy issues, still hates spence, and still argues w gideon the whole time. more angst! typical cm case stuff (a stalker that has taken vulnerable pics of reader) read w/ discretion if you are sensitive to those things. more drama and more tension and more not being a good time for anyone but me

“On your right, pretty boy.”

Spencer stops as Morgan rushes past him back to his desk, eyes trained on the hallway.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he complains. “I nearly spilled my coffee.”

“Gideon’s daughter is here again,” he says. “Did you not feel the temperature drop five degrees?”

Spencer frowns. He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the telltale signs of your arrival: arguing.

“—so typical of you! I have to drop everything the moment you need me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”

Gideon turns the corner with you in tow. He has a duffle bag in one hand and a file in his other, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“That’s because this is important,” he says.

“Oh, and everything else I try to get you to be around for isn’t?”

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Gideon says, keeping his voice level.

“This is ridiculous,” you spit.

“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “I’m not going to play games with your safety.”

“Oh, yeah,” you mock. “Because you’ve always cared about that.”

He just shakes his head. “I’m not debating this with you.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

You follow Gideon into his office and Spencer watches him close the blinds. The door slams shut, and though he can still hear the muffled argument he can’t make anything out.

“Oh, great,” Morgan says. “Now we can’t even get Reid to read their lips.”

“I don’t think we need it to know what they’re talking about,” Elle says. “They’ve been arguing since she was brought in.”

“Of course they have,” JJ says. “Gideon sent Hotch to pick her up instead of doing it himself. She sees it as another slight.”

“She sees everything as a slight,” Spencer says. “She hates him.”

“I don’t blame her,” Morgan mutters. “Not when we only found out about her last month.”

“Surely this isn’t helping with anything,” JJ says wryly.

Elle shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes pointless arguing makes you feel better, even when you’re in the wrong.”

“That’s enough, agents.” Spencer’s attention—along with everyone else’s—snaps to the top of the bullpen to see Hotch holding a file with the same expression as always. “I need you all in the conference room.”

“Does it have anything to do with that?” Morgan asks, tilting his head towards Gideon’s office.

“You’ll find out,” he says. Hotch starts walking to the conference room, the conversation clearly over.

JJ sighs as she stands up and grabs the files on her desk. “I’ll get Penelope. The rest of you try not to gossip too much.”

She goes off, and the others disperse back to their desk to finish up some last-minute things before the case takes them away. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Gideon’s office, even though he’s not getting anything.

All he can think about is the last time you were here, when he got caught in the middle of your argument with Gideon—your dad, which was still a little weird—and he can’t help but feel guilty.

Gideon is a father figure to him, sure, but it isn’t that difficult to end up with that dynamic when Spencer’s the youngest on the team. And he can go into everything about his father leaving and the psychology of that, but it doesn’t matter. Gideon treated him like a son when he had a daughter all along that he’d been neglecting.

For all Spencer knows, it is his fault.

“Reid,” Elle says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “you coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding far too many times as he catches up to her in a few quick strides. “Sorry.”

“No need,” she remarks. “Gideon’s kid was all anyone could talk about when she first showed up here. This is only gonna make things worse.”

“He can’t really be that bad of a dad,” Spencer says, “right?”

“All I know is that having a parent in the force rarely ends well,” Elle murmurs. She opens the door to the conference room and looks at him. “We can’t be too hard on her when we probably see Gideon more than she does.”

Spencer recalls his meeting with you, how he barely got a word in edgewise while you spent the whole time arguing with someone half the office viewed as immovable.

“Yeah,” he says distantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

Your dad shuts the blinds on all the windows in his office, then closes the door behind you. He sets your duffle down on the floor then looks at you, that infuriatingly even expression still unchanged.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he says. “Sit down and lower your voice, please. We have some things to talk about.”

“I gathered that when you sent your guy to pick me up,” you say, crossing your arms as he walks over to his desk. “Couldn’t even do it yourself?”

“Aaron Hotchner is the chief of this unit and one of the most accomplished agents here,” he says. “He lives closer to you than I do, and I asked him to pick you up on his way in because I knew you would be safe with him. Sit down, please.”

“There it is again. My safety.” You remain standing. “Tell me what this is about. I’m missing work right now— I know you can understand that, at least.”

He lets out a sigh as he says your name and looks at you. “Can we get through this without any arguments for once?”

“That depends. Are you going to treat me like your daughter or an inconvenience?”

“You’re my daughter, I love you, and your life is in danger,” he says evenly.

You open your mouth to retort, but your dad opens the file in his hands and sets it down on the other side of the desk. You can see from your position that they’re photos, but your curiosity ultimately wins out. You walk over to get a closer look, and any words die in your throat as you pick up the first photo.

A photo of you.

You pick up the next one, only to see it’s another picture of you. At least ten photos are tucked away in the file, and they’re all of you. Taken outside your work, at your apartment, on your morning run— god, there’s even one taken through the window of your bedroom, half-naked in a towel after a shower.

You fall silently into the chair, your heart hammering inside your chest as your eyes dart between all of the photos. You want to crawl out of your skin.

“What the fuck is this?” you breathe.

“The heart of our newest case,” your dad says. “It appears that you have a stalker.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still glued to your oblivious self, “I would fucking think so.”

“These photos were dropped off at my door this morning,” he says, and he flips to the next section of the file, “with that note.”

The erratic handwriting instantly stands out to you as you pick the photocopy up, the lump in your throat growing with every word you read.

such a pretty little thing. I wonder if she knows it.

you don’t care about her, but I do. she’s just like all the rest of us, everyone that you’ve ruined.

think about your priorities, agent gideon. I’ll be watching.

“What the fuck is this?” you repeat. Blood pounds in your skull as a distant chill creeps down your spine. “I— I’m one of your cases now?”

“We’re not sure yet,” he admits. “These only appeared yesterday, but from the looks of it, the unsub has been watching you for a while. Can you pinpoint when any of these photos were taken?

You stare at him. “Some psycho has been stalking me for a while?”

Your dad says your name again, slightly strained. “Please. I know this is difficult to think about, but figuring out a time frame would help us.”

“Difficult,” you scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

But it doesn’t have the bite your words usually hold. For once, you don’t think you’re mad at your dad. You think you’re terrified.

“...Yeah,” you finally murmur, and you pick up one of the photos. “I thrifted a mirror a month ago, and this one doesn’t have it.”

Your dad nods, and he picks up two others. “Neither do these.”

“So this has been going on for at least a month,” you say bitterly. “Great.”

Your dad says your name, quieter this time, and when you finally look at him his eyes have softened.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “This is a threat against an FBI agent’s family, and it will be treated accordingly. Forensics is doing tests on all the original copies to try and find a lead. The whole BAU will be on your case—I will be on it, and we won’t rest until we find whoever’s doing this.”

“Yeah,” you say numbly. “You sure that’ll help? Because it looks like all this is happening because I’m your daughter.”

“I know this is scary,” he says. “This… this is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But you have to trust my team. We know what we’re doing.”

“Of course you know what you’re doing,” you say. “You’re always here.”

Your words have no bite behind them, more of an instinct as you grab your purse from the ground. You can feel the pinpricks of incoming tears, and you refuse to cry in front of your dad.

“I— I need a minute,” you say. “This is all just—”

“I understand,” he says. “Just don’t go far. Stay on this floor.”

You nod and start towards the door, but you pause right before you reach it. Your mouth opens as you try to think of something to say, but it falls shut just as quickly. You shake your head as you reach for the door handle, but before you get the chance, it swings open and you’re met with a familiar face.

Spencer Reid, the kid your dad likes more than you. He’s nothing less than surprised to see you, from his stumbled step back, the slightly wide eyes, his hand poised to knock on the door.

A mumbled apology falls from your lips as you move around him, and you can still feel his eyes on you as you speed off. You wonder what ideas he and the rest of the BAU have drawn up about you since your last visit to the office.

You don’t really care.

True to your word, you don’t go far—just to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s close, because the moment you make it to one of the stalls, knees stinging as you fall to the tiled floor, you vomit.

By the time you’ve expelled the contents of your stomach, it feels just as empty as the rest of you. You stare at the wall, breathing slightly harried and skin warm to the touch, and you resist the urge to punch it.

You have a stalker. Someone has been watching you for a month—at least a month, maybe longer—and you had no fucking clue, and now your only decent hope lies with your dad and his team.

Normally, you wrote off anything depending on your dad as fruitless, but this involved the thing he loved more than anything in the world: his job.

You huff a wry laugh at the thought. This wouldn’t get solved because it concerned you, it would get solved because it concerned his job.

You stand up and walk over to the sink. You rinse your mouth, then just stare at yourself in the mirror.

It— it feels strange. Looking at yourself like this, knowing someone has been—still is—watching you.

You recall their words.

Pretty little thing.

You don’t care about her, but I do.

A chill crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the dread settling all over you.

What the fuck are you going to do?

You have to trust your dad, but you’ve never trusted your dad. God, he’s not even really your dad. He’s Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, nothing more—the estranged kid is an unfortunate side effect of the estranged wife.

You let out another breathy laugh. Would he even care if this psycho actually ends up killing you?

You stand there for another couple minutes, time idling in the background as you continue to stare at the mirror.

You haven’t cried, at least. That’s certainly something.

The door opens ever so slightly and someone says your name. Your eyes flick to the mirror almost immediately as your body tenses, and you recognize her as one of the BAU’s agents. She’s pretty and blonde with sympathetic eyes, and you know they’ve been briefed on your situation.

If you have to deal with an office of pitying looks, you think you might lose your mind.

“Are you alright?” she asks softly.

“Just peachy,” you mumble. “My dad ask you to check up on me?”

She nods. “You can imagine why Gideon is a bit high strung at the moment.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I just… needed a second.”

“I understand,” she murmurs. “Do you still need some time?”

“What do you need?”

“Gideon wants to talk to you. It’s best if he explains it.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. “Fine. Lead the way, Agent…”

“Jareau,” she supplies. “But call me JJ, please.”

In lieu of a response, you walk over to her. She offers a thin smile and holds the door for you, then falls into step with you. A moment of silence passes before she speaks up.

“We’re going to figure this out,” JJ says. “Your dad is one of the best to walk through these doors. If anyone can solve this, he can.”

“So I keep hearing,” you murmur.

Spencer watches you hurry off with wide eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it. He’s less surprised by your pace, and more surprised that you actually apologized for bumping into him.

“Reid,” Gideon speaks up, and his attention snaps back over to his superior. “What do you need?”

“Is she okay?” he asks instead. He can’t help it—after what Hotch just told all of them, he’s worried about you.

Gideon gathers the photos back into the file then stands up. “Our job is to make sure she will be.”

“Hotch briefed us,” he says, and his eyes darted back to the doorway almost on instinct. “This— this is crazy. We just found out about her last month, and some guy’s been after her for longer?”

“What this is is one of my enemies targeting my daughter because they’re too much of a coward to go after me,” Gideon says evenly. “We just have to figure out which one before they escalate.”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“What you said is true,” he admits. “Hardly anyone knows I have a daughter. Even fewer would know where she lives. Someone who wants to hurt me would have incentive to discover both.”

“So we look into unsubs you’ve put away that have been released,” Spencer says. “Or ones that are still in, but have family that might be bitter.”

“Exactly,” Gideon nods. “But I have to ask something of you, Reid.”

He frowns. “Anything.”

“We’re working on getting a safe house for my daughter,” Gideon says. “I need you to stay there with her.”

Somehow, his frown deepens. “What?”

“I need to know she’s with someone I can trust,” he says. “There’s someone after her, and we don’t know who—that means we need to keep this circle tight.”

“So you want me to be her bodyguard?” Spencer marvels. “Do you remember that you had to waive all my physical tests?”

“Less of a bodyguard,” he says. “More just… keeping her company. Making sure she’s alright—mentally as much as physically.”

“Why am I the one that has to keep an eye on her?” Spencer asks. “She hates me!”

“Don’t take it personally,” Gideon says. “She hates a lot of things.”

“But it is personal,” Spencer insists. “She hates me because she thinks you like me more than her.”

Gideon doesn’t seem phased at the comment. “She’s opinionated, but she’s harmless. And right now, I need to know that she’s with someone I can trust.”

“I— I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, Reid.” Gideon leans forward, and there’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. "If I'm going to be on this case, I need to know that she's safe. I won't be able to focus otherwise."

Spencer wasn’t going to lie—he genuinely thought it was a bad idea. But… Gideon said he trusted him. And this was his daughter—they might’ve argued, but they still cared about each other. if he could keep Lila Archer safe, he could keep you safe.

“…Okay,” he finally concedes. “Okay.”

Gideon nods, and he watches the change in his eyes, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Just… make sure there are two bedrooms,” Spencer says. “I don’t need her to kill me one day in.”

At that, he cracks a rare smile. Spencer is thankful for it, that he can bring even the smallest amount of levity to Gideon’s life right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your dad says your name, but you hardly let him finish.

“No! First I find out I have a stalker, then my whole life’s going to be uprooted until you find them, and now I have to be stuck with boy genius?”

“You know, we’re about the same age—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you cry, whirling on Spencer.

