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gyuswhore · 8 months ago

Text

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl.

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against.

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you.

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel.

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today.

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight.

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?”

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day.

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job?

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu.

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow.

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring.

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse.

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers.

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands.

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion.

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?”

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet.

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now.

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher.

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment.

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare.

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion.

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either.

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention.

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise.

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on.

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you.

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him.

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine.

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send.

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer.

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators.

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same.

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait.

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow.

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day.

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire.

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave.

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him.

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning.

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?”

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were.

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance.

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open.

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day.

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting.

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love.

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels.

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command.

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint.

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again.

“What are you—”

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.”

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with.

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse.

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless.

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss.

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more.

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly.

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt.

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe.

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in.

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions.

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly.

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips.

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again.

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing.

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth.

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before.

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself.

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.”

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words.

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants.

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds.

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt.

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now.

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you.

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen.

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead.

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close.

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you.

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks.

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog.

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs.

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago.

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway.

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you.

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.”

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.”

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio.

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him.

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic.

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back.

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.”

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes.

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works.

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

“I love you,” he yells.

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.”

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling.

“Mingyu!”

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him.

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you.

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week.

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 4 months ago

Text

i’ll drive, i’ll drive all night

bf!rafe cameron x fem!reader

cw — alcohol, brief talks abt arguing, this is lowk short

summary — you drunk call rafe for a ride home from your friends house.

a/n — whipped this up in a few minutes so please don’t be too harsh. request!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

you sat outside with the warm breeze as you waited on the steps to your best friends house for your boyfriend to pick you up. you were completely out of it, eyes feeling heavy, body all soft and feeling like jelly from the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through you.

you’d probably had one too many drinks and you were expecting a lecture from rafe when he arrived but you were too far past the point of caring. you just wanted to see him and go home after the terrible day you’d had.

the two of you had argued earlier in the afternoon which eventually led to you both parting ways and not speaking for a few hours. you were both very opinionated and you had attitudes that often didn’t mix well when you were frustrated. one of you usually apologized though and you guys moved past it.

this one was different though. you knew you’d been a little mean in your replies but you also felt like he deserved a little reality check. you currently couldn’t even remember why you were arguing due to your drunken state, but you knew it was something you guys could easily get over. you two would probably forget about it by morning anyway.

when you finally saw the big truck pull into the driveway, you quickly stood and almost immediately regretted the sudden action. your head began to spin and a pain accumulated behind your eyelids as you drunkenly stumbled to his car. he was standing on the passengers side waiting for you.

once you approached after tripping over your own feet, he opened up the door for you without a word and helped you up the big step to get inside. he shut it behind you and made his way into his own seat. he assured you had your seatbelt on and began reversing out of the driveway without a word.

“i’m sorry,” you slurred quietly, noticing the way both his hands held the steering wheel instead of one of them resting on your thigh. “didn’t know who else to call.”

you heard him sigh and begin to drive. “would rather you call me than anyone else,” he admitted honestly and spared a glance in your direction. his heart broke a little at the soft pout on your lips and the sad glint in your eyes. “‘nd i’m not mad at you, baby. ‘s fine.”

your eyes glistened with tears as you looked at him. “you’re not?” you mumbled under your breath, eyes feeling heavier and your head getting all foggy.

he shook his head with a shrug and gently rested his hand on your lower thigh just above your knee, thumb soothing over your skin reassuringly. “could never be mad at you,” he said before the car fell into a comfortable silence. the only sound being the quiet song playing on his radio.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep or how long it’d been since, but you began to wake to the sight of rafe standing in front of you looking extremely focused and a soft towel being dragged carefully over your cheeks. you were sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread slightly and him standing between them with majority of your body weight leaning against his.

he was holding your jaw in one hand while the other hand did what you assumed was taking off your makeup. when you finally fluttered your eyes open for real this time, he scanned your face and placed the towel down on the counter. “you have fun tonight?”

you nodded and smiled softly. “mhm. morgan’s friends are really nice. the bar was so cool,” you replied, awkwardly rubbing your hands along your thighs not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to touch him. “‘m really sorry, rafe.”

he went silent for a moment but his eyes stayed fixed on yours. “its okay, sweetheart. we both said some shit we shouldn’t have. ‘s alright. people make mistakes.”

“i was bein’ a bitch earlier,” you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his chest.

he laughed softly and smoothed a hand down the back of your head comfortingly. “i think i can handle your attitude pretty well by now,” he replied just barely above a whisper. “c’mon. time for bed.”

you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you and walking you to your shared bedroom before dropping you down gently on your side. he was quick to pull his shirt over his head and crawl under the covers beside you.

you scooted closer to his side and sighed at the familiar warmth you enjoyed so much. his arm loosely fell to the dip of your waist as he scrolled through netflix to find a movie on, knowing you couldn’t sleep without the tv on. “i love you baby,” you muttered through a sleep-laced voice.

he smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair. “i love you more, angel.”

#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#rafe cameron imagine #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #rafe cameron obx #obx #drew starkey

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ddejavvu · 6 months ago

Note

tyler owens who has the fattest crush on someone who’s the complete opposite of him

poor girl is terrified of literally everything (me irl) and he’s just head over heels in love with her

come participate in tyler owens night !

"Baby," Tyler croons, eyes a mixture of pitiful and amused, "It's wind."

"And it's rain," You urge, standing firmly in the doorway and refusing to budge, "I'm not driving in a storm!"

"It's not a storm," He insists, "Baby, my truck can withstand EF-4s. There's no way a little rain's gonna shake us."

"But we could spin out," You reason, "Or someone else could, and they could hit us, or an EF-5 could strike, or-"

"Or the ground could open up, swallow us whole." Tyler lowers his head, gaze steady on you as the amusement-pity deepens.

"You're right." You nod, clearly missing his sarcasm, "It's safer at home. Let's stay."

"No, that's not- what I meant." Tyler grabs your bicep, and you're useless against his strength as he drags you out towards his truck, "Baby, a tornado could whip through the farm and blow you away anytime. But y'gotta live despite all that. Come out with me, I'll drive real slow and I'll stick to the main roads."

Tyler stops to give you a boost up to the seat of his truck, his strong hands framing your hips and raising you to the lifted vehicle, "Just get all cozied up in that blanket of yours, and we can listen to your music on the way there. Nothin' that I like, none of that rowdy country stuff. M'kay baby?"

You're still nervous about driving in the rain. Maybe you always will be, no matter how many times you do it unscathed. But Tyler's eyes are soft and sweet as melted chocolate, the same color, too, and they stare pleadingly up at you where he's watching you from the ground. Slowly you settle into the seat of his truck, reaching for the blanket he keeps in his glovebox for you, and click your seatbelt firmly into place.

"I'm gonna use the harness," You warn, and Tyler reaches up to help you fasten your seatbelt despite your complete ability to do it yourself, "No making fun of me."

"Never, baby," He promises, hands lingering at your lap far after the click of the seatbelt, "You do whatever makes 'ya feel safe, and I'll handle everything else. Just a nice, slow ride into town for some hot chocolate."

"Just get in already." You plead, but it's a pity to lose contact where his hand stops squeezing your thigh, "The longer you wait, the more time I have to run back inside and hide under the bed."

The truck rocks as Tyler gets in, shutting the door firmly and gripping the steering wheel more gently than when he's tornado wrangling, "It's alright, baby. You're safe with me. And I'll get you whipped cream and marshmallows on yours for bein' so brave."

"Even though they're extra?" You glance up at him with what Tyler's pretty sure are better puppy eyes than he's seen on any dog before.

"I'd pay for you to get gold flakes on top'uh yours, darlin'," He smiles, not a grin but a real, warm smile, and he leans in to nudge his nose beside yours, "No amount of money I wouldn't spend on you."

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens x you #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens blurb #tyler owens drabble #glen powell x reader #twisters fanfiction

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mayanneaa · 2 months ago

Text

hits different - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x ex!reader

SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.

WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language

A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me

WC : 1.7k

masterlist.

After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.

You aren’t together anymore.

He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.

You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”

The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.

The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.

It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.

You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.

“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.

"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"

"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."

JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.

"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."

The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.

His mind still replays that cold May night.

You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"

He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."

You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"

Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.

"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.

You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?

"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"

The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."

You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"

You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.

It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.

The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.

His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.

Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?

JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.

He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.

Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.

Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.

His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?

Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.

“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.

The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.

“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.

JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.

“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”

JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”

“Why did you end this?”

The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”

“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.

Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”

“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”

“JJ.”

The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.

“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”

A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.

He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”

With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.

Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”

“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”

“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”

You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”

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cupcakeeees · 2 months ago

Text

“Steering Right Into Trouble”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: what could go wrong with an F1 driver by your side? It’s just driving.. right?

word count: 1k

The first time Lando offered to teach you how to drive, you thought he was joking.

“Trust me, you’re in good hands,” he’d grinned, keys dangling from his fingers. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Famous last words.

It started with you sitting stiffly in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel like your life depended on it. Lando sat beside you, far too relaxed for what was about to happen.

“Okay,” he began, his tone calm and reassuring. “Adjust your mirrors, check your seat position, and remember to breathe. It’s just a car..”.

You shot him a side-eye. He laughed.

“Alright, first thing, gently press the gas. Just a little. Remember, the car isn’t going to-”

The car lurched forward as your foot pressed harder than you intended. Lando’s hand shot out, grabbing the handbrake instinctively.

“Okay, not that much!” he yelped, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” you squeaked, your hands tightening around the wheel like it was your lifeline.

“It’s fine. Totally fine,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“That’s why I’m here, yeah? Just.. maybe try pressing the pedals like they’re made of glass, not concrete.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Lando, I’m so bad at this!”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a chuckle, his voice softer now as he gently tugged your hand off your face. “You’re just learning. Besides, I’ve got the handbrake. Worst-case scenario, we spin out in an empty parking lot. No big deal.”

Over the next hour, Lando swung between being the calm, collected professional driver and a man on the brink of a heart attack.

“Okay, now let’s try turning,” he said, resting one hand lightly on the wheel to demonstrate. “Slowly, just ease into it.”

