#Emilio x reader

[vanrouchu]

jealous, jealous, jealous!

— "are you two dating?" ft. victor, emilio, merryrose

— VICTOR!

It took Victor a moment to process that question before quickly regaining his cool. He shot his co-worker a smile but in his mind he was panicking, thinking that he was being a little bit too obvious with his feelings. After all, he already said to himself that he'd push aside his feelings and let you meet other people. It made him feel a little giddy though, the thought of being mistaken as your lover gave him butterflies.

"Oh my, do we really seem that close?" He let out a small laugh, "we're really not dating."

"Then you wouldn't mind if I tried to confess to them, right?"

Crash!

"Huh?" It took Victor a moment to realize what was happening. As if ignoring what they just asked him, he chuckled. "Oh dear, I must've been distracted. Seems like I've broken a glass."

"A-Are you alright!?"

"Yes, I'm fine." His mask was slowly crumbling away and his voice suddenly turned deeper. A little bit rougher. He furrowed his brows and looked at his co-worker right in the eyes. "I can take care of this. Just scram already."

They gulped. Slowly backing away before sprinting out. Victor could only stare at their back getting smaller and smaller before letting out a deep sigh and ruffling his hair. "Ugh… I screwed up."

— EMILIO!

"Dating?" Emilio pondered for a second. He was debating between telling his fellow knight the truth or twisting it a little to match the image inside his head but he knew you wouldn't like it if rumors about you and him spread – and you were his priority. So he chose to tell him the truth… with a little bit of something sprinkled on top. "Well, no… but we're very close."

Maybe he did that to show off. Maybe he did that to ward him off because clearly, he was interested in you. He was fidgeting, sweating, and stuttering. If he was asking just for the sake of knowing, he wouldn't be as bothered as he is. However, this kind of situation calls for a different response.

"T-Then…! Could you put in a good word for me? I'm really interested in them so I've been wondering if you could help."

He didn't take the hint, he thought. A straightforward answer should do the trick.

"They're not looking for a relationship right now." Not a trace of guilt can be found on his face after spitting out a blatant lie. It was scary how his voice had gone cold yet his smile never wavered. "You should give up."

"Please? Just a little push is all I need so I can confess…"

Confess? Emilio tilted his head curiously. "You just don't give up, do you? It's an admirable trait for a knight… however," he grabbed his collar and pulled him closer – sending chills down his spine. "Do try to pick opponents your size."

He backed away, acting as if nothing happened. "Unless you want to be gobbled up, of course."

No one believed the knight when he said that Emilio threatened him.

— MERRYROSE!

"No, why?" Merryrose's reply was quick and simple. It was straightforward enough — No, they were not dating. He conveniently left out the 'yet' part and 'I wish we were' part. He thought it would be super embarrassing if anyone found out his big crush on you and right now he's doing his best to keep a straight face when he got asked this question.

"That's great to hear!" His eye twitched. "I was planning on asking them out soon so I had to make sure there really isn't anything going on between you two."

"Oh, really?" It was childish to get jealous, yes. But what's even more childish is the fact that he removed his glove and put his hand on their arm. He never thought he would intentionally charm someone with his ability but he thought it suddenly became useful for once. His pettiness knew no bounds. Sweetly, he asked: "Could you repeat that for me?"

"O-Oh..! I was wondering if you were interested in going on a date with me, Merryrose." It worked, perfect.

He put his glove back on and replied, "I've got plans. Don't go asking anyone else, though."

It was strange. He hated being treated like this but the moment they showed interest in you, all common sense got thrown out the window. It's fine, he thought. It would be bearable if they fawned over him instead of you. If it was you… He might just burst with jealousy.

[chelestials]

nothing is more humbling when you’re watching an edit of your favorite actor and then the screen goes black and you see yourself on your screen basically thirsting over them

[sams-butt-dem0n]

i loved ur hc about breaking up with the gang! could you do the gang breaking up with reader?

The Gang Breaking Up with Reader

DARRY would have the simple excuse of not having enough time for you due to his busy work schedule and taking care of his brothers in the small amount of spare time he had at the end or beginning of each day. You had tried to convince him that you didn't care that the only time you got to spend together was in bed after a long day, but he wasn't having any of it.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I really am. I don't want to do this but it's only fair."

"Darry, how often do I have to tell you that I don't care about you not being here all the time? I enjoy the time we have together already and I know that you're busy and stressed but that's okay. I love you. Please don't do this to me."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, turning to look away from you. "I'm heading off to work in five minutes. I want you out of here before I get back."

SODAPOP would hate to have to break up with you but he feels like it's the right thing to do. It's definitely due to his lack of self-confidence in a relationship since he found out about Sandy cheating on him and moving away. Don't get me wrong, he's confident in his looks and everything but when it comes to relationships, he tends to beat himself up about every tiny detail.

"Y/n, I gotta tell you something," he says, his voice quieter than usual as he stands at your front door.

"Yeah? What's wrong baby?" You ask, confused as to why he was at your house when you were supposed to be at his place in less than an hour.

"Please don't call me that. It'll only make this harder."

You were really confused now. "Huh? Soda what are you talking about?"

"I can't do this anymore." He says, straightforward as ever.

"What?" You ask, tears welling up in your eyes. "Why? What are you doing? Did I do something wrong?"

"I don't know. I don't know if you did something wrong. Tell me if you did won't you?"

"Soda, you sound crazy right now," you say. "Talk to me, don't do this."

"I can't. I just can't How do I know you aren't two-timing me, huh?"

You were shocked at what he just said to you; appalled even. "You think I'd do that to you? You really think that low of me?"

He stays silent. You nod, close your eyes tightly and when you open them again, a single tear rolls down your cheek.

"Stay there," you say, walking away from the door and leaving him standing there for about 5 minutes, wondering if you were ever going to come back.

You dump all of the shirts and jackets and little crafts he'd given you in front of him on your patio and throw a plastic bag at him afterwards.

"I can't believe you think I'd do that," you said. "So much for trust."

PONYBOY was nervous when he realised he wanted to focus more on school than on his relationship. He didn't want to disappoint Darry with his grades dropping since he was with you. He felt as though you held a restriction against him from succeeding even though he knew you weren't in his heart.

"Y/n," he says to you as you're walking him home.

"Yeah?" You ask, turning your head to look at him.

"I- um. I have something to say but I know you won't like it."

"What is it?" You ask. "You can tell me anything, I promise I won't get mad."

"I want to break up." He says, bluntly.

"What?" You ask, stopping dead in your tracks, his house is only a few hundred yards away.

"I need to focus on my schoolwork and you're not letting me do that," he explains, angering you more and more by the second.

"What do you mean I'm not letting you do that? Pony, all we ever do Is read and study whenever we're over at each other's houses," you reply. "And the one day a week where we aren't studying, we spend some time together and out with the gang. Just like everybody else on a Saturday."

"Just respect my decision," he says.

"Respect? Why should I?" You ask, getting angrier by the minute. "You want me to respect you breaking up with me for pretty much no reason because the one you 're giving me makes no sense."

"Just go home," he snaps before turning around and walking away, leaving you standing there, tears rolling down your face.

DALLAS would break up with you right after he gets out of the cooler. He had convinced himself you were cheating on him with Sodapop, similar to Sylvia. You had gone over to Buck's the second you had found out he was free again and walked in with a huge smile beaming across your face. However, when you opened the door, Buck gave you the dirtiest look he could before mumbling something under his breath and watching you walk past him and up the stairs. Weird.

"Hey, Dal!" You exclaim, opening the door and jumping onto his, wrapping your arms around him. "I missed you."

Usually, he would hug you back and kiss you on the head, telling you how much he had missed you too; even when he was only in there for a couple of nights. This time, he shoves you away from him, anger displayed across his face.

"Dal?" You ask, confused. "What's wrong? Did something happen while you were in the cooler?"

"You tell me, y/n. You tell me what happened," he says, snarling at you.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything. At least, I don't think I have," you say, trying to think if you had done anything wrong in the three weeks he had been gone.

"Don't pull that shit!" He yells, scaring you and making you jump a little. "I know what you did, you little whore! I know you fucked him!"

What the fuck was this guy talking about. "What!? I didn't fuck anybody! I haven't had sex since a few nights before you got done in, and that was with you."

"Oh, bullshit!"

"Who did I fuck then, huh? Who are you convinced that I slept with?" You ask, yelling in his face, hurt in your eyes.

"Soda."

You almost laugh in his face but remember that probably would be the smartest thing to do.

"Seriously? Soda?" You say. "You really think I would do something like that? How could you?"

"How could I?" He yells. "How could you! You fucked my friend!"

You shook your head and scoffed. "I don't know why I bother. You're clearly not listening to me and you don't want to believe me. Ask Soda about it and then you'll see that I have not laid a finger on him."

JOHNNY breaks up with you after weeks of weighing up the pros and cons. He felt that you were too good for him and someone with a life as messed up as his doesn't deserve someone as perfect and as gorgeous as you.

"Johnny?" You ask, seeing a figure lying on the concrete in the lot as you're walking home late from the drive-in. "Is that you?"

"Y/n," he says. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" You smile, helping him up onto a bench, sitting beside him and holding his hand. "You have no reason to apologise."

"I do, though," he says, hesitating before continuing. "I can't keep doing this."

"What do you mean?" You ask, worry clouding your eyes.

"I can't keep doing this. I'm constantly embarrassing you when we're out together; I can tell that people make fun of you for dating me. I'm nowhere near good enough for you. I can't sit here and watch you waste your life away for someone like me. You deserve some rich, fancy soc like Randy or Bob."

"Johnny, what the hell are you talking about?" You say, letting go of his hand. "I love you more than anything. I don't care what anybody else thinks and if you think that I should then why? Why should I care? if they saw you the way that I do then they'd all understand."

"I've made up my mind," he says, not bothering to look you in the eyes as he gets up, his back facing you. "And there's nothing you can say to change it."

With that, he walks away, leaving you sat on the bench with hot tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving red lines on the skin. Cold. Lonely. And confused.

STEVE has some trouble with girls. He always ends up saying the wrong thing and, similar to Johnny, he feels that you are way too good for him to treat you the way that he knows he eventually will. He knows damn well that one day, you'll get sick of him being a dick and leave him anyway, just like everyone else. So why bother waiting until then when he could just end it right now?

The phone rings. "Hello?" You say, picking it up after a couple of dials.

"Hey, babydoll," Steve says, his voice making you smile.

"Hi, handsome," you reply. "What can I do for ya?"

"I have to talk to you about something," he says. "But I want you to hear me out first."

"O...kay?" You say, confused about what is about to happen. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," he chuckles. "But I know I will be soon."

Your smile drops. What is he doing?

"Firstly, I want to tell you how much I love you. I think you are the most amazing woman I have ever met and I want you to know that this is not your fault and I have loved every moment with you." He says, making a tear form in your eye. You know what he's doing.

"Steve," you whisper.

He never shows his emotions like this. the most he's ever said to you is that he loves you and thinks that you're the most gorgeous broad he's ever seen. He has never admitted his feelings this extremely before.

"I can't let you be with me anymore. I don't want to be a part of your life anymore. I know I'll just ruin it. I'll be over tomorrow morning to pick up my stuff. I love you, y/n."

He hangs up. You hold the phone to your ear and drown in the continuous beep of the ending line. You had never been so hurt in your life.

TWOBIT breaks up with you because he finds someone else. I know this makes him out to be a bad person but I feel like he has so much love for you but when he meets this other girl, he knows that if he loved you as much as he thought he did, she wouldn't have sparked so much interest.

"Two," you say, looking up at him. "Who's Kathy?"

He lowers his head, looking at his hands in his lap. "Shit, baby."

"Just tell me," you say, a tear falling onto your cheek.

"She's a girl I met a few weeks ago," he admits. "I bumped into her at the dingo while I was waiting for you and the gang and I realised that I liked her. I'm so sorry"

"Do you love her?" You ask.

"What?" He says, looking at you with watering eyes himself.

"You heard me," you say. "Do you love her, Kieth?"

You only ever called him Kieth when you were upset or angry. Right now, you were both.

He nods, "I think so."

You say nothing and stand up, picking up your bag, putting your shoes on and taking one last look at him. One last look at the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. The man who had made you so much happier in the three years of dating you had been through.

And you leave. Never to speak to him or your friends, the gang, ever again.

[offt0wonderland]

The Runaways

Imagine: You're a Soc, enjoying a movie at the drive-in with your friend, when the same Greasers you ran into earlier barge inside the automobile.

The Outsiders x fem OC

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: A young Soc finds herself thrown into a loop once she befriends Pony and his family.

“What did I miss in History?”