“I actually don’t talk that much when I’m around you,” Spencer says, his brows creasing. “This is the third time I’ve met you, and I’ve only said nine sentences across those meetings. Thirteen, if you count all of these too.”

You let out a strained laugh as you shake your head, trying to blink back tears. “This is fucking unbelievable. I know he’s practically your son, but this is just—”

“A safety precaution,” your dad interrupts. “Doctor Spencer Reid is another one of the BAU’s finest agents, and he is fully qualified to keep you safe.”

“He looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half.”

“This is not a joke,” your dad says sternly. “None of this is a joke. Your life is in danger—you have a stalker that has been watching your every move for at least a month, and we have no idea what their next move will be. Doctor Reid is more experienced than you in every facet of this, and I am entrusting him to your care. I respect him immensely, and you will do so as well.”

You don’t even look at Spencer, quiet rage simmering beneath the surface as you stare at your father.

“You really don’t get it,” you murmur. “Do you?”

“The only thing to get is that your life is in increasing danger with every moment you spend pushing against me,” your dad says, and he stands up. “Get your purse. Reid, get her duffle. We’re leaving.”

He leaves before you get the chance to do anything—you assume he’s finally tired of you.

You just shake your head and pick up your purse, and Spencer clears his throat as he reaches for your duffle bag. You wonder if it even has anything useful—Aaron Hotchner was the one who packed it.

“…So,” Spencer says. “I guess we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

You huff in fully unveiled annoyance, and you push past him on your way out.

“Great,” he mutters to himself as he follows you. “So this is what Gideon’s trust earns me.”

It doesn’t take him too long to catch up to you, despite the unnecessary quick pace you’re taking. You bypass the elevator and head towards the stairwell, and Spencer catches the door before it’s able to slam on him.

He says your name, but you just shake your head.

“If we’re gonna be stuck together until this is over, I’d prefer silence.”

“I don’t really do silence,” Spencer says.

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of books for you to read in whatever jail cell they throw me in.”

“It’s actually going to be a pretty nice safe house,” he starts, throwing his hand up against the wall to catch himself from running into it as he turns, because god you are moving fast, “Gideon picked it out himself.”

“Oh, then it’ll definitely be a jail cell,” you mock. “It’s not like he knows anything about me, so he’ll probably think that it’s perfect.”

Spencer frowns. “Cut him some slack. This is all just as hard on him as it is on you.”

You come to a sudden stop, whirling around to face him, and Spencer has to reel to the side to prevent himself from running into you. Had he not already been pressed up against the wall, he would have moved back further, what with the fire blazing in your eyes.

“I’m not going to cut him any slack,” you spit. “This is the most time I’ve gotten to spend with my dad in months, and it’s only because some creep is stalking me to get back at him. The only reason I’m in this at all is because of his job that he cares about more than me, and now he’s sticking me with the guy that he wishes was his kid. So no, Doctor Reid—I’m not going to cut him any slack.”

You’re already off on your way again before Spencer even has time to blink, and you’ve made it down the whole last flight by the time he pushes himself back up.

He takes the steps three at a time to catch up to you, and he once again barely manages to catch the door before it slams on him. He calls your name, finally managing to fall into step with you right before you reach Gideon. He, like a normal person, deigned to take the elevator.

“You haven’t started arguing already,” he says, passing a glance at Spencer, “have you?”

“What do you think?” you ask, your arms crossed.

“I think you’re giving him a hard time that you usually reserve for me,” he says. “Cut him some slack.”

Your jaw clenches. “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Save the profiling for my stalker, will you?”

“There’s plenty of profiling to go around,” Gideon says. “You two wait here—I need to confirm the safe house location before we head out.”

“Can we stop by my place before we go?” Spencer asks. “I need to pick up some things.”

“You have a go bag, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I— I wasn’t exactly prepared for this sort of thing when I came in today.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gideon says. He walks off before Spencer can protest, and he sighs.

You lean against the wall, your arms crossed with your purse hanging off your shoulder, and for once you don’t pass judgment on his—admittedly small—plight.

“I changed my mind,” Spencer speaks up, deciding to try and break the remarkably high amount of tension that had built up in such a short time, and your eyebrows rise as you glance at him.

“About what?”

“I— I think I can do silence,” he says. “Temporarily.”

You huff a laugh. “Really?”

“I don’t really want to annoy you while we’re stuck together in an undisclosed location,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

And for the first time since Spencer has met you, you actually smile. It’s the smallest thing, just a slight tilt of your lips that’s more akin to Hotch’s moments of levity than anything, but it’s a smile.

“...Good choice,” you say. It feels like a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure.

He smiles anyway. You meet his eyes, and for a moment, you’re just another girl. Someone that Spencer could imagine himself stealing glances at in a lecture hall, a regular at his favorite coffee shop that he falls for over the course of an especially cold winter, someone he meets on a night out with the team that he ends up talking to all night.

You really do have pretty eyes.

And then your gaze hardens, darts away from him, and Spencer sees Gideon coming back in his peripherals. The moment fractures.

You’re not just a girl. You’re Gideon’s daughter, you’re in a remarkable amount of danger, and lest he forget, you do in fact hate him.

Spencer lets out another short sigh.

At least this safe house won’t have a pool.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes

2K notes · View notes

ofstarsandvibranium · 21 days ago

Text

Beloved Mine

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Sam sends out an SOS that Bucky isn't in the best mood, so you see him to ease his mind.

Sammy: SOS. he's in a bad mood!

You read over Sam's text and snort. You quickly type out a reply and start to change from your pjs to some appropriate clothing.

On your way to Bucky's, you stopped by his favorite bakery, grabbing his favorite baked goods as well as a wide variety for his people. You also grabbed him a coffee and a drink for you as well.

Sammy: He almost shot the new guy in the foot. Please tell me you're on your way.

You: ETA 10 minutes.

Sammy: THANK GOD.

You giggle and continue to drive to Bucky's family mansion. At the gate, the security guard takes one look at you and immediately lets you in. You give him a pastry in gratitude before driving up the long gravel driveway.

You park beside Sam's car and hop out. The man at the door nods at you, opening the door wide for you to step in. You also hand him a pastry with a smile.

You head towards the back of the house where you hear a familiar, loud distant voice.

The closer you get, the louder the voice. You push through some of the men spilling out of the room until you're inside.

"-HOW MANY FUCKING MEN DO I GOTTA LOSE TO-honey?"

All eyes land to you. You give a sheepish wave, "Hi, sorry, is this a bad time?" You know it is but you feign ignorance.

Bucky sighs, running his hand through his brunette locks, "Just finishing up a meeting."

"Oh, I can wait-"

"No, no. It's fine. Think they all had enough of my shouting," he waves his hand, "Leave, you fuckers!" most of the people scurry out in an instant, not wanting to wait and see if Bucky changes his mind. A small group stay behind, Bucky's closest friends and confidants: Sam, Joaquin, Yelena, and Nat.

You approach them, setting yours and Bucky's drinks in front of him. You open the pastry box in your hands and hold it out to the four, "Take your pick!"

"You're Heaven sent!" Sam exclaims as he grabs a donut and shoots you a wink. You give him a smirk and a nod.

Joaquin grabs a danish, practically stuffing the entire thing in his mouth.

"Did you eat today, Joaquin?"

He shakes his head as he continues to chew the danish. You lift the box higher, "Take as much as you want."

He gives you a grin as he grabs two more pastries and follows Sam out the door.

"Ladies?"

"I'm good," Nat says with a shake of her head in decline.

"Hell yeah, donuts!" Yelena exclaims as she grabs the glazed twists. She hums in delight as she takes a bite, "Thanks, Y/N!"

You chuckle, "You're welcome, Lena."

The two women look to Bucky to see if he needed anything else. Bucky sips his coffee and waves them off and the two file out the door, closing it behind them.

You turn back to Bucky, "Yours are at the bottom," you place the pastry box in front of him.

Bucky's eyes narrow at you, a hint of a smirk on his lips, "Who called you?"

"No one called me."

"So if I check your phone-"

"Technically, Sam texted me. He didn't call me."

Bucky scoffs and shakes his head, "Of course he did."

You walk over to the other side of his desk. He leans back in his chair and you sit on his arm rest, "Bad day?" You begin to run your fingers through his hair and he leans into your touch with a sigh, "Another shipment got intercepted. We lost some guys."

"'M sorry, baby."

"I'm getting real fucking tired of Hydra. And none of my people can find shit out! Anytime they snag one of their guys, they kill themselves before we get any answers. Fucking cowards."

You wrap your arms around Bucky's bulking frame, "You'll figure it out. You always do. Besides, I'm sure Lena and Nat have something cooking, right?"

"Supposedly, but they won't tell me what yet. They're trying to iron out the details."

"Just let them handle it in the meantime. Now, how about a treat?" you grab one of the pastries that you know he loves and he takes a bite. He moans at the taste and his shoulders drop in relief.

He washes it down with his coffee and he looks at you with shining blue eyes, "You really know how to make a guy feel loved, honey."

You giggle, and wipe some crumbs off his chubby cheeks, "Well, duh, I do love you," you peck his lips, "Ease up on everyone, will ya? I know things are tense, but they're all doing the best they can. You can't afford to lose more people."

He slowly nods, "You're right. Fuck, you know, maybe you should step down and take over, hm?"

You throw your head back and laugh, "Oh, please, I'd run your family into the ground! No one would listen to me-"

"Baby, a majority of my people listen to you already."

"...I don't know how to lead people or how the inner workings of all this," you gesture around you, "goes."

Bucky shrugs, "I can teach you. Besides," he takes your left hand, thumb grazing over the diamond ring on your finger, "you should start learning some things anyway."

"Let me just live in ignorant bliss until after the wedding, Barnes," you pat his plump cheeks and he grins at you, eyes soft and full of love.

#bucky x reader #chubby!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #mob boss au #mob au #mafia au #marvel au

578 notes · View notes

scarfacemarston · 7 months ago

Text

Teacher!Natasha x Teacher!Reader Oneshot

For Lesbian Visibility Week! If you enjoyed this, please note and reblog! Feel free to send other prompts or requests! Prompt: The students come into your classroom complaining about Natasha as a teacher not knowing you're her wife. This is version 1. You sighed as you glanced at the digital clock on your computer. Damn. Your planning period was almost over, and you really needed to finish grading these essays. Soon, you would be back to teaching your high school history classes for the day. The period ended far too quickly as students began to file their way into the classroom, discussing this and that. You were so engrossed in your work that you were hardly paying attention until you heard “Ms. Romanoff” mentioned not once, not twice, but in a string of sentences. Oh boy. Ms. Romanoff was one of the more controversial teachers at the school known for her no-nonsense attitude, sternness and sarcasm , but she was also fair with a dry sense of humor. “Why did I take international politics as an elective? Oh, that’s right, I thought it would look good on my transcript!” One student said sarcastically. “She’s so nitpicky! I got an A-. AN A MINUS!” “Hers is the only class I don’t fall asleep in anymore. Not since….last time.” “She’s so strict even the Macklin brothers shut up.” “She’s terrifying. I heard she used to be an undercover agent in the CIA”. You smirked at that one. You should probably look into that rumor. “A spy? Shut-up, man. Who’s going to believe that?” “I heard she was a failed actress.” “I heard she voiced the Russian Siri.” “I heard she’s a rich heiress that lost all her cash.” “Look, guys, I don’t care. She just ripped our class to shreds.I just can’t right now. Nearly the entire class failed her last test. These test corrections are going to take all night.” “At least you’re allowed test corrections! We’re her AP class and the only way we can make up points is through a new essay.” “She’s scary. I swear” “I think she knows what I’m thinking and then that makes me think more and then she thinks what I’m thinking and that thinking makes my head hurt.” “I was ONE minute late to class and she gave me a late slip!” “One time my grandma called me in class, and she made me pick it up.” You shot a quick text to Natasha before the bell rang. Her classroom was two doors down from yours since you two were technically in the same department. Time to log off your grading program and begin class. You pulled out the binder with today’s lesson plans ready to begin. “Wow, you all are full of comments about Ms Romanoff today.” You said neutrally. “Miss Y/N, you don’t understand. She’s so ….uh, extra.” You withheld a smirk. Natasha wasn’t what you would call extra, but she was set in her ways.” “I don’t think she’s extra. I think she just has high standards.” You responded. One of the students rolled their eyes.

"Do you all talk about me like this when I'm not here?"

"Nooo Ms. Y/N, we would never!"

"Well, maybe you could extend the same courtesy to my wife next time," you said, withholding a laugh. The room fell silent. A pin could have dropped.

