#introduce her to the people in the office

[ivoyzzz]

for cheol

synopsis: you work at the childrens home where Cheol lives and he takes a liking to you going as far as introducing you to his sister. what happens when the stoic girl begins to see why her little brother likes you so much?

warnings: mention of kids picking on Cheol.

a/n: thought this was so cute bc they deserve happiness !! also … are for your name!!

saebyeok liked routine. she would pick-pocket all day and then she would go see cheol. she didn’t let people into her life, she was okay with the way things were. just her and cheol.

it was like everyday. saebyeok pick-pocketed then walked to the children’s home cheol lived. she checked in then sat away from all the other kids waiting for cheol. she had expected cheol to walk out happy to see her but not as happy as a child his age should be. what she hadn’t expect was for cheol to walk out dragging a girl out.

saebyeok immediately tensed up when she saw cheol walk out with some girl who worked at the children’s home. cheol had a smile on his face as he held onto your wrist and walked over to saebyeok. “noona, remeber i told you about her.” cheol said smiling happy to introduce you to his sister.

when you agreed that you would meet cheol’s infamous sister you weren’t really expecting her. the way cheol described her and insisted that you become friends with her, you weren’t expecting a tall girl who glared at you not even giving you a half smile.

“noona, this is miss … , she teaches us games and how to draw.” cheol said smiling. saebyeok looked over you, her gaze making you feel like your tiniest movements were being judged by the stoic girl. you smiled softly at saebyeok at saebyeok and she gave you nothing but a small hum.

“i’ll let you talk with your sister. nice to meet you.” you say giving them both a small wave and walking back inside the children’s home. saebyeok’s gaze follows you back inside, then she looks back at cheol sensing this wasn’t the reaction he wanted. saebyeok ignores this focusing on the bandage on his chin. saebyeok mutters a small. “what happened?”

“i fell.” cheol answers a little too quickly. saebyeok looks at him tilting her head towards him wanting the truth. “i got pushed.” cheol sighs, but quickly adds. “the boy got in trouble by miss … , and she put the bandage on “ saebyeok eyebrows furrow, was cheol really so fond of you? the rest of the visit when on like normal cheol chatting her ear off and saebyeok asking questions.

the next visit, saebyeok checks in like normal and goes to the outside area where all the kids are. but instead of them playing like normal, your teaching them how to draw an animal. all are giggling and laughing as you make jokes about the duck your drawing. saebyeok takes notice of the way you easily make a child stop crying and put a smile on their face. she also takes notice of the way you spot her sitting and you walk over to cheol pointing to her with a smile of your face and he runs over to her. you send saebyeok a small wave which all you get in return is her barley there smile when she sees cheol.

saebyeok stops by everyday finding herself looking forward to her visits in more then one way. they go like normal you pointing towards her and cheol running towards her. you, like always wave and smile and she has started to give you a small and slight nod. maybe your making progress with her?

one night saebyeok goes to visit cheol before visiting hours are over. she walks into the office and instead of seeing the receptionist like normal she sees you sweeping the floor and cleaning a focused smile on your face. saebyeok stands there not knowing what to do, she hasn’t spoken a word to you ever. saebyeok settles on clearing her throat making you turn around smiling as you see her. “i’ll get cheol.”

when you come back with cheol, you give them their space sitting behind the desk and organizing one of the desk drawers. you can’t help but smile as you see saebyeoks face soften at the sight of her younger brother.

“hi noona.” cheol greets sitting next to saebyeok. saebyeok reaches over and ruffles his hair. “i drew you something.” cheol says softly pulling something out of his jacket pocket handing it to saebyeok. saebyeok takes it a rare smile on her face. she opens it and it’s a picture of her and cheol. “it’s really good.” saebyeok says softly to the boy. “thanks miss … helped me” cheol says proudly feeling a sense of pride after his sisters compliment. saebyeok looks over at you, where your seated at the desk. she can’t help but think feel a weary sense of confusion and content. she was confused as to what kind of person you were to kept cheol, a shy kid to open up to you. she was content that when she couldn’t there was someone who would look out for cheol.

after about 20 minutes you had walked cheol back into the building. when you walked back into the office you were surprised to see saebyeok still seated there. from what you had picked up about saebyeok she really wasn’t much of a talker so you kept the comfortable silence. “i wanted to thank you.” saebyeok muttered her sharp features moving to look at you.

”for what?” you said softly looking at saebyeok. even though saebyeok felt vulnerable in this moment your tone didn’t hold an ounce of a judgment. “for taking care of cheol.” she replied back her gaze on the wall.

“he’s a good kid, talks about you a lot. i’m happy to do it.” you say really looking at saebyeok. the way she made sure her face didn’t show what she was feeling. or maybe the way her eyes would flick over to you before returning them to the wall. “goodnight.” you smile softly as she stands up ready to leave. “night.” she says so very quietly and leaves with that.

your helping cheol tie his shoes. “..then you put this bunny over the other okay?” you say trying to put it in a way that would make sense. “that’s what my sister tried to tell me but i still don’t understand.” the little boy whines clearly getting upset that he doesn’t get it. “you can’t achieve something in one day if you want to be good at it. things take time and this is one of those things okay?” you say sitting down next to cheol. he sulks but nods and goes off to play again.

you then see saebyeok and instead of like normal calling cheol over to her you walk over instead. saebyeok looks at you as she sees you approach. her gaze is stoic but not uninviting. you take a cautious seat next to her leaving a good bit of distance between the two of you.

before you can say anything she begins. “Why are you always working?” saebyeok says looking at you with a genuine look of curiosity. there hasn’t been a time that’s she came and you haven’t been here. don’t you have off days? “I like working. i come in as often as i can.” you say with a small laugh.

“your good with kids.” saebyeok mutters her gaze on cheol happy to see him with kids his age playing and laughing. “my trick is to think like a kid.” you say raising your eyebrows with a smile. saebyeok glances at you before looking back at cheol. “cheol told me he introduced us so i could have a friend my own age.” you laugh shaking your head. cheol wasn’t clueless. you were a girl who never left her job and spent her whole day with kids, so of course your socializing skills weren’t the best. saebyeok was focused and didn’t like talking to people or people in general.

the corner of saebyeok’s lips turned upward for a second. cheol had always been a very observant kid. “what time do you get off of work tonight?” saebyeok asked causally her face not showing what was she was thinking. “i get off at 7 tonight.” you say not thinking much of it as cheol spots the both of you and walks over after finishing his game. “i’ll take you out to eat after you get off work tonight.” saebyeok said looking at you her face as stoic as ever. “okay.” you mumbled standing up not trusting yourself to say anything else. cheol ran over smiling, happy to see the both of you together.

saebyeok had convinced herself that she was doing this for cheol. cheol wanted you two to be friends and you had been good to cheol. this was nothing but a thank you and so cheol didn’t worry for her.

saebyeok waited outside the children’s home for you. you walked out spotting the girl waving and walking over to her. “where we going?” you asked smiling. “wherever you want.” she mumbled back. “there are some night markets with good food?” you shrugged to which she nodded falling in step with you.

“what do you do for work?” you asked looking up at her curiously. saebyeok of course wasn’t going to tell you that she stole for a living so she went with something simple. “i work at a cafe.” saebyeok muttered to which you nodded.

when you two arrived at the market you two had decided on a place that sells kimpap. you two took a seat at a small table. “i don’t really go out often so thank you.” you let out a small laugh. saebyeok likes the way you laugh, she’s never noticed the way a person laughed before. “me either.” she nods in agreement. “do you like art?” saebyeok mutters at you chewing her food. you look up at her with a smile. “when i was younger i wanted to be an artist.”

“do you still want to?” she follows up looking at you. “no, i like what i do. what about you, what is something you’d like to do?” saebyeok thought for a second. no one had ever really asked her questions about herself where she had to think about it. she settles for, “not really.”

an old woman walking by had dropped, her whole wallet. you saw this and picked it up standing up and handing it back to the woman with a smile. the old lady thanked you. “thank you, young ma’am. i don’t know what I would’ve done if i lost this“ the woman opens her wallet trying to hand you twenty thousand won. you shake your head not accepting the money. “it’s no problem keep your money have a good day.” you smile sitting back down.

saebyeok had watched this whole interaction in shock. if it had been her she would have pocketed the wallet. but you picked it up that thought not even crossing your mind and handed it back. then when the lady had tried to give you money you declined. you did everything saebyeok wouldn’t and it only made her more curious about you.

saebyeok lost in her thoughts picks around her food. you understood that saebyeok preferred not to talk and you were fine with silence. “that was nice.” saebyeok broke the quiet bubble around the two of you. you give her a soft smile shaking your head eating your food. “don’t give me too much credit.” saebyeok just stares at you, your not like anyone she’s ever met.

after you two finish eating and are walking back to both of your apartments. saebyeok realized you didn’t live far from her and decided to walk you home. you two walked close, arms brushing close. “i had a good time.” you say quietly. saebyeok mutters a small “me too.”

saebyeok’s previous mindset that this had only been for cheol had slowly begun to vanish. saebyeok felt the way your hands brushed every so often. the way that both of you seemed to gravitate closer to each other. it numbed her to everything else going on. saebyeok haven’t even realized it but she was slowly slipping her cold hand into yours. it felt like it was only the two of you right now, just walking down the street hand in hand. saebyeok didn’t look at you, but her hand was enough to confirm that maybe this wasn’t as friendly as cheol had intended. that maybe cheol played matchmaker. cheol had helped two girls who were each deserving of love find each other. and right now in this moment it was enough.

[buckets-and-trees]

I am even more excited about Fridays because of you and Presidential Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. I’m so looking forward to how everything turns out with those two!

Well, nonnie, we're finally back!

Red, White & True: Tuscon & Denver [12/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, side of Bucky and Sam Word Count: 4.7k Summary: Your mom joins the campaign trail.

Content/Warnings: political policy discussion, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Author Notes: For the seventh day of the Valentine Storygrams!