Deborah strengthened her fingers around the condensing cup, the two of us pressed closely together while the temperature gradually dropped outside the passion pit. “A load of Crock – I don’t think Mr. Jones knows what he’s talking about,” The corners of her mouth pursed, a bland giveaway that she was transported back in thought from my missed lecture. “I remember he said something about the Battle of Midway and how we were lucky to have won … but when I talked to my dad, he said that the reason we defeated the other ships was because of willpower and strength.”

“Wait, so how does that make Mr. Jones the one full of Crock?” I shifted my head closer to my friend, allowing the temple of my forehead to press against the bone of her shoulder.

Deborah soon readjusted to my movements; her head now stuck against the headrest of the driver seat to keep her eyes on the motion picture that began to play in front of our eyes. “I’m trusting my dad – who fought in the war – as opposed to the teacher who didn’t.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” The both of us briskly fell quiet after my agreement, letting the noise from Sound of Music fill the silence that lingered between us. It was a movie we’d both seen a few weeks prior, but we didn’t mind the repetition, the drive-in was something we both seemed to enjoy on our off time.

Honestly, I don’t think we’d ever get old of this place.

Well, except for the backseat bingo. Now that was revolting. It was like every automobile around us showcased couples engulfed by each other’s mouths, the film of their windows fogged up to display the sweat that radiated off their movements. I tried my best to ignore them, combine Razzles and Popcorn into my mouth as I observed Julie Andrews on screen, but the hathos was too compelling: they were sickeningly captivating.

It was like every time my irises fell onto the giant screen in front, they somehow found their way to the car next to me. In the span of three minutes, I found myself watching the older couple in nothing but a button-down and a bra. From the looks of it, they seemed to be in their mid-twenties, but by their hormones, they appeared closer to teenagers. Frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them ripped the other’s skin off with how aggressive they tugged on each other’s bodies.

It was nauseating – or more accurately, it reminded me of Charles and his consistently grabby hands. One of the many reasons we broke our steady off.

I continued to observe the people around us, noting every time they disappeared in the cushions of their seats; But for some reason, the one thing that redirected my attention was three boys coming into view. The middle Greaser had the same leather jacket I saw before, his arms wrapped around both of his friends as if he was ready to guide them to mischief. The other two seemed to follow that minuscule action, willing to put themselves in trouble to keep their delinquent acquaintance.

“Get out of the way!” And it appeared that disturbance wasn’t too far behind.

Dally pressed the end of the cancer stick between his teeth; the outline of his middle finger raised in front of the illuminated backdrop. Pony chuckled at his friend’s insult, making eye contact with the battered boy across from him in glee. And in all honesty, I probably would’ve laughed too, only all that commotion made them closer to our car. My eyes widened at that revelation, my body involuntarily shifting downwards in hopes they wouldn’t notice. But with all the other windows coated with steam, we were bound to be noticed.

Dally was the first of the group to make a reaction; his lips tugged into a smirk, the pads of his fingertips yanking the poor boys behind him in the new direction he was set in. It was the response I feared the most – he was coming over. So, I made a countermove; I bent over the edge of my seat, tugging on the locks of the automobile to create a barrier.

“Val, what are you doing?” Deborah questioned.

“Lock the doors on your side.” I said.

“What?”

“Lock the doors on your side!” But before she even had a chance, the three Greasers had found themselves inside the same confinement we were in. And I was pissed.

“Ohh, this is nice,” Dally straightened his legs, leaning his body back against the cushion of the seats as if he was already welcomed into the Socs car. “Didn’t know girls could own such nice autos.”

I turned around to face the lot of them. “What are y’all doin’?”

“Needed a place to sit, the chairs outside are somehow all taken.” Ugh, his arrogance was worse than the couple making out next to us.

“Get out of my car,” Deborah was firm. “I don’t want any grease on these girly leather seats.”

“Dal’ let’s just go.” The anxious boy who was drowned in denim finally spoke up, pulling on his friend’s arm to get him to budge – but it appeared he wasn’t going to oblige to his buddy like last time.

“Dally, I swear, I’ll grab …” The slur of words were quick to come to a halt once my eyes fell upon the boy on the right. It was like I was staring at him for the first time, witnessing the fresh scar that aligned symmetrically on his cheek and temple. And by the rounds of his black irises, I could tell he feared my statement … he feared a Soc. “Just get lost.”

Dally, of course, ignored my blatant pleas and focused on the bag of candies that glowed against the console. “Razzles, my favorite.” The Greaser reached forward, stuffing his dirty hands into the freshly opened bag of Blaze’n Blueberry.

Yup, not touching those anymore.

“Val, you know these guys?” Deborah was mortified that I even knew a name out of the bunch.

I shook my head. “Just Pony, he’s in my English class.”

Now that statement earned a gasp. My friend spun around; her eyes glazed over as she peered at the young Greaser on the left side of her automobile. “You’re in Mr. Syme’s class too?! I love that guy – like in love with that guy … Does he ever mention me? Val here won’t tell me a thing.”

“That’s because you’re going steady with Gerald.”

She waved that comment off, a sense of betrayal looming off of her – which, if I had to guess, was probably due to Gerald’s constant gawking at Cherry Valence. Pony uncomfortably shifted against the leather; unsure what words were the right ones in this situation. “Uh, I don’t think so, but maybe once.”

Deborah couldn’t help but let out a squeal from Pony’s response, the back of her hand now sharply pressed to her forehead as if she was going to faint. Dally grinned at the dramatics, finding humor in the odd conversation that was stricken up. “Y’know what, I’ll make a deal,” I swiveled my head in her direction, widening my eyes in horror. She wouldn’t dare. “If you press Mr. Syme about me, y’all can stay … but only if y’all don’t go ape.”

And she did.

Two of them nodded in unison, shuffling their weight to get comfortable in the small car they deemed necessary to infiltrate. I rolled my eyes at her ultimatum, appalled that she’d be so willing to let a group of Greasers stay in the backseat of her Mustang: But it wasn’t my auto, meaning I had no say. The five of us quickly went back to quietude, watching the flick in front of us; at least until the smell of smoke permeated the air. “Look, if y’all are going to stay, no smoking.”  

“You don’t like smoke?” Dally smirked at my statement, almost as if he had found his new weapon of choice.

“I don’t – so quit it.”

Dally grunted, leaning forward to release a cloud of smoke near my jawline. I immediately balled up my fist, ready to thrust all my power into the crook of his nose, except I held back. All I did was wave away the pollution, turning my head slightly until my skin hovered near the tip of the cigarette. “You stay, our rules.”

“I’m sick of rules,” I dragged my tongue across my lower lip, fighting every urge in me to jump the boy in the backseat. “It seems as though you are too, though.”

“What does that mean?” I spat.

“You went to the wrong side of town, and not many Socs are caught dead on our street.” Deborah gasped at Dally’s retaliation, her head snapping in my direction.

“That’s why you cut class? You were at the Grease Lot?” Her voice was raised, almost loud enough for the rest of the parked cars to hear.

I shot her a look. “If you’re going to act this way – dense – then get out of the car.”

“I’m liking this anger, maybe we can ball like the two over there.” Dally nodded over at the couple who had found themselves fully naked, the movements of their car forming a grotesque image in my brain.

“Oh bug out.”

Dally was about to retort something back, but the boy in denim put his arm out to silence him. “Dal’ leave it be.” His voice wavered slightly, like he wasn’t used to standing up to the man in the middle.

Yet, the coldness of his eyes never disappeared.

I turned my body, peering over at the tan boy who stared back. “Y’know, I like you. What’s your name?”

“Johnny Cade.”

Read the first two chapters here: The Runaways | Quotev

[blackynsupremacy]

ya’ll the outsiders is on tubi 🏃🏾‍♀️

time to simp and cry all over again 😩

[ambrozjas]

I feel like two-bit is the kind of guy to be scared of spiders and then he just atarta get mad and freaks out that the spider is there and starts crying because he's mad(I feel like he would cry when hes mad😭🙏🏻)so could you maybe please do two-bit with a fem reader helping him kill the spider or being scared about it with him please

(also I love writing so much and your theme is so cute💗💗)

“f-fuck—!” two-bit said, drawing out the ‘f’ sound as his eyes widened. he hopped up onto the kitchen counter, knocking over a few bottles in the process as he let out a shrill cry.

you appeared from the hallway, eyes frantic as your head turned in every which way trying to find the threat. “what? what is it?” you screamed. all two-bit did was aggressively point at the floor, to which you squinted at it. and there you saw it. a small black spider. it looked harmless, maybe even cute, really. you bit your cheek to stop yourself from laughing when you heard your boyfriend screeching from on top of the counter for help.

“alright, alright! where are the paper towels?”

“you’ll need a flamethrower for that damn thing! there’s—there’s pro’ly more of ‘em all over this damn house!”

“yeah, ‘cause you don’t clean it, keith.” you snorted, your eyes landing on a small roll of paper towels near the kitchen sink. you sauntered over to them, making sure to go extra slow just to rile him up.

“can’t you go a little faster?! i’m dyin’ here!” he shrieked, extending his hands outwards in an exaggerated motion as his grey eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“are you fuckin’ crying?” you asked as you watched two-bit’s eyes glaze over with a sheen layer of tears.

“just get the damn spider!” he shouted, his voice cracked a bit on the ‘damn’ to which you laughed. all it took was one swift move and you scooped the small arachnid up, clenching it in your hand with the paper towel so it wouldn’t escape.

“y’done bein’ a baby, now?” you tilted your head, your free hand on your hip as you watched two-bit climb off the counter. he cringed at the sight of the paper towel and muttered incoherently as he saw you go to the bathroom to flush the spider down the toilet.

when you came back, you saw two bit pouting on the couch. once you had sat down on the arm of the sofa, you put your hand on his shoulder and asked about his worries. he simply flashed you a cheeky grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners before he asked.

“wanna get me a few more beers, pretty lady?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this request was so cute!!! ughhh and youre so sweet thank you sm 💕

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[slaymybreathaway]

Jersey (Charlie Conway x reader)

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 833

Masterlist

I woke up to Charlie's arms wrapped around my waist, our legs were entangled and my head resting against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat.

We won last night's game and my legs are aching, Coach Orion kept me on the ice the whole game. We won 6 - 2 and the whole team was going out for Pizza to celebrate. I looked at Charlie's alarm clock and it showed 10:30.

I carefully tried to untangle myself without waking up my sleeping boyfriend. I slid out from under his grip and stood up. He started to stir and I was scared that I woke him up. He turned over and settled down.

I looked through the overnight bag that I had packed to stay In Charlie's.

Denim shorts and a red tank top with a black and white flannel to go over it.

Then I thought of a better idea, I walked over to Charlie's wardobe and opened the door. His green Duck's jersey was hanging up on a hanger. I took it down, grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom to get changed.

________________

Charlie's P.O.V

=============

I woke up at 11 and immediately noticed that y/n wasn't there. Instead, there was a note on my bedside table.

My Dearest, Charlie

I'm going to Connie's before we go for food, love you

Y/n

Is it weird that just seeing her handwriting made me blush? Ok it's probably a little weird.

I got up and brushed my teeth. I decided that I would wear my green Duck's jersey because we won.

I ruffled my hair in the mirror and opened my wardrobe. My white jersey was there but not my green one. It can't be in the wash beacause I haven't worn it in like a week. I can't ask my Mom either because she has already left for work.

"Odd, where is it?" I thought but didn't think much about it and put my white jersey on with a pair of jeans.

___________

Your POV

=========

I knocked on the door of Connie's house and her Mom answered the door.

"Oh hello y/n. How are you sweetie?" she asked and let me in.

"I'm doing great, my legs are a bit sore after last night's game but that's alright. Where is Connie?" I said.

"Oh she's up in her room dear," She said and went into the kitchen.

I ran up the stairs and could hear 'About a Girl' by Nirvana being blared from Connie's room.

I knocked on the door snd she told me to come in.

When I walked in she looked at me confused and said "Why is your j- WAIT... Turn around."

I turned around and Connie started laughing. "Look at you! Soon to be Mrs. Conway," she joked.

"haha I wish. I just stole his jersey," I giggled and sat down.

"You guys are so cute I cannot deal. So how was your sleepover? Did you..." she raised an eyebrow.

I threw a pillow at her "NO! Connie, god. We just watched a movie,"

Connie laughed "Ok, ok... Sure you did,"

I stayed in Connie's for an hour or two before heading to Tommy's Pizzaria.

_________________

Charlie's POV

==============

I was walking to Tommy's with Goldberg around 2 and talking about y/n.

"Dude, you never shut up about her. I understand why though, she is hot. Let's say if you... Mysteriously break up for some unknown reason. Can I have her?" Goldberg asked, which made me laugh.

"Haahha I hope you're not planning to kill me now Goldie... And It's bold of you to assume that she would want you," I winked.

"Well yanno I am irresistible," Goldberg flexed his non-existent muscles.