“Fuck” you heard someone say under their breath. “Language”, you chastised, but you couldn’t say you blamed them. You saw the students in various forms of awkward shuffling, a cough here or there or “Ummm” or “Uhh” as students tried to form sentences. “Wait, you’re married?” a student questioned before being glared at by the others. Your fourth period class was near silent for the rest of the period, with the students seemingly still in shock. One minute til the bell rang. You saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of your eye. Thirty seconds. Natasha knocked on the door. “Hey, you, we’re all ordering from Robert’s Deli for lunch. You want your usual or will you finally try something new?” Natasha teased. The class whipped their heads collectively towards the door. It was becoming harder not to laugh. Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Y/n?” “Oh, you’re scaring my class, dear!” You said, smiling widely. Natasha scoffed. “Dear, huh? Oh, so they found out, didn’t they? As if us entering the building together and leaving together in the same car wasn’t hint enough that we’re married. Yeah, I might have scared a few of them. It was well deserved, trust me, Isn’t that right, Reynolds?” Jason Reynolds sank down into his seat, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. The bell rang. The students couldn’t scramble enough as they grabbed their bags and rushed past Natasha. You gave a small laugh as you finally met Natasha. “You’re a mean woman, you know that?” “Hey, you texted me, babe.” “It was great, not gonna lie. Sorry the “secret” is out.” “It’s not like we’re closeted, we’re simply professional. I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner….or maybe I’m not.” Natasha muttered. Your stomach growled. “Alright, I’ll look up the menu. Find something new to try for once. Promise.” You said in response to your stomach. Natasha nodded. “Don’t want you to scare the next class because you’re hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romonova #black widow #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you

1K notes · View notes

onelittlespiral · 3 months ago

Text

FML: Confidence

I had decided it was finally time for a change. A few years after college and sitting all day at the office had taken its toll. Twink death was here, but I wanted to have a chance at a few more wild nights before I hit my thirties. So, on a buddy’s recommendation I called up Dr. Webb. He had been touted to me as one of the best in his industry, able to help with all kinds of health and wellness. In my consultation, we discussed my goals. I talked about my concerns around aging and some of the weight I had put on. He probed a bit about my health and family medical history. He was so calm and gentle. It was so easy to talk with him I may have even disclosed more than I wanted to about my college days and conquests. At the end, he leaned back and read over his notes:

“If I am being honest, I am not sure what you are too concerned with. You may not be your youngest, but I wouldn’t say you are deviating too much from a health body at your age.”

“But Doc, I don’t want to just slide into my thirties. I want to get out there like I did just a few years ago.”

“There is nothing wrong with aging my boy. It’s scary for us all but we aren’t stopping the clock any time soon.”

“I don’t want to stop the clock. I just want to feel confident in my body again.”

He stroked his beard and thought for a moment, “Now that is maybe something I can work with.” The rest of the visit was boring. But by the time I left his office, I had a pack vitamin supplements, a list of recommended exercises, and a follow up appointment in a few weeks.

Over the next couple days or so, I diligently took the supplements, followed the exercise routine, and logged my daily progress. It was strange, I didn’t really see a difference, but did start to feel a bit better. The biggest change I think I felt though was a kind of hormonal rebalance. I think doc mentioned it. My sleep was slowly becoming more regular, mood swings improved, and my flexibility was improving as I followed my exercise routine. However, I think it was also starting to create a fixation. I would just need to see my progress, check if I was improving. Whenever I got a small chance I would just stare at myself and focus on my curves. Were they any smaller?

I mentioned it to Dr. Webb at our next meeting. He laughed it off, said it was nothing unusual. But he did send me home with some meditation files to help me relax and center my mind. Help me let go of my worries and all that. And I will confirm they were effective. I popped on the first tape that night, listening to breathing exercises and ambient white noise. Woke up an hour later feeling refreshed. I don’t think I thought about my body much that night. In fact, I hardly thought about anything. My mind felt so clear.

It continued like that for a week I think. To be honest, the days started blurring together a bit. The routine was really sinking in, abs became an almost unconscious part of my day. At some point though, I don’t know when, I did start to notice a change as I would finish the tapes. I would always come to hard as wood. My appetite for sex was off the charts, quickly becoming a nuisance to take care of myself, several times a day. I even had to take a break at work one day. That is, until one day I saw myself in the mirror.

I was getting ready for the day, and suddenly something in me shifted. I stopped pulling down my tee and stared at myself in the mirror.

Damn, had I always been this hot?

Something about the way my jeans hugged into my sides and the thick matted carpet stretching across my stomach felt new and exciting. My mind said it should have felt off, but staring at my gut and feeling its weight ripple as I rubbed it up and down, I was entranced.

‘I felt big, strong, and masculine’, a voice echoed in mind, and I couldn’t agree more. Instantly my plans for the day were shot. I needed to get out there and find someone to share this body with. I couldn’t keep it all to myself. I popped my top off and went on the prowl for a piece of ass to demolish. A few quick photos and I had some nameless twink on his way over for an afternoon delight. Within moments of his arrival, I felt a shift in energy between us. I was used to a kind of back and forth, pull and push as people met and flirted. This was all pull. It started slowly, as he sat next to me on the couch. Then, he placed his hand on my thigh and gently rubbed. I was soon no longer talking to him, I was giving him commands:

“Scoot closer to me.” He scooted.

“Rub my belly a bit, don’t be shy.” He hesitated for just a moment before gliding his hand over my furry belly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He nodded limply. He was fixated on other things

‘A man gets what he wants,’ rang the voice in my head. And my patience was running thin.

The commands flowed from my mouth quickly:

“Take off my shirt”

“Take off your shirt”

“Lay on me a bit”

“Don’t mind the smell, I’m wrapping my arm around you.”

He quickly followed commands, even started taking huffs of my musky pits as he curled into my arms. I didn’t tell him to do that yet, but I felt so in control as this man was getting hard practically in my lap. It was time.

“Pull out my cock.”

“Put your head right there.”

“Open wide.”

“Suck, boy.”

It was just so easy to get him to comply. He was like putty in my hands. He just bent to my authority as I guided his willing throat, mouth, and tongue through the best blow job of my life. By the time I was ready to move on, a damp spot had formed through his shorts at the tip of his throbbing cock. It bobbed in the air a bit as I turned him around and pulled down his shorts. I took a moment to press myself against him, let him feel the power of my body.

“Bend over.” And he went down on all fours.

By the time my next appointment came up, I already had a small selection of boys willing to come over when I needed them. They were so small, I was almost worried I would break them in half. But it felt so freeing to discover this side of myself. Nothing could beat a twink sitting on my dick, begging for me to cum in him. I reported back to the Doc that I didn’t think I needed his services anymore. He said that he couldn’t agree more, and that even he was shocked at how much progress I made in such a short period of time.

“Now would you kindly put your shorts back on? They did not need to come off for this examination.”

“No,” I replied, “gotta take care of some business first. You want to show me that cute ass of yours.”

“I don’t think so, I…”

“Please doctor, with a body like this? I’m confident you’ll find your work satisfying.”

#hypnosis #transformation #male transformation #fml #reality change #bear tf

569 notes · View notes

mellowsaturns · 1 year ago

Text

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

4K notes · View notes

alicewritez · 3 months ago

Text

Gossip - Aaron Hotchner

word count: 1329

summary: you’re a new recruit at the BAU and a firm favourite of Hotch, which has not gone unnoticed by the team. unbeknownst to the team, you and Aaron are in a relationship and are holding another secret; there’s more to what than meets the eye.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

authors note: implied age gap, mentions of student-teacher dynamic, brief mention of pregnancy at the end but nothing too descriptive. it’s just a bit of fun/fluff. feel free to send requests of any criminal minds character you’d like 🩷

You leave Aaron's office after he briefed you on your tasks for the day; still in the probationary period. You're a newly hired profiler and a very clear favourite of Aaron's. You were surprised to hear that everyone thinks of him as a bit of a grump - he's a soft, gentle and kind man underneath the hard and stern exterior.

As you leave his office, everyone turns to look at you and you're flooded with questions. Are you two secretly related? Why does he like you so much? What is going on between the pair of you?

But truthfully, you didn't know yourself, you were just as clueless as the rest of the team. Sure, you could definitely say you harboured a crush for the man, but he had made no attempt to reciprocate those feelings. Not that he really knew about yours anyway.

Derek gives you a gentle nudge, grinning widely as his eyes glisten with mischief and he surprised a laugh. "So, you and Hotch are close?"

You shrug as you sit down at your desk. "I don't know, I suppose so..". Morgan raises an eyebrow at your nonchalant response. "You don't know?"

Penelope chimes in as she weaves her way back through the desks to get to her office. "It's so obvious. You two are clearly close! You're also, like, half his age. How do you know each other?"

You set your files on your desk. "He was one of my teachers back at the FBI Academy."

Both Derek and Penelope's eyes widen at the revelation, not imagining it could have been something as simple as that. David chuckles from his office before moving to stand against the doorframe with his arms folded. "So you're the fresh-faced prodigy we've all been hearing about."

David's smile widens. He knows you're exactly the prodigy the FBI has been boasting about for months. "But it's true, isn't it? You got your Ph.D. at nineteen and you're the youngest person to join the BAU. You were also the youngest to graduate the FBI Academy."

You suck in a breath, "well, you've certainly done your research.. but I only graduated thanks to Hotch..". Derek leans forward, his smile growing wider. "'Hotch', huh? He really is a softie for you, isn't he?"

You furrow your brows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we've all noticed that he's much tamer around you." Penelope chimes in again, her voice full of excitement. "Yes! Much softer, too! I've never seen him smile so often until you joined."

"I think you're reading too much into this. He's probably just being nice because I'm new." You wave them off, making a start on the files piled in your desk.

Spencer, the youngest besides you, looks at you skeptically. Sometimes he could be too smart for his own good. "You're not just any new agent, though. You're a brilliant one. You're smart, talented, gifted, and young. And you're a favourite of our unit chief. Who also happens to be a grumpy, intense man who can be hard to impress. I agree with Derek and Penelope, there must be more to the story."

"Well there really isn't." You sigh as you start writing some notes up. Each member look slightly skeptical at your response, but decide to drop the subject for now, seeing how you wanted to just get on with your work. Once you were done with your notes and reports, you excuse yourself to Hotch’s office, knocking gently on the door.

A few seconds pass before you hear his voice call out. “Come in.”

You slowly step inside and close the door behind you, files in hand. Hotch looks up as he hears the door open and close, looking up at you with a small smile. “Finished with your reports already? Impressive, as always.”

“Yeah but,” you pause, “that’s not the reason I’m here.” Hotch raises an eyebrow as he sets down his pen, giving you his full attention. “Then what is it?”

“The team are figuring it out.” You fiddle with the corners of the files in your hand, while Hotch’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Figured it out? Figured what out?”

“Stop playing dumb Aaron… about us..”

Hotch pauses for a moment at your use of his first name, then a sigh escapes his lips before he rubs a hand over his forehead. “I suppose they’re all talking about it, then.”

“Talk of the office yeah.” You sit down, dropping the files onto his desk with a small thud. “I suppose they were bound to find out we were together sooner or later but, I didn’t think it would be this quick.”

Hotch chuckles softly, his eyes focusing on you. Seeing your worried expression, he stands and walks around the desk to stand in front of you. He takes your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “They’re just being nosey. They’ll get over it and move onto the next bit of gossip soon.”

You sigh, squeezing his hand. “I hope so.” He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, the gesture affectionate and soothing. He knows you don’t like being the constant topic of office gossip. “Hey, look at me.” He tilts your head up gently so that you’re looking directly into his eyes.

You look into his eyes, melting under his touch. He gazes into your eyes and over your face, his expression full of affection. He lifts a hand and tenderly strokes your cheek, his touch sending chills down your spine. “No matter what the others think or say, none of it matters. I chose you. I’ll always choose you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you whisper, “I love you.”

He smiles at your soft admission, his heart swelling with love and affection. He pulls you closer, his arms encircling your waist. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You smile giddily, your arms wrapping around his torso. “You’re being very bold doing this in the office.”

He chuckles, his arms holding you close to him. Despite the risk of someone walking in on the two of you at any moment, he’s too lost in the moment to care. “Can you blame me? It’s my way of showing the others who you belong to.”

You smile softly up at him. “I think we should give them something else to gossip about.” He grins gown at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you have in mind, sweetheart?”

You pull away from him, bringing your hands to rest on your stomach. “We tell them about this.” You and Aaron had found out weeks ago, but chose to keep it quiet for now, not wanting too many to be involved just yet. It was nice that just you and Aaron knew.

His smile widens at your words. He follows the movement of your hands, placing a gentle hand over yours on your stomach. “You think it’s time?”

“We can’t hide it forever.. however much we may want to.” You respond, deep down wanting to keep it to you and Aaron for a while longer, but also knowing the team deserved to know.

He nods, his eyes fixed on the spot where his hand is resting on your stomach. He can’t help but smile wider. “You’re right. But are you ready for all the questions and comments we’re going to get?”

“No, but.. it was all going to come out eventually..”

He nods in agreement, his hand gently caressing your stomach after pulling your hands away. “You’re right. You know, you’re the bravest and most brilliant person I know. Nothing can stop us.” He drops his head down and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, then on your cheek before finally capturing your lips in a loving kiss.