You started the turn, but as the wheel slipped from your grasp slightly, you panicked. “It’s moving on its own!”

“Yeah, because that’s how physics works,” he said, laughing as he reached over to grab the wheel and guide it. “Just keep your hands steady. I’ve got it if anything happens.”

“You’re regretting this, aren’t you?” you muttered, cheeks burning.

“No, no!” he insisted, though the way he adjusted the wheel with one hand and clung to the door handle with the other told a different story. “This is great!”

After several missteps, and a very close call with a stray traffic cone, you finally managed a smooth lap around the parking lot. Lando clapped his hands.

He leaned closer, putting an encouraging hand on your thigh. “You’re doing better than you think.”

“Really?” the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“Yeah,” flicking your nose playfully. “Now, want to try some parallel parking?”

Your groan echoed through the car, and he burst out laughing. “You really don’t want your car to survive today, do you?”

The peaceful atmosphere didn’t last long because the next disaster struck when you accidentally pressed the accelerator instead of the brake during a turn.

The car jerked forward, and Lando’s hand shot out to steady the wheel while his other hand reached for the handbrake.

“Brake!” he yelped

“I am!” your voice high-pitched with panic.

“Press harder!” he said, still clutching the wheel. “It’s not going to break, I promise - just PRESS IT!”

You managed to stop the car, both of you breathing heavily in the aftermath. Lando let out a shaky laugh, leaning back in his seat.

Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but do the same, shaking your head at him. “Be honest. How bad am I?”

“Honestly?” He paused for effect, his grin widening. “Pretty terrible. But you’ve got potential.”

As the “lesson” drew to a close, the sun dipping low in the sky, you pulled the car to a stop and turned to him, your own smile faltering slightly. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” he repeated, his brows furrowing. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling the keys from the ignition. “You’re lucky I didn’t crash your car.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t bail halfway through,” he shot back.

You were finally back in the passenger seat, where you belonged. Lando took over, effortlessly handling the wheel, every movement smooth and confident.

“See?” he teased, one hand lazily resting at the top of the steering wheel while he smirked at you. “This is how you’re supposed to do it.”

You shot him a glare, slouching in your seat exhausted. “Not everyone drives for a living, you know.”

He chuckled, eyes flicking toward you briefly, “You look a lot more comfortable here anyway,” he teased, tapping your seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just.. you’re a pretty cute passenger princess. My passenger princess..”

You crossed your arms, trying to act unbothered while your cheeks betrayed you, burning bright pink even after all this time. “Oh, I see how it is, Norris! What? You didn’t like being my passenger princess?”

Lando only laughed quietly to himself, drumming his fingers against the wheel, as his other hand found yours across the console.

And so, the ride back felt easier than the whole lesson combined, even if your heart was racing faster than his car.

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reiding-writing · 26 days ago

Note

ok but the whole “on a case, reader fits the unsub’s type so the team wants her to go undercover pretending to be a couple with someone” type of scenario would be interesting with cold!reader bc the obvious choice for her “date” would be Spencer (cue Morgan’s teasing) and i imagine she wouldn’t be happy about any of it

SPIN THE WHEEL — SPENCER REID!

you and spencer have to go undercover as a couple for a case. chaos ensues.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 5.1k | ???? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

WARNINGS | fem!reader, knife violence, violence against women, reader is physically threatened but not hurt, reader and spencer are kinda awkward sometimes, morgan is a great wingman and an annoying friend

a/n — unfortunate spolier alert, there is no kiss in this fic, sorry 😔

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you stepped into the BAU briefing room. The heels of your boots clicked against the polished floor, a sharp counterpoint to the low hum of early-morning conversation. It was barely 7am, but the team was already gathered, their attention focused on the case files in front of them.

“Morning,” you said curtly, setting your travel mug on the edge of the conference table. Hotch acknowledged you with a nod, his expression as unreadable as ever. Morgan glanced up from his file and grinned.

“Look who decided to join us,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Thought you’d gone into hibernation now the sun’s out.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss your sparkling commentary,” you shot back, earning a quiet chuckle from JJ.

Hotch cleared his throat, and the room instantly quieted. “Let’s get started.”

He gestured to the board at the front of the room, where photos of four women were pinned in neat rows. Their faces, bright and smiling in life, were now haunting reminders of a killer’s pattern.

“Over the past two months,” Hotch began, “we’ve identified a series of abductions and murders targeting high-profile women in their late twenties to early thirties. Each victim was abducted from a public location—bars, restaurants, upscale events—and later found in secluded areas outside the city.”

JJ chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table. “They’re all single on paper, *but* they were last seen in public with male companions. Same dynamic in every sighting. The woman appears dominant, in control. The man, quiet and deferential. A classic ‘power couple,’ but with the woman holding the reins.”

Prentiss leaned forward. “So the unsub’s targeting these women because of their perceived control in the relationship?”

“Presumably one he wants for himself,” Hotch confirmed. “Each victim was restrained, but there’s evidence they were given specific instructions during captivity—what to wear, how to speak. The dominant dynamic appears to be a key element of their fantasy.”

You flipped open your case file, skimming the notes Garcia had compiled. Confident, independent women. Late twenties. Seen with male partners. A pattern was beginning to form alright.

Morgan spoke up. “So, the unsub is looking for a specific type of woman. Someone who exudes authority, but…”

“But is in a relationship dynamic that contradicts societal expectations,” Reid finished. “A dominant woman with a submissive male partner. It’s uncommon enough to draw attention, which might be part of the appeal for the unsub.”

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a control freak with a very specific fantasy.”

“Precisely,” Hotch said. “Which is why we’ll need to act quickly. The unsub has been escalating—shortening the time between abductions. Based on their pattern, we believe they’ll strike again within the next 48 hours.”

“Any leads?” you asked, your voice sharp with focus.

Garcia’s cheerful voice practically burst through the door. “Good morning, my lovely profilers! As much as I’d love to say I’ve cracked this case wide open, we’re still working on a list of potential suspects. But I do have some good news—There’s a community gala happening, super high-profile. It’s upscale, trendy, and crawling with exactly the kind of power couples they’re looking for.”

Hotch nodded. “That’s where we’ll set up our operation.”

The tension in the room thickened. You could feel it before Hotch even said the words.

“We’ll need someone to go undercover,” he continued. “Someone who fits the unsub’s preferred victim profile. Confident. Independent.”

All eyes turned to you.

You froze, a sip of coffee halfway to your lips. “You can’t be serious,” you said, though the tone of your voice made it clear you already knew he was. “Can’t Prentiss do it?”

“You’re the best match,” Hotch said simply. “Your appearance and demeanor align with what the unsub is looking for.”

Morgan’s grin widened, sensing an opportunity to stir the pot. “And since it’s a couple we’re talking about…” He let the sentence dangle, his gaze flicking around the room. “Looks like we need to find you a boy toy.”

JJ smirked. “Any volunteers?”

Morgan pretended to study the room, tapping his chin theatrically. “Hmm, let’s see. Rossi’s too old. I’m way too good-looking. And Hotch… well, I don’t think he’d appreciate being dragged to a bar on his off-hours.”

“Get to the point, Morgan,” you snapped.

His eyes landed on Reid, who was sitting awkwardly at the edge of the table, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“Oh, come on,” Morgan said, his voice full of mock conviction. “The answer is obvious. Dr. Reid is the perfect choice. Smart, polite, and devoted to his boss lady. What more could you ask for?”

Reid blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Me?” he stammered. “I—uh—I don’t think—”

“You’ll be fine,” Morgan interrupted, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just follow her lead. She’s already bossy enough for the both of you anyway, no acting needed,”

You glared at Morgan. “I’d rather go alone.”

“Not an option,” Hotch said firmly. “The unsub is looking for couples. If you go in alone, you’ll stand out for the wrong reasons,”

You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. “And why Reid? No offense, but he’s not exactly…”

“Not exactly what?” Reid asked, his tone defensive.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s not exactly the type you’d expect in this kind of role.”

“That’s what makes him perfect,” JJ pointed out. “The unsub isn’t looking for traditional dynamics. A strong, dominant woman with a partner who defies stereotypes fits the victim profile,”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but to your surprise, he straightened and spoke with quiet resolve. “If it helps catch the unsub, I’m willing to do it.”

“See? Loyal man already stepping up,” Morgan said with a laugh.

You shot him a withering look before turning to Hotch. “Fine,” you said, your voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But if this backfires—”

“It won’t,” Hotch interrupted. “You’ll have full backup, and the team will be monitoring every step of the operation.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face. “This is gonna be good,”

You sighed, already regretting the decision. Spencer, for his part, looked as nervous as you felt, but there was a determination in his eyes that you hadn’t expected.

“Great,” Garcia chirped. “I’ll send over everything you need for your cover story. And don’t worry—I’ll make sure you two are the most convincing power couple that bar has ever seen.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to stave off the headache already forming. This was going to be a long 48 hours.

—

“You’re really going to have to sell this,” JJ said, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she watched you and Spencer stand awkwardly in the aisle of the jet.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “I know how undercover work works, JJ.”

“Sure, but this isn’t just undercover work. This is undercover work as a couple,” Morgan chimed in from the corner, barely hiding his grin.

Spencer cleared his throat, the faint blush on his cheeks deepening. “We should probably practice,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “The unsub will be looking for natural interactions—gestures, body language, subtle communication cues. If we’re stiff or hesitant, it’ll be obvious,”

Morgan barked out a laugh. “Oh, trust me, kid. It’s already obvious,”

You shot Morgan a glare that would’ve made a lesser man wilt. He just grinned wider. “Fine,” you said brusquely. “Let’s get this over with.”

Spencer nodded, stepping closer to you. His movements were hesitant, almost shy, and it took every ounce of patience you had not to roll your eyes. He hesitated before holding out his hand.

“Let’s start with this,” he suggested.

You stared at his outstretched hand for a beat too long before sliding your palm into his. His hand was warm and slightly clammy, but his grip was firm, maybe a little *too* firm if the way your knuckles were awkwardly pressed together had anything to say about it.

“Relax,” you muttered, glancing up at him. “You’re supposed to be my date, not someone who’s never felt human interaction before.”

His lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile. “Right. Relaxed. Got it,”

You worked through the basics: standing close together, holding hands naturally, leaning into each other like a couple sharing a private moment. Spencer was diligent, taking mental notes and adjusting his movements based on your corrections.

Despite his effort, the awkwardness between you two was palpable, made worse by the occasional muffled laughter from Morgan and JJ.

When it came time to practice small touches—a hand on the small of your back, a brush of fingers against your arm—you could feel the tension radiating off him. He was careful, almost too careful, as though afraid you might snap at him.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said, your tone sharper than intended.

He blinked, his hand hovering inches from your arm. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not. Just… stop being so stiff about it. This isn’t life or death.”

“Actually, it kind of is,” he murmured, his lips quirking in a faint smile.

To your surprise, you felt the corner of your own mouth twitch upward. You quickly smothered it, stepping back and crossing your arms. “Good enough for now. Let’s move on to the backstory.”

—

The gala was in full swing by the time you and Spencer arrived, stepping into the grand ballroom of the city’s most exclusive hotel. The chandeliers glittered overhead, casting warm light over the crowd of elegantly dressed attendees.

You smoothed down the front of your sleek black gown, the fitted fabric hugging your frame in all the right places. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Spencer adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. He looked… good. The cut of the suit flattered his lean frame, and the crisp white shirt brought out the warm tones in his skin.

He caught you looking and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, glancing away.

You looped your arm through his and guided him toward the bar. As you moved through the crowd, you felt the weight of eyes on you—not just from potential suspects, but from the other guests as well.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” you murmured as Spencer ordered a glass of wine.

“I don’t,” he said, giving you a small smile. “But it would look suspicious if I didn’t have something in my hand.”

You hated to admit it, but he was right. He was thinking like a profiler, analysing every detail to make your cover as convincing as possible.

Morgan’s voice crackled in your earpiece. “Damn, Pretty Boy cleans up nice. And look at you, boss lady. You two are turning heads out there,”

“Focus, Morgan,” you muttered under your breath.

JJ’s voice chimed in next, a hint of amusement in her tone. “He’s not wrong. You two look good together.”

You ignored them, instead focusing on the task at hand. Spencer leaned in slightly, his body angled toward yours in a way that felt natural, almost intimate.

“Do you see anyone who fits the profile?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your ear.

“Not yet,” you replied, scanning the room. Your gaze lingered on a man at the far end of the bar, his eyes locked on you with a little too much interest. You straightened slightly, letting your body language shift just enough to signal dominance.

Spencer noticed the change immediately. Without missing a beat, he placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, his fingers light but steady. The touch was subtle, protective, and entirely convincing.

You glanced up at him, surprised by the ease of the gesture. His face was calm, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that reminded you just how capable he was.

Morgan’s voice crackled through again. “Wow, look at Romeo and Ice Queen over here. You two might actually pull this off.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” you muttered, but there was no real heat in your voice.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself noticing things about Spencer you hadn’t before. The way he adjusted his movements to match yours, the subtle way he deflected unwanted attention, the quiet confidence in his voice when he introduced himself to other guests. He wasn’t just playing his role; he was living it.

And Spencer? Well he thought you were beautiful. You were always beautiful, but being this close to you, it was almost enough to feel like he was being set on fire.

“Someone’s watching us,” Spencer murmured, his lips barely moving.

“Where?”

“Two o’clock. Dark suit, red tie.”

You glanced in the direction he indicated, keeping your movements casual. The man from the bar was still watching, his gaze sharp and calculating.

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing your temple in a gesture that looked affectionate but was purely strategic. “Do you think it’s him?”

“Maybe,” you said, your voice low. “Let’s see if he takes the bait.”

Spencer nodded, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. There was no room for distractions, no matter how unexpected they might be.

You sipped your drink, letting the act settle over you like a second skin. The confident CEO with her doting partner. The perfect bait.

“You’re doing well,” Spencer murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m aware,” you replied dryly, earning a quiet huff of laughter from him.

“I mean it,” he said. “You’re commanding the room without overdoing it. Subtle but effective.”

You glanced at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. “You’ve been taking notes.”

“Of course. It’s what I do,” He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that reached his eyes.

Something about the way he said it caught you off guard, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the quiet confidence in his voice, or the way he seemed so at ease despite the tension crackling in the air.

A server passed by, offering a tray of appetisers. Spencer reached out, grabbing one before turning to you.

“They have the scallop canapés you liked at Rossi’s,” he said casually, holding it out to you.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard again. You’d barely mentioned your preference for seafood during one of Garcia’s long-winded stories about fancy catering. It was a throwaway comment, something you didn’t think anyone had noticed.

He shrugged, his expression impossibly soft. “You said you liked them. Thought it might help you relax.”

The gesture was so small, so thoughtful, that it left you momentarily speechless. Spencer wasn’t just going through the motions; he was paying attention, learning your rhythms and quirks without ever prying.

“Thanks,” you said finally, your voice quieter than usual. You took the canapé, your fingers brushing his.

His gaze lingered on yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for the first time, you found yourself looking away first.

“Stupid eidetic memory,”

—

The man in the red tie made his move a half-hour later.

You and Spencer had positioned yourselves near the bar, your conversation laced with just enough tension to draw attention. Spencer leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady as he spoke.

“Are you sure this is the right approach?”

“It’s fine,” you said sharply, letting your tone carry just enough edge to sell the act.

“You don’t have to handle everything alone,” he pressed, his brow furrowing in genuine concern that blended seamlessly into the performance.

“I said it’s fine.” you snapped, crossing your arms.

The man approached before Spencer could respond, his smile polite but laced with something colder. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice smooth. “Is everything all right here?”

You turned to him, plastering on a forced smile. “Everything’s fine. My partner is just… overstepping a bit.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and he stepped back slightly, giving the other man an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to upset her. She just works so hard—it’s difficult not to worry.”

The man’s eyes flicked between you and Spencer, assessing. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he cataloged your body language and tone.

You gave him a weary smile, letting the cracks in your façade show just enough. “Comes with the territory. My job isn’t exactly forgiving.”

“And what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I run a consulting firm,” you said smoothly. “Corporate strategy and restructuring.”

“A powerful position,” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “I imagine it must be stressful, balancing work and… home life.”

You shrugged, casting a glance at Spencer. “It has its moments.”

Spencer stepped in, his role as the supportive but slightly sidelined husband playing out perfectly. “She does an incredible job. I just try to stay out of her way,”

There was something in his voice—an undercurrent of pride and affection that made the words feel painfully real. For a moment, you wondered if the man in the red tie wasn’t the only one Spencer was trying to convince.

The man chuckled, a cold, calculated sound. “It’s rare to see someone so dedicated to their partner’s success.”

Spencer nodded, offering a tight smile. “She deserves it. But, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll grab some air. Long nights like this aren’t really my scene.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “You’ll be alright for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice clipped.

Spencer gave you a lingering look before turning and walking away, his retreat deliberate and measured. You could feel the man’s eyes on you the moment Spencer disappeared into the crowd.

“He seems… sensitive,” the man remarked, his tone careful.

You gave a soft laugh, sipping your drink. “He means well. But sometimes I wish he’d let me handle things without hovering.”

The man’s smile widened, the glint in his eyes unmistakable now. You’d hooked him.

“It’s difficult for some people to understand power dynamics,” he said. “Especially when the woman is in charge.”

You tilted your head, feigning curiosity. “You seem like someone who understands.”

“Oh, I do,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “There’s a balance to everything. Some people thrive in positions of power. Others…” His gaze flicked to where Spencer had disappeared. “…are more suited to supporting roles.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your expression neutral. The trap was set, and now it was just a matter of waiting for him to take the bait.

“Sometimes,” you said, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, “I think he resents me for it. He’d never say it, of course, but… you know how men can be.”

The man’s smile turned predatory. “I know exactly what you mean.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Spencer reenter the room, his posture tense but controlled. He caught your eye, giving you the faintest of nods.

Game on.

The man leaned in closer, the sharp scent of his cologne curling in your nose. You tilted your head, giving him a coy smile as he spoke, his voice low and smooth.

“Men like him don’t understand what it means to truly have power,” he said, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

You forced yourself not to recoil, leaning into the act. “Sometimes, I think you’re right,” you murmured. “It’s hard to find someone who really… gets it.”

His eyes gleamed, and for a brief moment, you saw the darkness that lurked behind his charming façade. He believed he had you hooked, believed he was in control.

You felt the comm in your ear buzz faintly. “All eyes on Ice Queen,” Morgan’s voice came through, sharp and focused. “Unsub is making his move. Keep it steady.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you kept your expression relaxed, offering the man a small, inviting smile.

“You should come with me,” he said, his hand sliding to the small of your back. “Somewhere quieter. I’d like to hear more about your perspective.”

You hesitated, feigning reluctance. “I don’t know… I don’t want to leave him for too long.”

He chuckled, a low, predatory sound. “He’ll be fine. You deserve some time for yourself, don’t you?”

Spencer’s voice crackled through the comm, tight with tension. “Don’t let him separate her too far from the crowd.”

You met the man’s gaze, pretending to consider his offer. Finally, you nodded. “Just for a minute.”

He smiled, guiding you toward a hallway leading to a quieter area of the venue. Your stomach tightened, every step pulling you further from the team’s line of sight.

Once you were out of earshot of the crowd, the man’s demeanor shifted. His grip on your arm tightened, and his tone grew colder. “You really are impressive,” he said. “So confident. So controlled. It’s almost a shame.”

You let out a laugh, glancing around for an opening. “A shame?”

“That someone like you can’t appreciate what it means to truly submit.”

Your comm buzzed again. “We’re moving in,” Hotch’s calm voice said.

The man’s hand drifted to your waist, and that was all you needed.

“You’re under arrest,” you said sharply, yanking free of his grip and stepping back. You reached for the small earpiece hidden under your hair. “Target is isolated. Move in.”

The man’s eyes widened, and his mask of charm shattered. His hand shot toward you, his fingers curling around your wrist with bruising force.

Before you could react, Spencer’s voice cut through the tense air like a knife.

“Let her go!”

He stormed into the hallway, his face taut with barely contained anger. His usual awkward demeanor was gone, replaced by a fierce protectiveness that caught even you off guard.