We walked in and the bell rang above us. I looked around for the team and saw them with 2 big tables pulled beside each other. Everyone was there except Goldberg and I.

I saw y/n sitting down, deep in conversation with Fulton. She was wearing her green jersey but It seemed a little big on her. I looked again and realised that she was acctually wearing my jersey.

It looked great on her though. Of course it was a bit big but... right yanno. It might have been that the name Conway was plastered across her back. It showed everyone that she was with me and it made me think about how good Y/n Conway sounded.

I could feel my face getting hot. Goldberg noticed what y/n was wearing beacause he nudged me.

"Nevermind, doesn't look like she'll be leaving you anytime soon," he winked and went to sit beside Julie.

Y/n looked up and her eyes lit up when she saw me,she beckoned me over to sit on the seat next to her.

I sat down and kissed her on the cheek, and whispered in her ear" So that's where my jersey went."

[andyclarkz]

omg.

[filmfanaticsblog]

headcanons for steve randle having an s/o that is completely opposite from him

Steve Randle x Opposite!Reader

(A/N: thanks for the ask!!)

-He was surprised when he realized he liked you, you being quiet and reserved and him being loud

-He’s sometimes very rude and cocky, and you’re always very nice to everyone, so you balance each other out

-Even though you’re opposites, he loves you to death

-The gang thought it was unusual you two were together because you were so different

-You love it when his hair is ungreased, but it’s barely ever like that

-Because he hates it.

-He also takes way too much pride in his hair to take it out, plus it takes SO much time with all the swirls

-He brings out the loudness in you, especially when he’s quiet

-You balance each other out with everything, so you just feel the need to make up for the loud when he’s quiet

-But he’s the only person who you feel comfortable being more loud and chaotic than you usually are because you’re so comfortable with him

(sorry this is so short!! i’m vv tired)

[savvy4618]

Validation Brian Johnson x female reader Breakfast club

So, I love eighties men and I figured it couldn’t hurt to write something yk?

Warnings: John Bender, swearing, sexual references

When you walked into the library you sat across from where Brian originally was before Bender made him move.

“There is no way I am writing a fucking essay,” you sighed letting your head fall to the table.

“But you are a great writer, you get a one hundred on everything in English,” Andy said turning to look at you.

“Still, I don’t want to do it,” you responded lifting your head and resting it on you had that was on the table.

“How did a pretty girl with A’s in every class get herself a Saturday detention?” John asked standing up and making his way behind you.

As he set his hands on your shoulders you turned your head.

“Get your hands off of me,” you said as you shook your shoulder.

“I’ve seen you around you know? You don’t have very many friends and certainly no attention from guys, I would say you don’t really want me to stop touching you,” he said leaning down so his lips were close to your ear and you could feel his breath on your neck.

“Leave her alone,” Brian said looking away from him.

“What? Is he your boyfriend?” He asked.

“No,” you said standing up. “Now get your hands off of me, just because you can sleep with a bunch of the girls in this stupid school doesn’t mean you can do the same to me!” You shove him back by his chest and he steps back till the back of his legs hit the table where Allison is sitting.

“Feisty,” he grinned.

You sat back down and pulled a book out of your bag, deciding not to pay much attention to him.

After around 20 minutes Brian asked, “what are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice,” you replied.

“You like old books?”

“Yeah I guess I do,” you replied smiling at him.

“Hey Y/N, what did you get on that project we did for science?” Claire asked turning in her chair to face you.

“98, what about you?” You asked.

“76, would you mind helping me with the homework for science tomorrow?” She asked.

“Not at all,” you smile.

~

You had quite the afternoon, now sat next to Brian on the couch as you all smoked.

“You got a boyfriend Y/N?” Andy asked.

“No,” you replied flinging your head backwards.

“You know, you are really pretty, so why don’t you have a boyfriend. I mean I’m sure loads of guys ask you out,” he questioned.

“Boy’s done really matter, all the guys who ask me out or hit on me aren’t looking for something serious it’s always a joke or them wanting to sleep with me and a relationship like that just seems like a waste of time,” you responded.

Nobody responded. Brian turned his head and pulled the sunglasses that were over his eyes off of his face in a very dramatic way.

“Would you date me?” He asked.

“Hmm,” you giggled.

“Oh come on,” he said turning his body so he was sitting facing you.

Not in his right mind he leaned forward and placed a small kiss on your neck that was angled towards the ceiling.

“Brian!” You exclaimed sitting upright and looking at him.

He didn’t say anything, he just let out a little laugh.

“Alright you too, that’s enough,” Andy laughed.

~

“Why do you study so much?” John asked as he sat on the floor across from you somewhere in the library.

“Because,”

“Because why?”

“Because how am I supposed to be successful in the future if I’m stupid?” You replied.

He twisted his torso to look towards where Brian was sitting.

“She seems like your type of girl,” he commented.

You just scoffed as you continued to write in the little notebook that sat in your lap as Brian stared at you with such deep affection John thought he might actually be sick.

~

As everyone left the building Brian walked next to you.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” He asked

“Not that I am aware of, why?”

“You want to go to lunch with me?” He asked.

“Sure,” you giggle leaving a small kiss on his cheek and walking the rest of the way to your car.

I LOVE the breakfast club, anyway these are my interpretations of the characters, if you’d like feel free to leave a request, it doesn’t have to be this show specifically.

[theoutsiders-luvr]

Two-Bit x Reader:

Summary: 1.2k words. You are hanging out with the gang and see a soc car when you start to get anxious. Two-Bit helps you through it.

Two-Bit loved bringing you anywhere and everywhere. He loved to be able to show you off to the gang and anyone else. He was so proud to be able to say that you were his girlfriend. You loved going to places with him. You guys were made for each other and it was plainly obvious to the gang. You hung out with the gang often, even if Two-Bit wasn’t there. They were like your brothers.

One day Two-Bit invited you to hangout with him and the gang down at the lot. Just a fun little hangout. You made your way down to the lot to meet them all there. As you walked there were countless of taunts and catcalls being yelled out at you. You were used to it though so they didn’t bother you. But today there seemed to be a lot more than usual. So they were starting to get on your nerves.

Finally you were at the lot where you saw the guys on the other side of the lot hanging out. Ponyboy and Johnny were sitting kinda separated from the group, Soda and Steve were playing wrestling and Two-Bit was being the referee to the match. You laughed as you walked over to the guys. Two-Bit noticed you immediately and instantly took his attention off the match and turned to you. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you before pulling away and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Hey there, Beautiful” he smiled at you as he kept an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Hey, Two. What are y’all doing?”

“Nothin’ much. Just bummin’ around.” You laughed as you looked around. There wasn’t anything unusual but you always made sure that you kept your eyes peeled for any trouble. You pulled away from Two-Bits grasp to go sit down on an old busted up milk crate that was left behind. He watched as you went to sit down. Once you sat down he went back to refereeing the play-wrestling match between Soda and Steve.

You just relaxed on the crate as you looked around. After a while of just relaxing you see a shiny piece of metal out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see a blue mustang driving closer to the lot. None of the other guys seemed to notice but you did.

You made sure to keep your eyes on the car as you quietly called out for Two-Bit. “Two?”

“Yeah, Beautiful?” His head quickly lifted to you. He saw your gaze pointed away so he followed your eyes to the car. He stood up and walked over to you. “No need to worry, they ain’t gonna do nothin’ I’ll make sure of it.” He joked. “Plus they ain’t gonna mess with us. They’d be outnumbered.” He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder but you still didn’t take your eyes off the car.

You didn’t often get nervous when the socs came around but today was an off-day. Something was up but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Two-Bit could tell your nervousness and anxiousness so he tried to help the only way he knew how, making jokes.

“Stupid socs. If they knew what was good for ‘em, they’d quit coming around here. They’re just a bunch of white trash with money anyway.” He had his signature grin on his face and his infectious laugh rang through your ears. Usually whenever he would make jokes you would either join in or laugh at them. But when you didn’t, he knew something was wrong.

He looked down at you and noticed your knees bouncing up and down and you subconsciously picking your nails. You knelt down infront of you and placed his hand on your hands to stop you from picking your nails. But your gaze continued to follow that stupid car around. “Beautiful?” He asked in a soft voice that you didn’t hear often. He only used it when talking to you. But you didn’t answer. So he asked again. “Beautiful?” Still no response so he lifted one of his hands and turned your head so you were looking at him instead of focusing on the car.

“It’s alright, they ain’t gonna hurt you. You know that right?” He asked as he noticed your leg still bouncing. Your eyes were laced with a bit of fear and anxiety. He watched as you subconsciously lifted the hand he wasn’t holding and began biting at your nail as you tried your hardest to focus on him. He reached up and grabbed your hand so you couldn’t do that either.

“Cmon, Beautiful. Ain’t nothin’ wrong. You’re safe okay? I’m here with you. And ain’t nothing gonna happen.” He said as he noticed your leg bouncing beginning to slow down. He smiled at you as he stood up. He helped you stand up before he took your place on the crate and pulled you into his lap so he could hold you close. You buried your head into his chest as he wrapped his muscular arms around you. He gently rubbed his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner. You laid your head on his chest and listened to his heart beat and breathing as you tried to calm yourself down and copy his breathing. It always helped you. He smiled as he realized that’s what you were doing. He knew you had anxiety and got anxious often but he didn’t mind, he always was willing to help you out and calm you down.

Once you calmed down you pulled away from his chest and smiled at him. He was so caring and patient with you and you loved it. “Thanks Two-Bit” you gazed into his dark brown eyes that were staring back into yours.

He smiled, “ain’t no biggie. But you’re okay, ain’t no reason to worry.” He continued to run his fingers along your back. Finally the boys had noticed the interaction between you and Two-Bit.

“Two, I think you’re going soft.” Steve joked as Pony was giving him a glare. Steve must’ve said something to him. You chuckled as Steve said that. Two-Bit knew he was soft for you but he hated people pointing it out.

“Shut up Randle, I ain’t soft. I’m still as tough as ever.” He said as he rolled his eyes.

“Sure Two-Bit, whatever you say.” You patted his knee as you went to stand up. He released his grip from you as you stood up. He stood up next to you.

“You don’t think I’m tough? I am too tough. Don’t you think, Beautiful? Ain’t I your big tough guy?” You chuckled at him. He always wanted to make you laugh and that’s what he always did.

“I don’t know Two-Bit. Maybe Steve’s right. I think you are going soft.” You decided to egg him on and tease him.

He playfully grasped his shirt where his heart is. “Wow. Just wow. Turning my own girl against me, Randle. That’s a low blow even for you.” You knew he was joking but it made everyone laugh. He looked at you and smiled when you laughed. “So you think my pain is funny now? Where’d my old girl go? I want her back.” He teased as he gently and playfully pulled you into a headlock and ruffled your hair. You both laughed loudly. He let go of you and as you were faced away from you he picked you up from behind and spun you in a circle. He loved you so deeply and it was so obvious to everyone in the world.

[chelestials]

“ponyboy did not stay gold” “what happened to them” *giving low ratings to the actors because they’re old now* SHUT UPPPPPPP PLS🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 idc if it’s a joke it was funny at first but i don’t wanna hear it anymore PEOPLE AGE…

[sams-butt-dem0n]

love the gang breaking up with reader hcs!! could we get hcs of them getting back together though😔

A/N: Hey guyssss! So sorry that i haven't posted in a while, I was enjoying some time off before the dreaded work ethic takes over haha. I have had SO MANY people ask this (by that I mean like 5) but that's a LOT fort me. I love this idea so i hope you like my writing of it :)

---

DARRY would take such a long time to realise that he regrets breaking up with you purely because he is such a busy man that he barely has any time to think about something other than work work work. He wouldn't know where to begin, what to say, when he was gonna have the time to even speak to you properly.

Luckily for him, you just so happened to be passing by the store he works in on weekends and he caught a glance of your figure walking past.

"Y/n!" He shouts, catching your attention. You roll your eyes as soon as you see him.

"What, Darry?" You say, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, huh?"

"Look, y/n, please can I just talk to you," he says. "Give me five minutes."

"Five minutes. Max."

He takes a deep breath, looks down at his feet, and begins. "Look, y/n, I've been a real dickhead."

You nod. "Good start."

"I just want you to know that I never meant anything that I said to you. I was going through a lot of stress, you know how I get. I'm so beyond sorry. What is it gonna take for you to have me back?"

You chuckle and look up into his eyes, those eyes you had missed so much. "Oh, Darry," you say. "You don't need to beg for me back. I'll always be yours."

You pull him into a kiss, your arms around his neck and his around your waist.

"I love you."

SODAPOP would be running back to you the literal next day. He would sleep on what he had said and accused you of and immediately regret it in the morning. He would race out of bed, throw a comb through his hair and put whatever shoes he could pick up first on his feet before sprinting to your place.