Little did either of you know, the team had all been listening in from outside his office door, hearing every word. But they wouldn’t say anything, they’d let you and Aaron go to them first.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x y/n

801 notes · View notes

targaryenluvs · 11 months ago

Note

we can send in ideas you say 👀 dark! Cory with a reader who’s not so inclined to behave and listen to him, being bratty, turning him away, embarrassing him in public ….. his frail ego would shatter (and who knows what he’d do to her 🫣🫣)

TEMPER TANTRUM

pairing: president!coriolanus snow x fem!bratty!reader

summary: you were the daughter of one of the richest couples of panem. everything you’ve ever wanted, handed to you. coriolanus had a short temper and you were stubborn. who knows what could happen?

warnings: arguments, bratty reader, public scenes, punishments, kinda smutty, fingering, not proof read i’m lazy

a/n: stand up and fight back to that rude bitch babe

they’d messed up your order. again.

you’d ordered three dresses, all pink and one was too small. you’d already returned it multiple times but apparently the shop owner was incompetent. did he know who you were? the first lady of panem deserved nothing but the best and this imbecile couldn’t even do his job.

you’d give him another chance you figured. “soreen!” you shouted out as you heard the pitter patter of footsteps on the floor. “yes mrs snow?” you sighed, “pull the car around please. we’re going down to the genevieve store.” she nodded before scurrying away to arrange your mode of transportation.

the car ride was smooth, much to your relief. you needed at least one thing to go right today, and the car ride helped boost your morale as you pulled up in front of the aforementioned store. “here we are mrs snow.” your driver spoke as he promptly exited the vehicle to open your door, “thank you phillip.” he tipped his cap to you before shutting your door, “i’ll be waiting ma’am.”

the store was quite large, for someone who hadn’t been there before it was quite easy to lose your way. but you knew exactly where you were headed, walking a path of determination as you reached the front desk. a young lady, clearly disengaged from her job sat filing her nails at the desk. “what do you want?” your face twisted into a disingenuous smile, this was going to be fun, you thought. you cleared your throat as you placed your handbag down with care.

“mrs y/n snow, here for adina?” the girl looked close to tears as a string of apologies fell through her lips, “let me go get him, again, i cannot express my apologies mrs snow.” you’d already turned around to sit at one of the many chairs strewn about.

adina was frantic.

he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the first lady of panem, in his store, by herself. nonetheless, he quickly nodded along to her explanation of her dilemma, the dresses, the sizes, the unresponsive customer aid line.

you’d walked out of the store were five new dresses, all free of cost. a successful day in your eyes. the whisperings were there, of how the last store clerk who’d kept you waiting went out of business. or how the cook whose meal caused you to choke had his hand cut off. mistakes were made in the process of the workers bending over backwards to produce the upmost quality service for the presidents darling wife.

who was known for her own expensive tastes.

and god help anyone who kept her waiting.

the dress was for a charity event that night. coriolanus of course didn’t want to go, but it was seen as beneficial to his own cause to be seen out and about, especially at a high profile event. whereas you on the other hand? you’d ordered three new dresses, five now, two new pairs of heels and that jewellery set you’d been eyeing up for a while.

coriolanus wanted to get through the night, that was it. the office was as stressful as ever, his secretary was out sick, so a fill-in took her place, stuttering every time he spoke to her and messed up his meetings of the day. but since marrying you, coriolanus knew nothing was ever easy with you.

you prided yourself on your unpredictability. to keep people on their toes. you loved being able to stick out from the rest, keep people guessing. and most of all, you loved being seen, admired. you were never one to be tame, coriolanus knew it. you always tested his patience and temper.

but this?

you’d worn a burgundy gown, off the shoulder, floor length and a v-cut too low for his likes. the one dress out of five he’d disapproved of. you’d disobeyed him purposefully, coriolanus hoped you’d grow out of old habits, but again they die hard.

the eyes were on you like vultures, his wife.

he’d deal with you later, just get through the night.

“and that dress! it’s certainly, something.” you didn’t know the girls name, but her face seemed familiar. “why thank you! coriolanus had picked out some others but then again what do men know about women’s fashion?” the woman’s slack jaw caused you to giggle, “well aren’t you fiery! the president has a lot on his hands with you.”

you tossed your hair behind as you took a sip from your glass, “well i’m sure if he can handle a whole country,” you leaned in before whispering, “he can try his best to handle me.” coriolanus saw red. one night, without your antics was all he’d wished for. the dress and your behaviour had sent him over the edge.

“miss.” coriolanus acknowledged the woman as he grabbed a hold of your hand, “president snow! how nice it is to see you here, and your donation! how splendid.” coriolanus’s charm seemed to switch on instantaneously, “anything for the, good cause.” coriolanus couldn’t give a flying fuck about the cause let alone remember what it was. “it’s time for us to go.”

you had an image, pristine and clear. a lovely woman, kind and respectful. at times naive but overall a caring wife. your slick words, which charmed any man or woman, your striking beauty and sweet personality.

but at your core you, like your husband. couldn’t care less, it was one of the reasons you got along so well. it was all a facade and coriolanus was the only person who knew the real you. much to his chagrin, the real you was a total bitch. a smooth talker with a pretty face who got everything she wanted. you’d never wanted to marry him in the first place, so it seemed to be your personal mission to embarrass the poor man.

“if you’re tired then head on home love. i know you need your hours of sleep, cranky without them!” you made him sound like child without his favourite toy, unable to go on until he had it again. “sweetheart, you know we go home together. now come along.” his tone was nothing like the fake warmth it mimicked, you were on thin ice. “yes i know, honey, but you’re not incapable of returning home without me now are you? i’m sure the driver remembered the directions for you.” you pinched his cheek. pinched. his. cheek.

you may as well have started praying for your soul.

so he left, alone.

you had no clue as to why you wanted to stay. it’s not as if there was someone actually worthwhile to engage in conversation with, but you just wanted to be out of the house. you had to soak up your time outside while it lasted you assumed. coriolanus wouldn’t be letting you out anytime soon, especially after what you’d said that night.

the door slammed shut as you hung up your coat next to corio’s. you took a deep breath in before exhaling. it was going to be a long night.

“did you have fun?” corio was sat in a large, plush, arm chair, swirling a drink in his hand. you could only wonder how many he’d had in the hours by himself. “i did.” your voice was gentle, the house quiet in the dead of night. but the large mansion echoed, he would’ve heard you anyways.

“hm.” he feigned interest in your response. all he wanted was to put you in your place. “corio?” he turned to view you, whilst you walked over before situating yourself on his arm chair. but as soon as you did his glass clattered onto the side table as he rose up. “we’re going to bed.” you weren’t sure if he’d snap if you protested, your feet were aching and you found it best not to argue.

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, which is how you ended up fully exposed whilst coriolanus was fully dressed. “please.” you’d been on your back for the last, ten? twenty? “please what?” coriolanus liked to put you in your place, it was one of his favourite things to do since you forgot it so often. “touch me.” his hand slipped into your panties, fingers sliding into your already soaking hole as you clutched onto his shoulders.

he’d been teasing you for what felt like forever and you felt you were finally done with it. “close your eyes.” he whispered as his fingers slid out, eliciting a whine from your throat, but you listened, closing your eyes, wondering what he’d do.

it’d been a minute since corio spoke and you were feeling restless. on one hand you could wait for him to speak up, allow you to open your eyes. on the other, you opened them to peek at what he was doing and he dragged out your punishment.

and to your right lay your husband, asleep. “corio!” you groaned out before shoving his shoulder, “you didn’t think i was going to fuck you tonight? after the shit you pulled? you have fingers, use them.” and coriolanus fell asleep soundly to your attempts to finish off without him.

now that, would teach you a lesson.

#hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #kira and anon chat <3 #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut

1K notes · View notes

moody-alcoholic · 5 months ago

Text

Coffee

I've had this story saved for a while now trying to muster the confidence to post it today is the day! I'm finally jumping straight out of my comfort zone and into new territory wish me luck... Can you tell I'm bad a naming things, title coming soontm... when I think of one.

DISCLAMER: This is my first time writing a reader fic so please be gentle. It is also my first time writing a fic that is pretty much going to be centered around smut. I am also really bad at writing Soap's accent my dyslexic brain freaks out too much, I will strive to improve though XD

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 3.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. Am I doing this right?? CW: This chapter is SFW, but in future it will get spicy so for my own sanity +18 MDNI mentions of sex, descriptions of injuries.

Part 2 Masterlist

Phew, Enjoy <3

“Sergeant MacTavish?” You call into the hallway there are some soldiers waiting, you look up and down to see if anyone reacts to the name.

“Sergeant John MacTavish?” You call again this time a little louder.

“Here lass!” A man calls hobbling down the hall towards you. Your breath catches in your throat, even being on a base surrounded by plenty of hunky men you had not seen anyone quite like him. His broad shoulders, thick arms and tanned skin. His fluffy mohawk, shining almost bronze in the florescent lights. To top it all off his cheeky grin is sending butterfly's racing in your stomach.

He’s being followed by what seems like an even bigger man trying to help him wobble his way down the hall, his sharp eyes focused on making sure his friend doesn’t topple over. The rest of his face is covered by a balaclava with a skull printed on it. It makes you shiver as they walked towards you. You move to the side of the door letting them in. John finds his way to a chair while the other man stands behind him. You close the door to the room going back over to the desk sitting down and opening his file on the computer.

“Twisted your ankle during an exercise?” You look past the monitor at him.

“Aye, I’m fine but LT here insisted I get it checked out.” He replies with a smile on his face thumbing behind at the man looming over him. Christ even his accent is sexy.

“And I’m staying to make sure you do get it checked out properly instead of flirting your way to a few paracetamol and a cold compress.” The man said, his voice was deep, commanding. You could feel heat rush to your cheeks at the mention of flirting, but you push the thought away trying to remain professional.

“It is good to get it checked even if it is just a sprain.” You move your chair round so you’re sitting in front of him.

“Do you mind if I take your boot off?”

“I got it lass,” he winked bending down to untie the laces, and pulled the boot off. You could tell by the scrunching of his face and the grunt he made that this was causing him pain. He put his foot back down on the floor his ankle did look swollen.

“Have you tried ice or a cold compress?” You ask.

“Aye,” he replies you hear the man behind him sigh.

“What he means by that is he tried for about 5 minutes before he was back on his feet again.” John huffed at being called out.

“You’ll need to try for longer then that,” you say acknowledging the tall man behind John who now had his arms crossed. You pick the foot up watching John try to hide the pain, you only lift it up a little before decided it was going to need an x-ray.

“I will book an x-ray for you in the mean time if you go into the ward they will give you an ice pack and a bed.” You explain moving your chair back to the desk so you could book the appointment.

“Do you want any pain relief?” You ask.

“Na, I can barely feel it.” He says a cheeky smile on his face. You nod typing the report and waiting for the paper to print out.

“I can give you some crutches you really should keep your weight off it.” You stand up going to the printer.

“It’s okay love I’ve got my own crutch here.” He says hopping up on his foot and wrapping his arm round the other man. You smile handing the paper to him.

“Give this to the nurse on the ward.” You say rushing in front of them to open the door.

“Thanks love,” he says beaming at you as he gets lead out by his friend who looks back at you and nods. You close the door to the room taking a breath out. What the hell was that? You find a smile forming on your lips as your heart flutters in your chest.

————————

Two days later you find yourself as the night nurse. Not that you mind it’s normally the quieter part of the job and there is no one in the ward so you don’t even have to worry about trying to look busy. About an hour into your shift someone comes through the doors. You recognise him immediately as John, from a few days ago with the sprained ankle. He’s hobbling around on crutches now, his friend is not with him ether.

“Hello sweetheart!” He says his voice full of energy, that ever present smile on his face.

“Hey, John did you need something?” you ask coming round from behind the nurses station.

“Yeah actually, I was told to come pick up something…” He trails off. “Now what was it?”

“Painkillers?” You ask.

“No it begin with a T I think.” He looks up to the corner of the room like he is trying to think hard about it.

“A tubigrip?” You ask.

“That’s the one lass!” He says snapping his fingers, you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

“Sit up on the bed I’ll get you one.” You say turning to the cupboard of supplies. You pick out two sizes then walk back over to John already leaning down to untie his boots.

“I can do that.” You insist waving his hands away, he sighs but gives in leaning back on the bed. You carefully remove the boot looking back and checking to see how he reacts. He’s ether getting better at hiding it or painkillers have helped. He only winces when you have to pull the boot over his heel.

“What did the doctor say?” You ask.

“Sprained, I’ve been stuck behind a desk for the last two days.” He makes a pouting face as you pull his sock off.

“You should sleep with it elevated that will help with the swelling.” You say pulling his trouser leg up. The swelling has definitely improved since you saw it last.

“I bet with a few more days of rest you’ll be back on your feet like nothing happened.” You smile at him.

“I hope so lass, my unit’s being shipped out at the end of the week.” He says as you pull the tubigrip over his foot and ankle.

“Oh yeah anywhere fun?” You ask.

“Ah ‘fraid I can’t tell you that love.” He winks, you can't tell if he’s joking or not but you pull his trouser leg back down.

“You can keep your boot on but not too tight, and keep it elevated.” You explain putting his boot back on and loosely tying the laces.

“What painkillers are you taking?” You ask as he swivels his body round so his feet are hanging off the bed.

“Paracetamol, oh and the doc said I could take ibuprofen too, but I don’t need it I can barely feel a thing.” You look back at him chuckling, his arms flex as he pushes himself up with the crutches. You feel your cheeks heat up again.

“You should take the ibuprofen at least it will also help with the swelling.” You force out, leaning over him to pick up his sock from the bed. He smells good, must be his aftershave. You hold the sock out for him and he sheepishly takes it out your hand shoving it in his pocket. You move back so he can hop out the ward back to the nurses station.