The unsub tightened his grip, dragging you closer as he pulled a knife from his jacket. “Stay back!” he snarled.

Spencer didn’t flinch. His hands were raised in a calming gesture, but his eyes burned with determination. “You don’t want to do this. Let her go, and we can talk.”

Your pulse raced as you struggled against the unsub’s grip, a knife to your throat would do that to most people you supposed. You could see the rest of the team moving into position at the far end of the hallway, but Spencer was the only one close enough to take action.

“Reid.” you said, your voice steady despite the adrenaline racing through your veins. “Don’t blow this.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I’m not— I—”

There’s a moment where you feel the unsub’s arm relax, just that tiny bit where his confidence had gotten the better of him, and you take that moment like it’s the only chance you’ve got.

You slam the back of your head into the unsub’s jaw, hand darting up to grab the his wrist so you didn’t recoil into the blade. The knife clattered to the floor as he retreated in pain, and you go from being held hostage to pinning his chest against the marble floor.

The unsub froze, his face panicked as the team closed in. Within seconds, he was cuffed and hauled to his feet, Morgan giving him a hard shove toward the exit.

You leaned against the wall, catching your breath as Spencer hovered nearby.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent.

You nodded, your gaze flicking to him. His face was pale, his eyes filled with worry. “I’m fine, Reid.”

He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve been closer. I should’ve—”

“Spencer,” you interrupted, your tone firm. “You did exactly what you needed to. I’m fine.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, stepping back to give you space.

Back at the surveillance van, the tension dissolved into a mix of relief and exhaustion. Morgan leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Well, I’ve gotta hand it to you two,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “You played the part perfectly. I mean, the chemistry? Oscar worthy.”

You shot him a glare, but he just laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Seriously, though,” he continued, glancing between you and Spencer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were actually getting it on.”

Spencer’s ears turned pink, and you rolled your eyes. “Let it go, Morgan.”

“Never,” he said, smirking.

As the team packed up their gear, you caught Spencer’s eye. For a moment, neither of you said anything, but the unspoken gratitude between you was clear.

And maybe a hint of something else.

—

The jet ride home was unusually quiet. The adrenaline from the mission had finally worn off, leaving everyone drained but relieved. You kept mostly to yourself, as usual, watching the clouds pass by through the window. Occasionally, you caught Spencer glancing in your direction, though he didn’t say anything.

When you finally returned to the BAU, the rest of the team trickled out, eager to head home. You lingered in the bullpen, reviewing paperwork under the dim glow of your desk lamp. The steady rhythm of typing was almost comforting until you sensed someone hovering nearby.

Looking up, you saw Spencer standing a few feet away, fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, hesitating before speaking.

“I just wanted to check in,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “About earlier. During the mission.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “What about it?”

He shifted on his feet, clearly nervous. “I just… I hope I didn’t overstep. With the unsub, and… you know, everything after.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was worried I might’ve made things harder for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, you considered brushing him off, deflecting like you always did. But you couldn’t do that to him, not tonight.

“You didn’t overstep,” you said, the words slower, more deliberate than you intended. You hesitated, the admission foreign and uncomfortable on your tongue. “You handled yourself well. Better than I expected.”

His eyes widened slightly, and you could see the flicker of surprise in his expression. “Really?”

You gave a small nod, your arms still crossed as a defence mechanism against the vulnerability creeping in. “You stayed calm under pressure. You didn’t panic, and you were quick on your feet. Not everyone can do that.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind that wasn’t quite sure if it was allowed. “Thanks. That… means a lot, coming from you.”

You glanced away, feeling the weight of his gratitude settling uncomfortably on your chest. “Don’t let it go to your head, Reid,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking its usual bite.

But before he could respond, Morgan strolled into the bullpen, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. He glanced between the two of you, one eyebrow quirking as if he’d stumbled upon something far more interesting than a late-night check-in.

“Well, well,” Morgan drawled, leaning against your desk. “What do we have here? Romeo and Ice Queen, burning the midnight oil together?”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, you didn’t fire back immediately. Instead, you glanced at Spencer, whose ears were turning an impressive shade of pink.

Morgan’s smirk widened. “Aw, come on, don’t let me stop you. You two clearly have some very important business to discuss.”

Spencer opened his mouth, likely to stammer out a denial, but you beat him to it.

“Goodnight, Morgan,” you said pointedly, your tone cool but lacking its usual edge.

Morgan chuckled, backing away with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Goodnight, lovebirds,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

When you turned back to Spencer, he looked flustered but oddly pleased, his bag clutched tightly to his chest.

You lingered for a moment longer than necessary, your gaze meeting his. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

“See you tomorrow,” he echoed, his voice carrying a note of warmth you hadn’t noticed before.

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, and for the first time, you didn’t mind.

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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theemporium · 11 months ago

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[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

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Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious.

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days after the party, with a message from you on his screen.

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours?

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality.

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy

hockey boy: and annoying

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance).

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.”

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.”

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?”

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?”

Jack snorted in response.

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted.

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves.

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day.

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it.

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out.

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?”

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.”

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.”

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again.

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice.

“Not sure.”

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?”

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?”

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him.

“Do I need to give you a curfew?”

“Fuck off!”

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode.

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted.

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside.

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it.

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?”

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.”

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you.

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.”

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated.

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion.

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.”

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.”

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze.

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?”

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.”

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born.

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.”

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words.

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?”

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused.

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again.

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?”

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?”

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.”

“My training?”

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.”

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blinked. “You’re asking me?”

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.”

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer.

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you.

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss.

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow.

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again.

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?”

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.”

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod.

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.”

You raised your brows. “This good?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?”

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.”

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you.

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire.

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.”

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red.

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much.

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white.

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it.

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—”

“For what?”

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?”

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.”

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…”

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.”

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.”

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response.

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food.

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy.

It made his head spin, in a good way.

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you.

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend.

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised.

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend.

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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captain-bubble-wrap · 17 days ago

Note

Can we get more hurt reader for Quinn to care for pretty please with 🍒s ontop?

I think it's about time I get the reader to a game, don't you?

Nothing could beat the energy of a sold out Canucks game.

Tonight was poised to be a tight game against the Atlantic Division's Toronto Maple Leafs and the hometown boys. You had made the plans weeks ago to attend the game, but none of your friends were available to go, so you were going solo. It hadn't been the first time sitting with no one to talk to in the stands, as there was always someone to strike up a conversation with, argue a wrong call over, or heckle one of the visiting players with. You wouldn't be without company that night.

Things had started off fast paced, with Quinn scoring the first puck mid-way through the opening period. It was always special getting to see him score in person, hearing the fans cheer for their beloved captain, and also with you being able to join them as just another fan. No one knew who you were; best as anyone else knew, you were just another girl in a Quinn Hughes jersey, and that was enough.

The players would take their positions back at center ice and Vancouver would lose the faceoff, and play would move into the Canucks' territory. Defensively, they seemed to be struggling to get a turnover and multiple shots would be deflected by Demko before the puck would get back to the neutral zone. However, it would get tipped and go up and out of play, with Toronto trying to return back to the offensive zone. You had been guilty of watching Quinn instead of where the puck was and that would be your downfall that night.

At first, you thought the guy sitting next to you had clocked you in the side of the head by accident. It wasn't after you heard a kid yell, "Get it! Get the puck! I want it!" that you were able to discern that you had missed the rogue puck sailing towards you and that had been what had your head spinning. That was your last, straightforward thought.

The rows behind you, who had seen the contact be made, gasped collectively and several reacted around you to make sure you were alright. Your ears were ringing, and you weren't quite sure where you were as you slumped forward and to the side, nearly slipping out of your seat. Everything was getting hazy and your vision was fading out. Your head had never hurt so bad in your life.

"Yeah, I need medical to section 116", you heard the usher radio in, your eyes slowly opening. Everything was too bright, too loud, and you were dizzy. There was a towel placed to the left side of your head and the throbbing felt like someone was hitting you with a hammer repeatedly. "Ma'am, try to stay still, please. We're going to get someone to help you."

You gritted your teeth against the sound of the packed arena and how it aggravated your brain, and you had to keep your eyes closed against the harsh lights above. All you wanted to do was slip away into sleep.

"We're going to help you up, okay? Are you good to stand?" A woman's voice asked you, feeling gentle pressure to your upper right arm. Slowly, you'd turn your face towards her and nod. "Okay, gently now. Go slow for me, okay? We're going to make sure you don't fall. "

You bit your lip as you made your way to the aisle, still holding the towel to your face. "Still doing alright?" She asked again once you were up and out of the seats. After you nodded, she'd change her hold to your left arm and slowly, you'd be escorted up the stairs as clapping would follow you as a sendoff.

"We have an ambulance coming around to take you to the hospital and get you checked out."

You couldn't focus on anything and just kind of mumbled at whatever it was she was saying, and since she and no one else around was frantic, you remained calm despite being told you were going to the hospital in an ambulance. Sure enough, you'd be strapped to the stretcher in the lobby, a neck brace fastened in place, and wheeled into the awaiting transport out front. Everyone was so kind to you, but there was one person you couldn't get off your mind. You hoped Quinn hadn't noticed it was you who had been hit by the puck, but if he had, you wished it wouldn't interfere with his playing for the remainder of the game.

- - -

It would be after the game clock ran out before you'd be done with your visit at the hospital.

You had a series of stitches above your left eye and a concussion, but otherwise you were fine. The Canucks had won the game which was a relief to you, because what kind of fan would you had been if you didn't feel like whatever you did --or had caused-- had directly affected the game? Wore the wrong jersey and they lost? Your fault. Changed your order from your usual pre-game selection and they lost? Also your fault, and yours alone. That was just the overly superstitious sports fan brain at work.

Once cleared to leave, you had called a girlfriend and told her what had happened and if she could take you back to Quinn's apartment. She had offered to stay with you until he came back, but you had managed to convince her that you wouldn't have to wait for too long before he was home. There was reluctance to leave you, after saying you had sustained a concussion, but you had apparently been persuasive enough and she would leave shortly after getting you settled on the sofa.