Previous Chapter | Series

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

[OCTOBER 12 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The tension between your mother and Steve simmers beneath the surface over the next two hours. You try to keep things light, showing your mother around campaign bus and introducing her to more of the staff. But there's an undercurrent of unease that you can't shake.

At the hotel the campaign’s logistical director has managed to assign adjoined rooms to you and your mom. After changing into your pajamas, you knock on the door that connects you, and a moment later your mom opens up. The two of you sit on one of the queen beds and begin to talk, just the two of you. There’s much less tension, and she gives you stories and updates about family and friends and old neighbors from your old home. You soak up the nostalgia, but it also feels strange to hear about all the normal things happening - so opposite from your whirlwind days and weeks on the campaign.

Your phone buzzes with a message, and you pause your conversation briefly to check what it says. “It’s just a couple of logistical updates for tomorrow morning,” you say, before looking back up.

When you do, you see your mother’s expression has changed. Now she’s watching you with a pensive expression as she rests against the pillows piled up in front of the headboard.

“What is it?” you prod.

"Honey," she begins, her voice careful. "Are you sure about all this?"

"What do you mean?"

You knew at some point the two of you were due to have this conversation. It’s a conversation that had begun to grow into an argument that had been deterred only by your father father insisting that the two of you not get into it on your wedding day.

She sighs, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the bedspread. "This campaign. Running for office. It's just so much pressure, so much scrutiny. After what happened with those awful photos, I can't help but worry about you. Is this really what you want?"

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. "Mom, I know it's not an easy path. But yes, this is what I want. I believe in Steve and what he stands for. And I believe I can make a difference by his side."

Your mother's brow furrows. "But at what cost? Your privacy, your peace of mind? I saw how those false accusations affected you - it’s why I’m here, why Steve called and asked me to come. And that's just the beginning. If Steve wins, your whole life will be under a microscope."

You nod, acknowledging her concerns. "I know. And it's not always easy. But Mom, the good we can do outweighs the challenges. I've seen firsthand how Steve inspires people, how he brings out the best in them. The plans he intends to put into action based on what he wants to do for the people? I want to be part of that."

She shakes her head slightly. "But honey, you barely knew him when you got married. And now you're in the middle of this huge campaign. Don't you think it's all happening a bit fast?"

You can't help but bristle at her words, even as you try to understand her perspective. "Mom, I know it seems fast from the outside. But Steve and I... we've been through so much together already. The campaign has only brought us closer."

Your mother reaches out, taking your hand in hers. "I just worry about you, sweetheart. I’ll always worry about you. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy, Mom," you say, squeezing her hand. "Yes, there are challenges, but I'm doing something I believe in."

She studies your face for a long moment, then nods slowly. "I can see that. I just... I guess I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this. My little girl, potentially becoming the First Lady of the United States."

You chuckle softly. "Trust me, I still don’t feel like that could be real, even though getting Steve elected is our only goal and fuels everything we do. I’m glad you’re here - you’ll be able to see what we do, and what I’ve seen while we do it.”

You can see your mother's expression soften slightly as she listens, though you can sense there is more she’s still thinking about.

"Tell me more about what you've seen," she says, leaning forward slightly. "What's it really been like out there on the campaign trail?"

You can't help but smile, feeling a surge of enthusiasm as you begin to share your experiences.

"Oh Mom, it really is incredible," you say, your voice filled with wonder. "We've been to so many places, met so many amazing people. There was this small town in Iowa where the entire community came out to hear Steve speak. They had handmade signs and everything. And in Detroit, we visited this incredible urban farm that's providing fresh produce to food deserts in the city."

Your mother listens intently as you continue, describing the passionate volunteers who work tirelessly for the campaign that you’re meeting across the country, the vibrant energy of rallies in big cities, the intimate town halls in small communities, and the countless conversations with people you never would have met across every pocket of America.

"We met this incredible woman in New Mexico who's been fighting for clean water rights for her community for decades. And in Florida, we toured a cutting-edge renewable energy facility that's creating jobs and combating climate change. Every day, I'm learning so much about the issues facing our country and the innovative solutions people are developing."

You tell her about the late-night strategy sessions with the campaign team, the thrill of seeing poll numbers climb, and the humbling moments when you've comforted supporters who've shared their personal struggles.

"It sounds amazing," your mother admits, a hint of awe in her voice. "I can see why you're so passionate about it all."

You nod eagerly. "It really is, Mom. I feel like I'm part of something so much bigger than myself."

Your mother's expression softens further, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. "I can see how much this means to you, sweetheart. And I'm proud of you for being so passionate and dedicated." She pauses, squeezing your hand. "But I want you to remember something important."

You tilt your head, waiting for her to continue.

"You are still important," she says firmly. "You, as an individual, not just as Steve's wife or as part of this campaign. Don't lose yourself in all of this."

Her words remind you of something Helen Santos once said to you, about the importance of maintaining your own identity amidst the whirlwind of the campaign. You nod, acknowledging the truth in her statement.

"I know. I'm trying to keep that balance. It's not easy, but I'm learning."

She squeezes your hand gently. "And what about that awful photo scandal? Are you really okay? I know you’ve shown such a put-together and brave face for the media, and even for me tonight, but I’m your mother, you don’t need to be strong for me."

You take a deep breath, feeling a familiar tightness in your chest at the mention of the incident. It’s surreal to believe it only happened yesterday morning.

"It was hard, Mom. Really hard," you admit, your voice catching slightly. "When I first saw those photos, I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. I was terrified, embarrassed, and angry all at once. It was like my world had been yanked out from under me."

You take a shaky breath, feeling the echo of the emotions of that moment. "I couldn't stop thinking about all the people who would see those photos, judge me, make assumptions about who I am. For a while, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was terrified it would derail everything we've worked for - and all the worse because the photos aren’t even real."

Your mother wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean into her embrace, grateful for her presence.

You continue, "But then, as we dealt with the fallout, as I spoke with our team and supporters, I realized that this wasn't just about me or the campaign. It was about a much bigger issue - the lack of understanding and support for women's health in our country."

You pause, feeling a surge of passion as you continue. "It’s only been a day since I’ve started to learn more, and I’m just stunned by the amount of things I did’t know, Mom. Like did you know that it takes an average of seven to ten years for a woman to be diagnosed with endometriosis? Or that heart attack symptoms in women are often dismissed as anxiety?”

Your mother nods, her eyes widening. "I remember when your Aunt Sarah was struggling with her symptoms for years before they finally diagnosed her fibromyalgia. The doctors kept telling her it was just stress or depression."the

"Exactly!" you exclaim. "And it's not just about diagnosis. It's about research funding, access to care, and education. Did you know that for decades, most medical research was conducted primarily on men? Even in animal studies, they used male rats and mice. It means we have huge gaps in our understanding of how diseases and treatments affect women differently."

As you speak, you feel a familiar fire igniting within you. It's the same passion that drove you to join Steve's campaign in the first place - the desire to make a real difference in people's lives.

"And then there's the stigma," you continue, your words tumbling out faster now. "So many women's health issues are shrouded in shame and silence. Menstrual health, fertility struggles, menopause - these are all normal parts of women's lives, but we barely talk about them openly. And don't even get me started on maternal mortality rate in the United States. It's shockingly high for a developed country, especially for women of color. Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than white women. It's a crisis that's not getting nearly enough attention."

You pause, taking a breath. "The more I learn, the more I realize how much needs to change, and if Steve gets elected, this will be one of my initiatives as First Lady.”

Your mother's eyes widen as she listens to you speak, a mixture of pride and admiration crossing her face. "Honey, I had no idea you'd become so… well, I’m... I'm just so impressed, and I couldn’t agree with you more."

You lean forward, your eyes bright with excitement. "I've been thinking about how we could approach this. We could start with a nationwide listening tour, hearing directly from women about their experiences with the healthcare system. We could partner with medical schools to promote more inclusive research practices. And we could launch a public awareness campaign to break down the stigma.”

Your mother's enthusiasm is palpable, and you can see the wheels turning in her mind as she absorbs all the information you've shared. Suddenly, an idea strikes you, and you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

"Mom," you begin, your voice brimming with anticipation, "You've always been so passionate about women, about building strong communities, and you have such a way with words. Would you maybe... want to help us build out the messaging for this initiative while you're here?"

Her eyes widen, a mix of surprise and delight dancing across her features. "Me? But you know I'm not a political strategist or a healthcare expert."

You shake your head, grinning. "That's why you would be great! We have plenty of experts and strategists. We need is heads in the room who can translate all of the complexities into real-woman information. And this could be ongoing - after you go home, you could coordinate and consult remotely easy as anything.”

Your mother's eyes light up, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh honey, I would love that. I've… I haven’t really said this to anyone, but I’ve been starting to wonder what I could do that would mean something getting older, and this feels like something I could really contribute to."

You feel a small lump in your throat at her admission - something that clearly had been worrying her - and now you’re even more enthusiastic about how things are developing with this initiative. Not only has your mother begun to understand your passion for the opportunity this campaign and opportunity could bring, but she's now eager to be a part of it.

"Oh, Mom! I can't wait to introduce you to the team and get your insights. We could start tomorrow morning if you're up for it."

She nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I'll need to brush up on some of these issues, but I'm ready to dive in."

You continue to discuss potential ideas and strategies, and you feel a shift in the energy between you and your mother. The tension from earlier - from the months since you married Steve, honestly - has dissipated, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and excitement.

You and your mother continue talking late into the night, brainstorming ideas and sharing stories. As the conversation winds down, you feel a deep sense of gratitude wash over you. Not only has your mother come to understand your passion for the campaign, but she's now eager to contribute her own skills and experiences.

"Mom," you say softly, "thank you for being here. For listening and for wanting to be part of this."

She smiles warmly, pulling you into a hug. "Oh, honey. I'm so proud of you. I may not have understood at first, but I can see now how much good you're doing, how much this means to you."

As you settle into bed that night, your mind is buzzing with possibilities. You send a quick text to Steve, updating him on your conversation with your mother and her willingness to help with the women's health initiative. His response is immediate and enthusiastic.