“Well it was nice seeing you again…” He trails off like he’s trying to remember your name his eyes squinting. You cover your badge teasing him. He chuckles.

“LT is the one with the better memory.” He says turning his body to the doors.

“Ashe.” You reply uncovering your badge.

“Well then Ashe it was nice to see you again.” His smile is infectious and you could have sworn he winked at you.

“Good luck on your deployment,” You call back as he pushes his way through the doors.

“I don’t need luck.” He winks at you. Okay that time it was definitely a wink and it made the butterflies come back to your belly. You sit down at the nurses station with a smile on your face and heat in your cheeks.

————————

One week later you get a text out of the blue.

Hey, this Ashe?

It’s an unknown number you’re tempted to ignore it, but something inside you forces you to answer it.

Yeah, who’s this?

It’s only seconds later a response comes.

It’s Johnny, with the fucked up ankle.

Holy shit, you choke on your drink, coughing as the liquid has now gone in your windpipe. You take a few more sips trying to sooth it. How the hell did he get my number?

How did you get my number?

From a friend of a friend..

You can’t help but chuckle, is this real? Did he make his deployment? You realise you haven’t seen him round the base in a few days, and you would know you’ve been looking. Sometimes without even realising it any time you see a broad tanned soldier hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you crane to look only to be disappointed. His friend with the skull mask, you found out his name was lieutenant Riley. You know you definitely hadn’t seen him.

Anyway…Want to get coffee?

Such a simple request has your heart thumping in your chest.

When?

You reply without thinking, your leg starts to jump under the table nervousness washing over you. Coffee? With me? Why?

How about that coffee place just outside the base, tomorrow 1300?

Your heart is pounding now your throat dry. Is this a date?

Sure :)

Was the smiley too much, you put your phone down embarrassed. You hear it buzz picking up the courage to look

See ya there :)

You let out a breath your leg stops jumping. Coffee with Johnny, surely it’s just a friendly thing to say thank you for helping with his ankle. It doesn't matter if it is or not but he’s on your mind for the rest of the day until you go to bed.

————————

You show up early, the butterfly's have not left your stomach since the moment you woke up. You managed to switch your shift with another nurse so you could be here instead. Coffee sounded like too much especially with your nerves you opted for a tea. You find yourself checking your watch almost every second, your back is to the door each time it opens your heart stops and you turn to look. Jesus calm down woman, it’s just coffee. You try to tell yourself. A few minutes later and a few sips of hot tea, you start to calm.

“Hey there lass.” You hear the familiar Scottish accent behind you. You turn in your chair to see him. He’s smiling of course he is he sits down in the chair opposite you. His skin looks darker or maybe it’s just the light in the room, his hair looks like it’s been freshly groomed. You get a proper look at his eyes, a beautiful deep blue. You can’t help finding yourself smiling.

“Hey,” You reply. He chuckles almost like he can feel the nervousness radiating off you.

“What’s your poison?” He asks pointing at your cup.

“Eh tea.” You reply realising you’ve almost finished it.

“Typical brits,” he sighs playfully as he gets up.

“Let me get it, you should rest your ankle.” You say quickly stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t worry love it’s been solid for a few days now.” You sigh that’s good at least. He gets up walking over to the counter. You take out a deep breath, your head following him as he orders beaming at the staff his accent cutting through the mumbling of the other patrons. You look back at your tea finishing it off as Johnny comes back with the drinks. He smiles as he sits down putting the tea in front of you.

“Thank you,” You say warming your hands on the new mug.

“Ne problem don’t you worry about it, I’m supposed to be treating you,” You feel yourself blushing again as that cheeky look comes back on his face.

“Why?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. He chuckles.

“You helped me with my ankle, I wanted to say thank you.” He says as a matter of fact.

“It’s my job,” you reply shrugging, feeling a rush of embarrassment washing over you. “You could have just caught me on the base.”

“Yeah,” Now his cheeks looked like they were changing to a gorgeous shade of pink.

“Did you manage to get deployed?” You ask trying to move the subject on. He smiles leaning back in his chair.

“Na, whole thing got cancelled, I spent a few days in London.” He says smiling.

“Was Riley-I mean-lieutenant Riley was he with you?” You blurt out sipping your tea so the word vomit would stop.

“Simon?” Johnny asked his smile getting bigger. “Oh yeah we spend a lot of time together.”

“Huh, that’s nice you must be a tight unit.” You say calming yourself. So his name was Simon, Simon Riley.

“What about you what have you been up to?” He leans forward sipping his coffee.

“Work, nothing really.” You smile.

“When’s your next leave?” He asks.

“Two weeks.” He nods like he's thinking about something his lips pressed together. He leans forward on the table more.

“There was another reason I wanted to see you.” He says, his smile disappearing. You hold your breath in anticipation of what he’s going to say next. He takes a breath in for a second looking you in the eyes.

“I really wanted to see you again.” He said, okay that’s not bad. You almost want to laugh at how worked up you got yourself. He just wants to say thank you, he’s buying you coffee because he want’s to be nice. You helped him with his ankle. Now he’s asking if you’re single.

Wait what?

“Single?” You ask, your brain trying to comprehend what you missed. He nods his smile coming back, at least that puts you at ease.

“Yeah, I’m single. Are you single?” It seems like the appropriate time to ask him too. His lips are pressed together again like he’s trying to formulate a sentence in his head.

“It’s complicated,” A cheeky smile forms on his lips as he sips his coffee.

“What do you mean it’s complicated? Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask frowning at him.

“No.” He replies flatly.

“A boyfriend?” He puts his coffee down.

“I wanted to see you cos I’ve spent the last week tryin’ te get ya out my head and it’s impossible.” He said leaning forward. You blush at his words.

“What do you mean it’s complicated though?” Your heart beating faster in your chest you can’t tell if it’s the caffeine from the tea or the words from Johnny’s mouth but it was getting harder to concentrate.

“I’m married to my work.” He says leaning back. You sigh, this has happened before. ‘I can’t be with you the job is too important’ It’s all too familiar, finding love when every one around you is throwing their lives on the front line is near impossible.

“I get it,” You say trying not to hide your disappointment.

“C’mon lass it don’t mean we can’t still be mates.” He says it sounds almost like a plea. You feel sad and drained, you didn’t know what to expect from the meeting but you weren't expecting to feel like you just got dumped by someone you didn’t even date. You look at Johnny his blue eyes look sad, he grips the handle of his coffee mug.

“It’s okay, you seem like a nice guy but I know how this goes. We’ll talk maybe have sex a few times but sooner or later you’ll move on, or be deployed or I’ll move on or be stationed somewhere else…” You look at Johnny finishing the rest of your tea. And moving to stand up. He reaches out to you trying to get you to stay.

“C’mon let me at least walk you back to the base.” You can’t help but see the pleading in his eyes his usual smile warms your heart. You go up and place a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s okay Johnny, I need to go into town anyway.” You smile your hand patting his chest, you can feel the tight muscles under your hand only making it harder to turn away. But you pull your hand off his chest and head for the door.

————————

You make it two weeks having to almost actively avoid Johnny. Since whatever mission he was supposed to be on was cancelled he’d been helping round the base with all kinds of different things. You would bump in to him all the time, your eyes always betraying you and wandering to him whenever he was in your view. He spent a lot of time with Simon, the ‘big scary skull guy’ some of the other nurses would call him.

“I heard his face was burnt off in a horrible accident.” One of them said one day as we were eating lunch in the mess. Your eyes had barely left Johnny’s face he was sat a few tables ahead of you. He seemed to like the fact you were always watching him. His eyes meeting yours and smiling. Sometimes you would look up and it would Simon's eyes staring you down. His gaze would always send shivers up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand up. The nurses giggling as they spread rumours about him. It was enough to piss you off, making you snap at them about spreading rumours like that.

“We’re not in secondary school anymore! Show some respect.” You snapped leaving the table. You knew you could feel Johnny’s eyes digging into you.

When you made it home you welcomed the rest. Your small London apartment had been rented out for the few months you had been away, the place was going to need a good clean tomorrow. The thought of sleeping in a bed that had been home to a stranger for 5 months felt icky so you ended up curling up on the sofa turning the TV on for background noise. Your mind turning to Johnny. Wonder what he’s doing? Think he’s still at the base?

Your mind somehow turned to Simon too, thinking back to all the rumours you’d heard. None of them even remotely sounding plausible. Who cares, he has his reasons for the mask, it’s none of my business. Your phone buzzed and you reached over to pick it up.

Make it home safe?

It was Johnny, he hadn’t texted you since the coffee date. Well date was the wrong word.

Yeah.

You hover over the send button wondering if this was a good idea or not. You take a deep breath in and hit send throwing the phone to the other side of the couch going back to watch whatever distraction was on the TV. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

You’re woken by a knock at the door, you look out the window the sun is peaking through the clouds, you check your watch its 10am. There is another knock. You pull yourself off the couch stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position.

“I’m coming.” You call yawning, looking through the peep hole.

What the fuck?

You open the door.

“Johnny?” You ask shocked.

“Hey,” He says, his smile radiating off his face, his hair is a mess he looks like he’s barely slept. You look at him in stunned silence shaking your head.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you.” He says. “Can I come in? I’ll be quick I promise.”

“Not really the best opening line if you want to get into someone's flat.” You say.

“Scouts honour.” He says holding up 3 fingers. You roll your eyes and step aside so he can come in.

“When I said it was complicated, it’s not cos I’m married to the job…” He trails off standing in your kitchen so there is at least a foot distance between you two.

“I am married, to Simon.” Your mouth falls open at the revelation.

“Simon Riley?” you ask, almost shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yeah,” He shrugs.

“So you’re gay?” You say, but it feels like a question.

“Yeah, well Bi, both of us. That’s why it’s complicated.” You shake your head not quite understanding. He seemed nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, we both still like women, and, you know-or I guess you don’t know-we experimented threesomes and what not.” He ran his hand through his hair. “There is something different about you, we’ve both been obsessed with you, can’t get you out our heads.”

“Both?” You ask, your mouth still hanging open.

“Aye, Simon’s not good with words though, or at least not till he gets to know ya.” He chuckles running his hand through his hair again. You take a deep breath out.

“What do you want Johnny?” You ask. Is he asking me for sex? A threesome?

“Have coffee with me and Simon.” He says.

“That’s it coffee?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He says nodding.

“You came all the way to my flat to ask me to have coffee with you and Simon?” You fold your arms, you can’t tell if you feel disappointed it’s not sex or annoyed that he’s basically invaded your privacy for something so trivial. He shrugs. You close your eyes for a second thinking about it. You sigh, it’s not like you have anything better to do while you’re on leave, and it is only coffee. You take a big breath in opening your eyes. Johnny’s smiling again, the smile that makes your heart skip a beat and the butterfly's wake up.

“Okay.” You nod, You don’t get chance to finish your thought cos he’s thrown his arms round you squeezing you.

“Thank you, thank you.” He says breaking from the hug. Your cheeks are definitely red now after feeling his body pressed against yours. You can’t help smiling. He reaches over for the door handle.

“I’ll text you a time and a place,” you nod as he goes out the door.

“Hey Johnny how did you find my address?”

“A friend of a friend,” he smiles up at you from the stairs. You shake your head in disbelief. What the hell just happened?

Next part AO3 link soontm

537 notes · View notes

just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Unexpected View

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word count: 5,900 (genuinely not sure how that happened)

Warnings: none!

A/N: Inspired by a post on @hotchnerssmile blog, originally from @greg-montgomery As always, enjoy!

—-

“You’re staring again,” Emily whispered and nudged you.”

“What? Huh?” You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat on the plane. “Oh..come on..stop.” Emily had been picking on you for weeks about your crush on Hotch. You’d let it slip during a girls night and they wouldn’t let it go.

“Careful,” she teased. “Eventually he’s going to know. He can spot an unsub a mile away, but a woman getting lost in her thoughts staring at him? You’d need to straddle him to make him notice.”

You looked over to him, suddenly the idea of crossing the plane, pushing his papers away, and lowering yourself into his lap was the only thing you could think of.

“Oh I know that look,” JJ said as she walked to the table. “What’s the fantasy this time?”

“Straddling.” Emily laughed and looked down at her files. JJ joined the laughter and caught Reid’s attention.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” the three of you said in unison.

Emily was right, Hotch was pretty oblivious to women hitting on him. You’d seen it happen on cases a time or two. But in your case, you were grateful he never noticed.

On the flight home you sat alone on the couch, curled up under a blanket.

“Something on your mind?”

You jumped slightly as Hotch sat next to you, leaning back and letting his legs fall open slightly. It took everything in you to keep your eyes on his face and not wander.

“Um, nothing anymore,” you laughed. “We got our guy and don’t have another case right now. My brain has some room to finally relax. Sort of.”

You adjusted your position so you were sitting upright next to him. Hotch’s eyes studied your face. After a very long moment he seemed to snap out of his thoughts.

“Well,” he rested his hand on your thigh. “Find something to focus on that will hold your attention. Unfocused minds are a dangerous thing.”

Emily called over her shoulder, her chair facing the opposite direction, “she’ll be fine finding something to focus on.”

Hotch has turned his head to listen to her and thankfully missed the mortified look on your face. When he turned back to you, you gave him a weak smile. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He studied your face again before giving your thigh a slight squeeze before standing up.