He would bang at your window, most probably waking you up as it was about 8am on a Sunday and there was no way in hell you'd be up before 10.

"Soda? What the hell are you doing here?" You ask, anger layered in your voice.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he says, tears rolling down his face. It killed you to see him like this. "Please forgive me. I know what I did was wrong and I'm so sorry that i fucked things up but please baby I need you to realise that I was just beating myself up for no reason. I would never think of you as a cheater I just-"

You needed to cut off his rambling. Soda, stop. Just get in here before you freeze to death."

PONYBOY doesn't even feel any form of regret until a good couple of moths later, the pressure of school had worn off and he was exposed to the harsh reality of what he had done. Of course, it's typical of a man to only realise what they have lost months too late but it was worth a shot. Within an hour, Ponyboy was stood at your door with a bunch of flowers, a personalised poem he had written just for you, and all of your favourite chocolates.

"Ponyboy, what are you-"

He cuts you off. "Y/n please don't say anything until I'm done. If you're gonna kick me off your porch, please just wait until I'm finished."

You nod and he begins to read out his poem, causing tears to gather in your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Just like they had been doing for the past 73 days. He hands you a bunch of your favourite flowers halfway through his speech and continues, capturing your heart in a moment you shall never forget. How could you not forgive him after this?

DALLAS would take forever to even think of apologising to you and that's purely because of his bad boy ego he has going on. Like, what do you mean apologise? Do you know who he is? However, after about four months, Dallas finds a picture of the two of you from when you were together. You were sat beside him at the drive in, your legs laid over his and you had the largest beaming smile he had ever seen. God, he missed your smile. It was that moment where he realised he had thrown everything away.

And that's how you ended up in this moment, a beaten up and bloody Dallas Winston stood at your doorstep, begging for you to forgive him.

"please, y/n, I need you back," he says, spitting blood from between his lips. "I need you to say that everything is okay."

You weren't going to give in. Not until he said it.

"Please," he says, looking at you with such desperation in his eyes. Those eyes you had come to love endlessly.

He needed to say it. He still hadn't said it. Please, say it, Dallas, you thought.

"I'm sorry."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his; his arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close. He had finally got you back.

JOHNNY would be exactly like Sodapop, realising he made a huge mistake immediately after he made it. However, due to his home life and lack of confidence in any scenario, Johnny would have no clue how to apologise or even approach you. Because of this, he asks Dallas, his best buddy, for help. Why on Earth you would ask Dallas Winston for relationship advice is anyone's guess, but he did it either way.

Surprisingly enough, Johnny's effort was very much appreciated by Dallas and he genuinely helped him develop a plan that wasn't completely offensive. Johnny obviously recognised and cut out the parts that were. And so, he knocked at your bedroom window after climbing up the gutter, and you welcomed him in, your eyes still sore from all of the crying you had done.

"Johnny? Why are you here?" You ask, sitting him down on your bed and pacing around your room, not knowing how to feel about the situation. Relieved? Happy? Angry?

"I missed you," he says. "and I'm sorry."

STEVE would spend weeks upon weeks mulling over the fact that he had not only ended things with you, but ended them over the phone. He didn't get to hug you one last time. He didn't get to kiss you goodbye. He didn't even see your face when he had told you that it was over. He didn't have to see the hurt - he heard it. He could hear your heart sink to your stomach; he could hear the tears spill down your cheeks, your sweet rosy cheeks; he could feel the anger running through your blood. He hated himself for it. So much so that he was pushing everyone away as punishment to himself, even Soda.

Fortunately, Soda had had enough of Steve being so depressed about what he had done that he went to fetch you himself. You were minding your own business in your bedroom when your mother came to tell you that someone was at the door for you. Expecting it to be one of your girlfriends, you ran to the door to greet her but when you were faced with Sodapop Curtis, your smile dropped.

"Oh, hey Soda," you say, coldly.

"Y/n, I know you want nothing to do with Steve anymore but-"

"No." You say. "I don't care what you have to say. That asshole deserves whatever is coming to him."

"Pleaser, y/n." Soda begs. "Just talk to him for five minutes."

And that's how you ended up sat on the Curtis's couch, alone in the living room with none other than Steve Randle. Obviously, all of the boys were listening at the door.

"Y/n, I've been such a fool," Steve begins, making you chuckle.

"You can say that again."

"I've missed you so much," he admits. "And I am so sorry for what I did to you. I know you can't possibly forgive me straight away but I'm begging you - give me one month to prove myself to you. Just one month, that's all I ask."

You sigh, look down at your hands and then back up at him. "Fine. One month."

You knew whatever he had planned was going to bring you right back. And that is why you said yes.

TWOBIT would win you back almost instantly. He was just the kind of person that you couldn't stay mad at. No matter how badly he had hurt you, the second he knocked on your car window at the drive-in, you knew you were screwed.

"I've noticed you avoiding me, you know?" He says, cocking his head to the side, looking around your car to see you're alone.

"Well done, Columbo," you say. "Do you want a gold star?"

He nods. "Yeah, that would actually be pretty beneficial."

You hated him. (You really didn't).

"Are you gonna let me in or what?" He asks. "I hope you know I'm not gonna leave until you let me in."

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

He gives you a look as if to say 'Did you really just ask me that?'. He sighs. "Please just let me in."

You unlock the door and allow him to sit in the passenger seat beside you. You had never heard a silence so deafening.

"I'm sorry," he says. "You that I'm sorry."

It's true, you did know, because every time you saw him on the streets he would look at you with his pleading, begging eyes that you love so much.

"I know," you reply. "But how do I know you won't hurt me again."

I promise you with every inch of my being that I will never fuck you over," he says, grabbing your hand and looking into your eyes. "Please."

[sytoran]

home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ;; 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ twitter's sole purpose is for you to thirst over your wife, the beach is a good place to spend time with your kids, and ogle at your wife in a bathing suit, but not a great a place to have sex. (lesson learnt).

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, hard stuff: beach sex, doggy style, cunnilingus, daddy kink, SO MUCH thirsting

word count ★ 4.0k (get fed gremlins)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

*****

In tandem with Tony Stark’s spontaneity, Steve Rogers’ unending enthusiasm, and the fact that you privately owned close to twenty beach resorts in New York alone, the lot of you and your other friends had a beach outing planned for that Sunday.

After the astronomically long time it took to get your kids dressed, beach toys packed, picnic dinner prepared, and everything loaded into the car, five happy L/N-Romanoffs finally kickstart their journey to the Westview Surfers’ Beach.

“SAND!” Emilia roars maniacally, once the five of you step foot onto the sandy shore. She’s gone like the ocean breeze, sprinting into the distance, grains of sand flying everywhere.

“Sea! Sea! Sea!” Emilio is equally as excited, already by the tide of the brilliantly blue ocean, following its ebb and flow with scampering feet and delighted cries. 

“Careful, Emilio!” Marina says, holding his hand, preventing her over excited brother from falling over. You can see the way she laughs along, kicking up water with her slippers.

Behind your eager children, you swing you and Natasha’s interlocked hands as you casually stroll along the beach, giving her a sweet smile. 

The sand that crunched beneath your feet was earthen and dry, such a gentle hue of gold, almost as grounding as the bright smile your wife returned.

“You look heavenly,” you murmur, bringing up the underside of your wife’s palm to press a gentle kiss to it. She flushes prettily, the sundress she’s adorning doing wonders to her skin tone and curves.

Natasha returns the softness, pressing into your side as you wrap a firm arm around her waist, hand cupping the curve of her motherly hips.

“Oy, lovebirds!”

At the sound of a distinctly familiar voice, you and Natasha spin around with bemused looks. From a distance, you can see Tony with a flamingo floatie around his hips, waving comically.

Next to him, the regular gang is sprawled across three separate picnic mats, conveniently hidden from the sun under several large beach umbrellas. 

Pepper is fixing up Tony’s floatie, to which Carol and Valkyrie snicker at from afar. Thor is asleep on the mats, taking up more than half the area. Laura is busy reading, with Clint probably gone to find seashells for the sandcastle Bucky and Steve are constructing. The kids make a long human chain from the shore to the sandcastle, scooping up buckets of water to make a trench.

“Aunty Y/N! Aunty Nat!” Nathaniel squeals, dropping his bucket, running over and leaping into your arms.

“What’s up, you little rascal?” you ask, laughing as the youngest Barton giggles. Natasha ruffles his head, waving at Lila. 

Morgan, being the same age as Emilia and Emilio, is already chatting excitedly with them and kicking up a loud racket. Marina joins Cooper in attaining bucketfuls of seawater.

“What’s up, my favourite lesbians?” Tony calls out to you and Natasha with outstretched arms, comically ignorant to the death-glare Valkyrie shoots him. 

Natasha rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, strolling past him and brightening up animatedly to chat with the ladies. You pat Tony’s back sympathetically. 

Your attention flits to an impressively large sandcastle with a sculpture of a mermaid on top, hand-crafted by Steve and Bucky. Leaning closer to Tony, you whisper, “Why does the mermaid kinda look like you?”

Leaving him to splutter at his intentionally uncanny resemblance to the mermaid, with a seashell bra and an elegant tail, you look up to see Clint coming back with his arms full of seashells. 

“Hi, Y/N!” He greets distractedly. In the midst of his frantic haste, Clint’s foot gets caught on a stray rock —

And the rest is a scene out of a comedy movie. 

The seashells go flying out of his arms, scattering onto the picnic mat and spraying sand everywhere, Clint loses his balance and flies forward, outstretched arms knock into the sandcastle, and everyone watches in horror as Steve and Bucky’s great unfinished symphony comes crumbling down, leaving only the head of Tony’s mermaid untouched.

A quiet hush falls. 

Bucky and Steve’s faces are morphed into disbelief and heartbreak, and Clint trembles in fear with sand in his mouth. Tony shudders at his beheaded mermaid, the ladies have their hands over their mouths, and Natasha fights battles in order not to burst out laughing. Thor sleeps unperturbed, and even the kids' racket has died down.

“Well,” you announce, breaking the stunned silence. “Who wants to go surfing?”

*****

As Natasha lazes in a beach chair, away from the gory scene of Steve and Bucky dunking Clint in the seawater, she watches you with a budding fire in her belly. 

Standing on the sand so casually, you have your hefty surfboard tucked under one arm, and Emilio in your other. You’re speaking to him with a roguish grin, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, tinted sunglasses pushed up to muss up your perfectly tousled hair. 

“You ready to ride the waves, bub?” 

“Yeah! I’m ready!”

Your wife swallows, thinking she was ready to ride something else.

Natasha crosses her legs unsubtly. It was honestly unfair, how indifferently attractive you were, like it was a state of being instead of a practised art. 

Perhaps it was her love for you and the longevity of your marriage that warped her perception of sexiness, but when you were casually strolling on the beach with that chiselled abdomen on display, who was she to be blamed?

“Y/N!” Natasha calls, sitting up slightly. There’s a devious little idea blooming in the back of her mind, and she feels like taking the bait, just for today.

You look up at your wife’s beckoning, and smile widely at her. Setting Emilio down gingerly and calling him a “little rascal”, you jog over to Natasha easily. 

When you flick your hair back, it glints in the sunlight, and so does the sheen of sweat under your sports bra, defining the cutting edges of your abdomen. Natasha has the criminal urge to rip off your swimming trunks there and then.

Despite your obliviousness, Natasha is more than well-aware of the stares you’re getting from young women and married women alike, momentarily disregarding their boyfriends and husbands to gawk at you.

“Damn, look at that fine specimen!”

“Ryan, why don’t you work out more?”

“There goes my heterosexuality.”

You get feasted upon hungry eyes like a slab of beef, likened to your beefiness, but it only makes Natasha’s possessiveness skyrocket.

“Hey, honey,” you say, settling on a low and inviting tone that has your wife blushing. You crouch down next to her beach chair, holding her hand in a sweet gesture. “What’s up?” 

You’re close to her, so close, and she can feel the heat radiating off you, and your distinct scent, and the overwhelming senses of want and need are washing over Natasha like those tidal waves in the ocean.

But well, Natasha knew more than a few ways to rile you up too.

“I think I want to go surfing too,” she lies through her teeth, having no inclination to partake in the sport. Natasha fakes a pout all too well, knowing it’s one of your many weaknesses. “But the sun’s really hot out there, so I need some help with the sunscreen.” 

It wasn’t like she’d have needed it, anyway. Just like that and you’re sold, ever the gentleman and the golden retriever, digging for the sunscreen in the duffel bag.

“Of course, honey,” you reply readily. “Is it the Banana Boat sunscreen, or is that the kids’ one? Oh wait, we have the SPF 50 one, I think that’s—”

Words trail off comically when you look back up at Natasha, gradually dying down completely.