STEVE: That's fantastic! I’m sure your mom's perspective will be invaluable. Can't wait to discuss more tomorrow.💙

You heart flips over his use of the heart emoji, but his response in general makes you smile, loving how your lives are moving forward, your relationship, and the ease you feel to share everything with him now. You’re feeling a renewed sense of purpose and excitement for what lies ahead. As you drift off to sleep, you find yourself imagining the potential impact of this initiative, the lives it could touch, and the changes it could bring.

[OCTOBER 13 - TUCSON, ARIZONA]

The next morning, you wake early, eager to start the day. After a quick shower and getting dressed, you knock on your mother's adjoining door. She answers promptly, already dressed and looking just as excited as you feel.

"Ready for your first official strategy meeting?" you ask with a grin.

Your mother smiles a little nervously, but her eyes are still twinkling with anticipation. "I suppose so. Lead the way."

You guide her down to one of the hotel's conference rooms for the current makeshift campaign headquarters. As you enter, you're greeted by the familiar buzz of activity - staffers huddled over laptops, phones ringing, and the ever-present aroma of coffee.

Steve is already there, engaged in a conversation with the communications team, but he breaks away when he sees you and your mother enter. He strides over, a warm smile on his face.

"Good morning," he says, giving you a quick kiss before turning to your mother. "I'm so glad you're joining the team. Your daughter tells me you have some great ideas for our women's health initiative."

Your mother nods. "Thank you for having me. I'm looking forward to contributing."

And her smile - the real one - is gone.

Oh.

Your eyes flicker to Steve, and although his expression remains open, you notice the note of wariness behind his eyes.

Things had gone so well with your mom you forgot the little issue of her not liking Steve.

As the tension threatens to settle in, you're saved by Mariah, the campaign's health policy advisor, who sweeps into the room with an armful of folders and a tablet balanced precariously on top.

"Oh good, you're all here!" she exclaims, her curly hair bouncing as she sets down her load on the nearest table. "I've got some amazing data from our latest focus groups, and I think it's really going to shape our approach."

Steve checks his watch and grimaces slightly. "I'm afraid I have to leave for that appearance on 'Good Morning Tucson' in half an hour minutes." He turns to you and your mother. "I'm sorry I can't stay, but I'm looking forward to hearing all about it later. I know you'll come up with some fantastic ideas."

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. "No worries, we've got it covered. Good luck at the tv station.”

With a quick squeeze of your hand and a polite nod to your mother, Steve heads out of the room. You turn back to see your mother's smile has become a bit more forced.

"Well," you say brightly, trying to dispel the awkwardness, "shall we get started?"

Mariah nods enthusiastically, gesturing for you and your mother to join her at the table with other members of the team. As you settle in, she begins to lay out the data from the focus groups, explaining the key findings and areas of concern that have emerged.

Your mother listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration. You can see her analytical mind working, processing the information and forming connections. Despite her initial coolness towards Steve, you can tell she's fully engaged with the topic at hand, and she easily builds rapport with the rest of the team.

[OCTOBER 15 - DENVER, COLORADO]

"Hey, you," you say as you collapse into the seat next to Steve on the campaign bus. It's been a whirlwind few days since leaving Tucson, with back-to-back events across Arizona and New Mexico before arriving in Colorado. Along with interviews and slew of daily meetings, you've barely had a moment to catch your breath, let alone spend any quality time with Steve.

The bus rumbles to life, pulling away from the community center where Steve just finished giving a rousing speech on education reform. Through the tinted windows, you can see the crowd still waving signs and cheering as you depart.

Steve looks up from his tablet, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Hey yourself," he replies, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eye. "Oh really? And here I thought you might be avoiding me. Have you perhaps developed an aversion to your lovely wife?"

Your tone is light, but there's a genuine curiosity beneath the playfulness.

Steve chuckles, but you catch a flicker of something—nervousness?—in his eyes. "Avoiding you? Never. How could I possibly want to avoid the most captivating woman in the world?" He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You narrow your eyes and try to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his affection, not quite buying his charm offensive at face value. "Mmm-hmm. So if you're not avoiding me, perhaps you're avoiding someone else? Someone who happens to be my mother?"

Steve's smile falters slightly, and he lets out a small sigh. "Is it that obvious?"

You give him a knowing look.

He runs a hand over his beard. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so transparent. It's just your mother clearly doesn't approve of me, or of our relationship, and I guess I've been trying to avoid giving her more ammunition."

You feel a pang of sympathy for Steve. Your mother's disapproval has been weighing on you too, but you hadn't realized how much it was getting to Steve - your confident husband, the man who seems so fearless and unflagging.

"Steve, I've seen you face down hostile reporters and debate seasoned politicians without breaking a sweat. Hell, you battled Thanos and his legions twice. But every time my mom enters the room, you suddenly have an urgent phone call or meeting to attend."

“Thanos was nothing to your mother.”

You scoff, playing up being very affronted. “Are you really saying my mom is scarier than Thanos?”

He laughs. “Yeah, in a way. I only needed to defeat him, not get on his good side.”

You better angle your body to him, and pull his hand into your lap, holding it in both of yours. You can see he’s thinking, so you keep quiet and let him speak.

“I've been feeling a bit out of my depth with your mom. I know how important she is to you, and I want her to like me, but I can't shake the feeling that she's judging my every move."

You nod, understanding dawning. "She can be a bit intense. She's always been protective of me. And our sudden marriage didn't do anything to ease any potential concerns. I don’t know if she would have been more accepting of the arrangement if I’d handled it differently because… well, it was what it was, but…”

You sigh.

“She was very alarmed over how quickly everything happened, and so I did tell her it was a marriage of political strategy and convenience just before the ceremony. I was trying to reassure her that there was no pressure, nothing to be concerned about, but it didn’t make her any happier, just shifted the nature of her concerns.”

Steve looks at you, his expression a mix of surprise and understanding. "I see. That explains a lot."

You nod, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about that conversation earlier. When it happened, we weren’t really…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for that. I didn’t foster any real, deeper connection in the beginning.”

“…and then things between us changed so quickly," you continued.

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Again, no need to apologize. I understand. And you're right, things did change fast between us. I still can't believe how lucky I am."

His words warm your heart, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. "Steve, my mom's opinion is important to me, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. We're in this together, remember?"

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together. I like the sound of that. More and more every time we say it.”

“Me, too,” you reply.

Suddenly the rumbling of the bus and the chatter of staff members fades away.

Steve's eyes soften as he gazes at you, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the bus windows bathes him in a warm glow, highlighting the flecks of green in his blue eyes and the gentle curve of his lips. You feel a familiar flutter in your chest, a mix of affection and desire that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Steve leans forward, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His touch is feather-light, reverent, as if he's still amazed that he's allowed to touch you like this. You find yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

The kiss starts soft, a gentle press of lips, but quickly deepens as Steve pulls you closer. His beard tickles your skin, a sensation that never fails to send shivers through you.

Steve's lips move against yours with a tenderness that ignites sparks beneath your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, and he pulls you closer. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, a comforting heat that makes you feel safe and cherished.

You taste a hint of coffee on his breath, mingled with the spearmint of his favorite gum. The scent of his cologne envelops you, now so familiar and intoxicating. Your free hand hands finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss is intense yet affectionate, a perfect balance of passion and emotion. Steve's lips move against yours with a reverence that makes your heart swell, and you find yourself wanting more, but remember where you are.

You break off the kiss, but you want to stay close and so rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing a little heavier. The world around you slowly comes back into focus - the rumble of the bus engine, the murmur of conversations from campaign staff, the whir of laptops. But for a moment longer, you stay in this intimate bubble, savoring the closeness.

You reach up, running your fingers along his jawline, feeling the soft bristles of his beard against your skin. Steve leans into your touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips. You're struck by how vulnerable and real he is in this moment - so different from the candidate the public sees.

"Steve," you say finally, causing his eyes to flutter open. "What do you think about having dinner with my mom tonight?”

Steve's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Dinner with your mom. Tonight."

You nod, your hand still resting on his cheek. “She flies home tomorrow.”

Steve nods, a determined look overtaking the apprehension from a moment before.

Steve nods, a determined look settling on his face. "So, what's the plan? Do we have time between events?"

You pull out your phone, quickly scanning the day's schedule. "We have a gap after the Denver Tech Center tour.”

"If your mother tries to throw me out a window, you have to promise to come to my aid."

You laugh, the tension broken. "Deal. Though I think even my mom would have trouble throwing Captain America out a window."

"You'd be surprised," Steve chuckles.

“Maybe Sam will loan the shield back to you,” you tease.

The shield isn’t borrowed, but you do rope Sam, Sophia, and Bucky into having dinner with you as well as your mother has grown incredibly fond of and friendly all of three of them over the past three days.

After you’ve ouly just ordered drinks, Sophia gets a message that the two of you need to step out of the restaurant to take an urgent call about some last-minute campaign trail changes. You catch Sam and Bucky exchanging a meaningful glance, and you try to give them a smile that conveys your appreciation that they’re serving as a buffer.

The matter - in your opinion - is really a non-issue, but Sophia says she thinks she better go consult with the logistics team, and you don’t argue when she’s that determined.

But it makes perfect sense when you step back inside the restaurant and take in the scene before you.

Sam and Bucky are standing in the waiting area, looking slightly sheepish, no sign of your mother or Steve.

"What's going on?" you ask pointedly.

Sam steps forward, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Now, don't be mad. We thought Steve could use some alone time with your mom."

You feel your heart rate quicken. "You left Steve alone with my mother?"

Bucky nods, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "He's faced down HYDRA and alien invasions. We figured he could handle one mother-in-law."

Sam adds, "Steve's been practicing what he wanted to say to your mom for days. Figured this was as good a time as any."

You're not sure whether to laugh or panic. "How long have they been alone?"

"About five minutes," Sam replies. "We figured we'd give them a few more. Or you two will - I’m going to join someone else for dinner.”