About 20 minutes later JJ ended the phone call she was on. “Well, we got another one.”

“You’re joking,” said Morgan.

“Nope. Sorry. I’ll get things together and send it to your tablets.”

While you started to read the information, Hotch turned around, leaning over the side of his seat. “Going to join us, Y/N?”

You walked over, and rested your arm on the headrest of his seat. As you looked down at his lap, your heart started to race.

The thoughts of straddling him came rushing back, and you knew it wasn’t just the gathering of his pants that made it clear he was more than equipped to please a woman.

Garcia’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Hello my favorite crime fighters, your fabulous source of all knowledge has arrived.”

As Garcia began sharing what she had found, Hotch looked up at you over his shoulder. He took in the sight of you standing over him. Almost looking commanding and like you could make him give up control in a single glance. He adjusted his posture to lean forward slightly and cover his lap with his torso.

Emily and JJ were having a silent conversation with their eyes that screamed, “holy shit he just noticed her!”

Once the case had wrapped up, the team decided to split up and take a few days off. Reid went to Vegas with Rossi so he could see his mom and Rossi could hit the casino. Morgan went to the Bahamas to unwind in the sun. Emily and JJ decided on a girls trip to Hawaii. It was just you and Hotch for the plane ride home.

You chose the couch again so you could lay out. Hotch chose a chair facing you so he could occasionally look up and see you. He watched your face scrunch up as you scrolled through your phone and then quickly turned to raising your hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh.

“What’s got your focus?”

“Group chat with the girls. It’s…chaotic. I think that’s the best word for it.”

Hotch’s phone buzzed and saw a text from JJ. “Have fun focusing on the ride home ;)”

Hotch immediately looked to you to see if you had also received a message. Your face was expressionless so he texted JJ back.

“It’s hard to focus with such a captivating distraction…”

JJ was one of the few he confided in like this. You shifted in your seat as the group chat notifications came through.

Emily said, “girl do it!”

JJ added, “he wants it!”

Garcia was the last to respond, “mile high club honey, mile high club.”

Hotch’s phone went off again and this time you looked up to try and read his face. You could swear he was smiling, but trying to hide it, and he shifted in his seat.

“What’s got your focus?” You teased.

Hotch hesitated. “A new group chat. Something about ‘she wants you to do it.’ ‘She wants it.’ And ‘mile high honey.’ Any ideas on the references?”

Taking a deep breath you pushed your blanket to the side, set your phone down, and stood up, slowly crossing to him.

“From what I understand, by trusted sources,” you laughed. “We both want it. I should do it. And we should join a new club.”

His eyes got lost trailing up and down your body. When you were finally within arms length his eyes were focused on your chest. Using one finger you rested it under his chin, tilting his head up to look up at your face.

“Eyes on me…sir.” You paused and slid your hand to cradle his face. “I do like this angle, looking down at you.”

Without a word Hotch grabbed your hips, guiding you towards him to finally straddle him. As you let him bring you down onto his lap, his grip tightened on your hips and you could feel him between your legs.

“I knew it wasn’t just the fabric gathering.”

“These pants are already getting tight.”

“I should help you with that…plus I’ve always wanted to see what the view looks like with you standing over me.”

“Then drop to your knees.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut

1K notes · View notes

bangchansdirty-slut · 7 months ago

Note

Can I request G!p Kazuha?

A Little Help From Manager

Paring:Top GP!Kazuha x Bottom!Manager!Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary:Reader helps Kazuha with her "big problem" in the bathroom.

More: Masterlist

A/n: Oh my God, I need more Idol X Manager reader fics in my life!

As the echoes of applause faded away, you, the manager of the K-pop girl group Lesserafim, stood outside the venue with the rest of the group. The girls were bubbling with excitement, eager to head back to their dorms and celebrate another successful performance. But something was off. You noticed that Kazuha, the ballerina of the group, was nowhere to be found. You exchanged worried glances with Chaewon, the leader, as she approached you.

"Um, Y/n… We can't find Kazuha. Do you think you could stay behind and get her? The others can take the van so they won't get caught in traffic with fans from other groups arriving," she asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should leave the girls unsupervised. But Chaewon gave you a reassuring smile, and the other members nodded their support. With a deep breath, you nodded in agreement. "Alright, I'll get her. You guys go ahead and leave without me. I'll catch up."

The girls filed out of the venue, some chattering excitedly about the performance, others already beginning to plan for their celebration. You lingered for a moment, watching them go before turning your attention to the empty dressing room. The room felt eerily silent without the girls energetic presence.

As you walked to the bathroom, you heard a soft whimper coming from within. Pushing open the door, you found Kazuha on the floor, her pretty features contorted in pain. Her hand was clenched around her crotch, and she was stroking herself frantically. "K-Kazuha?" you stammered, shocked by the sight before you.

Her head snapped up, her eyes filling with tears. "Y-Y/n…" she managed to choke out. "I need you… I can't stop…" Her voice was desperate, pleading. You couldn't believe this was happening.

As you stood there, uncertain of what to do, Kazuha's breath came in ragged gasps. Her cock throbbed, harder and harder, and she began to stroke it faster. "P-Please Y/n," she whispered. "I-I can't… hold on…"

You felt a mixture of fear, confusion, and desire coursing through you. You couldn't just leave her like this, but you didn't want to see her hurt herself either. Tentatively, you knelt down beside her, reaching out to touch her soft, pale skin. She flinched at first, but then relaxed slightly into your touch.

"Kazuha… are you sure this is what you want?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

She nodded frantically, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. "Yes… please…"

You hesitated for a moment, but then slowly began to remove your clothes. Kazuha watched you with hungry eyes, licking her lips as she undressed as well. As you stood before her naked, she crawled over to you, her soft skin sliding against yours. She put one of your legs on her shoulder and started to eat you out sloppily, sucking on your clit as you held on to the sink for support. Her tongue danced expertly, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Your legs began to shake uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm building. You tried to pull away from her, but she gripped your butt tightly and pushed you back down onto her face. You could feel your release building inside you, and then it crashed over you in a powerful wave. You screamed out in pleasure, your body tensing as you came.

Kazuha looked up at you, a satisfied smile on her face. "Now get on all fours, baby," she purred. You did as she said, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and euphoria wash over you. Kazuha positioned herself behind you, her cock slippery with precum as she rubbed it against your wet entrance.

"Tell me how much you want this," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "Tell me how badly you need me inside you." You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of her words.

She began to rock her hips against you, slowly at first, but gaining momentum. Her cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. You arched your back, moaning in pleasure as she found the perfect spot inside you. She thrust deeper, her body sliding against yours in perfect rhythm.

"You feel so good, Kazuha," you gasped. "I can't… I can't take it…"

She smiled down at you, her eyes dark and lustful. "That's it, baby," she whispered. "Let go and enjoy it."

As she continued to thrust into you, your body responded in kind. You wrapped your arms around her waist, your fingers digging into her soft skin as you arched your back to meet each of her thrusts. Her cock felt incredible inside you, filling you up and making you feel so alive. The way she moved, the way she touched you, it was as if she were made for you.

"Kazuha…" you gasped, your voice strained from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. "I'm… I'm close…"

She smiled down at you, her eyes dark and full of lust. "Let it happen, baby," she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. "Fuck…Let it all out."

As you felt her words sink in, you gave in to the pleasure washing over you. Kazuha began to move faster, her hips slapping against yours in perfect rhythm. Her cock stretched you further than you thought possible, filling every inch of you as she thrust deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

She reached around, finding your clit with her fingers and began to tease it, circling it expertly. You arched your back, moaning loudly as the pleasure built inside you. Your muscles tensed, ready to explode, and then she pushed you over the edge.

"Ahhhh!" you cried out, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you. Kazuha held you up, her strong arms steady as you writhed in her grip. She smiled down at you, watching your face contort in ecstasy, and then lowered her lips to yours. Their softness contrasted sharply with the roughness of your skin, still flushed from your climax.

As she kissed you, she thrust deeper, her cock inside you, filling you completely. You could feel her release, the hot, salty liquid pressing against your insides as she came, her body trembling against yours. She groaned into your mouth, her hips bucking against yours, before collapsing on top of you, their weight sending a shiver of pleasure through your entire body.

You held her close, your fingers tangled in her hair as you savored the afterglow of your shared intimacy. After a moment, she pulled away, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She smiled down at you, her eyes still glassy from desire. "Thank you," she whispered. "That was amazing."

You smiled back, running your fingers along her smooth cheek. "I'm glad I could help," you replied, your voice still husky from the passion that had consumed you both. "And you're welcome."

Kazuha giggled, her breath tickling your ear. "You're so sweet," she whispered, kissing you gently before moving to nibble at your neck. "Now, let's get cleaned up."

Together, you and Kazuha washed up in the sink, taking care to clean the mess from your clothes as well. The cool water felt good against your skin, helping to calm your racing heart and steady your breath. As you finished drying off, Kazuha slipped her arms around your waist, pulling you close. "Thanks again," she murmured into your shoulder. "I'm really glad we could do that."

You wrapped your arms around her as well, feeling a contented warmth spread through your body. "It's no problem," you replied, kissing her gently on the cheek. "I'm just happy I could help." You glanced at the clock, realizing that you didn't have much time left before you needed to get back to your dorm. "We should probably get going, huh?"

Kazuha nodded, reluctantly pulling away from you. "Yeah," she sighed, her voice tinged with regret. "We should." She started to dress quickly, slipping her underwear back on and then pulling on her skirt. You fixed your own clothes as well, trying not to think about how much you'd miss the feel of her skin against yours.

As you made your way back to the dorm, your heart still raced from the intensity of your shared encounter. The warmth between your legs lingered, a constant reminder of Kazuha's presence and the passion you'd just shared. You couldn't help but glance at her occasionally, marveling at the way her hair flowed over her shoulders and the way her hips swayed with each step.

The other girls in the dorm, oblivious to what had truly transpired, welcomed you both back with idle chatter. You forced yourself to focus on their conversation, not wanting to give away the intense intimacy you'd shared with Kazuha. Your body still tingled from her touch, and the memory of her skin against yours lingered in your mind like a haunting melody.

411 notes · View notes

unlosts · 3 months ago

Text

Short n' Sweet

1k words. Or; you're not as sneaky as you thought you were.

It’s not so bad sharing a cubicle with Spencer; he brings a new pile of books every day and he lets you borrow whichever you want once he’s done with them - which usually happens before lunch. He never complains when your stuff inevitably ends up over on his side of the desk because god forbid you attempt minimalism once in your life. But the only downside is that Spencer notices way more than he’s given credit for, and he’s not shy about pointing it out.

In other words Spencer Reid knows something is up.

The third time that morning you go up to the kitchenette to get a refill seems to be his breaking point.

“Eighteen”

“Excuse me?” You say startled, not really paying attention to him as you walk back to your desk.

“Since last month the average time you get up from your desk went from ten times a day to eighteen, and at first I thought you weren't sleeping right and upped your caffeine intake but then I noticed you sometimes get up only to get someone else a file even though you never did that before, and even at lunch you seem to be out more often than not, so I thought maybe you were having trouble focusing, and if that’s the case then some simple modifications to your diet could really -”

“Spence!” You cut him off before he could keep going, although the concern doe eyes he was still directing at you made your stomach tense in guilt. It was like being mean to a puppy.

“I really appreciate you looking out for me but honestly I’ve just been feeling more restless, so I go out to jog at lunch and can’t really sit still” You said with a shrug of your shoulders and an apologetic smile “didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“That’s alright” he replied with a tight lipped smile “if you’re interested I could still send you the studies just in case they help”

“Y'know what? Yeah that would be great” You said, and the negative karma from the lie and the absolute knowledge that you would not be reading those studies made you promise yourself that you would get him a super sugary caramel latte tomorrow morning to make up for it.

Later that day at lunch the lie still weighed heavy on your mind.

“I think Spence’s onto us” You said as Aaron slowly kissed a path up your neck to right behind your ear. Usually having his hands slowly caressing your back and his lips anywhere on you rendered your mind completely useless but today the fluorescent light of the file room was buzzing particularly loud in your ear.

“Honey, can we please not talk about Spencer right now? I’m doing some of my best work right now” Aaron said, his voice muffled since he didn’t lift his lips from your neck, his breath tickling your skiing and chipping slowly away at your resolve.

“I mean it, he said something about me getting up from my desk more which is Spencer code for you’re distracted which is actually code for everyone else noticed and since Spence sits right next to me he drew the short stick on having to talk to me about it” You finished out of breath, having worked yourself up about it during the two hours after your talk.

Hotch sighed in defeat, slowly straightening up and looking at you.

“You got all of that from him asking if you’re having trouble focusing?”

“Yes”

“And now you think we should tell the rest of the team” He stated, quite sure by now of your answer.

“Yes”

“Alright” He agreed, squeezing your waist reassuringly.

“Good” You said, your arms slowly going back perch on his shoulders “I mean it’s the least you could do since it’s like 70% your fault”

“Okay how is it not 50/50 here?”