Your wife has conveniently slid off her outer layer of a sheer white blouse, leaving her in just a matching two-piece set of an azure bathing suit. The top piece is held together with thin pieces of string, accentuating her chest in a tight cradle. The lack of coverage shows off the dip of her hips and her soft curves.

Coherent thoughts in your mindwires get severed as Natasha plays with the string on her bottom piece, nearly flashing you as the material slides down ever so slightly. Your throat dries up as her fingers trail a path over her tummy and cleavage. She plays with another bundle of string that keeps her chest barely covered, and the irresistible urge rises within you to undo it.

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Natasha murmurs, laying on her side and looking at you through lowered lashes.

“I know where they are,” you answer hoarsely, gaze still fixated on your wife’s enticing cleavage.

The sheer amount of bare skin that Natasha is showing off has your remaining fragments of sanity falling to pieces. There’s no point even trying to hide the tent in your pants, poking uncomfortably against the fabric.

“Gonna help me lather sunscreen?” Natasha asks with a silky lilt to her voice, turning over on the beach chair. 

You groan out loud when you see the curve of your wife’s ass on display, her rounded bottom barely covered by a few measly pieces of material, all held together by flimsy strings and nothing else.

“Mhm,” you respond brainlessly, uncapping the bottle and rubbing your hands with a bountiful amount of the moisture, clearly in excess.

You begin applying your wife’s sunscreen with overzealous eagerness and desire. Large hands spread unnecessarily widely as you gain coverage over the soft skin of her back, trailing up and down and smearing the white moisture over her soft skin.

“Oh, that feels nice,” Natasha says airily, a dainty little sound that causes your cock to twitch in your shorts. 

The line down the middle of Natasha’s back is emphasised as she tenses and relaxes it. Like clockwork, you begin massaging your wife’s back to release the tension in her muscles.

“Y/N…” The breathy moan she lets out is pure heaven, dragged out from the depths of her throat, then lifting to a higher tone that washes over you in a sea of goosebumps.

Of course, your faux masseuse skillset is just a simple ploy to grope and knead at Natasha. Fat spills through your fingers as you spread your hands across her torso, as Natasha whines softly.

It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that the heat building between the two of you was not just due to the heatwaves under the beating, unforgiving sun.

Your frighteningly quickly-growing arousal only heightens when Natasha feels that her back is done and flips over. Face-to-face with her hefty mounds, a round belly, and the blown pupils of viridescent eyes — you lose the plot completely. 

Deft hands fly to your wife’s ample assets, squeezing her hips in sinful amounts and staking your claim. “You’re so pretty, baby,” you mumble, face buried into the crook of her neck, subtly mouthing at her neck.

“Mhm,” Natasha whines in agreement, but it turns into a gasp as your fingers slip underneath the material of her bra, plucking at hardened nipples in merciless haste.

You press down onto her, flat tongue and sharp teeth, licking a broad stripe up your wife’s exposed collarbone to the tender column of her neck.

Before you can taint clear skin with raging-purple bruises, you’re pulled away with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You look back up to see Natasha gazing at you sternly. 

“Let’s try not to perpetuate public sex while you are the owner of this place, with all our friends present, and the kids building sandcastles no less than ten feet away.”

Much to your disgruntlement, these factors weigh in heavily and overpower your body’s built-in “pretty-wife-need-to-worship” mechanic. Now, your shorts fill up a lot more space than need be, your shaft pressing hot and tight against your left leg, clearly visible.

You grumble, hands still clammy with sunblock, the ghost of Natasha’s warmth still interlaced between each of your fingers. “You’re a meanie,” you sulk, lust-driven adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Natasha looks at you with a wicked smile. “And you’re too susceptible, darling. Now, where’s my flask? I plan on staying plenty hydrated before watching you rough it out against the waves.”

Clearly put-off by not being able to fuck your wife in your public beach resort, you flip off a little kid who openly ogles at Natasha’s ass, much to your wife’s horror.

*****

“I’M NOT BUILT FOR THIS!” Tony screams, arms flailing, as he rides a shallow wave. His firmly implanted foot adds too much weight on the front of his neon yellow surfboard, and the over-eager man overturns comically as the current rushes.

You laugh out loud, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, surfing past Tony in a smooth motion. “Stick to the flamingo floatie, little guy!”

Valkyrie barely dodges the splash Tony creates, nearly falling off her own board. “Fuck off, you cunt!” she yells, full-chested and deadly focused on the tide. From a distance in the shallower part of the ocean, a reprimanding “Language!” can be heard.

Natasha’s wading in the shallower waters with Laura, while Thor had opted to sun tan on the beach while watching the kids.

As a large wave approaches, Natasha watches with intent. Upon your wife’s new found attention, you mentally prepare yourself, determined to impress her, and perhaps get revenge for her prior ploy.

You manoeuvre deftly, putting weight on your back foot to stabilise as you approach the wave head-on. Three… two… one. You add even more weight on your back foot as you go around the back turn while gaining speed, garnering energy like a coiled spring.

As the wave reaches its full height, broad and steep, your calves release with impact, propelling up the barrel of the wave like a spring. The surfboard moves in effortless motion, anchored by your back foot, navigated by your right.  

The second you reach the lip of the wave, you find the sweet spot to execute the backside tail slide. You rotate your wide-set shoulders, swiftly switching the pressure to your front foot. 

Your surfboard glides off the surface for a split-second, turning mid-air — there’s a camera-worthy frame of damp hair, stray droplets, and focused eyes.

You slide back down at an oblique angle with purpose and precision, like a scene out of a movie, locking eyes with Natasha as the wave crashes behind you.

“Damn, Y/N!” Carol hoots, looking amazed as you surf back to the rest of the gang.

“That was crazy,” Steve adds, resting belly-down onto the surfboard, strikingly adorable for a hulking man.

“Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” Tony comments, his head bobbing above the surface of the water and his surfboard nowhere to be found.

You laugh along with them, attempting to explain the technical jargon of how you did it. But as much as you appreciated your friends’ enthusiasm, there was ultimately only one person you sought validation from. 

“Hi,” you say to Natasha with a stupid smile, sitting on your surfboard, having escaped the rest. 

“That was very sexy of you,” your wife wastes no time in stating, as if she wasn’t five millimetres away from flashing you and killing you with her sexiness. 

Natasha is stuck on the image of your damp hair flying into place like a scene out of a superhero movie, unbuttoned shirt flailing up to expose your defined back and abdomen, concentration flashing in your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum lowly. Fire burns low in your belly as you ogle your wife in her bathing suit, pulling her closer by the underside of her thighs.

In a moment of indiscretion, your left hand slips upwards and undoes the knot on Natasha’s bathing suit, letting the material slip from your fingers.

“Y/N!” Though blocked from view of the others as it was underwater, Natasha lets out a breathy gasp and presses into you. Her cunt, already soaked before, gets even wetter at the intrusion of seawater.

“Can I claim my prize?” you ask heavily, hot pants against your wife’s ear, driving her wild with the way your fingers slip through her folds to encroach on her entrance.

In no time at all, two of your fingers are at Natasha’s cunt, feeling slick even underwater, and you push in—

“Group picture!” Steve yells from a distance, as you and your wife effectively leap apart in the water, the heated moment dissipated into thin air. 

But it lingers, the arousal, swimming in the back of your consciousness as you smile for a group selfie. Bucky’s arm is around you but you thank the heavens for hiding your erection under the water.

You can tell Natasha feels the same, eyes locking on you even after Steve successfully takes the group picture. (After many attempts.)

“I’m gonna go check on the kids,” Natasha finally says, gesturing back as if she was going to walk back to shore. She’s expectant, waiting.

“And I think I’m gonna go check with her!” you add, chuckling awkwardly, beckoning backwards with your thumbs.

“Okay,” Steve says disbelievingly, eyes glimmering with knowing and just a little amusement. Tony is much less subtle in his sniggering, and Clint looks horrified at the prospect of doing it at the beach.

Tony claps you on the back as you walk past. “Use protection,” he whispers, and you fumble out a haphazard response. 

*****

Turns out, you and Natasha don’t even make it to a completely secluded area before you’re half-undressed and panting. 

And maybe that’s half the thrill, hidden in a secluded beach cave, with regular people roaming around just outside. You’re pressed skin-to-skin with each other and tuning out everything else.

You groan as you snap the strings of Natasha’s bathing suit off, finally, finally. Teardrop tits bounce in place, shaking with the impact of how hard you jerk against your wife, unbearably uncomfortable in the constraints of your boxers.

Natasha takes mercy on you, helping you to tug down your Calvin Clein briefs, watching with heady arousal as your shaft slaps against your six-pack, red and raw and leaking.

“Hurry up,” Natasha whines, bending over and clutching at a stray rock, ass in the air as she exposes her leaking cunt to you. 

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, grabbing onto her ass and slapping it just because you can. You sink deep into your wife, warmth and relief enveloping you as you bury yourself inside her.

The first thrust is like heaven, feeling the pulse and push of Natasha’s walls as she accommodates to take your size, stretching to a familiar extent because you’d made a nest in there for yourself. 

The second thrust takes you there, an insurgent amount of slick coating your cock, flooding the path you proceed to pummel into. “Natty,” you whine, groping at her ass and pulling it closer to you, hilt-deep with no signs of stopping.

“Mhm, daddy,” Natasha moans, walls fluttering around you as you pull out, trying to stop your escape. But then you thrust forward, again, warm and full and deep, and your wife wails beneath you.

Natasha lets this velvet sound from her throat, silky and coated in honey as she breathes reinvigorated life into your arousal.

“Fuck,” you growl, rutting your hips with more rigour. Natasha whines, wrists suspended behind her back with one of your hands as you have your way with her.

“Baby I’m gonna come,” you gasp, virility cloaking the way your abdomen presses up against Natasha, left hand encircling her neck to bring your hot mouth up to hers.

You’re hardly embarrassed for how fast you’re barrelling towards climax, as Natasha is in much more of the same position. She’s panting your name, clutching at the rocks with hard sand digging into her feet. Your cock nudges and prods into her sweet spots effortlessly, the result of countless sex experiences.

“M-me too,” she responds breathily, breaking off into a whine as you press heated, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her back, tasting the salt and sweat on your tongue.

Pleasure blossoms in your lower torso, creeping up the base of your shaft and working its way upwards. Hot arousal overflows from its constraints, and your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you come, quick and hot and messy.

“Oh!” Natasha moans, high-pitched and sensitive, as you pluck at her ruby-hard nipples. It only takes a few more thrusts for her to reach release, dripping down your cock and her thighs.

“Mhm, nhn—” As your wife raises in pitch and volume, you stuff three fingers into her open mouth, giving her something to suck on and remain quiet. You continue with gentle thrusts, feeling thick white liquid flow out the side of Natasha’s ruined cunt.

“Needa taste you,” you suddenly grunt, hips bumping into Natasha’s ass. She babbles her agreement, despite being half-conscious in a state of post-orgasmic pleasure. 

Easily, you lift Natasha and set her down onto the sandy shore of the beach cave, where the tide is low and washes over your feet gently.

It’s a change of pace, a gradual end to your savage ravaging, slow and sensual, where the water meets the sand. You lower yourself between Natasha’s spread thighs, lips slightly parted and dripping with need.

Natasha swallows audibly, right hand twisting into your tousled hair, looking at you through hooded eyes and lowered lashes. 

Words are left unspoken between the two of you, the tension speaking for itself, as you retain eye contact while lowering your mouth onto Natasha’s pulsing cunt.

You take your last breath of the fresh sea salt air and summer breeze before drowning in unbridled desire. As if making out passionately, you eat your wife out, switching between licking and sucking.

Poetry is written between the lines — the lilt of Natasha’s hitched breath, the crease of her thighs where your fingertips drag across, the shallow water that wades over your feet in a cool decrescendo.

Your head dips down once more, warm and wet, and the sun melts into the horizon, glazing golden and liquid orange. 

With your tongue lodged fully inside your wife’s pussy, marking your inability to breathe, and wide hands spread firmly over Natasha’s thighs, the two of you converge in saintly devotion, hushed worship falling from her lips.

“Please, just like that, please, daddy, please.”

Just like that, and the ocean swallows you whole, taking you under Natasha’s hold inescapably. Your name is said in a breathless cry, lilting and pronounced, and you shudder between her clenched thighs.

“Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“I think there’s ocean water up my asshole.”

“Yeah, I got some sand up my vagina too.”

*****

and that's chapter two of 'hiwthi'! how did yall feel about the introduction of the rest of the cast? i personally enjoyed writing the build-up scenes the most. (sunscreen and surfing!) and for those keen on expanding the family dynamic, i'll be building on that in the next chapter!

reblog or i will take 292857192 years to post the next part

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

[juniperskye]

I Can’t Do This.