You smirk at him. “Enjoy your meal with Sophia.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he says, handing you an earpiece before walking away.

You stand there for a moment, torn between curiosity and concern. Part of you wants to rush back to the table and make sure everything is okay. But another part knows that Sam and Bucky are right - Steve and your mother need this time alone.

Bucky gently places a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it'll be alright. Steve's got this."

You take a deep breath, nodding. "I know. I just hope she doesn’t swallow him up."

"If it helps, we can listen in," Bucky says with a mischievous grin, tapping his ear to indicate the communication device.

You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. Curiosity getting the better of you, you put the earpiece in, Bucky doing the same with his own.

"Okay, just for a minute," you concede, putting the earpiece in.

Steve's voice comes through, clear and steady. "I know our relationship moved quickly, and I understand your concerns."

Your mother's voice follows, her tone measured. "Do you?”

“I know it looks like I swept your daughter into a whirlwind marriage agreement and a high-pressure political campaign. And that is where it all started, but we’re so far beyond that now. It’s become so much more."

"I do know that. And I believe it it, too. I’ve been watching you, you know. Long before I got here, and then of course this week. And I’m perceptive."

Steve pauses, his voice thoughtful when he speaks again. "But you still have reservations about me, don't you?"

There's a moment of silence, and you can almost picture your mother's expression - that slight furrow in her brow she gets when she's carefully considering her words.

"I do," she admits finally, her voice soft but firm. "And I'm trying not to, Steve. I really am."

You hear the clink of glasses, the soft rustle of fabric as someone - probably your mother - shifts in their seat.

"I see the way you look at my daughter," your mother continues. "The way your eyes light up when she enters a room, how you lean towards her when she speaks. I see the gentle touches, the silent conversations you have with just a glance. It's... it's beautiful, really."

Steve's voice is warm when he responds. "She's incredible. But those reservations… I'd like to understand them, if you're willing to share."

Your mother sighs. "It's not just one thing, Steve. It's... well, it's everything. Your past, your public persona, this campaign. I look at you, and I see a man who's lived multiple lifetimes, who's seen and done things I can't even imagine. You've saved the world, for goodness' sake. And my daughter... she's brilliant and strong, but she's also young."

You hear Steve take a deep breath before responding. "I understand those concerns. They're concerns I've had myself. But your daughter, as it turns out, is one of the strongest people I know. She challenges me, supports me, grounds me in ways I never expected. She makes me want to be a better man, a better leader."

There's a pause, and you can almost picture Steve leaning forward, his eyes earnest as he continues. "I know I have a complicated past, and yes, a lot of responsibility. But your daughter isn't overshadowed by that - she shines even brighter alongside it. She's not just along for the ride in this campaign or in our life together. She's my partner in every sense of the word.”

Your mother's voice softens slightly as she responds. "I can see that. I've watched her these past few days, how she's grown into this role. She's always been capable, but now... now she's truly flourishing."

"She is," Steve agrees, warmth evident in his voice. "And I want you to know that I will always support her in that growth. Her dreams, her ambitions - they're just as important as mine."

There's another pause, and you can almost picture your mother nodding slowly, processing Steve's words.

"I appreciate everything you’v said, Steve," she says finally. "And I can see how much you care for my daughter. But I need you to understand something. My daughter - she's always been special. Always been driven to help others, to make a difference. But she's also had her heart broken before. She's been let down by life, everything turned upside down by The Blip."

You feel a pang in your chest at your mother's words, memories of past hurts flashing through your mind.

Your mother's voice becomes softer, more vulnerable. "And I couldn't fix any of that. As her mother, that cut like a knife, and I think... I think I never really took that knife out. I've been carrying it with me, this fear of seeing her hurt again."

You hear her take a shaky breath before continuing. "When she told me about your arrangement, about this whirlwind marriage and campaign, all I could think was, 'Here's another way for her to get hurt.' I was so afraid for her."

There's a pause, and you can almost picture your mother's eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But this week... this week has been eye-opening. I've seen her in her element, passionate and driven. I've watched her tackle complex issues with grace and determination. And I've seen how you two show up for each other. I worried it was all for the public, but I know now it’s not.”

"It’s not," Steve says, his response immediate and resolute. "And I want you to know that I take my commitment to your daughter very seriously. I know I can't promise that she'll never be hurt - life doesn't work that way. But I can promise that I will always be there for her, to support her, to lift her up when she needs it, and to celebrate her successes."

You hear your mother take a deep breath. "I can see that, Steve. I really can. And I... I'm sorry if I've been hard on you. I just want to protect her."

“Then we have that in common.”

“We do,” she agrees. “Just give me time. I always loved Jeff, her first husband, but I can see that we could get there, too, Steve.”

Bucky hands you a handkerchief, his metal arm glinting softly in the warm light of the restaurant's entryway. You hadn't even realized you were crying until you feel the soft cotton against your fingertips. You take it gratefully, dabbing at your eyes as you try to compose yourself.

Bucky's metal arm comes to rest around your shoulders, the weight of it comforting and grounding. You lean into him slightly, grateful for the support as you process the emotional exchange you've just witnessed.

[OCTOBER 16 - DENVER AIRPORT]

The Denver International Airport bustles with activity around you, a cacophony of rolling suitcases, muffled announcements, and hurried conversations. Yet in this moment, your focus narrows to your mother standing before you, her carry-on bag at her feet and a bittersweet smile on her face.

"I'm so glad you came, Mom," you say, your voice thick with emotion. The past few days have been another slew of organized campaign chaos, but having your mother here had been a development you didn’t realize you needed.

She reaches out, cupping your face in her hands, her eyes shining with emotion. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm glad I came too. More than you know."

It was good for you, for her, for repairing pieces of your relationship you knew were strained and things you didn’t.

You lean into her touch, feeling for a moment like a little girl again, safe in your mother's embrace, and her strength as your mother had been the thing you needed most from her.

"I'm so proud of you," your mother says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "The work you're doing, the person you've become... it's more than I knew to hope for - a true new chapter for you."

You feel a lump forming in your throat, overwhelmed by her words. "Thank you, Mom. That means so much to me."

She pulls you into a tight hug, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her perfume, a comforting mix of jasmine and vanilla that instantly transports you back to your childhood home.

As you pull apart, your mother's eyes drift over your shoulder, and her expression softens further. You turn to see Steve approaching, a gentle smile on his face.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, coming to stand beside you.

Your mother shakes her head. "Not at all, Steve. I'm glad you're here."

Steve's smile widens as he reaches out to shake your mother's hand. To your surprise, she pulls him into a warm hug instead.

"Take care of my daughter," she says softly, but loud enough for you to hear.

You smile and shake your head.

"Always," Steve replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

As they part, your mother looks between the two of you. "And you two take care of each other. What you're doing is important. Don't lose sight of that, but don't lose sight of each other either."

You nod, feeling Steve's hand come to rest on the small of your back as you reply, "We won't, Mom. I promise."

An announcement over the airport speakers breaks the moment, reminding passengers of the TSA safety checkpoint instructions.

"I better go," she says with a sigh. She picks up her carry-on bag. “Tell Pepper - I assume - thanks for the first-class flight. Of course, I’m ruined now, but it’s worth it.”

The two of you wave and watch her for a moment. It’s early enough there aren’t many people around to take notice of you and Steve.

“Thanks for asking her to come, Steve,” you say.

“I’m glad I did, too.”

“Even with as scary as it was for Captain America to meet his wife’s mom?” you giggle.

He quiets you with a resolute kiss on the mouth that melts away your early morning sass.

But it’s too brief for your liking.

He reaches for your hand as he pulls away. “We better go before we miss our flight,” he says, tugging you along.

You scoff, falling into step beside him. “Because the campaign plane would definitely lift off without its presidential candidate on board.”

He laughs, “Don’t put it past Bucky or Sam to convince them I am there and try to get them to leave without me.”

next part: coming 2/14

Y'all have been waiting a long time on this chapter, and I apologize for that break, but now it's here - and I'm ultimately happy with where it landed. And we're getting close to the end!

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

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[monvirtu]

hi, can u pls write hcs about being quackity's gf amd him inviting u to qsmp 🥺 and just being cute playing minecraft (sorry if cringe)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐓

⋆ precis ~ headcanons on what it's like to play minecraft with quackity!

⋆ tags ~ romance, she/her pronouns, use of quackity's real name, kissing, and fluff.

⋆ notes ~ THIS REQUEST IS SO CUTE! thank you, and i hope you enjoy!

⋆       being invited to the qsmp by quackity would be amazing.

⋆       especially as his lover.

⋆       at first, he'd introduce you to everybody. people like slimecicle and roier would tease quackity about you, and people like phil and dan would ask about you while introducing themselves.

⋆       in the end, you'd be friends with everyone on the server.

⋆       since you're most likely to join during the beginning of the qsmp, quackity's pairing you up with him for every event. he's raising tilín with you.

⋆       since you'd be tilín's other parent, quackity would jokingly call you 'mami'. it's either you'd get embarrassed by it or not care for it, but it doesn't matter which because he will be calling you that.

⋆       it would get to the point where even when you're both not streaming, he'd still call you it.

⋆       but if he's on the qsmp and you're not, if you come into his office while he's streaming, he'd tell tilín that their 'mami' is home.

"tilín!" the name was shouted as you entered quackity's office, and you placed down a plate of food on his desk while you wrapped your arms around him from behind.

your chin rested on the top of his head as quackity tapped on the keyboard for a few seconds, and he lifted his head up so he could stare at you.

"hola, mami—" he spoke before you placed a quick kiss on his lips, and he smiled as he shifted in his seat. "do you want to say hi to tilín? i need to grab something real quick..."

as you nodded, quackity leaned into the mic—clearing his throat. "tilín, your mami is home."

"do you have to call me that?" your words only got a shrug as quackity stood up from the seat, and you took his place before he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. "yes, i do."

⋆       you're building a house with him and living with him, by the way. no but's.

⋆       and he will be putting your minecraft bed next to his.