“It would be, except today you wore that dark green shirt I love” You said, playfully running your palms over his chest “so that’s 10% more and you rolled up your sleeves so that’s another 10, at the very least”

“You’re absolutely right, It’s all on me”

“Glad we straighten that out”

“Now, we still have” he looked at his watch 25 minutes before we had to go back to work. Do you want to actually go get some food? There’s a nice place just around the corner from here” He said softly, sneaking a kiss right next to your lips.

“Actually I believe you were in the middle of some of your best work so if you don’t mind I’d like to be the judge of that”

“Excellent choice”

Ten minutes after you got back a takeout order filled with sweet and sour pork got delivered right to your desk. As you caught yourself smiling at it like it was a flower bouquet you couldn’t help but feel Spencer's keen eyes on you letting you know that, indeed he knew something was up.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #i feel like you can really tell i'm watching sex and the city right now this is way fizzier that the other two

264 notes · View notes

rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Between Sets and Scenes

SUMMARY: As a dedicated personal trainer in Washington D.C., you've worked with high-profile clients before, but when actor Glen Powell steps into your gym, life takes an unexpected turn. What starts as a simple fitness transformation for Glen quickly evolves into something more when the lines between professionalism and attraction begin to blur. A chance encounter outside the gym leads to late-night conversations, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes the best chemistry happens off-screen. But with Glen's rising star and your grounded life, can you keep things casual, or is something deeper already taking shape?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the Anon who sent the request for this in! I hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: None.

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The familiar ping of your inbox echoed through your office as you finished typing up a nutrition plan for one of your long-term clients. Leaning back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, already mentally preparing yourself for the evening rush at the gym. It was mid-spring, the time of year when everyone suddenly remembered they had vacations or summer plans that required them to get into shape. Your calendar was filling up fast, but you thrived in the chaos.

As you clicked through your unread emails, one subject line caught your eye.

Transfer Client: Glen Powell – Ultimate Performance, Los Angeles.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Glen Powell? As in the Glen Powell—actor, movie star, all-around charmer? You quickly opened the email, skimming through the details.

Eddie here, from the L.A. branch. We’ve got a transfer for you—our client, Glen Powell. He’s been working with us for a while, getting in shape for a bunch of his previous roles. Glen’s a solid guy, no diva attitude, but he’s wrapping up filming in D.C. and needs a few weeks of training before his next project. Figured you’d be the best person for the job.

I’ve attached his info and previous programs. Let me know if you need anything else, but honestly, Glen’s a hard worker. You shouldn’t have any problems.

Just, uh, maybe keep an eye on the tequila intake.

Cheers,Eddie

You chuckled at the tequila comment but focused on the rest of the email. This was definitely an unexpected assignment, but you were more intrigued than overwhelmed. A high-profile client like Glen meant there was a level of professionalism and discretion required, but you had handled demanding clients before. Glen Powell would be no different… right?

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be worth getting a bit more insight from Eddie before you met with Glen. He’d worked with Glen before and could offer valuable information that a few attached files couldn’t convey. You reached for your phone, quickly dialing Eddie's number. After a couple of rings, the line connected, and Eddie’s laid-back demeanor and accent came through.

“Hey! I had a feeling you’d call.”

You laughed softly, leaning back in your chair. “I couldn’t resist. Glen Powell, huh? Big name. I wanted to get some inside scoop on him before I officially start working with him.”

“Totally understandable,” Eddie replied. “Glen’s honestly one of the easiest clients we’ve had. No diva behavior, no slacking off. He shows up, puts in the work, and follows the plan.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said, relieved. “Anything in particular I should keep an eye out for? You mentioned the tequila?”

Eddie chuckled on the other end of the line. “Yeah, man loves his tequila. It’s the only food from our restricted list he really ever eats. He’s not gonna go overboard, but just be aware that he likes to unwind with a drink now and then. He’s been keeping up with his workouts since our last session, so he’s not starting from scratch.”

“So he’s already in pretty good shape?”

“Definitely,” Eddie confirmed. “He looks great, but he’s looking to tighten up for this rom-com he’s shooting soon. Wants to get that beach body look, you know? He’s got a few areas he wants to tone up, but overall, you’re just fine-tuning.”

You made a few notes as Eddie spoke, already thinking of some adjustments you could make to Glen’s program to push him toward his goals. “Got it. Anything else I should know about his routine?”

“He sticks to his meal plans pretty well. I mean, the guy’s a professional at this point. You’ll probably notice he doesn’t need a lot of hand-holding. But don’t be afraid to push him—he responds well to a challenge.”

You nodded, appreciating the insight. “Thanks, Eddie. I’m excited to get started with him.”

“You’ll do great. Just keep it fun, keep him motivated, and I’m sure you two will get along fine.”

After wrapping up the call with Eddie, you hung up and set your phone down, staring at Glen’s profile on your screen. This wasn’t just a regular client. This was Glen Powell—known for his charm, his dedication to his craft, and apparently, his love for tequila.

With a deep breath, you stood up and stretched. Time to prepare for tomorrow, when you’d officially meet your new high-profile client. You had a feeling this wouldn’t be your typical training session, but you were ready to rise to the challenge.

A week had passed since your conversation with Eddie, and you’d spent the time crafting the perfect workout plan for Glen. He didn’t need a complete overhaul, just some fine-tuning to get him into peak shape for his upcoming role.

Now, sitting at the front desk of the gym, you were watching the clock, knowing Glen would be arriving any minute.

The gym was quieter than usual—late morning hours had a way of lulling the space into a calm before the after-work crowd flooded in. You glanced over at the door, almost on instinct, when the bell chimed. And there he was.

Glen Powell.

He strolled in with that signature effortless charm, his stride confident but relaxed. His black t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, and his black athletic shorts showed off his toned legs. A baseball cap turned backward, completed the look. Even with his casual attire, he had an undeniable presence.

You stood up from the desk, offering him a smile. “You must be Glen.”

His grin matched yours as he walked up to you, extending a hand. “That’s me. And you must be [Your Name], right?”

You nodded, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and warm—just as you’d expected. “That’s right. Good to meet you in person.”

“Likewise,” he said, his eyes scanning the gym behind you for a moment before settling back on you. “Eddie’s told me great things about you.”

“Oh, did he?” you laughed softly, appreciating the compliment. “He said some pretty good things about you too.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head with a mock-serious look. “Well, I hope I live up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you will,” you replied, motioning toward the gym’s main floor. “Ready to get started?”

His smile widened, and he adjusted the strap of the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”

You led him toward a quieter corner of the gym where you had the session planned out. “So, Eddie filled me in on what you’ve been up to, but I’d like to hear from you. What’s your goal for these next few weeks?”

As Glen set his bag down, he glanced around at the equipment before turning his focus back to you. “I’ve been trying to keep up with my workouts, but this next role has a lot of, uh... shirtless scenes.” He laughed lightly, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. “I want to lean out a bit more, just tighten everything up.”

You nodded, pulling up his customized workout plan on your tablet. “I’ve got just the thing for you. We’ll be focusing on toning your core, arms, and legs—nothing too extreme, but enough to get you where you need to be before filming starts.”

Glen leaned over slightly to glance at the plan, nodding in approval. “Looks good. You’ve got me doing some heavy lifts, huh?”

You smiled, sensing his enthusiasm. “I do. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure to push you without burning you out.”

He chuckled, clearly ready to dive in, but before you moved toward the weights, you stopped him with a quick smile. “Before we get started, though, I need to take some baseline measurements.”

Glen raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Measurements?”

You nodded, setting the tablet down. “Yeah, just so I can document your progress over the next four weeks. It'll help us both see how far you’ve come when you’re a couple weeks in, especially if you’re aiming to get more toned.”

“Fair enough,” Glen said, stepping back as you grabbed a tape measure from your desk. “You’re the boss.”

He stood still, arms slightly raised as you started taking the first measurement around his chest. You worked quickly, not making it awkward, but there was no denying the closeness as you measured his biceps next.

“Okay, now your waist,” you said, dropping to one knee to wrap the tape measure around his torso.

Glen chuckled lightly, the sound relaxed. “This part’s always the most nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

You laughed softly in return. “It’s not that bad. Besides, you’re already in great shape. This is just to see how much progress you make in the next few weeks.”

“You say that now,” he joked, but the smile he flashed was playful, clearly at ease with the process.

After finishing his waist measurement, you stepped back and jotted down the numbers. “All set. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Glen shook his head, still smiling. “I’ve survived worse.”

“Well, I’ll be making sure to push you just enough to keep it interesting.” You gave him a grin as you set aside the tape measure and picked up your tablet again, ready to log the details. “Alright, now we’re ready. Let’s get started.”

As you both headed toward the weights area, you couldn’t help but notice the ease with which Glen navigated the gym. He wasn’t just a celebrity going through the motions—he was here to work. And something about his grounded, no-nonsense attitude put you at ease, too.

“So,” Glen said, stretching out his arms before reaching for a dumbbell, “how long have you been with Ultimate Performance?”

“About five years now. I started as an intern after getting my degree in sports science, then worked my way up. Now I’m doing personal training full-time.”

“Five years,” he said with a nod, looking impressed. “That’s awesome. I’ve only heard good things about this place.”

“Glad to hear it,” you replied, as you both moved through the warm-up. “And since we’re talking about that—Eddie warned me about your... tequila habits.”

Glen laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, yeah. Guilty. But I promise to keep it in check.”

“Good to know,” you said, smiling as you moved into the first set of exercises. “As long as you put in the work like Eddie says you do, I’ll let you have a cheat day here and there.”

His grin didn’t falter, but his focus shifted, now locked in as he began his first round of squats. You observed his form, making minor adjustments here and there, impressed by his natural athleticism.

It wasn’t long before the playful back-and-forth gave way to the steady rhythm of the workout, Glen pushing himself with the same dedication Eddie had spoken so highly of.

By the time you moved to the free weights, his shirt was damp with sweat, but he never complained or asked to slow down. Glen had a drive that reminded you why you loved working with serious clients—it wasn’t just about the physical change. It was the discipline, the effort, the focus. And Glen had all of that.

By the time you got to the final set of exercises, Glen was visibly feeling the burn. His breathing had picked up, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. You couldn't help but admire how hard he was working, despite the intensity.

As Glen set the weights down after his last set of deadlifts, he straightened up and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, flashing you a tired but amused smile. “You weren’t kidding about this workout plan. You sure you’re not taking it easy on me?”

You laughed softly, meeting his gaze. “Taking it easy doesn’t get results.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he caught his breath. “Guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He placed his hands on his hips, still winded but clearly impressed. “I’ll be feeling this tomorrow, won’t I?”

“Probably,” you admitted with a grin. “But that just means you’re making progress. A little soreness is good—it’s how you know your muscles are working.”

“Good to know,” Glen replied with a smirk. “I’ll remind myself of that when I can’t walk tomorrow.”

You shook your head, amused by his playful banter. “You’ll be fine. We’ll take it day by day, and by the end of this, you’ll be in even better shape than you were before.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Better than before, huh?”

You shrugged confidently. “That’s the goal.”

Glen flashed you a grin, wiping down the equipment as he finished cooling down. “Alright then, Coach. I’ll trust you to get me there.”

* * * *

It was one of those weekends where you finally had a moment to breathe. You’d been pushing through long days at the gym, so a girls' night out was exactly what you needed. The bar was buzzing with energy—packed enough to feel lively but not too crowded. You sipped your drink, laughing with your friends as the music pulsed in the background.

A larger group walked in, but you barely glanced their way, too caught up in the conversation at your table. Washington D.C. was always filled with all types, so it wasn’t unusual for new faces to pass through. But after a while, you noticed your friends exchanging glances, their eyes darting toward the bar.

“What?” you asked, curious about what had captured their attention.

Your friend leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper as she nodded toward the bar. “Isn’t that...?”

You turned your head, following their gaze—and there he was. Glen Powell. Standing at the bar, his familiar smile in place as he chatted with the bartender. He looked effortlessly casual, wearing a simple grey t-shirt and dark jeans, blending in with the crowd in a way only someone like him could. He seemed completely relaxed, enjoying his night off with a group of friends or maybe coworkers, a drink in hand.

Your heart skipped for a moment, but you quickly dismissed the thought. He was a client, nothing more. It wasn’t unusual for him to be out, enjoying himself. You took a sip of your drink, willing yourself not to think too much about it.

But as the night went on, you found your drink dwindling, and you knew you’d need a refill soon. “I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said to your friends, sliding out of the booth.

As you approached the bar, you felt the press of the crowd around you. You waved at the bartender, but before you could place your order, you heard a voice behind you.

“Should I be worried about my trainer drinking on a weekend?”

You turned, and there was Glen, standing beside you with a teasing smile. His eyes were bright with amusement, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a grin that you couldn’t help but mirror.

You raised your glass in a playful toast. “I’m off-duty,” you said with a smirk. “Besides, I’m not the one who needs to watch their tequila intake, remember?”

Glen laughed, leaning slightly closer as if the conversation was just between the two of you. “You caught me.” He glanced at the glass in his hand and then back at you. “I’ll take it easy. Don’t want you to give me a lecture at the gym on Monday.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Nah,” he replied, his voice warm. “But you don’t go easy on me, that’s for sure.” He glanced down at your glass. “Looks like you’re due for a refill though. Mind if I grab that one for you?”