You were thankful for the darkness and the silence of his apartment. The hospital had been busy and terribly bright, so just a smaller arena atmosphere, and you had suffered for hours before finally getting to actually relax. Your phone was next to you but looking at the screen, even with the brightness down, shot through your head like a bullet. The light sensitivity had been incredible, yet you were told it was common and nothing to worry about. You wanted to message Quinn, but typing was impossible, so a voice-to-text message would have to do the trick.

Y|N: Hey baby I'm okay. Just got home from the hospital. If you didn't know I'm the girl who tried to catch the puck with her face. Ha ha, lucky me. Anyway, I just wanted you to know I'm fine. Love you. (11:55pm)

Quinn: I was hoping that wasn't you. :( I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm glad you're okay. I'll be home shortly. I love you more. (12:09am)

When Quinn got home you were still sitting on the sofa, an ice pack pressed against your browbone where the new stitches were. The lights in the kitchen were dimmed, as you had gotten up shortly after his text message and turned them on, so he wouldn't come home to a pitch black apartment. You didn't want to scare him by being a creep in the dark, just waiting for him to get in.

"Hey Quinny," you said, half asleep and leaning against the corner of the sectional.

"Hey," Quinn replied, voice soft and low as he wasted no time getting to your side. "How are you feeling?"

He'd sit down beside you and try to see just what had happened. You'd drop the ice pack to you lap, fingers cold after having to hold it for so long. "I'm tired."

Quinn frowned, tipping your chin to the side just slightly, "Looks like it got you pretty good, babe."

"Yeah, I was watching you...so I didn't see it coming," you breathed out ashamed.

"Now, what would you do that for?" He laughed, hoping to raise your spirits. "I didn't see it happen."

"I'm glad you didn't," you mumbled, returning the ice to your face, feeling it throb again. "I got blood all over my jersey, too."

He gave a weak smile, hoping you were trying to be sarcastically upset, seeing the stains for himself. "I'll get you a new one. I'm just glad you're okay. It could have been a lot worse." His voice was near a whisper at the end.

"I don't want a new jersey! That one is special, don't you remember?" You cried out with emotional hurt, growing more upset thinking about how quickly the night had spiraled.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said trying to keep you calm. "It's been a long time since that date, babe. I'm sorry I forgot it was (that) one. I'll take it with me and see if one of the equipment guys can clean it for me, okay? We'll get it taken care of. Now, can I get you anything?'

You just shook your head.

"Why don't you go lay down? You've had a long day."

You wouldn't say anything to him, but instead, would get up and try to walk past him but he would stop you. His arm would block your path, his hand gripping your thigh gently. The way he looked at you conveyed his concern, while his words remained minimal. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing," you replied flatly, wishing he'd let you pass.

Your response prompted him to stand up. Now you wouldn't be going anywhere until he felt better about your situation. "Will you talk to me?"

"I don't want to talk, Quinn," you grumbled, your head pounding harder now that you weren't at rest.

Without a word, Quinn brought you into his arms. He knew how concussions could affect a person, how they could make you irritable and emotional out of nowhere. All he hoped was that a quiet moment would calm you down. He wasn't upset with you and your sudden attitude change; he knew how being hit with pucks felt and you hadn't been wearing the gear like he did. Not to mention you had been hit in the face.

"You're okay, baby. You just need to rest. I wasn't trying to order you around. And I'm sorry about the jersey thing."

Out of habit, you'd lay your head against him, but it would be those tender stitches that would make contact with his shoulder, causing you to pull back in pain.

"Ouch!" You hissed, fingers shielding the area.

"Careful, careful," he soothed, taking your face in his hands. When your hand fell away to your side, Quinn placed the most delicate kiss to your forehead, just above where your skin was split. His softness made your eyes close. You felt so touch starved all of a sudden, like you wanted to beg him for more. How had one kiss melted your sour mood away like that? You'd stand there like a statue, eyes still closed, feeling his warm hands cup your face.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked, having expected a different reaction from you.

"No," you replied, opening your eyes to his face, "that just felt so nice."

Quinn would smile, relieved that you finally had one moment of comfort against everything else that had happened that night. He'd take all of your pain away from you if he knew how. If little angel kisses made you better, he'd take as much time as was needed to pepper ever inch of your skin with them.

"How about I get you ready for bed and make sure you get to sleep, hm?

"I can do it."

Quinn's thumbs caressed your cheeks, while he still remained holding your face, "Let me help you. I promise to be gentle."

Your eyes softened when you gave him an affirming nod. You hadn't wanted to bother him with anything after a game, but he was insisting and who were you to deny him wanting to do such sweet things for you?

"Come on, princess. Let's get this done so you can get some sleep."

His hands would fall from your face, to take one of yours and lead you down the hallway. Quinn's pace was slow and cautions even though there was nothing wrong with your ability to walk; he would never rush you a single step.

"I'm only going to turn on the vanity lights, okay? They shouldn't be as bright."

"Okay."

The Edison bulbs came to a glow over the mirror, casting a soft, golden hue to the bathroom. Your head felt plagued by the worst migraine you could remember, but you'd struggle through while Quinn did whatever he had in mind for you. He'd have you put your back to the counter and would lift you up, so you were sitting slightly above his eye level; your feet kicking gently as they dangled in front of the numerous drawers.

"What do I need to take your makeup off, baby?" He asked, hands resting on either side of your thighs.

"In the basket, under the sink, there is a pink package of wipes. Those are fine. The Micellar ones."

"Under the sink, okay," he said softly to himself, giving your leg a tap before looking under his sink for this particular basket, and sure enough, like you had said, he was able to find them. "Just one?"

"Mhm, just one," you said, hand out-stretched for the product but he wouldn't hand them over.

"No, sweetheart, I said I'd do this for you," he smiled, removing one of the large sheets. "Just tell me if I do something wrong."

His touch was so delicate as he worked around your eyes, paying special attention not to graze your stitches. The nurses had washed most of your face of blood and some makeup at the hospital, but you were happy to let Quinn finish the rest. He pressed the cloth to your eyelashes for a couple seconds before pulling away the difficult product from them. Had he been paying attention to you all this time? He seemed confident in his approach and you appreciated the caution he implied.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to do them right now," you told him, finally opening your eyes once he was done.

Quinn wondered if he had done something wrong to make you not want anything more from him, "Like what?"

"There's a whole routine, but I don't care enough right now. My head hurts," you said, frustrated, tossing the melting ice pack in the sink.

"Alright, sweetheart, it's whatever you want." He pressed forward for a kiss which you would give before Quinn would get you down off the counter. For some reason, each step you took felt like it rippled through your feet straight to your pounding skull. Thankfully his bed wasn't too far away now.

"I should have carried you," Quinn lamented, only after having you sit on the bed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. My legs work."

"I know they do, but anything to make things easier on you," he whispered, hands finding their place on your legs again. "Let's get you out of these clothes, okay?"

- - -

"I'll join you in a little bit. I'm going to put this in my backpack," he said, carefully folding the jersey. "But I've gotta get something to eat. I'm a little dizzy myself."

From the bed he had you carefully tucked into, you frowned hearing that he wasn't feeling to good himself. Now, you wanted to be the one to help him, but you knew there was no way that he was going to approve of you being out of bed, especially to wait on him.

"Have you had anything to eat today?" He asked you before fully leaving the room.

"I had something at noon."

"That's it?"

"Mhm, but I don't want anything. This headache kind of has me nauseous," you confessed, pulling the blankets up closer to your face.

You could faintly see him frown at your admission. "I can make you some tea. Would you like that?"

Smiling through the pain you'd nod, "Yes, please."

Unfortunately, you'd fall asleep before he could get back to you with the tea. He'd put it down on your nightstand and look at you for a moment. His lamp was still on so he could see you fully. You looked so delicate laying there aside from the deep bruising becoming more evident under your skin. He was so thankful you were okay, but vowed the next time you went to see him play, you'd be safely in a seat behind the net. He couldn't stand seeing you hurt like this again. Not if he could do anything about it.

#💌maven's love notes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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revelboo · 5 months ago

Text

Everything is Alright Pt1

Starscream x Reader

Warnings: 18+ storyline 🌶️ sparked reader

• Absolutely an accident. Scouting excursion gone wrong when he’s spotted and ambushed by quite possibly the two most obnoxious Autobots he’s ever had the displeasure to deal with, Jazz and Bumblebee. Damaged, he’s forced to fly low, darting down a far too narrow forested road in his alt mode with those persistent Autobots right on his aft.

• You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time, taking a ride through the country in your little sedan. You just needed to get away, relax and destress from home and work. Music cranked as your mind wanders, you almost don’t hear the scream of the jet flying obscenely low, wingtips clipping and shattering tree limbs to rain down on the road.

• When you do notice, your eyes dart up to the rear view mirror and there’s a moment of just flat disbelief, because there’s no way. Then the jet screams over the top of your car so close you swear it scrapes the paint and you’re slamming on the brakes, hauling at the wheel as this bright yellow sports car tears past on your left, a white car right on its fender.

• You never were a fantastic driver, losing control and heading straight into the tree line, head bouncing off the wheel. There’s a sound of thunder, the pounding staccato drowning out the frantic drumming of your heart. No, not thunder. Weapons firing at the jet.

• It’s the saboteur not the scout that manages a direct hit, forcing Starscream to transform and hit the asphalt at a run, staggering and nearly pitching face first into the trees as he turns to return fire. Both Autobots already transformed and no doubt calling for backup.

• Outnumbered, but hardly out gunned. Still, this wasn’t how he had his day planned, baring his denta at the two Autobots and feeling energon dripping along his side. And once their backup showed?

• It’s almost serendipity when you stagger out of your car, concussed and shell shocked to blunder into the road. Between Starscream and the two nuisances. He’d seen the car go off the road, but hadn’t cared about whatever had been inside. Humans, ugh. But Jazz and Bumblebee both stop firing, staring in no small amount of shock at you.

• And there you are, staring up at him with wide eyes. Not screaming. Not running for your squishy, little life, because your brain is definitely shaken, not stirred. All you can do is gape up at the giant, alien robots with guns in dumb silence and wonder if you’re in fact still in the car bleeding out while your damaged brain spins sci-fi nonsense cotton candy in your last moments.