⋆       also, he'd give you kisses in minecraft. he would crouch his character before slowly walking over to yours, and he'd give you a quick kiss before running off.

⋆       you can hear his giggles through the walls every time he does it, by the way.

⋆       every time you go afk, or you're not playing, he'd build you something new or get you a gift.

⋆       you once came back online to see a statue of your character made near your house, and he placed a chest filled with diamonds and flowers near it with a sign that read, 'te amo, mi vida.'

⋆       also, if you're afk, he'd guard you.

⋆       he'd put blocks around you and stand outside with an axe in hand to make sure no mobs got you, or any players would try to prank you while you were away.

⋆       you'd both constantly stream minecraft, even if it wouldn't be on the qsmp.

⋆       you'd both have your own world where you'd just build stuff and try to beat the game.

"cariño, do you have any iron? my axe broke—" quackity's character came running back into the house as he closed the door behind him, and he crouched in front of you while you looked in your inventory.

you dropped him a few ingots while they vanished as he picked them up, and he punched the air while jumping up and down. "THANK YOU!"

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING!?" your shout back at him made quackity laugh as he ran outside of the house—leaving your questioned unanswered as you went back to smelting ores.

though, when the stream fell silent apart from the music playing in the game, you couldn't help but hum. "alexis, what do you need an axe for?"

"why don't you come outside and look?"

curiosity filled your mind as you clicked off of the oven, and you walked outside of your home before you were met with a colorful sight.

your favourite minecraft flowers coated the path to the entrance of your house, and at the end of the path stood quackity with a wooden sign in his hand.

he placed it in front of the gate to your house, and your character dashed over to him.

"how did you get all these flowers?"

"magic—" quackity replied as he backed away from the sign, and you went through the gate to read what it said.

i'd plant a thousand flowers just to see you smile once.

"do you like it—ARE YOU CRYING!?"

"I LOVE YOU AND I WANT TO KISS YOU—"

⋆       he wasnt lying, though.

⋆       he'd plant whatever you wanted him to as long as he got to see you smile—whether it he in minecraft or not.

©𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

writings are to not be reposted, translated, or plagiarized. if you wish to show your love for my work, feel free to reblog, comment, or like.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 41

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 500

Masterlist

———————————————————————

"Is this a joke?!"

That morning, I had just shared the news with Alexia, who was left completely stunned.

“No, no, it’s very serious!”

Alexia threw her hands in the air. 

“You’re out of your mind! On the Richter scale of bad ideas, you’re at a level 9 right now!”

“I just want to invest my energy in this list with Philippe, that’s all…”

“Oh sure, there’s no ulterior motive, like the sheer joy of driving Lucy mad with rage!”

“Even though I wouldn’t hate that idea, it’s not the main reason!”

Alexia pressed on: 

“How do you plan to move on like this? You’ll have to see her throughout the campaign! And you’re in an eligible position! You’ll end up seeing her at council meetings and the like…”

“Exactly, that proves I’m moving forward!”

“Ona, this is a terrible idea, I’m telling you… When are you going to tell her?”

“Oh, she’ll find out in a week, after the list formation meeting…”

I smiled.

---

The meeting unfolded in the lively, enthusiastic atmosphere typical of the start of a campaign—so full of promise. It was about introducing the entire list, fine-tuning Philippe’s program, and deciding on a preliminary action plan for the coming weeks: where to distribute flyers, which key points of the program to emphasize, organizing public meetings and rallies, etc. 

I knew a good part of the team, having worked alongside them during the last elections. This time, I had more responsibility, having been placed in a potentially electable position. I knew it would mean a lot more work on top of my job, and even more if I ended up being elected as a councilor. 

That evening, I felt proud and excited to be part of the adventure. At the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about the next day. The regional newspaper would publish the names on our list, and Lucy would quickly learn that I was part of it. I couldn’t help but imagine her reaction, the look on her face when she read my name.

---

The next morning, I arrived at the office, newspaper in hand. The front page headline read:  Philippe Arous, on His Way to Winning City Hall.  As I predicted, my name was mentioned inside. 

At around 10 a.m., I received a message from Lucy on my phone. I took a deep breath and opened it.

  You’re such a little bitch , Ona.  

Ah, the return of the old Lucy. Provocative as ever. She must have been fuming.

  I’m just trying to match your level.  

Her reply came instantly: 

  How could you do this to us?  

That was rich, coming from her, of all people.

  Us? I hope you’re joking! There never was an “us”!  

  This isn’t a game, Ona! Is this your way of getting revenge?  

I had expected her to say that.

  Thank you for the insight, but for your information, I worked on the last election. You’re not the center of my universe.  

She responded with a message that startled me. It wasn’t from Lucy, the person—it was Lucy, the political animal, speaking.

  You know how brutal a campaign can be, Ona. There won’t be any room for feelings…  

She was right. There wouldn’t be any room for feelings

[fazcinatingblog]

Gonna be training a new girl on Monday and she's got Monday to Wednesday as "work experience" (unpaid) so idk she'll just be observing me while I run around like a headless chook amid piles of papers on fire and answering calls from Sophia every two seconds and

[can-i-get-a-yippee]

There’s an alternate universe where the 911 writers didn’t murder Shannon, and she, Buck, and Eddie get to have a similar dynamic to Micheal, Bobby, and Athena

[paetalks]

nanami kento, very serious looking guy working in the finance department, having a little crush for the new girl who just got hired by the creative team.

you didn’t even know him, not until the christmas dinner party at the office. you were fairly new, only been working there for four months. working for a big company had not always been your goal, but when you got offered the position freshly out of college you couldn’t say no. it was well paid, in the city center, and allowed you to put your degree to use - which was a big plus, since finding a good job lately seemed to be stressful for people with an art degree (or so you were told by basically everybody).

when you first saw him, your heart skipped a bit. he looked insanely good, with his white shirt hugging a toned chest and short blonde hair falling slightly on his forehead. he was talking with your creative project manager, big hands gesturing softly while speaking and a light smile on his face. it was the first time you ever laid eyes on this beautiful man, and as soon as you realized you were staring a bit too hard, he had already made eye contact. eyebrows slightly furrowed, his eyes met yours. before you even knew, you were walking up to him.

“hi” you said, breathily. you felt your hands sweat and damned yourself mentally for behaving like a girl seeing a cute boy for the first time. up close, you realized he must have been a little older. not too much but the confidence he exuded was clearly not the one of someone in his early twenties - nothing like a guy your age. your manager looked around, confused on why you were intruding in their conversation, and eventually asked “hi, y/n. did you need something?”

you blushed immediately, looking away from the beautiful man, realizing there was no good reason to justify your sudden intrusion. you just saw a good looking man and walked up to him as if nothing else was going on. “oh…” your mouth slightly open, your mind racing to find something appropriate to say.

“i think we have not been introduced yet.” his voice was deep and you felt it in your stomach, like music at a concert. your eyes darted up to the unknown man, nodding shyly. “right. my name is nanami kento, pleased to meet you.”

you felt your insides melt while shaking his big hand, mumbling your name and smiling softly. five seconds later, you pretended like someone was calling your name from somewhere where your other colleagues were and excused yourself, quickly leaving just like you did arriving.

watching you walk away, nanami let out a soft smile, hoping the man in front of him was not going to pay much mind to it. “oh, don’t worry about y/n. she’s young, and new. she’s still trying to find her way around here, you know?” your project manager laughed awkwardly, still wondering what was all that about. kento shrugged, watching you from afar. your cheeks were red and the grip on the glass you had in your hands looked incredibly stiff.

what neither you or your protect manager knew was that nanami kento did know who you were. he had noticed you, maybe on your first or second day, when you got lost and popped up in the finance department. your colorful sweater and laptop full of stickers looked very out of place and when one of his colleagues approached you, letting you know that maybe you had walked in the wrong office, you did turn another color from embarrassment and started profoundly apologize. he thought you were cute, and funny, but the more he got a glimpse of you in the hallways, the more he noticed you wherever he were.

the break room, the coffee shop in front of the office building, the elevator. he found you in every room, even if you didn’t even know he was there. it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, like looking at you from afar was something he had grown addicted to in such a short time.

he wouldn’t have called it a crush, but whenever he needed to print something he would carefully choose the printer on the same floor your office was on - hoping that, when walking by, your door would be open and that he could catch a glimpse of you. okay, maybe thinking back, there had been a few moments in which he felt very infatuated by the idea of you…

looking at you from across the room, while zoning out on the conversation he was in, and noticing how sometimes you would look back too, he told himself that yes, that was definitely a crush.

idk i love the dynamics of stoic boyfriend x artsy girlfriend. wtv??? i’m done .

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Say my name again

Hwang In-ho x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: blood, gore, violence… if u watched SG, you’ll be fine

as always, requests are open!

You’ve been watching him for some time now. Paying attention to the way his mouth moved when he talked to his teammates, following his gaze wherever he looked. After the second game, you overheard him introducing himself. Young-il. What a coincidence he looked like the police officer that visited your flat so many years ago. The name was what made you suspicious - you could have sworn the police officer introduced himself to you as Hwang In-ho. And it’s not as if you could’ve gotten those mixed up; you two spent many restless days trying to find the ones who were behind the robbery of your home. But, you smiled with some bitterness on your tongue, the outcome was obvious based on your situation.

You knew you were the only one watching him so closely. One of your teammates even joked about it, saying you were mesmerised by that man. But he just made you nervous - his presence planting a bug in your brain. Was he a spy for the government? Or was he just as miserable as the rest of you?

With another unsuccessful vote behind you, you could finally rest and get off of your adrenaline high by leaning against the railing of your bunk bed while nibbling on some bread. You took off your bloodied shoes that always made you nauseous just by looking at them and while doing some breathing exercises your eyes of their own volition found that familiar face in the moving crowd. Of course he is still playing, you thought. He was a cop, no matter what. You watched him give his own share of milk to the pregnant girl. Did he do it out of kindness or to manipulate those people?