Sneak peek: Reader is recently off of a long-term undercover operation (similar to Emily’s) that left her in a bad way. Director Cruz reaches out, assigning her to the BAU. After speaking to her therapist and expressing her concerns, they come up with a solution of how to inform her new boss of some of the horrors she endured on her mission. Hotch keeps a close eye on her, being careful not to trigger her…until one day, he accidentally does in the worst way. ITALLICS ARE FLASHBACKS! BOLD ARE THERAPY SESSIONS.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) BAU! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 5605

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI,YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. age gap (reader is in their 20’s and Hotch is in his 40’s), explicit language, mention of canon typical violence, mention of therapy, reader attends regular therapy sessions, mention of a toxic previous “relationship”, mention of a previous dom/sub dynamic, murder, talk of trafficking, forced consent (reader is working the undercover op) mention of previous abuse and manipulation, some use of y/n, Hotch accidentally triggering the reader, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Y/n it has been three months since you returned from your undercover op, it’s time. The BAU needs an additional agent, and you’d make a great addition. It’s really not up for discussion.” Director Cruz ended with finality.

“I really don’t think I am ready. Director Cruz, I know it has been three months, and you guys have been so gracious with the paid leave, but I’m still working through everything I went through when I was under.” You explained.

“Your therapist and the FBI issued psych eval have both cleared you to return y/n. You’re joining the BAU. You’ll begin next Monday.” Cruz decided.

“Okay.”

With that you stood and exited his office. It’s not that you didn’t want to work for the BAU, in fact, under normal circumstances you’d have been begging for this placement. But after everything you endured while undercover, you weren’t sure you could handle being on a team, especially not one run by Aaron Hotchner.

--

“You were recommended to me by Sheri, did she tell you anything about me?” He questioned.

“She mentioned you were looking for someone who knew how to follow rules.” You answered.

You had been assigned to an undercover operation in which a very powerful man would finally be brought to justice. Emilio Alvatorre, one of FBI’s most wanted. This man did unspeakable things and lucky for you, he was in the market for a new submissive. Normally the FBI wouldn’t jump at putting an agent in this kind of situation, however, in this case Emilio was known to keep his subs knelt at his side in his office. That would mean that you would be privilege to information that could take him down.

“So, are you good at following rules?” Emilio said in a voice meant to be sexy, but it was truly repulsive.

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, “The best.”

--

“I’m worried that Agent Hotchner is going to give me a directive and that I will follow it whether I agree with it or not. I am terrified that I have completely lost myself, and that I will just blindly follow.” You explained.

“Y/n we’ve talked about this, you are strong, you are capable of making decisions and speaking up for yourself.”

“Yeah but being at the BAU with Agent Hotchner, he’s a very commanding and dominant man, what if I fall right back into…” You trailed off.

“He is commanding and dominant, but he isn’t Emilio. I am going to give you some homework, and then I’d like to see you again on Thursday so we can go over it before you join the BAU Monday.”

“You’re right. What’s the homework?” You asked.

“I want you to first come up with a list of coping strategies for when you begin to feel anxious or overwhelmed on the job. Then I want you to write a letter to read to Agent Hotchner giving him some insight as to what you have been through.”

“Absolutely not! Sylvia I can’t do that!”

“Y/n I am not asking you to give him all the details, just a little bit that might help him to know you.”

“Fine.”

--

You had a hard time figuring out what to put in the letter to Agent Hotchner, debating what was too much versus what was too little to say. How much did he need to know, how much were you comfortable sharing…it was all becoming a bit much.

Ultimately, you’d written something up along with a perfect list of coping strategies that you knew would satisfy your therapist.

After meeting with her on Thursday and going over what you came up with, and allowing her to help you tweak a few things, your body filled with dread, anxiously awaiting Monday morning when you’d have to go into the BAU.

--

Director Cruz escorted you to the floor that houses the BAU, bringing you into Agent Hotchner’s office for introductions. You felt like you had just walked out on a stage completely naked with the way all the other agents were looking at you.

“Hotchner, this is Agent y/n. I sent over her file last week. She is going to start with the BAU today.” Director Cruz announced.

“Yes, I saw your email. It is nice to finally meet you.” Agent Hotchner greeted.

“Y/n would you excuse us for just a moment, I’d like to speak to Hotch here.”

Without another word you followed the director’s order. You stepped out of the office and stood patiently waiting for their conversation to end.

--

“She’s anxious.” Spencer mumbled.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Emily replied.

“No, look at her, she’s digging her nails into her palms, a light sweat has broken out on her neck, her heartrate has increased slightly, and she hasn’t looked up at us once. She’s probably suffering from severe anxiety.” Spencer rambled.

“Don’t profile the newbie Spence.” Emily scolded, patting his shoulder.

--

“Alright, y/n go on in and Hotch will fill you in on what his expectations for you are.” Director Cruz headed off.

With a light knock, you awaited Agent Hotchner’s approval before entering his office once again. Mentally chastising yourself for your submissive actions.

“Agent y/n, please, have a seat.” Hotch gestured.

You sat in one of the chairs across from him.

“It says here in your file that you’re recently returning from a twelve-month assignment. I noticed the assignment isn’t labeled as classified, but quite a bit of it was redacted. Can you speak on that at all?” Hotch inquired.

“Agent Hotchner, if it is okay with you, I have somethings I’d like to discuss. Some of which is relevant of that case, but it is primarily regarding the effects that case had on me.”

“Go ahead.” Hotch nodded.

“The undercover op I was working put me in a position in which I was forced and manipulated to blindly following directions from someone. I had to do this for twelve months, and since then, I have had a pretty hard time finding my voice again. Certain things can be triggering for me, so I wrote up some things for you, with the help of my therapist. There are coping strategies that I may need to utilize and there are somethings there for you, to navigate situations that may come up.” You were worried that this was all going to lead to Hotch doubting your ability to do this job. “I also want to make it known that I told the Director that I wasn’t ready to return to work.”

“Thank you for sharing this, I think it’ll help me to make your transition back to work smooth. As for you being ready, I think you sharing that information shows a lot about your strength and I think you are more than ready to be here.”

--

“Kneel.” Emilio ordered with a snap of his fingers.

You slowly dropped to your knees, sitting back on your heels and resting your palms on the tops of your thighs, your gaze focused on the frayed rug that covered the hardwood floor in front of you.

“Bring him in.” Emilio spoke into the intercom that connects him to his security.

The guards drag in a man who appears to be near death, clearly beaten. Emilio rests a hand on your head, gently petting your hair before speaking in a tone you don’t recognize.

“I heard you’ve been snooping around. Talking to Jeremy and his guys.” Emilio spat.

“I haven’t sir I swear!” The man was begging for his life.

“I don’t like snakes.” Emilio raised his gun and shot the man point blank.

You couldn’t help but flinch at the sound. A strong hand was quick to grip your chin.

“Flinching is a sign of weakness. I can’t have a pet that is weak.” His grip tightened “Are you weak?”

“No sir.” You reassured.

“Good.”

--

Working with the BAU had been going well, Hotch had truly been incredible. He’d encouraged you to share your thoughts and theories while on cases. He also reminded you to use your coping strategies when the cases became particularly overwhelming.

Like today for example. The team was working on a case that was taking a toll on you, mentally and emotionally. Women were being kidnapped then brutally tortured and left for dead in the street. It was becoming increasingly difficult to detach yourself from what these women must’ve been feeling.

Hotch was quick to notice the change in your demeanor and he made it a point to assign you with Spencer at the precinct. You were tightening up the victimology while Spencer worked on the geographical profile. You had come to the conclusion that the unsub was targeting victims primarily on their looks, they had all been of similar height, had same color hair and eyes. Worse than that…they all kind of looked like you. The sound of Derek and Emily approaching made your stomach sink. Spencer had clearly picked up on your anxiety since you’d been with the BAU, but the others, not so much.

“Hey guys, what did you find out?” Emily inquired.

“Well, I’ve narrowed down the geographical profile. This area right here…” Spencer gesture to the map covering the screen “this is his comfort zone, all the abductions and dumpsites fall within this five-block radius.”

“What about you new girl?” Derek nudged you gently.

“I looked into all the victims, and they all were approximately the same height and build, same color hair and eyes. I spoke to Penelope; she confirmed that all of the women frequented the same coffee shop.” You explained.

Hotch, Rossi, and JJ all entered just in time to hear Derek confirm your thoughts…which led to a suggestion that made your heart sink.

“Y/n these girls all kind of look like you...” Derek walks over to where their pictures are pinned up to the board. “Maybe we should send you to the coffee shop undercover. It could help us find this guy.”

You heart was pounding, causing a loud whooshing sound to drown out your hearing. You closed your fists and dug your nails into your palms. You could feel the sweat breaking out along your forehead.

In and out…deep breaths. You reminded yourself of the coping strategies you’d come up with for instances like this. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

“Absolutely not!” Hotch commanded, shaking you from your thoughts while simultaneously distracting the others from your very obvious panic attack.

“Hotch man come on! She fits the victimology perfectly; it could end this case if she could catch his attention.” Derek argued.

“It’s not up for discussion. I will not send a new agent undercover, not until she is more comfortable on this team. Undercover ops like that require a significant level of trust, one that she may not have yet.” Hotch shut Derek down.

“We know he must go to this coffee shop; JJ and I could go in and watch. Keep an eye out for a man acting suspicious.” Emily suggested.

“Good, first thing tomorrow.” Hotch said before dismissing the team for the evening.

--

“Sir, is it safe to be talking about this…with her here?”

“Are you questioning me?” Emilio sneered. “My pet is well behaved. I wouldn’t have her here if I thought otherwise. Who are you to question my decisions?” His voice raised.

“I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I just wasn’t sure.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Now I’ll ask again. What is the update on the shipment?” Emilio demanded.

“There are going to be three crates in the shipping container. The boat is set to anchor Friday at midnight.”

“And everything we were promised will be there?” Emilio asked.

“Well, not the girls. This shipment is just the weapons.”

“Excuse me?” Emilio’s expression turned sinister.

You were knelt by his desk like always. This conversation had been one you were banking on; it was hopefully going to allow your team to pick him and his associates up. Only, this conversation had taken a turn that you weren’t expecting. His shipments thus far had only contained drugs and weapons, so why was he asking about girls?

“I was assured that everything would be included. How fucking hard is it to follow orders?” Emilio shouted, his fist slamming onto his desk.

You sat still, silently taking in the situation. That night you’d check in with your team and fill them in on the new information. You just needed to get the logistics of when the second shipment would arrive, and honestly, you were scared Emilio would kill this guy before you got that information.

“I know boss. They told me that the girls would be here soon. There was an issue getting paperwork for some of them. But it should all be worked out now.”

“I need a date and time. By the end of the day. Otherwise, you’re done.” Emilio hissed. He then brushed his hand over your head. “C’mon pet, let’s go to bed. And you, I’ll be expecting your call.”

Going to bed with Emilio had initially been the worst part of this assignment. Thankfully he’d had you STD tested which meant you were both clean, and he’d ensured you received birth control shots. The sex had surprised you; you had expected it to be rough and painful but, it had been soft and gentle. Emilio whispered sweet nothings to you, and he held you close, and he’d carefully bathe you afterwards.

It may be sick and twisted…but it didn’t bother you, having sex with him.

--

A light knock at your door had startled you. You made your way over to check the peephole, and there he was waiting patiently.

“Hotch, is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that. Morgan was out of line suggesting we send you in.”

“It’s okay, really. He doesn’t know any better.”

Hotch gave you a sympathetic look. You could tell he was doing everything in his power not to profile you. You appreciated his effort, and it truly was endearing. Around Hotch, you’d started to feel more comfortable, and his consistent care of you and your mental health had been the thing that drew you in. He cared so much, and it meant the world to you.

“You seemed nervous earlier, does that have to do with the undercover assignment you worked?”

“Yes.”  You sighed.

In the last two months of being with the BAU, you and Hotch had been teetering this fine line of coworkers and more. It wasn’t necessarily leaning toward something romantic, at least that’s what you were both trying to convince yourselves of but, it had definitely become a friendship. Hotch had allowed you a safe space in which you were starting to feel like yourself again. He had never pushed you for information about your past and he continuously checked in with you to make sure you were comfortable and okay. More recently though, as things like what happened today occurred, you have felt like maybe you should tell Hotch a little more about what you endured.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I am here for you. I don’t want you to feel pressured or like you have to tell me anything! But if you should choose, I’d listen.” Hotch admitted.

“I was sent in undercover to investigate Emilio Alvatorre…” You began.

“Emilio Alvatorre? He was one of FBI’s most wanted! Lucrative arms dealer, importing drugs…I heard he was ultimately brought down for sex trafficking.” Hotch was stunned.