• And the Autobots are holding fire, because of you. To try and not accidentally kill your very unlucky self. Starscream only sees a get out of jail free card, lunging and closing his servos on you, arm extended to hold you out in front of him like a laughably pathetic shield. Except it works. Neither Autobot moves, weapons faltering.

• The panic kicks in, breaking through the pained fog and you struggle against his far too tight grip, but are ignored. Your heart’s hammering against your ribs, tangling with the pain pounding in your addled head. It’s too much, fear twisting inside you as he laughs. The other two alien robots still have their weapons drawn, but they’re pleading that you be let go.

• Starscream’s still laughing as he says, “No.” Injuries screaming at him, he grimaces as he tucks you to his chassis and transforms around you, trapping you inside while he tries very hard to not think about the fact that there’s a nasty, dripping little human inside him as he bolts.

• He keeps you trapped when he returns to base, pinned inside his canopy as he sneaks back to his quarters to dump you into an empty energon cube, because he has no idea what to do with you now. Squishing you to a paste is definitely an option, but as you stare dumbly up at him in shock, still not screaming, he wonders if he might keep you instead. Especially if you can be dangled in front of those idiot Autobots to save his own aft.

• Slowly self preservation shatters the numb terror, letting you look around and actually see your surroundings. You never were that athletic and there’s no climbing out of the clear box he’s dropped you in. But you’re alive. When the big alien that kidnapped you starts muttering and generally lamenting about you, the “Autobots,” and his life in general, you hesitantly agree with him in a hushed voice, because staying on his good side? Probably a good idea for your continued existence.

• He’s shocked, wings lifting slightly as he vents and stares. You… agreed with him? This mech craves validation and you offer it up freely and yes, he’s flustered, before straightening slightly. Because of course you agree, how could you not? So he rants, almost preening when you make little commiserating noises. You’re in turn shocked when he moves across the room to drop a polishing cloth as big as a queen sized sheet on top of you. You’re not sure if it’s an olive branch or not, but you seize upon it with both hands, wrapping the cloth around you to fight off the chill in the metal room and taking the time to run your fingers through your hair to catalog how badly beat up you are.

#idw starscream #starscream x reader #transformers #transformers x reader

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cherryxbooo · 12 days ago

Note

Please a “the rookie” Tim Bradford fluff. For Valentine day, when Tim and Lucy are patrolling, Lucy is surprised that Tim is dating for couple days and Lucy wants to meet her. The end of the day, lucy saw Tim walking towards shy!reader. Couple minutes later, Lucy caught Tim and Shyreader making out in the breaking room. https://youtu.be/7MqzwaO-eQE?si=K1M4TDlFaIehiDoU

You deserve all of this and more

Summary: Lucy is shocked to discover that Tim isn’t single and sets out to uncover the mystery of his girlfriend.

Note: I'm back! Thank you for your request! Even though I still have one more exam to go, I decided to give you all an early present! You know me by now and how I like to put my own spin on the stories I write, so it’s not just a direct copy of the original scene. Hope you like it!

Shy reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: Fluff

The morning sun shone down brightly, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets.

The sky stretched out in a crisp shade of blue, unmarred by a single cloud.

It was one of those perfect mornings, cool but not too cold, with the promise of a calm day ahead.

As Officer Lucy Chen approached the patrol car, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief.

After the chaos of the past few shifts, today seemed like it might be a breeze.

Sliding into the passenger seat, Lucy clicked her seatbelt into place with a practiced motion.

She shifted in her seat, adjusting herself for comfort as she stole a quick glance at her training officer, Sergeant Tim Bradford.

His presence, as always, was commanding.

Even though they were just about to start their routine patrol, Tim had that same focused, unflappable demeanor that made him so intimidating to most.

But Lucy had been through enough shifts with him to know there was more to him than the steely exterior he projected.

Tim was staring down at the patrol car’s navigation screen, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel.

The sound of his fingers drumming lightly filled the car, a sound she had become intimately familiar with over the months of riding along with him.

It was his way of staying grounded, of keeping himself in control.

He wasn’t the kind of person who liked to feel rushed or out of sorts, even on a simple day like today.

"Alright, Chen," Tim said without looking up from the screen, his voice flat and businesslike as usual.

"Looks like we’re covering the usual sectors today. Try not to get distracted."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Distracted? Me?" she asked with mock innocence.

"Never." She leaned back in her seat and grinned, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

Tim shot her a quick, side-long glance, his lips twitching just slightly. He was trying to hide it, but Lucy could tell, his mood was a little different today.

Normally, he was calm and collected to the point of being nearly emotionless, but today there was a subtle shift in his energy, a lightness to his presence that didn’t quite match his usual serious tone.

Lucy, ever the observant one, picked up on these small changes faster than most.

She studied him a bit longer, trying to gauge what was going on. Something was off, no, wait.

Something was better.

The way his posture was just a little less stiff, the way his eyes seemed more focused on the present moment rather than scanning the horizon for potential trouble.

Tim wasn’t just going through the motions today.

There was something in his demeanor that told her he was… happier?

Her curiosity piqued, Lucy narrowed her eyes, leaning forward slightly.

"Okay, what's up?"

Tim sighed, but it wasn’t the usual exasperated sigh he gave when Lucy’s questions got too personal.

No, this time it felt almost... indulgent? He didn’t answer immediately, instead focusing on pulling the car away from the curb with a smooth, practiced motion.

His eyes were still locked on the road ahead, but the subtle hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Nothing’s up," Tim replied, but Lucy wasn’t buying it.

She studied him intently, her brow furrowing.

Something in the way he said it, the slight change in his voice, told her that something was definitely up.

"You’re different today," she pressed, her tone more inquisitive now.

"You seem... I don’t know. Lighter? Did you actually get a full eight hours of sleep for once?"

Tim scoffed and glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his lips curling into a small, wry grin.

"Yeah, right. Like that ever happens."

Lucy smiled to herself, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily.

She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on him as she continued to study his expression, trying to unlock the mystery of this odd shift in his usual mood.

Tim wasn’t the type to be so… light. He was always on guard, always the professional, always a little bit closed off.

But now, there was something different. She could feel it in the air between them.

Regardless she decided to let it rest. For now.

"You know Angela asked me earlier who I thought was more difficult. Her or you."

Tim frowned at what Lucy said, before rolling his eyes.

"Of course you're going to choose me."

Lucy laughed at his behaviour.

"You know, Angela knew you were going to say that. Now I understand why she said that you're the most stubborn person alive."

Tim looked offended. "Me? Stubborn? Yeah sure."

Lucy couldn't help but annoy him more.

"Yeah, she also said that was probably the reason why you're still single."

Tim looked once again very offended before defending himself.

"First of all, I'm not stubborn like she makes me out to be, and second of all who said that I'm still single huh?

A sudden thought hit her, sharp and startling. Her eyes widened in realization.

"Oh my god," she whispered, the realization dawning on her like a flash of lightning.

"You’re seeing someone?"

Tim’s grip on the steering wheel tightened just a fraction, his jaw clenching for a split second before he forced his muscles to relax.

But Lucy saw it, the small, almost imperceptible shift in his body language that confirmed her suspicion.

Lucy’s mouth dropped open, unable to contain her surprise.

"You? Tim Bradford, the man who never lets his guard down, is in a relationship?"

Her voice was tinged with disbelief and excitement. She smacked his arm lightly, unable to help herself.

"Why didn’t you tell me?!"

"Because it’s none of your business,"

Tim said flatly, his usual deadpan tone back in full force.

But Lucy wasn’t having it. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, pressing him for more.

"Oh, come on. How long has this been going on?" she asked, crossing her arms in mock indignation.

"A week? A month?"

"That doesn't concern you Chen," Tim admitted reluctantly, his voice quiet and almost defensive.

Lucy’s eyes grew even wider. "Yes it does concern me!" she repeated, stunned.

"And you don't want to tell your best friend?"

Tim scoffed and shot her a dry look. "You’re not my best friend."

Lucy put a hand to her heart in mock offense.

"Fine. Your work best friend," she corrected with a grin, clearly enjoying this newfound tidbit of information.

"So, who is she? Someone I know? Ooh, is it a nurse? You do have a thing for tough women."

Tim let out a slow, controlled breath, clearly fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You’re relentless, you know that?"

Lucy just grinned wider, her curiosity burning with every new question.

She wasn’t going to let him get away with being so mysterious.

"You know you’re going to have to introduce me, right?"

Tim’s lips quirked into a smirk, but he didn’t answer.

He just shifted the car into gear and pressed down on the accelerator, clearly choosing to leave the conversation there for now.

But Lucy wasn’t done yet.

She knew better than to let something like this slide. No, she was going to find out everything.

After a long, relatively uneventful shift, Lucy still couldn’t shake the feeling of curiosity off.

She had spent the entire day trying to crack the mystery of who Tim was dating.

Every time she threw a playful guess at him,

"Is she a dispatcher, a nurse, oh no maybe a fellow officer? No no that seems unusual. A firefighter perhaps?".

Tim just gave her that same tight-lipped response, his eyes flicking to her for just a moment before his expression slipped back into its usual mask.

But Lucy had been riding along with him for long enough to know when he was holding back, and right now, everything about him felt different.

He was still the same Tim, the solid, reliable training officer, but there was an unfamiliar lightness to him.

And she needed to know who caused it.

When they finally finished their last call and the end of the shift was in sight, Lucy was practically bouncing in her seat.

Her mind was racing with possibilities.

She threw out her last guess of the day:

“Someone from the gym, right? Is that it? Did you finally get tired of the ‘no-strings-attached’ thing?”

Tim didn’t even look at her, his eyes firmly on the road ahead, his jaw set in that familiar way.

He didn’t respond, not even with his typical sarcastic quip.

That only fueled her curiosity more. The silence was unbearable.

As they pulled into the station parking lot, the car’s tires made a soft hum against the concrete, signaling the end of another long shift.

Tim parked with his usual precision, and Lucy immediately hopped out of the shop, stretching her arms over her head to shake off the fatigue.

The cool air nipped at her skin, but she barely noticed. Her mind was still on him.

“Alright, I’m calling it now. You are introducing me to her at some point, right?”

Lucy asked, her voice light but with an edge of excitement.

She wasn’t about to let this drop, not when she was so close to the truth.