“Seriously, Y/N, you must have a problem. What is wrong with you? Staring like that at that poor guy- he might get the wrong idea.” One of your teammates said to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m just watching and that’s harmless on its own.”

“On its own, yes. But what you’re doing is more than that.”

You raised your brow in annoyance and curiosity and moved your eyes to her.

“And what is it that I’m doing?” You pursed your lips.

“Stalking, mildly put.” She grimaced at your look, sensing how close to irritated you were becoming.

“Stalking? Such a nonsense, Se-mi.”

“Well, whatever. Just be careful so he doesn’t notice or in the next game you might have even more trouble staying alive.”

“Yeah? Is that because you’re so done with me you’re gonna finish me off tomorrow?”

Both of you were grinning then.

“In your dreams, Y/N.”

***

The platform beneath you jerked to life but all your eyes could see were the puddles of blood everywhere. Your shoes were already drenched in it, the palms of your hands covered by it. You slipped on the blood so many times that your clothes were already camouflaged.

“Today I die,” you breathed out, ragged and scared. You knew you were right.

The music echoed in your head even as it quieted and the platform stopped. But you still couldn’t look away from all the blood, not caring anymore about the people around you.

“Two.” said the woman’s voice and panic began. You finally lifted your gaze, searching for Se-mi or anyone familiar but no one was around. People were screaming, dragging each other down, pushing, always pushing. And you just stood there, awaiting your unavoidable end.

“Come on!” There, a body appeared, and someone crashed into you with such force it was hard to stay on your feet. Hands grabbed your waist and with unbelievable strength half pushed you half carried you to the nearest unoccupied room. Only when your body connected with the floor and the doors locked behind you did you look up at the person who saved you.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Young-il or In-ho said, blocking the exit with his body, freezing you in place with those piercing eyes. So he has noticed, you thought, finding it hard to swallow, let alone speak.

“I know who you are.” you croaked and In-ho said nothing, but his laugh lines grew heavier.

“Do you?“ he asked after a while, his eyes sparkling. Was this just a game for him?

“Why didn’t you tell them your real name, In-ho?”

“What made you think you could talk to me like that?” You shivered at his words but your face remained impassable. Somehow, you weren’t scared of him, no. Just… curious.

“Same question.”

“You think I don’t remember you, right? But you’re wrong. The moment I noticed you here I knew exactly who you were, Y/ N.” It was hard to pretend that those words meant nothing to you.

“At least I don’t hide behind a different name.”

“It’s a precaution. Some of these people are criminals and if they recognised my name they wouldn’t be as happy as you to see me here, understood?”

Your cheeks reddened but that didn’t stop you from holding your ground. His gaze made you nervous and you started biting your lower lip.

“Would you stop doing that?” In-ho asked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not the only one watching, Y/N.” he gave you a tentative smile.

Before you could say anything, the doors clicked and In-ho extended his hand to you as an offering.

“I can keep a secret… Can you?” A corner of his mouth curled up slightly and in answer you accepted his hand.

***

After you walked out of the room, the two of you didn’t speak until later that day in the dormitory. It was as if your roles switched - the whole day you felt his gaze following you wherever you went. It was driving you insane.

Thankfully In-ho approached you on his own, holding you by your elbow and gently leading you to a tranquil corner of the room.

“Stop staring at me to distract me!” you whisper shouted at him.

“Oh, I’m not staring at you to distract you.”

Again, the blush creeped into your cheeks. Flustered and ashamed, you looked away and bit your lip.

“I shouldn’t be here, you know.” he went on. His eyes were flickering from side to side, probably trying to see if anyone paid any attention to you.

“Well, I can keep a secret, can’t I?” you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, a spark in your eyes. A smile crept on his face but quickly disappeared.

“As soon as the lights go out today, the other team is going to attack us so they have more people voting tomorrow for the games to continue. You hide under the bed and be quiet, you understand?”

“Is this a trap?” you asked and stepped away, your hands starting to shake.

“Do as I say.” And that was that. With it, he meant to turn away, but you gripped his wrist.

“In-ho-“

“Would you stop doing that?” he retorted and moved his hand so it was him holding you. His knuckles were all white but he wasn’t hurting you.

“Doing what exactly, In-ho-“ before you could finish the sentence, the palm of his hand covered your mouth. Your nostrils were met with a musky and tangy smell.

“Don’t test me.” He let go of you and stepped aside. As he turned to go, he spoke over his shoulder: “When the lights turn off, come and find me. I’ll keep you safe.”

And somehow, no matter how dangerous this place was, knowing that you cannot trust anyone here, you trusted him.

***

“Light out in five minutes.” The woman’s voice resonated in the dormitory while everyone climbed into their beds. You sat at the edge of yours with shoes on, checking for the fifth time In-ho’s location. In your mind, you tried to blindly navigate your way and when you were finally convinced that you could do it, you loosened a deep sigh.

“Why so tense, Y/N?” Se-mi asked from the bed beneath yours. You climbed down onto her level and quickly checked if anyone was listening, before you whispered: “After the lights go out, gen under the beds. Trust me.” Thank god she didn’t question it, because you felt ridiculous enough for the both of you for even listening to In-ho. He didn’t have a motive to keep you safe. He had one to kill you, though. You were the only one here who knew his real name. You just didn’t know if it was information worth killing for.

“Lights out in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…” You looked around for the last time. The air was stale and tense. Your body started shaking immediately.

“Three, two, one.” The darkness fell like a heavy curtain. You quietly stumbled down the ladder, careful to make as little noise as possible. Your left knee nearly collapsed under you as you made the first step but you kept a firm grip on the railings as you slowly passed between the bunk beds. Two railings, you go right, tree railings, you touch the wall, you follow it into the corner, then four railings before you go left…. But it just wasn’t possible to move as quickly as required. You were three quarters in when hell was unleashed. The sounds of stabbing, screaming and gurgling filled the air but your legs refused to move. You were completely paralysed with fear.

Someone jumped screaming from their bed and stumbled into you. You fell with a yelp on the cold floor and tried to scoot under the closest bed, but someone was already there pushing you out, frantically repeating: “Get out, they’re gonna find me, you have to go!”

You scrambled on all fours and stayed as low as possible while crawling to where In-ho was supposed to be. You were such a fool.

There was a sudden kick to your abdomen and you gasped, pain resonating through your body. Someone tripped over you and fell with a scream, their hands trying to hold onto anything, which just happened to be your hair. You screamed with pain, blindly punching around yourself in a desperate attempt of defence.

“In-ho!” you finally screamed, not caring anymore if someone tracked you down because of it. There was so much noise that it didn’t matter.

“In-ho!” you kept on shouting as you got up and started frantically running in the direction you thought was the right one. You were starting to get desperate, your voice turning into a rasp, tears forcing their way out of your eyes.

Earlier, when you said that you were going to die that day, maybe it would actually happen.

Suddenly, a hand grasped your ankle and you were prepared for the worst. But when your name fell off In-ho’s lips, your shoulders sagged with relief and with a desperate cry you got on the ground and slid next to him under the bed.

“I thought I was dead,” you gasped out, hand on your racing heart.

“Well, me too if that calms you down.”

“It certainly doesn’t, In-ho.” you glared at him. He was looking at you in a strange way, something in his expression you didn’t know how to identify.

“What is it?” you asked, your stomach dropping. Was he actually betraying you? Or was he trying to kiss you? With that look on his face, you couldn’t say which one.

“Say my name again,” he breathed out, your breaths mingling. Suddenly, you noticed all the points where your body was touching his, your skin heating up at the contact.

“In-ho,” you mumbled and stretched out your hand to tuck a strand of his silky hair behind his ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” In-ho looked at you with a pained expression.

“Not in the slightest,” you whispered softly against his warm lips as you kissed him.

[sbcdh]

"It wasn't one thing, you know, it was like, everything. Everything just kinda happened slow. It wasn't fast. It was slow.

It was, uhh... 1964, I think. LBJ was in office. Yeah, 1964. The government rolled out the whole hypnoeconomics thing in uh, sophomore year. Something like that. I didn't really watch the news, but I remember everyone talking about the election. I remember it being a big deal but, you know, seems like every time the government does something it's a big deal, you know? It's always like, fine. It's always fine.  

 I had just graduated from UC Santa Ana. I had a degree in photography. What do you even do with that? Photography. It was hard at first, shopping a portfolio around, doing weddings. I had a gig going for some real estate company. That was alright. Taking pictures of empty houses for speculators. Something like that. I didn't know the specifics. I was good at it. It's not hard once you know the equipment, and what the client wants. But you get tired of it, you know? You get tired of it.

My mom wasn't the nicest lady. She's my mom but, you know how mom's are. The only thing to do in west Texas was go to church. I was raised really Christian, and Santa Ana was just so different. I didn't know many people. I had a job that didn't feel right, no friends, no family, no church. So I was looking for a church. You got all sortsa stuff out here, you know? You know the Navigators right? That big megachurch? The first chapel was like, a 20 minute drive from student housing. There were always people out preaching in the quad.

It was a girl. Uh, Nadine. Nadine Galt. We had a 101 class together. Math, I think. We really hit it off. She was just funny, you know? She said she was from out of state too, had a really pretty gold cross necklace. I think she polished it. We had similar upbringings you know? Small Town girl, big city, not many friends. That sorta thing. She invited me to a party. A jewelry party.

I asked her "what was that" and she explained the whole concept to me. How she was an independent seller, how she had all these friends, how she was gonna buy us wine and food and show us the stuff she had this month. I liked her. It sounded fun. It was fun.

She said she did that every month. I didn't know too many people, and it was a good way to meet people, you know? I may have paid a bit much for some bracelets, but hey, she was good at selling bracelets. I looked forward to the jewelry parties. I did. Every month I looked forward to them.