“Yeah, that was me. Emilio took part in a certain lifestyle; he is a dominant and he was seeking a new submissive…and I guess I fit the bill. He essentially owned me, and he referred to me as his pet. It was my job to follow his orders blindly, and I did.”

“What was it like?” Hotch questioned.

“Well…

--

“Good morning pet.” Emilio purred pressing a kiss right below your ear.

“Mmm, good morning sir. Can I make you breakfast?” You offered.

“No darling, the cook will prepare our meal. I think it is sweet you still ask.” His kisses travelled down your neck.

“Do you have meetings today?” You inquired.

“Today is all about you pet. We are going to get you some new clothes, shoes, and maybe a new necklace. I want to spoil you today! We are celebrating!” Emilio gushed.

It was the moments like this that fucked with your mind the most. Emilio could be so kind and gentle, he wanted to take care of you and in the time you’d been with him, it had been increasingly easier to let him. But then there were moments when he turned dark…the other side of him came to light and you couldn’t help but question your mind.

“Boss…” Emilio’s associate barged into the office, only to find you bent over his desk while he pounded into you from behind.

“Not now!” Emilio growled.

“But boss!” This guy really couldn’t take the hint.

Emilio wasn’t one who took well to being interrupted, in any aspect of his life. So, when this associate decided what he had to say was more important than Emilio’s time…you knew it would be bad.

Emilio’s hips never faltered, not upon the initial interruption and certainly not when he leaned to the side, grabbed his gun, and shot the man standing in the doorway. You pinched your eyes shut, knowing better than to react to the horrific sight before you. Emilio continued thrusting, his grunts becoming more erratic, and when he finally finished, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Go run a hot bath. Get in and wait for me. I need to go see about this issue and get this cleaned up.” Emilio stated as he assisted you in standing upright.

“Yes sir.”

--

“It was really hard for me to deal with the two sides of him. I became confused and my mind was so foggy as to whether or not he was truly awful. And I know that so much of that is the manipulation of being his submissive, but I was with him for a year, it was easy to forget what things had been like before Emilio.” You trailed off.

“I can’t even imagine all the things you must’ve seen and gone through in that time. I can understand why you weren’t sure about joining the BAU initially…but I am really glad you did.” Hotch expressed, placing his hand atop your own.

“I’m glad I did too.”

--

The next morning Emily and JJ were sent into the coffee shop that all the victims frequented, and they couldn’t track the unsub. Either he was far too subtle, or he hadn’t shown up. The team was currently in the precinct trying to figure out the next steps, when Derek suggested it again.

“I still think y/n should go undercover, it’s our best bet in finding this guy. What do you say new girl?”

You were taken aback; your mind was screaming at you to decline. You weren’t ready for this, going undercover, blindly following team orders. It’s for the greater good though, isn’t it?

“I could do that.”

“Morgan, I already said it’s not happening. She isn’t ready.” Hotch commanded.

“Hotch, we have all had to go undercover. There is no reason that she can’t go into the coffee shop and order a freaking latte. We will all be there to keep her safe, just like any other case!” Morgan was practically shouting.

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

“Y/n you don’t have to do this. Not if you aren’t comfortable.” Hotch was obviously trying to profile you based on his expression.

“I’m okay. I’ll do it.”

--

You were ordering a coffee, meanwhile Spencer was sitting in the back of the café reading a book and Rossi was in line, about three patrons behind you. Hotch insisted on sitting at a table just outside the entrance to keep a close eye on everyone coming and going. JJ, Derek, and Emily were all in the surveillance van parked across the street, waiting for the signal.

After you received your coffee, you found a seat at an empty table. It wasn’t long before a man approached you. He was tall and clearly strong; he had a very sinister aura that gave you the chills.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked.

“Oh, sure.” You agreed.

The man sat, but only after he moved the chair closer to you. He was talking to you, but you were having a hard time listening. You were silently begging the guys to come to help and get him away from you.

“You know, you’re really pretty. Why don’t we get out of here? We could go get lunch.” The man suggested.

“Oh, I’m not sure I should.”

“C’mon, be a good girl and get up.” His tone became more aggressive.

You stood up without a second thought, much to the unsub’s delight. He grabbed your arm in a bruising grip and began leading you out of the café.

“They’re on the move. Why is she going with him? This wasn’t the plan.” Derek exclaimed.

Hotch’s demeanor instantly changed. After you opened up to him about your previous assignment, he understood now why you had seemingly always followed orders willingly, only your willingness had been conditioned. Instilled in you through the manipulation of a very dangerous man.

“I got it.” Hotch

Hotch stood up and turned abruptly, purposefully plowing into you and the unsub. He made a move that shifted you away from the unsub and placed himself between you.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Hotch feigned innocence.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Watch where you’re going asshole. Let’s get out of here.” The unsub reached for your arm once more.

“She’s not going anywhere with you.”

“You want to bet?”  he said, pulling a gun from his waistband and pointing it directly at your head.

You didn’t flinch, in fact you didn’t move a muscle. All the while everyone else sprung into action. Hotch tried to talk him down while the rest of the team surrounded him on all sides. You had stood there completely disassociated while this man threatened your life and ultimately met his untimely end via Emily’s weapon.

--

“Y/n would you please come to my office?” Hotch requested.

You silently followed Hotch to his office. You were wringing your hands, hoping that he wouldn’t reprimand you for your behavior today. You couldn’t handle disappointing people.

“You didn’t even flinch. You had a gun pointed at you and you didn’t even blink. You also willingly left the café with him, which was not a part of the plan we had discussed.” Hotch stated, his tone calm.

“I’m sorry Hotch. He told me to get up and I just…I wasn’t sure what to do. I know we needed to catch the guy.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Hotch admitted. “I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt. I also don’t want you to agree to do things simply because someone tells you to. Like agreeing to go undercover.”

“I don’t know how to do that. Disagree I mean. I’m not sure I have that in me anymore.” You did everything in your power to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Y/n I’m not disappointed. I do think that it is very important you continue to work with your therapist.”

“I will.”

--

“…and I just stood there.”

“Y/n you we conditioned for over a year to sit still when any sort of firearm was shot, you watched people die right in front of you. You were covered in their blood and forced to remain kneeling until instructed otherwise. I can’t say I am entirely surprised that you didn’t react to having a weapon pointed at you. What does surprise me though was that you agreed to going undercover.” Sylvia finished.

“I knew it was our best option to finding this unsub. I fit the victimology, and I was able to fish him out. It was a no-brainer.” You shrugged.

“Now that sound like someone making a rational decision.” Sylvia smirked.

“Yeah well, after the case Hotch called me out and I felt like a child being scolded. I could barely hold back tears.”

“Why do you think that is?” She pressed.

“I don’t know. I guess, I’m afraid of not being good enough and worse, disappointing him.”

“The only person you should be worried about disappointing is yourself. Y/n you have made huge strides in the last five months and as long as you stay true to yourself, you will continue to do so.”

--

The months went on, as did the cases and your therapy sessions. Oddly enough, you had started to feel more like yourself. Things with the BAU have started to become easy, you were opening up little by little to the others and you were getting better at making your own decisions.

Hotch had also noticed the change. It had warmed his heart to see you really coming into your own, to really get to know the real you. Which had only strengthened his feelings toward you, causing him to work extra hard to shove them down. Rossi knew simply from the look Hotch gave you, but that’s a story for another time.

The team had been working back-to-back cases all over the country for the last few weeks. It had been exhausting and the team were getting to a point where everyone was snippy. Lack of sleep had led to a horrible lack of patience, and the local officers weren’t making matters any better.

“What if we were wrong, I think the unsub is a woman. I mean look at the attention to detail in the clean up and at how the bodies were presented.” You offered.

“Y/n could be right; a woman would take the time to be precise and it would explain the…”

Before Spencer could finish his thought, Officer Riley decided to provide his own theories.

“There is no way it is a woman. They don’t have the courage to take care of people like this. That’s why the statistic proves that the unsub is a man.”

“With all due respect, women are just as capable of murder as men, and when they do it they are often far more meticulous which is why that fits better here.” You explained.

“Well, with all due respect ma’am, I’ve been doing this job longer than you could walk.”

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t bother hiding your surprise.

“All I’m saying sweetheart, is that perhaps you’d be better off getting us some coffee.” Officer Riley sneered.

“Last time I checked, I’m the one working for the FBI and not some Podunk little police station in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. So how about you back off and let us finish our…”

“Y/N TAKE A SEAT.” Hotch demanded.

Despite your shock at Hotch’s tone toward you, you took a seat without hesitation.

“Officer Riley, please let my agents do their work. We have much more important things to be doing than arguing about the duties of a woman.” Hotch chided.

“Well, you clearly agree with me given the fact that you gave her an order. If you’d been on her side you’d have probably told me off.” Riley turned to you, “and you clearly do know how to listen to a man in charge. Perhaps I misjudged you.”

With that, Riley made his leave with a low chuckle, and you sat there considering what had just happened. Hotch had commanded you to sit down knowing full well you’d comply, that way he could deal with Riley without you continuing to tell him off. He used what he knew about you against you, despite all the conversations you’ve had with him. Despite him knowing full well your fear of blindly following orders.

“I can’t believe you.” You stood up and walked out, heading straight for the precinct exit.

“Y/n wait!” Hotch followed you.

As you landed on the sidewalk just upon the exit, Hotch’s had made its way around your upper left arm in a desperate attempt to slow you down and hear him out. Only you were in no mood to listen to him or anyone else right now. All you felt was the sense of betrayal blooming in your chest.

As he swung you back around to face him, you did something that shocked even you. You right arm followed around, landing a harsh slap to Hotch’s cheek. Your breathing was ragged, a look of surprise painting your features…a look of guilt flooding Hotch’s.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” You paused.

“No, Y/n I am so sorry I shouldn’t have-” Hotch pleaded.

“I need to go. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” With that you left, calling a taxi, and heading back to the hotel.

--

“YOU STUPID BITCH! HOW COULD YOU?” Emilio Screamed, lunging toward you.

“Emilio I didn’t, I just…I”

Emilio wrapped his hand around your throat, harshly choking you as SWAT swarmed the shipyard. They quickly made their way to you, removing Emilio from his position over you. As they pulled him away you couldn’t help but watch him.

“Kneel Pet!” Emilio commanded.

You couldn't help but follow his order. Immediately dropping to your knees, resting your hands atop your thighs and letting your gaze fall to the ground.

“I will always own you! You will always be my pet, perfectly broken in!” Emilio hollered as they put him in the back of a vehicle.

“Y/n you’re okay, lets get you up and checked out.” Your unit commander suggested.

Only you didn’t move. You couldn’t get up, not without his permission.

That night, the paramedics had to sedate you to get you into an ambulance. And after that you were placed in a psychiatric facility for 30 days to help undo the brainwashing you’d endured.

--

“Sylvia, I slapped him. My boss, I slapped him right in the face!”

“Y/n you reacted to a situation and based on what you just explained to me, it seems like he knew he was in the wrong. You shouldn’t be blaming yourself and honestly, you should talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Maybe tell him how you feel.” Sylvia suggested.

--

You spent the afternoon practicing what to say to Hotch, Spencer had been texting you updates of that case as it progressed. He’d let you know that they caught the unsub and were headed back to the hotel. So, as you opened your door to make your way to his room, you came face-to-face with the man himself.

“Hotch.”  You gasped.

“Y/n can we talk?”

You moved aside to allow him access to your room. You couldn’t help but feel nervous about the conversation that was to come.

“Hotch, I am so sorry for slapping you! I was just-”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Y/n I am so sorry, I heard you going off on Riley and I knew that if you kept talking he’d report you and I’d be forced to suspend you, only I hadn’t considered the effect that me demanding you take a seat would have on you. I need you to know it was not my intention to take advantage of you like that and even worse, I shouldn’t have put my hand on you the way I did. You had every right to slap me.” Hotch explained.

“You were trying to protect me?”

“Riley had made threats of reporting our staff for going against orders of the precinct. I knew that he’d report you for your behavior, despite him clearly being in the wrong. I didn’t want to suspend you.”

“I didn’t realize. But Hotch telling me to take a seat, in the tone you did, it felt like I was right back there. Following orders without thinking. With you, I can’t explain it, I would do anything you asked me to and that terrifies me. My feelings for you only add to that need to do anything you say, to do anything to please you. I can’t help it.”

“You have feelings for me?”

“Aaron! Is that all you took from what I just said?”

“Please say that again.” He whispered.

“Aaron.”

He let his eyes close and took a deep breath. You could tell he was holding back and though part of you was begging you to walk away, the other was telling you to jump in. You thought about what Sylvia would say, and you couldn’t help but release a breathy laugh, knowing full well that she would tell you that only you can make the right decision, and it is okay to trust yourself.