Tim shot her a quick glance, lips barely twitching.

“See you tomorrow, Chen,” he said in his usual deadpan voice, but there was something a little too… casual about it, like he was almost trying to brush her off.

Lucy narrowed her eyes, but before she could reply, Tim turned and started walking away toward the parking lot.

“Hey, wait-!”

She was about to call after him when something or better said someone, caught her eye.

There, standing a little off to the side, was a woman.

She was fidgeting with the sleeves of her sweater, her posture slightly hunched like she was nervous, waiting for something or someone.

The moment Lucy noticed her, a jolt of realization hit her hard.

No. It couldn’t be…

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Tim’s figure slow as he approached the woman.

There was no mistaking it now.

This had to be the woman he was seeing.

Lucy lingered near the door, pretending to check her phone, but her eyes never left the scene unfolding before her.

She wasn’t trying to spy, but she was trying to understand.

Tim’s steps grew slower as he neared her, and Lucy’s breath caught in her throat when she saw his expression shift.

The usual, ever-present stoic mask that Tim wore like armor, shattered in an instant.

His face softened as he looked at the woman.

He wasn’t the unapproachable Sergeant now; he was just… Tim.

Lucy blinked, her mind racing.

“No way…” she muttered under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

She couldn’t take her eyes off them.

She watched in amusement, having never seen Tim like this before.

The woman looked up, her face lighting up like the sun at the sight of him.

She smiled, shy but warm, and Lucy felt a pang of something unfamiliar at the sight.

Something inside her, a strange blend of awe and curiosity stirred. It was as though she was witnessing something sacred.

Tim’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles in return. His hand, which had been at his side, moved slowly toward the woman.

Lucy saw his fingers brush against hers, tentative at first, as though testing the waters.

Then, with a smooth, fluid motion, he took her hand completely, holding it gently.

His thumb moved across her knuckles in a soft, comforting motion as he squeezed her hand, his touch reassuring and intimate.

Lucy’s mouth went dry. She had to blink a few times to process what she was seeing.

This was a side of Tim she hadn’t even imagined before.

The stern, unflappable Tim who had always been so professional, so untouchable, was now showing a side of himself that was raw, unguarded, and, dare she say, in love?

It was like she was seeing him for the first time.

The woman looked up at him, her eyes full of something that Lucy didn’t quite understand but recognized immediately.

Adoration? Trust? The kind of quiet affection that only came from knowing someone in the most real, vulnerable way.

Tim’s voice, when it broke the silence, was lower than usual, softer somehow.

She couldn’t hear the words, but the tone was unmistakable, a kind of tenderness that had never been directed her way.

Lucy could almost feel the warmth between them, and for a brief moment, she felt like an intruder, a third wheel to this incredibly private moment.

Should I walk over? Should I say something?

The thought crossed her mind, but as quickly as it came, she dismissed it.

No, she couldn’t interrupt this.

Not when it was so obvious how much this moment meant to both of them.

She stood frozen, watching Tim lean down a bit, his voice even softer now as he spoke to her.

The way the woman’s face lit up when he said something, there was a spark in her eyes, a knowing smile that made Lucy’s heart flutter.

The connection between them was so palpable, it almost felt like something she shouldn’t witness.

Lucy could feel the curiosity still eating away at her, she was dying to know more, to meet the woman who had somehow unlocked this side of Tim, this version of him.

But something told her that now was not the time.

No, if she interrupted this moment, if she said anything, it would ruin it.

She wasn’t sure why, but she knew in her gut that this was their time, not hers.

With one last lingering look at them, Lucy stepped back toward the door, a plan forming in her mind.

She didn’t need to rush this.

She could wait. But she was definitely getting answers later.

No one keeps secrets from Officer Lucy Chen for long.

Meanwhile, before Lucy started spying on the both of you:

The clock on my dashboard blinked 6:30 PM, casting a soft glow in the otherwise dim interior of my car.

The day had stretched on longer than I’d expected, and now, the world outside was slowly shifting from the golden light of late afternoon into the cool, gentle hues of evening.

The city lights were beginning to twinkle in the distance, like tiny stars scattered across the darkening sky, and the air had a slight chill to it, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier.

I was standing next to my car in the parking lot of the police station.

My fingers nervously drummed on the steering wheel as I glanced back at the clock again.

I had been waiting for a little while now.

6:30, Tim should be done soon.

The thought of seeing him again had my stomach fluttering in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

I had spent the whole day surrounded by the chaos of my kindergarten class, the kids bouncing off the walls, asking questions I could barely keep up with.

But now, here I was, finally getting a quiet moment.

A moment with him. The thought was enough to make me smile softly to myself.

It wasn’t just the anticipation that had me feeling all soft inside.

It was him. Tim.

Ever since he’d stepped into my life, things had felt... different.

Better. His presence was like this quiet anchor that grounded me, even in the most chaotic moments.

I remembered how shy and awkward I’d been at the start, fumbling over my words, avoiding his gaze, terrified that I wasn’t good enough for him.

But he never seemed to mind.

Tim had a way of making me feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

And with each passing day, I grew more comfortable around him.

I was still shy, so shy, but Tim made it feel like being myself was exactly enough.

His words, his gentle touches, his quiet but steady affection, it all added up to something that made my heart race every time I thought about it.

And tonight, I was lucky enough to be spending time with him, just the two of us, away from the noise of the world.

As I sat there, staring out at the parking lot, I couldn’t help but feel my heart pick up its pace.

It was ridiculous how excited I was to see him.

I was probably blushing just thinking about him.

But it was impossible not to.

Tim had a way of making everything seem so effortless, yet so real.

I was in love with him. It was that simple. (real girl so so real)

A soft sound broke through my reverie, the rhythmic tap of boots against concrete.

I snapped my head toward the sound, my pulse quickening, and there he was.

Tim. Walking toward me, his figure cutting through the soft twilight as if he belonged in this moment, like everything in the world was right because he was here.

I couldn’t help but stare.

Even in his police uniform, looking all serious, he had this effortlessly handsome way about him.

His jacket sleeves were rolled up, giving him a slightly more relaxed look than usual.

Yet, even with all of that, the power and authority in his stance were still there.

He was... just Tim, and in his presence, I felt both completely small and incredibly safe at the same time.

His eyes softened when they met mine, and that subtle smile, oh, that smile, stretched across his face.

My heart skipped a beat.

The usual confident, almost stoic Tim had this side to him that he only ever showed to me, and it made me feel like the luckiest person alive.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted me, his voice low and soothing, as he came to a stop in front of my car.

There was a softness there, a tenderness that never failed to make my insides flutter.

“Sorry I kept you waiting. I was wrapping up some stuff. Didn’t mean to make you hang around.”

I smiled up at him, my cheeks flushing a little.

“It’s okay, Tim. I didn’t mind. I’ve been thinking about you, actually.”

His brow quirked, and he stepped closer, his body just barely brushing mine as he leaned against my car.

“Oh really?” His voice dropped an octave, and I could hear that teasing edge.

He was so good at it. “What exactly were you thinking about, hmm?”

I could feel the butterflies swirl in my stomach, and I dropped my gaze for a moment, my heart thudding harder in my chest.

“I—uh, I don’t know,” I muttered, too shy to meet his eyes.

“I’ve just been thinking about... us. About how happy I am when I’m with you.”

Tim’s gaze softened immediately, and he stepped even closer, his hand brushing against mine as if by accident, but I knew it wasn’t.

Tim was never the type to do anything by accident.

Every touch from him felt deliberate, and that made my heart race even more.

“You make me happy too, Y/n,” he said, his voice so sincere it almost took my breath away.

“I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

His hand found mine, and his fingers interlaced with mine, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver of comfort through me.

There was this quiet moment where neither of us said anything, just stood there, fingers intertwined, breathing in the cool air of the evening.

I felt like time had slowed down, like the world outside us didn’t matter anymore.

It was just him and me in this little bubble we had created for ourselves.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be here with you, Tim,” I whispered, voice barely above a breath.

I didn't know where this was coming from, but for some reason, my insecurities spilled out just like that.

“I didn’t think someone like you would even notice someone like me.”

Tim’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped my face with his other hand.

His thumb brushed across my cheek in a slow, comforting motion.

“I notice you, sweetheart. I see you. And I’ve been wanting this... wanting us... for longer than you think.”

His voice was so steady, so sure, that it melted any lingering doubts I had.

“I’m really lucky,” I murmured, my voice small but sincere.

“I don’t deserve you, but I’m really lucky.”

“Don’t say that,”

Tim murmured, his gaze intense and warm.

“You deserve all of this and more.”

He smiled again, and his thumb brushed my lip this time, sending a jolt of warmth through me.

“You’ve got no idea how much you mean to me, babe.”

My heart fluttered in my chest, my face burning as I looked up at him, not sure if I could handle the weight of his words.

But just the fact that he was saying them, just the fact that Tim Bradford, this strong, serious man, was sharing his heart with me, made everything feel right.

“I... I feel the same,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Tim’s eyes never left mine. “Yeah? You feel the same?”

His tone was soft now, teasing, but there was a quiet edge to it.

“Good, because I’m not letting you go, Y/n. Not now, not ever.”

My stomach flipped with a combination of nerves and excitement, and I couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped me.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” I said quietly, the words leaving my lips before I could stop them.

Tim chuckled lowly, his hand sliding from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me in closer until our foreheads were nearly touching.

“Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.

“Because I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

Tim suddenly took a step back as if he just remembered something.

“I just remembered that I still have to change and get some things from the break room. So what do you say? Mind joining me inside for a bit?”

I nodded, grateful for his company, even though I felt my cheeks flush a little.

He had this effect on me, making me feel both nervous and at ease at the same time.

We walked together into the station, the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above creating a steady, almost comforting rhythm.

The sound was oddly relaxing, predictable in its way, like the background music to a peaceful evening.

My steps naturally matched Tim’s, and I found myself gravitating toward him, enjoying the steady pace of his stride as he led me through the hallways.

There was something about the way Tim walked, so assured, so composed, that made me feel small in the best way possible.

Like I could follow him anywhere and feel completely safe doing so.

His presence seemed to fill the space around us, creating an invisible bubble of calm that I didn’t want to escape.