I had been going for maybe a year, year and a half, and she asked me if I wanted to become a seller like her. She did it slow, you know, every once in a while she would ask me to stay after the party. I didn't think I could do it. I had a degree in photography, what did I know? But she layed it on thick. Told me I was just what she was looking for. And, well, she said the money was good. I needed money. Or, I had money, but I needed more you know? She made it sound so, well, important. Said we needed to do this, that a market needed competition, you know? That the hypnoeconomists couldn't really track people like us. She said we were "essential to a free financial dreamscape." She made it sound like we were a pair of cowgirls out on the open range together. She said I would be a natural.

And you know what? I was pretty good. At first at least. At first it was just helping out Nadine with her stuff, but she taught me how to talk, introduced me to her distributors, even taught me how to look for new clients. I held a party for some of my clients in real estate. Bought out a whole section of a fancy restaurant and invested in nice cases from the distributor. It didn't go well. I didn't make much profit at all. I think they were mostly pity-buying. I didn't make a cent.

All gold. Yep, all gold. And that wasn't a lie either. It had to be gold, or it wouldn't work.

Nadine went missing in, uh, 67 I think. I was heartbroken. And worried, you know? I was worried sick. Everyone was reaching out, asking if I was alright. Hell, excuse my language, even my mama reached out. Called me on the phone, said I was in her prayers.

The distributor reached out too. Colin. I didn't get another name. Just Colin. Called me one day to express his condolences. He had a nice voice, over the phone. Smooth. Kinda timid, but in a way you liked. I dunno how to describe it. You know what else he told me? He told me I was responsible for 89% of the profits for his channel. Eighty nine. Thinkin back now, I shoulda known that was a bunch of bullshit. He said he wanted to meet with me at the company headquarters in Pasadena. Once I was ready of course. Said he wanted to "talk shop." It was a bright spot, you know? A bright spot in a scary and lonely time. I went. Got a hotel and everything.

What was it like? You mean like what happened?...oh,  you mean like, the inside? Like of the building?

You know what? Now that I think about it. Weird. It was weird as hell. Lotsa gold and concrete. Like the jewelery. It was like every room was like, I dunno. It was like they were too big and too small at the same time. And there was a LOT of gold, in all sortsa patterns.

No. Yeah. Yeah I'm okay, I can talk about it. I'm okay to talk about it. I wasn't there long. I've heard the stories, you know. I don't know what you know, you probably know more than me, being the government and all, but lemme say that if you heard a story about something happening in 11414, it's probably true.

Anyways, Colin met me in his office. No windows. We talked shop. They asked me to arrive early and I skipped breakfast to get there on time and, it seems like every time I tried to bring up lunch he would wave it down. I had to damn near demand to get up for lunch. He invited me up to the cafeteria. The nice one, the one the distributors got to eat at.

It was nice, like, real nice. The plates had those same gold patterns on them. It was after that-

The pattern? Uh, I'll try, do you have a pen? It was really complicated. I'll do my best. It had all these criss-crossing... Hm? Yeah. Yeah you know what? That's exactly what it looked like.

Yeah, you know? I actually did ask him. I asked him about the pattern and he just kinda looked at me like I was in on a joke and said put a finger to his lips and he tapped on the back of his head. You know, where they put the plugs. And he said "you know, so they can't listen."

Yeah he offered to let me try one. He got all quiet, brought me to the lounge behind some curtains. Yeah they had the gold thing too. Started talking like he had a secret. He must've had fifty, sixty pills in a fancy little case that had the same pattern on it.

No I wasn't surprised. How else would they make that much money without hypnoregulation? It was kind of an open secret, you know? I didn't want any of that. But you can't say no, you know? Then you're implicated. You can't leave. I agreed to take one.

I still think about that, you know? How I got out of that. What a dodged bullet. Oh my god. It's kinda embarrassing, now that I gotta say so, but when I was little, I used to do magic. You know, card tricks, sleight of hand, all that stuff. I palmed the damn thing. Slipped it right into my pocket.

I sat there for a bit. Tried to copy him, you know. The lounge had a bunch of sub-finantial cortical wires hidden in the coffee table. He gave me one and told me to watch what he did while he fed it up his nose into his head. I sat there for a bit, trying to stay calm. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he had the gold scalero, uh, scaleri, no, uh the white parts of his eyes...

Scalera! That's it. They were gold and everything.

I didn't know he would convulse so much. I thought something might've been wrong, but eventually they died down. I gotta say, I was so damn scared I couldn't move. I coulda been there for hours. I probably was.

I have a good memory. So eventually I worked up the courage and just...walked out.

Yeah. I walked out. You walk like you're supposed to be there, and you're kinda mad, you know? Like you're late for something and you can't talk right now. It's all about confidence. Nobody hassles you if you look like you know where you're going. I even said thank you to the secretary in the lobby. Nadine taught me that you know. It's all about confidence.

I made it to my car, got the engine going, and the moment 11414 was out of my rear view mirror I just started crying. Cried myself to fits. I didn't even know at the time. What was it? Six weeks later? How many dead?

Yeah, too many. Too many. I guess it doesn't matter.

I drove to a McDonald's for some food and at some point I turned on the radio. You know what was playing?

Yeah. It was that fucking Tremeloes song. You know the one."

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hey! Gosh I love your fics, you are so talented! <3 I have a request after your latest fic haha. The sentences 'It's only a matter of time before he accidentally slips and calls you his spouse in front of people.' would be the perfect plot, actually. When and how would the Harbingers calls their s/o 'their wife' in front of others first time? If you don't like it, you don't have to do it! i hope you have an awesome day!

(hehe, yes, accidentally… mmm. Enjoy!)

✦ They accidentally call you their spouse 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Tartaglia

It was a complete and utter accident; just a harmless slip of the tongue. One moment, your beloved was politely introducing you to some of his Fatui subordinates, the other he inadvertently referred to you as “my spouse” in front of others. It would've been a sweet moment of shared laughter, were it not spoken in front of so many people of the Fatui. It’s not like your beloved’s subordinates would start correcting him, he's a Harbinger after all… now how would you navigate this awkward situation? 

✧ The ever-cold and calculating Pierro prevents any mistakes from slipping past him. Yet here he is, standing composed next to you as he gently gestures to you and claims:

“From here on out, my spouse shall reside in the Zapolyarny Palace and I expect all obedience to be directed towards them.” 

You went silent. The servants went silent. Even he went silent. You carefully murmured to him:

“... Pierro, dear. We are not married.” 

Somehow the Jester remained blank, as if the error of his brain eluded him. Or perhaps, he realized it was too late to reprimand his mistake, especially in front of the royal servants of the palace. He simply cleared his throat and nodded woefully: “Indeed, we aren't. My apologies.” 

The hushed murmurs of The Director’s “innocent mistake” spread soundlessly like an inside secret within the Palace's walls. It wasn't news that the Jester adored you, but to witness the typically collected Pierro clear his throat bashfully, while you stood there timidly after correcting his mistake was endearing. 

These rumors, of course, reached the ears of the 3rd of the Fatui Harbingers’ ears, Columbina. Such tales were her delight, a personal pastime, relishing the timid nature of your private relationship with Pierro. She just had to tease you two by reminding him of the incident. Thus, one day, she approached The Jester in his office on an inconspicuous day and asked:

“Oh, cheer up, Director. It's been months since your last mishap. Surely you wouldn't let your composure shatter in front of the one you call beloved so easily?”

“You are correct,” - Pierro replied to the Dove calmly. “It was a mistake. Hence, I amended it and made sure it's no longer an issue.”

That’s when Columbina’s gaze drifted to his hands, where he was not leisurely adjusting his cuffs but subtly displaying an ornament on his ring finger. His engagement ring. If the 3rd Harbinger could open her enigmatic eyes, she would stare absolutely wide-eyed and dumbfounded through her white ribbons. When the hell did he get engaged-?!

“Pierro, dear,” - you suddenly stepped in, that same embarrassed interjection escaping you “Please stop boasting about our engagement. We haven't made it official yet.” 

✧ The poor Fatui soldier under Il Capitano's recruit stood stiffly looking at their Harbinger. Was it dread or the web of discomfort one feels when seeing a couple argue over something entirely beyond their input? Because that's certainly what the current Fatui skirmisher felt when standing between you and Il Capitano. 

“I can't allow this, Capitano,” – you huffed, your head shaking in dismay. “You over-dedicate yourself in battles.” 

“We went over this, my cherished. I have to, it is my duty as the Captain. Not just for the Fatui’s sake, but for your own safety as well!” 

“No, no,” – you clicked your tongue. “Don’t give me that. You know that's not the issue… the issue is that you overwork yourself by beating everyone in a duel and not leaving me anything else to defeat! What am I supposed to do?!”

“But my beloved-!” 

That's how your lover's quarrel underwent, and the Fatui Skirmishers that kept blinking in disbelief, stood helpless as the argument ping-ponged between ‘who gets to defeat more enemies on the battlefield’. Finally, your beloved spoke with an irritated huff at your scolding:

“Well, did you perhaps consider that I do not wish for my spouse to overextend themselves and get recklessly injured over some personal records?”

“Oh, so now you-... What did you just call me?” 

The sudden realization caused a deafening silence between you and Capitano like a blade poised to strike. His pitch-black visage did not help to decipher whether he was grappling with his mistake or masking his shock. You insisted: “Capitano, what did you just call-”

“I did not say anything.” 

“You did, you…Hey-! Don't turn your back on me, come back here!” 

Perhaps The 1st of the Fatui Harbingers does not flee from a challenge like a pathetic coward. However, today was a great chance to use a tactful retreat, to put it softly, all in the hopes of escaping your wrath. How else would he explain his mishaps of calling you his ‘spouse’ so casually? If he confessed that he thought “it sounds so befitting for my one and only” he might as well just reveal every tender plan of a quiet life with you. And he can't have you teasing his affection for a domestic life alongside you. 

For now, fleeing was a wise and honorable choice, especially when you are ready to duel him any moment now.

✧ It was another one of those days in Il Dottore's lab. His fingers tap the surface of the table, chin resting on his palm, while a pen balanced precariously behind his ear. Delegating his final tasks for today, he supervised some final organizational matters in the lab while addressing some lab assistants with his usual air of nonchalant authority.