It was an offer so casual, so easy, that for a second you almost forgot the circumstances—he was your client, after all. But his tone was friendly, his expression open and relaxed, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Only if it’s not tequila,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a playful grin.

He laughed again, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Deal. I’ll stick to something that won’t get me in trouble with my trainer.”

You smiled, and before you could even protest, Glen signaled the bartender. “Another for her, and I’ll take one too,” he said, his voice smooth but casual, as though he wasn’t really paying for your drink but just sharing in a moment.

The bartender moved efficiently, and within seconds, two fresh glasses were placed in front of you. You picked up yours, the coolness of the glass meeting your hand as you glanced up at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, that easy grin still in place. “I figured it might soften the blow when you destroy me in the gym next week.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, so you’re buttering me up now?”

“Is it working?”

The way he said it, with just the right mix of playfulness and charm, had you smiling despite yourself. He wasn’t being pushy, wasn’t crossing any lines—just having fun with the moment.

You took a sip of your drink, the cool liquid refreshing after the heat of the crowded bar. “I’m still going to push you hard on Monday, just so you know.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to feel like a secret between the two of you. “Taking it easy doesn’t get results, right?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his words, recognizing your own mantra being thrown back at you. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background as you stood there with Glen, the conversation flowing easily, as if you were just two people sharing a drink rather than client and trainer.

“So, is this your usual spot?” Glen asked, leaning an elbow on the bar as he turned his full attention to you.

“Not really,” you admitted. “It’s more of an impromptu girls' night kind of thing. What about you? Out with friends?”

“Yeah, wrapping up a long week of filming,” he said, motioning toward the group in the back. “Figured we’d blow off some steam before the craziness starts up again next week.”

You nodded, understanding. “Well, you deserve it. Just don’t go overboard. I don’t want to have to kick your ass on Monday for drinking too much.”

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll try to keep it under control, but no promises.”

“Noted,” you said with a smirk, the comfortable rhythm of the conversation settling between you both. There was something almost effortless about it—just enough teasing to keep it fun, but not too much to cross the line into anything more than friendly banter.

Still, as you stood there at the bar with Glen, the energy around you shifting just slightly, it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced just a little faster. You quickly pushed the thought away. He was your client, after all. This was just a chance encounter on a Saturday night—nothing more.

“Anyway,” Glen said after a moment, glancing at your now-refilled drink, “I better get back to the group. But don’t worry, I’ll be ready for whatever workout you throw at me on Monday.”

You raised your glass in a lighthearted toast. “You’d better be.”

With a final smile, Glen gave you a nod and made his way back to his friends, leaving you standing at the bar, a faint smile lingering on your lips as you watched him walk away.

You made your way back to the booth where your friends were sitting, trying to act like your quick conversation at the bar hadn’t just sent a small thrill through your chest. As soon as you sat down, though, you realized there was no hiding anything from them. Their eyes were all wide, gleaming with curiosity, and they immediately leaned in.

“Okay, spill,” one of your friends demanded, barely able to contain her excitement. “What was that?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “What do you mean?”

Another friend nudged your arm playfully. “Don’t act like you don’t know! That was Glen Powell, wasn’t it?”

You blinked, then gave a slow nod, not quite ready for the tidal wave of questions that was sure to follow. “Yeah… that was Glen.”

Their jaws practically dropped in unison.

“Oh my God,” One of them breathed. “You’re telling me you’ve been casually talking to Glen Powell at the bar this whole time you’ve been gone?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you replied quickly, trying to wave off the moment as you took a sip of your drink. “We just ran into each other, that’s all.”

One of their eyes narrowed as she leaned in even closer. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you mention a ‘high-profile client’ a couple of weeks ago? Are you telling me Glen Powell is the guy you’ve been working with at the gym?”

You sighed, knowing there was no getting around it now. “Okay, yes. I’ve been working with him for a couple of weeks. But seriously, it’s nothing. Just professional.”

Their eyes nearly bulged out of their heads as they processed that revelation.

“He’s your client?” One of them echoed in disbelief. “How did you not tell us it was him?”

You gave a half-shrug, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I couldn’t exactly name-drop him. It’s a work thing, you know? Confidentiality and all that.”

“Oh, please,” one of them said with a wave of her hand. “You’re too modest. Glen Powell is out there starring in movies, and you’ve been working with him to get him in shape? That’s insane.”

“It’s really not that crazy,” you insisted, feeling your cheeks warm under their eager stares. “He’s just another client.”

“Just another client?” Another one repeated incredulously. “I’m sorry, but you can’t tell me that conversation at the bar wasn’t flirty. He was totally into you.”

You laughed, shaking your head again. “It wasn’t flirting. We were just joking around. If anything, I was warning him about his workout on Monday after all that tequila he’s probably going to drink tonight.”

One of your friends leaned back with a knowing smile. “Oh, come on. He totally offered to buy your drink, didn’t he?”

You hesitated for a moment, then gave a sheepish nod. “Yeah… he did. But it wasn’t a big deal! He was just being nice.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Nice? Or maybe a little flirty?”

You sighed, trying to downplay it. “It wasn’t like that. He was just joking around. Honestly, we talked more about his workout plan than anything else.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, her tone teasing. “I’m sure it was all about the workout plan.”

You could feel their eyes on you, the playful smiles they exchanged as they leaned in with the kind of curiosity only good friends could get away with.

“Seriously,” you insisted, though your grin betrayed you. “He’s a client. It’s not like that.”

Your friends weren’t convinced. “Well, it sure looked like something to me. The way he was talking to you at the bar? He didn’t look like he was thinking about squats and deadlifts, that’s for sure.”

Another one chimed in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yeah, and that whole ‘watch your tequila intake’ thing? That was prime trainer-to-client flirting material.”

You laughed again, leaning back in your seat as the teasing continued. “It wasn’t flirting,” you repeated, though their playful accusations were starting to wear down your defenses.

“Right,” one of the girls said with a wink. “Well, even if it wasn’t, he clearly likes talking to you. So maybe that’s a sign of something.”

One of the others nodded, her expression turning a bit more serious. “Hey, we’re just saying—if something does happen, you have our full support.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship settle around you. “Thanks, but really, it’s all professional. I’m not looking for anything more.”

One of the girls raised her glass in a toast. “To keeping it professional… but maybe hoping for a little fun along the way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you clinked glasses with her. “I’ll drink to that.”

As you took a sip, though, your thoughts wandered back to the easy conversation you’d had with Glen at the bar. Sure, it was just work—just a client interaction—but there had been something undeniably lighthearted, something that had left you smiling long after he’d walked away.

As the night went on, you found yourself stealing glances at Glen from your spot at the booth, the laughter of your friends fading into the background. You couldn’t help but notice the easy charm he exuded, even as he joked with his friends at the bar. It was hard not to smile every time you thought about your previous conversations. The playful banter between you two had definitely sparked something beyond a simple trainer-client dynamic.

After a while, you decided to venture back to the bar for another drink, this time determined to keep the mood light. As you approached, Glen noticed you immediately, his face breaking into a grin.

“Hey! Look who it is,” he called out, leaning against the bar with a casual confidence. “Back for another?”

You chuckled, leaning against the bar beside him. “What can I say? You have to stay hydrated, right?”

He laughed a warm sound that made you feel more at ease. “True. So, what’s your game plan for the weekend?”

“Honestly? Just a girls' night tonight. You know, drinks, gossip—typical stuff,” you said, your gaze lingering on him as you took a sip of your drink.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fun. Any exciting plans with the girls?”

You shrugged. “Nothing too crazy. Just catching up. What about you? Any plans for the weekend?”

Glen leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. “I was thinking of having a quiet night, maybe get some takeout on the way home. But who knows? My plans could change.”

You smirked, noticing the suggestive undertone in his words. “Oh? What kind of changes do you have in mind?”

He met your gaze, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, I could be convinced to do something more… interesting if the right company showed up.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, caught off guard by the implication behind his words. “Interesting? Like what?”

“Maybe a movie night? You know, two people just relaxing and enjoying some downtime,” he suggested, his tone playful yet serious.

“Sounds tempting,” you replied, your heart racing a little faster at the thought. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Rom-coms, obviously,” he said with a wink. “I’m an actor, after all. Gotta stay on brand.”

You laughed, but then the conversation shifted. “So… any significant others I should know about?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He shook his head, his expression turning thoughtful. “Nope, just me. I’ve been focusing on work mostly.”

“Same here,” you admitted. “I’m single, too. Just haven’t had the time to meet anyone.”

“Funny how that works,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you. “Two busy people, both single.”

There was a charged silence between you as you both processed the moment, the playful tension hanging in the air. Glen shifted slightly closer, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “You know, it’s refreshing to meet someone who gets it. Not many people can understand the kind of schedule I keep.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “Yeah, I'm sure it can be tough.”

“Maybe we should change that,” he suggested, his voice lower now. “Have some more ‘interesting’ nights.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing at the unspoken invitation. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

Just then, as the night began to wind down, you glanced at your phone to check the time. “Wow, it’s getting late. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

“Yeah, it sneaks up on you,” he said, glancing around. “Are you getting an Uber home?”

You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. “Yeah, I should probably call one.”

Glen frowned slightly, then offered, “Let me give you a ride home. I don’t want you waiting out here for an Uber.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. It was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the professional boundaries. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

“Not at all,” he insisted, his smile warm and inviting. “I insist. Plus, it’ll give us more time to chat. And, you know, I can promise not to make you do any burpees in the car.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier dissipating. “Okay, if you insist.”

As you both walked outside, the warm spring air wrapped around you. Glen kept the conversation light as you walked to his car, and you found yourself enjoying his company even more. Once you were inside, he turned to you, the playful atmosphere returning.

“So, how bad my pis my punishment going to be on Monday for the drinks I had tonight?” He asked, his gaze locking onto yours.

You smirked, leaning in a little closer. “I might just add some extra reps to your routine.”

His smile widened, and suddenly the air felt charged again. You could feel the intensity building between you, the chemistry undeniable.

“Bring it on,” he replied, his voice dropping lower. “I can handle it.”

And before you knew it, the space between you disappeared. Glen leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a soft yet electrifying kiss.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you realized you’d crossed a line, but it felt exhilarating. You were no longer just trainer and client; you were something else entirely.

“Wow,” you breathed, your heart racing.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Wow, indeed.”

As Glen pulled out of the bar's parking lot, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach. The city lights blurred past the windows, and you glanced over at him, catching his eyes focused on the road, a slight smile playing on his lips.

When you arrived at your apartment, you hesitated for just a moment before inviting him in. “Do you want to come in? I mean, if you’re still up for that movie?”

“I’d love to,” he replied, stepping out of the car and following you inside.

Once inside, you hung up your coats and motioned for him to take a seat on the couch. You headed to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of drinks before settling next to him. Glen watched you with that familiar warmth in his gaze, and it made your heart flutter.

“Okay, I’ll let you pick the movie,” you said, scrolling through your options.

“Let’s go classic,” he suggested, pointing at How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. “This one is always a good time.”

You chuckled. “Good choice. It’s one of my favorites.”

As the movie started, you both settled into the couch, the initial awkwardness fading into the cozy atmosphere. Glen’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, enjoying the easy banter that flowed between you.

About halfway through the film, you felt his arm move, sliding down to your shoulder as he gently pulled you into his side. A warmth spread through you at the gesture, and you smiled, leaning into him comfortably.

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking down at you with those charming eyes.

You nodded, unable to suppress your grin. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Good,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I am,” you replied softly, feeling the connection between you deepening. You could feel his heartbeat against you, steady and reassuring, and the atmosphere felt charged with a sweet kind of intimacy.

As the movie continued, you caught yourself glancing up at him, noticing how he focused intently on the screen, yet you could sense he was aware of you too. Every so often, your shoulders brushed, sending little sparks of electricity between you.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked, his gaze still on the movie.

“A million times,” you laughed. “It’s one of those movies I can watch on repeat and never get tired of.”

He smiled, looking down at you. “It’s one of my favorites too…Kind of like the person watching it.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, a light flutter of nerves dancing in your stomach. “You’re smooth, aren’t you?”

“Only when the situation calls for it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The film played on, but the focus began to shift more towards each other. You felt the tension build in the small moments, the lingering touches, and the way his gaze lingered on you. It was as if the lines between work and pleasure had blurred completely, and you were both caught up in something new and thrilling.

With the credits rolling, Glen turned to you, the air between you electric. “So, what do you think? Think I can pull off this upcoming Rom-Com role after watching one?”

You laughed, your heart racing. “I think you’ve got the charm down already. Just maybe don’t take any advice from this movie for your actual dating life.”

“Noted,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly. “You know maybe I need a few more rom-com movie nights to fully prepare for this role.”

“I might know someone who could help you with that,” you said, your pulse quickening as you realized how much you wanted to spend more time with him.

He leaned in slightly, his expression softening. “You know, I really enjoy spending time with you outside the gym.”

“Me too,” you admitted, the vulnerability of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Before you could think it through, you leaned in closer, feeling the magnetic pull between you. And just like that, he was closing the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss.

It felt like the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the moment. When you pulled away, breathless, you realized this was more than just a client relationship; it was the start of something new, something exciting.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction

211 notes · View notes