As we turned corners and passed through doors, I realized how easily I’d fallen into step with him.

It wasn’t just his confidence that made me follow; it was the way he made me feel.

Like everything was just right, even when things weren’t perfect.

When we reached the break room, Tim reached for the door handle, holding it open for me with that familiar soft smile of his.

I stepped inside first, taking in the simple surroundings. The room was nothing special, just a standard break room.

The coffee machine sat against the far wall, the usual clutter of papers scattered across the table.

But with Tim here, everything felt different.

Warm.

Personal.

Like the room had been transformed by his presence as if it was no longer just a mundane spot to take a break, but a space where something... special could happen.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tim said as he closed the door behind us, his voice smooth and reassuring.

“I’ll just be a minute. Need to finish up some last details from the shift.”

I nodded, settling into one of the chairs at the table as he moved to sort through some papers.

He always looked so focused when he worked, his brows furrowing slightly in concentration, yet there was a gentleness to his movements, as though nothing about this, nothing about me, was ever a chore.

I watched him for a moment, taking in the way he moved with a quiet grace, confident but never rushed.

There was something magnetic about him, something I couldn’t quite put into words.

I sighed quietly, half from contentment and half from the nagging realization that I was once again struck by how lucky I was to be here with him.

It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, this peaceful, giddy joy that washed over me whenever Tim was near.

But it was real, and every moment spent with him only deepened the warmth in my chest.

I glanced up, finding Tim’s eyes on me.

His lips quirked into that mischievous little smirk, the one that always made my heart skip a beat.

“What?” he asked, his tone playful, his voice lowering just enough to make me feel like I was the only one who mattered in the room.

“Nothing,” I mumbled quickly, my face heating up as I averted my gaze, looking down at my hands folded in my lap.

But Tim wasn’t about to let me off that easily.

He took a few steps toward me, his boots making a soft, rhythmic sound on the floor, and I could feel his presence all around me.

When he stopped beside me, I couldn’t help but notice the way his tall frame seemed to fill the space.

His body language confident and sure, but there was that warmth in his eyes that made me feel like he was looking at me in a way that was all his own.

He leaned in just enough that I could feel his breath against my cheek, his voice a soft, teasing whisper.

“You’re so cute when you’re shy,” he murmured, the affection in his words sending a flutter of warmth straight to my heart.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt the heat flood my face, turning me into a blushing mess.

“I’m not… I’m not shy,”

I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper, but my trembling hands were betraying me, making it obvious that he was right.

Tim chuckled, the sound low and warm, like a comforting melody I never wanted to end.

“You are,"

He said gently, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch soft and deliberate, sending shivers down my spine.

“And I like it. I like everything about you.”

The world seemed to tilt just a little bit as my heart skipped a beat.

How could he do this to me?

How could he make my chest feel so full and my stomach feel like it was filled with butterflies every time he touched me, every time he spoke?

“I—” I started, but the words caught in my throat.

I swear he does it on purpose.

I didn’t know what to say.

Tim’s gaze softened as if he could read every thought that flickered across my face, and without another word, his hand moved to cup my cheek, gently guiding my face toward his.

I looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise.

He smiled tenderly at me, and his thumb brushed along my cheekbone, a quiet caress that made my pulse race.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, his voice low and full of sincerity.

“You know that?”

I could barely breathe, let alone respond. My words tumbled out in a rush, shaky and uncertain.

“You’re… too nice,”

I whispered, not feeling like I deserved such sweetness from him, even though every fiber of my being longed to believe him.

“I mean it, Y/n,” Tim said, his expression unwavering.

“You’re perfect. Every little thing about you is perfect.”

Before I could respond, before I could say anything more, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, timeless, almost, as if he was savoring every second of it.

I felt my whole body go warm like the world around us had disappeared, and there was nothing but the two of us in this quiet room.

His lips were soft but insistent, and I couldn’t help but melt into him, my hands instinctively finding their way to his shirt, gripping it as if I were afraid I might float away.

Tim’s other hand slid to the small of my back, pulling me in closer, and I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the strength of his arms, the tenderness in his touch.

I was lost in the feeling, in the sweetness of the moment, the connection we shared.

This kiss soon turns into a make-out session.

But just as I was about to lose myself completely in him, the door to the break room slammed open with such force that it startled both of us.

The loud crash echoed through the room, and I gasped, pulling away from Tim in shock.

I blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened.

And there, standing in the doorway, was a woman.

Her eyes were wide with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, her mouth hanging open in a perfect expression of

"I can't believe what I'm seeing."

Her gaze flickered between Tim and me, and I felt my face go bright red in an instant.

I instinctively took a small step back, trying to hide behind Tim, but I could still feel the heat of my embarrassment creeping up my neck.

“Aha!” Lucy’s voice rang out, filled with mock triumph.

“I knew it!” she added, a teasing lilt in her tone that made my heart race even faster.

Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated by the interruption.

I could feel the tension in his body, but it didn’t seem to bother Lucy in the slightest.

She was practically glowing with amusement.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, taking a few steps into the room.

“So this is the mystery woman who’s been making Tim Bradford smile.”

My heart thudded in my chest, and I peeked out from behind Tim, too shy to look her in the eye directly.

My voice was a soft whisper as I managed a tiny “Hi,” my cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

Lucy’s expression softened as she looked at me, and a warm smile spread across her face.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” she said genuinely, her voice much kinder than I’d expected.

“I’m Lucy, by the way. Tim’s very annoying work best friend as he likes to call me.”

I smiled shyly, feeling the weight of the moment, but I managed to squeak out,

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

Lucy’s gaze flickered back to Tim, and her eyebrow raised playfully.

“What did you do to him?” she asked, her voice dripping with exaggerated curiosity.

“I’ve known this grumpy guy for years, and I’ve never seen him this soft.”

Tim groaned, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

“Lucy, leave it alone,” he muttered, but it was clear he wasn’t actually mad.

He was just trying to hide the softness I’d seen in him.

But Lucy wasn’t about to let this go.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” she teased, shooting us one last playful glance.

“You two are too cute.”

I couldn’t stop the soft giggle that escaped me, my heart still racing with nerves and happiness.

Tim’s arm went around me instinctively, pulling me a little closer to his side as he shot Lucy a mock warning glare.

“Alright, Chen,” he sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Leave us alone.”

Lucy flashed me one last, teasing smile before she backed out of the room, her voice carrying through the door.

“Fine, fine. But I’m getting the full scoop later, you two. Oh everyone in the station is going to love this! Especially Angela!”

As the door clicked shut behind Lucy, the room felt quieter, and I finally exhaled.

Tim turned to face me, his gaze softening as he took a step closer.

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle but deliberate.

"Sorry about that," he said, his voice low and smooth, almost teasing.

There was no real apology behind it, more like a recognition of the awkwardness in the air.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded, looking down at my hands, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.

My heart was still racing, and I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “Really.”

Tim chuckled softly, that familiar glint in his eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d be so shy even after everything we’ve been through and how long we've been together,”

he teased, his hand still resting lightly on my shoulder, just enough to make me feel grounded.

“I’m not shy,” I muttered quickly, though the way my cheeks burned probably said otherwise.

I tried to meet his gaze, but I quickly found myself looking down again.

“I just... don’t like being caught off guard.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Tim said, his voice full of amusement.

He gently cupped my chin, lifting it so I had to look at him.

“It’s okay, Y/n. You know I don’t mind seeing you blush.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I felt my face heat up even more.

I was sure I looked like a mess, but I didn’t want to pull away.

He was so close, his presence overwhelming in the best way.

“You’re impossible,” I whispered, but the words had no real bite.

It was hard to stay frustrated when he was standing there, looking at me like that.

Tim’s grin only widened.

“You like it, though,” he said softly, his thumb brushing along the curve of my jaw.

“Admit it.”

I shook my head slightly, trying to hold onto some sense of control, but the way his hand was so steady on me made it hard to think straight.

“I—" I started, but the words seemed to get stuck.

Tim leaned in just a little, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured,

“It’s okay baby. You don’t have to say anything.”

I took a deep breath, feeling my hands shake slightly.

“I’m just not used to... this,” I confessed, still unsure of how to explain the mix of feelings I was experiencing.

“Not used to being... with someone like you.”

Tim’s smile softened, but there was still that playful edge in his voice when he spoke again.

“Someone like me?” he repeated, teasing.

“You make it sound like I’m some kind of monster.”

I gave a small, nervous laugh, finally managing to look up at him.

“No, it’s not that,” I said quickly, though I wasn’t sure if I was making it better or worse.

“It’s just... you’re so... confident.”

Tim’s eyes softened a little, and he stepped even closer, his hand now resting lightly on my waist.

“And you like that about me,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and I couldn’t help but nod slightly.

“Yeah... I do,” I admitted, the words feeling more natural than I expected.

Tim’s grin returned, and he brushed his thumb over the back of my hand, his gaze warm but filled with that teasing spark.

“Good,” he murmured.

“Because you’re the only one who gets to see this side of me, Y/n. The side that doesn’t mind making you blush.”

I couldn’t hold back a small smile at that, and for the first time, the awkwardness of the situation didn’t feel so heavy.

I liked this, the way Tim knew just how to make me feel at ease, even when I was a mess of nerves.

“You’re lucky I’m still standing here, huh?”

I said quietly, but there was a hint of a smile in my voice, something I couldn’t quite hide.

Tim chuckled, the sound rich and easy.

“I’m lucky every time you’re here with me,” he said softly, his hand now settling more firmly on my back, pulling me in just a little.

I looked up at him, heart beating faster but with a little more steadiness now.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” I murmured, not really meaning it, but not sure what else to say.

Tim leaned down just enough to place a quick, soft kiss on my forehead.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” he said, his voice warm, but still carrying that edge of playfulness.

“Not anytime soon, at least.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

Even though we’d just had a somewhat awkward moment, everything felt... okay.

It felt like it always did when I was with him, comfortable, easy, but still full of that undeniable connection.

“I’m just glad I’m here with you,”

I whispered, and this time, it felt like I actually meant it, fully and completely.

Tim’s hand lingered on my back, and for a second, the world outside the break room felt distant, irrelevant.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice steady and real. “Me too.”

The end

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