“Aaron, I am terrified…and it is going to take me some time to fully trust myself again, but I really like you and if you’re up for it, I’d like to give this a shot. Unless you don’t feel the same way, then please ignore what I just said an-”

Aaron pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. One that told you everything you needed to know.

“I’m scared too, but I want to try this Y/n. I know that you’re still working to find yourself, I am willing to wait if that is what you need, but I am also willing to be by your side every step of the way.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

[millervrse]

❝ BY THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞ javier peña x reader

summary: Javier Peña doesn’t like you. You’re too nice, too bubbly, and you get on his last nerve. He didn’t get how anybody in this line of work could be so goddamn cheery all the time. Though aside from your, in his eyes, forced and fake kindness, you had no bad features, and perhaps that, added to your beauty, is what ticked him off so much. Could he learn to like you the more time passes, or would you do this dance of hatred forever?

pairing: javier peña x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, r! has a bit of an established backstory, a few uses of y/n but only when necessary, r! has a dog, references to narcos and thus real life people and occurrences (pablo escobar, the cartel, dea, etc), ENEMIES TO LOVERS but it’s one sided because javier hates r!, r! has an established personality, grumpy x sunshine, workplace setting, javier and r! are coworkers, use of cigarettes

word count: 2.6k+

LYN SPEAKING! so this is the first chapter of, again, a finished piece that was written nearly a year ago. you can read the prologue here! and again, this is all from javier’s pov, but i’m going to throw in some nsfw chapters using second person for the economy so, yeah! enjoy! lyn out!

DO YOU WANNA KNOW? @bishtrouille @axshadows @troubledsoul-black let me know if you’d like to be added!

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What?” she asks. ❝ YOU'RE BLOCKING THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞

CHAPTER 1: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

COLUMBIA, SEPTEMBER 1982

For once in our lives of chaos, the madness had died down, and there was no new news regarding the man who had been the focus of our missions for months now.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria: A drug dealer, and a major pain in my ass.

In the years that I’ve worked Escobar’s case, the man has put the DEA, and the whole of Columbia, for that matter, through hell and back. A war of drugs has been going on under our noses, and the man behind it is an evasive ghost.

We haven’t found him because he doesn't want to be found.

Days in the office have been passing by slowly. With no new leads, and little for us to do, we’re at a loss here. Can’t tell you how much time I’ve used clicking my pens or looking through the same case files over and over again, just to see if something appears that wasn’t there before.

It hasn’t happened yet.

For the third time that morning, I got up from my seat to get a cup of coffee, since having drained mine. Murphy’s eyes snapped to mine from where he sat across from me, and he raised an eyebrow.

Murphy was the guy I’d been working with on the drug cases for a few months, and we’ve come to be pretty friendly with each other during that time. Thus, his first words when he sees me get out of my seat.

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at me. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with all that damn caffeine,” he remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

I shrugged, throwing away the paper coffee cup that I’d been drinking out of. “Murphy,” I scoffed, crossing my arms to mirror him. “If there’s a damn thing in this world that’s going to give me a heart attack, it’s going to be Escobar, not coffee.”

Murphy sighed in response. I could tell the guy was just as done with Escobar’s shit as me, even if he was better at not discussing it than me. He shrugged and rubbed his forehead before responding, “Yeah, fair enough. Drink away.”

I nodded at him, then made my way to the door.

As I made my third journey that day down to the coffee machine, I passed by the hallway where the ambassador’s office was. What was already a shitty day only worsened by the feeling I got in my gut only by looking at her door.

It was hard at the DEA, Murphy and I being the main people assigned to this case, the only two men in the world who knew as much about Escobar and his cartel as the man himself.

And regardless of that, what we knew was minimal.

While the ambassador wasn’t really our boss, just walking by her office was enough to remind me of the drug cases: And that we weren’t getting a damn thing out of them.

I shook off the feelings that crossed over me then and there, and just went on walking.

I was veering the corner to go to our break room, where the coffee machine was, when I heard and saw a view I surely hadn’t when I clocked in this morning.

“Where can I put my things?” a feminine voice rang out from down the hallway, the voice filled with a sort of cheer that wasn’t very common from those who worked here in the DEA building.

My eyes snapped to the speaker before my brain could even process it.

There was a woman at the very end of the hallway I was in, holding a brown box, presumably the “things” she had been referring to mere seconds ago. My eyebrows raised fairly quickly: I had never seen her in the office.

Because I’m sure I’d remember a face like that.

It was impossible to miss her. Her eyes seemed to mesmerize the man she was speaking to, because he was looking at her with an expression usually saved for old, married couples.

He wasn’t the only one.

I couldn’t take my damn eyes off of her: I was drawn to her appearance, and she wasn’t releasing her hold. There was a serious and assured, yet honeyed way about her. Her eyes and smile spoke volumes to what I assumed was a kind persona, but her attire, a white collared shirt, black slacks, belt, and tie, vouched for her professionalism.

It made me uneasy to get so much from her based on her appearance alone. So that was when I whirled on my heel, all but jogging back to where Murphy was.

I loped back to the room with a concerning pace, closing the door quickly behind me. Murphy’s head snapped up, and he looked at me with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, Murphy,” I said in a hoarse voice, a little out of breath from getting here so quickly. I took a second to relax, then asked, “Who’s that girl?”

Murphy’s eyebrows raised up, and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to marry me. “What girl?” he asked as his face scrunched up in cluelessness.

I let out a huff and opened the door again to see where the woman had gone. Then, I came back in the room and waved to the window. “That girl there. All the way down the hallway,” I clarified.

Murphy got up and looked through the window that showed the hallway outside of it. His eyes landed on the woman’s, and a look of realization crossed over his face. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s the new girl. I think her name is Y/N,” said Murphy.

I looked at Murphy with a furrowed brow when he said that. “You knew?”

Murphy shrugged and nodded, walking back to his chair and sitting down. “I heard some folks whispering about her. She was pretty popular in her old job, I think, skilled in her field. That’s why everyone’s talking about her,” he shrugged, like the fact was common knowledge.

“And no one was gonna tell me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Uh, no, I guess not. Why would it matter, anyways? She won’t be working with us that much,” he responded.

“She won’t? Why not?” I asked curiously. Why was she up here, then?

“No, she’ll be working with the coaches, training the dogs for drug sniffing. She’ll be around, but—” Murphy explained, but then he suddenly cut himself off. He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a second, why does this even matter to you, Peña?”

That got me to shut up real quick.

For one of the first times in my life, I was at a loss for words. I licked my lips as I tried to pick my brains for a response that would make sense.

But my mind was abandoned, way too preoccupied to give him a reason. Sooner or later, I just shook my head, giving myself a way out of this conversation.

“It doesn’t,” I shrugged, walking over to my desk. I ruffled through the drawers for a second, before grabbing the final cigarette from the box that I always had with me.

I took a deep breath as I made a note to myself to get more, before saying, “I just wanna know who I’m working with.”

Murphy nodded, though he didn’t really look convinced.

But the good thing was, if there was one thing Murphy knew about me, it was to never push my words. He picked up the case file that he’d been working on when I walked in the room and simply mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

I sighed in relief, glad that he had just dropped the issue; I seriously didn’t want to talk about this right then and there. Talk about a woman.

I left the room without so much as another word, perching the cigarette in my mouth before I had even made it out of it. I usually smoked in the office, not giving much of a shit to our boss’ wish for me not to. 

But today, I obliged, making my way down the lift to go outside.

When I walked through the lobby and through the doors to exit the building, I mulled over the morning that I’d just had. Escobar’s doings may not be in plain view now, but a new sense of chaos was clearly ready to take the podium.

I lit the cigarette as I leaned on a pillar in front of the building, rubbing my forehead as a migraine began to form there. I exhaled puffs of smoke from my nose and lips, praying that it’d ease all the tension in my figure.

Fuck, what was even going on with me? Who was this girl, and why the hell was one glance her way driving me crazy?

She was just a woman. That’s all she was. And I’ve had countless experiences with women, an art that I knew like the back of my hand. I knew my way around them, and I wasn’t looking to get wrapped up in one at any point, at any time.

I’d just have to pray that this wouldn’t cause any problems in the workplace for me.

I’d have to have hope, and a hell of a goddamn lot of it.

I was walking back up to the breakroom after I’d got back to the building half an hour later. After all, I hadn’t even gotten that cup of coffee I’d been craving before leaving to have a smoke.

But when I walked in the room, I didn’t envision the first person I’d see inside of it.

The new girl.

There she was in front of me again, the same vibe that had emitted from her earlier in my presence once more: Only, it was closer to me now. She was conversing with a male coworker of mine, and they seemed to be engaged in some happy go lucky discussion, because the woman was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I figured, why not? My dog is my best friend, and I don’t want to leave her home all of the time while I’m working, you know?” she giggled as coffee poured from the coffee machine she was next to.

The man, whose name I didn’t even know, chuckled in response. “That’s crazy. So they just let you bring her, huh? And you’re gonna train her up with the other dogs?” the man asked her.

She nodded, flashing him a smile that seemed to glare off the walls. “Yeah! Pretty cool, isn’t it? I’m glad they let me. I wasn’t really sure they would,” the woman laughed, picking up her cup and taking a long sip out of it.

The man was about to answer, when his eyes finally met mine, acknowledging my presence for the first time since I’d walked in the damn room. This caused the woman to look at me too, only smiling at me.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your dog will do well. Shepherds are pretty big, and the ones we already have do a good job,” he murmured, looking down at the ground. “Anyway, I should get back to work. You have yourself a good day, Y/N. And good luck.”

So that was her name. Guess Murphy didn’t lie.

“Peña,” he said with a professional nod and awkward smile. Then, he left the room.

When it was just her and I in there, we looked at each other for several long seconds. My eyes glazed over her, fully analyzing her appearance now that she was so much closer to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. 

I don’t know what it was about this girl that was seriously getting to me.

She was just different. 

And I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she smiled widely at me, putting her coffee cup down to offer her hand to me before giving me her last name. “I’m new to the DEA, if you couldn’t tell. It’s my first day. What’s your name?” she asked.

Her kindly demeanor unsettled me, being both refreshing and alarming. Most of the men and women on this job worked with somber faces. No feelings, small talk, laughs or smiles. Just work, work, work. It was bizarre to see someone in the DEA building beaming, like we worked in some candy shop.

Didn’t she have any idea what this job encompassed?

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” she asks.

“You're blocking the coffee machine,” I clarified for her. Sure enough, she looked to her side to see that I wasn’t lying about that. She murmured a quick, “Sorry,” then moved out of the way.

“Yeah,” I groaned in response. I grabbed one of the paper coffee cups near the machine, then got to fixing myself a cup.

To my surprise, she didn’t leave the room. She crossed her arms behind me, and I could see her looking over me out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she had the urge to speak, but didn’t know how to do so.

Black coffee poured from the maker when she finally opened her mouth. “I haven’t gotten your name yet,” she murmured.

I let out a sigh, wondering why she even needed to know it. “What does it matter?” I replied without a care in the world, looking for creamer in the drawers below the machine.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t, I suppose. I just want to know,” she answered. Then, she perked up, looking at me with a new sense of hope in her eyes. I craned my head towards her for only a second, just to see that same pearly white smile she’d been wearing across her face earlier. “Do you work on this floor, too?”

I closed the paper cup with a lid as she spoke, not even realizing that I’d forgotten to add creamer to it. “Name’s Peña. Javier Peña. And I don’t do small talk,” I replied composedly, turning my body to face her. Clearly, I had yet to get used to her appearance. I’m pretty sure my heart dropped down to my ass when I laid my eyes on her again.

However much I didn’t want to talk to her, there was a fact that remained true, regardless of how it was I was feeling.

She was fucking gorgeous.

Even with my semi rude remark, she smiled at me nevertheless, giving me a little shrug. “Fair enough. It’s not everyone’s thing, especially early in the morning. I get it, Peña—”

“Agent Peña. And no, it’s not,” I said back to her. I was just about ready to leave the room, when she grabbed me by the arm, causing me to pause in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, clearly doing her best to cling to this conversation for as long as she could.

“What?” I snapped. Though, I didn’t move her hand away.

“Do you know an Agent Murphy? I’ve been looking for him,” she asked very quickly, tilting her head. I raised an eyebrow: She had my attention with that one.

“Murphy? Yeah, he’s my partner. Why, what do you want with him?” I asked curiously, facing my body back towards hers.

“He was supposed to give me some case files on drugs, mainly cocaine. I’m going to be working with the dogs, training them on sniffing out drugs and things like that, so I kind of need them.”

I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes at her. “He’s in the office down the hall. I’ll take you there,” I annoyedly offered. That’s where I was going, anyways, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Great! Thank you so much. Lead the way,” she grinned in a brilliant smile, signaling to the door. I grumbled and nodded, before making my way down the hall to Murphy and I’s shared office.

What was it I was saying earlier about hope?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!