“Ensure all the surgical sets are properly sanitized and checked in the ultrasonic cleaner. I expect them neatly arranged by day’s end. My spouse prefers the equipment organized this way.”

One of the lab assistants stopped in their tracks, staring at him. 

“And don't inform them how some glassware shattered today. It would be irrelevant for them to worry…”

Mumbling to himself, Dottore only now realized that his lab assistants fell eerily silent, staying motionless as they blinked at him. Humming in confusion, he turned his attention at last, only to realize these unfortunate listeners were not gawing at him, but rather someone behind him.

Lo and behold, you stood there, behind him.

With a hand on your hip, you inquired with deceptive simplicity: “Oh? You have a spouse, dear?”

He pretends he wasn't aware of the conundrum and the absurdity of his slip-up. But even with his eyes covered behind that smooth black mask covering his eyes, you can see the haughty expression on his lips. Thus, he crossed his arms.

“Hm, Perhaps. You could say I do.”

“Then my condolences to your spouse. They must have the patience of a saint.”

The Doctor’s assistant had to repress their little chuckles. The tense atmosphere of the laboratory would always be dismissed with your ease, as you’d knowingly nod to Dottore’s colleagues and allow them to leave you two alone. Not even Dottore’s stern attitude would interfere otherwise, even if he tried to conceal his flustered composure at your mere words: “Well perhaps they are a saint, but also a handful for me to deal with.”

“Well, your hypothetical spouse is telling you it's late already and you should take a break for today.”

Conceding to your playful banter, The harbinger’s shoulders loosened up, a rare smile gracing him as he followed you with a wrapped arm around your shoulder. Your victory is marked by your knowing smile and Dottore would not object or conceal his infatuation by referring to you as his spouse. Even if he denies the marital titles as nothing but superficial formalities, he’d walk with you back to your shared personal quarters mumbling:

“Spouse’s orders it is, then.”

✧ It happened during a busy moment when Pantalone and you were at a tailor shop. After much persuasion that lasted weeks, your beloved succeeded at finally dragging you to a luxurious tailoring workshop, where store attendants welcomed you both and helped take your measurements with utter refinement and class.

You stood still with your arms extended, while the attendants did their swift duty with a measuring tape. In the mirror’s reflection before you, you caught sight of Pantalone standing a few steps away, his hand resting thoughtfully against his chin.

“Perhaps an elegant new blazer, white with golden accents?”

You remained still, looking absent-mindedly at the array of fabrics on display. “Dear, there is no need for every piece of clothing to look like it was made for a soirée. I am perfectly fine with a casual cotton blazer.”

The shop attendant closest to you stepped close with some swatches of fabrics to choose from, offering a polite smile. However, Pantalone had to shake his head and charmingly declare – “Oh, nonsense, my spouse deserves only the highest quality and looks when it comes to tailor-made pieces. Excuse me, may I inspect the catalogs for fabrics?”

With a polite nod, the shop assistant did not question the Harbinger or your baffled expression at the sudden choice of words. She was already moving around: “Most certainly, sir. I am sure you and your partner would love our available options. In fact, we also offer discounts for matching tailored ensembles for betrothed pairs if it's for a wedding or a honeymoon special.”

"Wait, wait… we are not-”

“Ah, wonderful,” Pantalone kept the same polite persona without missing a beat. However, the slight knowing smile did not go unnoticed as he glanced at you. “That will be excellent to keep in mind for the future."

What was promised as a quick visit to the tailor shop turned into Pantalone victoriously dragging you through multiple high-end workshops and analyzing the myriads of ‘honeymoon and wedding’ offers when it came to tailor-made clothes. And you, of course, could only gape at him while he kept that ever-charming grin.

“Pantalone, honey, we are not looking into engagement accessories. We are not married.”

“Oh? We are not?” - He feigned innocence and tilted his head. “Hehe, oops.”

✧ When Tartaglia made his way back with his men to Snezhnaya, the fuzzy white snow provided a stark white contrast to the shedding blood on the ground. Clear ruby red droplets stained the cool white terrain after the Harbinger’s successful expedition. 

“Lord Harbinger Tartaglia,” – a Pyro Agent approached, bowing in recognition. “Our reports are in. The site is clear; all abyssal monstrosities have been eliminated.”

Yet Childe was far from tranquil. The rush of battle was still hot in his blood, his hydro dual blades clutched tightly in his hands. Another mission dispelling any filth at the outskirts of Snezhnaya may be mundane for some Fatui skirmishers, yet for a man like Childe, this was his warm-up. 

“Ha… not bad. We finished much earlier today. And here I suspected this would take a whole day.” 

The Pyro Agent nodded – “Yes, sir, indeed. Judging by estimation, our troop would be back to the city by nightfall.”

“...Hold on, nightfall?” 

Suddenly, Tartaglia froze as if a deep culmination dawned on him. The confirmation from his subordinates did not quell his sudden shock. In mere seconds, all his battle rush and thrill of danger vanished before Tartaglia whipped around and exclaimed loudly to his men: 

“Teucer’s theater performance at school is today! My spouse is gonna kill me!” 

Without further words or thought, the Harbinger literally turned and sprinted as far as the horizon could see, leaving his subordinates baffled. Teucer? Spouse? This young Harbinger was married? 

“What… is he on about? I didn't know our lord Harbinger was married,” - the Pyro Agent mumbled, looking into the distance where the figure of a sprinting young man vanished off comically. An Anemoboxer Vanguard stepped nearby, adjusting his gauntlets. “I am pretty sure he isn't. It could be a family member.”

“Then who is the spouse…?” 

The Fatui colleagues exchanged shrugs before the other remembered – “Ah, could be his partner. Remember, they sometimes come to visit when he's training?”

“Oh, then definitely them.” – the two men stared off in the direction Tartaglia had gone, the bizarre image of their superior, so consumed by his bloodlust moments ago, suddenly halting everything to rush home for some kid’s theater performance. And accidentally calling his sweetheart his spouse would be hard to forget.

“Wanna bet he won't make it in time and his ‘spouse’ would teach him a lesson?” 

[mggslover]

Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon

It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.

Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories. 

You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed. 

In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted. 

In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.

“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.” 

“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.” 

A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.

You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid. 

—

“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod. 

He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”

You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”

You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”

His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.

The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.

Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head. 

It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.

—

You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.

But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.

—

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor. 

You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”

“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.

You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?” 

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”

You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”

Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear. 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.

Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.

—

After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. As his best friend, you were the one he turned to, the one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.

And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.

It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could. 

Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for. 

You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.

—

So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island. 

You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour. 

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.

With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.

“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.

“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.” 

“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”

“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was.

“I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”

“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling good. I needed time off.”

“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he said. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”

“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered in an icy tone.

His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think?” He asked quietly, his voice trembling. “I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”

You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.

“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you responded, crossing your arms in defense.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, so Hotch knew?”

“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”

“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.

“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”

But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” your voice trembled as you reached out to him, but he instinctively stepped back.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.

“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible, terrified to say anything else that could upset him.

He looked down, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled shakily. When he finally looked back at you, his expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I’m someone who bothers people with my problems?”

“No!” you said quickly, the desperation clear in your tone. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, exhaustion etched into every feature.

“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”

“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”

You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.

“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.

He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.”

Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, your voice shaking, “but I am trying.”

“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”

“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. You bit your lip, trying to hold your words in.

“Please,” he whispered, his hand gently taking yours. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.” 

You stared at him, your chest aching. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with this truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.

The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”

Spencer froze, his heart skipping a beat as he loosened his grip on your hand, making you regret speaking up.

“You.. you’re in love with me?” He asked, his voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.

He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “I’m an awful friend.”

“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs, hating to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”

His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”

You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”

“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”

You cried against his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His arms tightened around you, his hold warm and grounding. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”

“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”

Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared to hope for. Slowly, he reached out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache. 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”

You leaned into his touch instinctively, the warmth of his hand calming you. “You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.” 

His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”

The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”

“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied, lifting your shoulders. “I should’ve been more obvious.”

He let out a quiet sigh, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”

“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.

His eyes softened, his expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.” 

You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”

“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”

Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”

The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”

Spencer gently pulled you closer, the simple comfort of having you in his arms overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been there for me through everything. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.” 

The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his voice softening. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”

You felt your breath catch, not finding the words to express how you’re feeling. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips parted in surprise, but his eyes softened, filling with an emotion that made your chest ache. He nodded, “Yes. Please.”

His hands were warm against your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — urgent, raw, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A soft, desperate sound escaped your throat, conveying all the need you’d kept bottled up for so long. Spencer seemed to feel it, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.

He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.

As you moved to the buttons of his shirt, Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. The moment your hands met his bare skin, his breath hitched, and his grip on your hips tightened. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and every inch of him seemed to respond to your touch.

“God, Y/N…” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with desire. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.

You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him. 

You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. The warmth of his touch had you gasping, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.

You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.

His kiss was hungry, consuming. One hand gripped your waist, holding himself steady, while the other hooked beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you closer. The heat between you is overwhelming, every touch igniting yet another spark. 

You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.

The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours. 

His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”

A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened. 

“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.

“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure. 

Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath. 

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of desperate whimpers from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper, determined to hit the spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

His low, breathy moans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you just as he shuddered and spilled into you.

“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.

Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.”

[julymusings]

Jason Todd x Single Mom!Reader

I've been plagued for many months now by the idea of jason todd x young single mom!reader. I literally made this blog this morning just to post this

this is so LONG try as i might to shorten it i've been itching to get all this out of me so enjoy this word vomit i might just make a full fic if i'm feeling extra frisky

You got pregnant in college, and now you’re fresh out of grad school moving to a new city with your 3 year old daughter

You got a job at Wayne Enterprises, leading an important new project. You and your colleagues are invited to the latest Wayne Gala, hosted at the billionaire’s own manor. All these years as a young mother and a student, you hadn’t any experience with such extravagance-- how could you say no?

the party lowkey sucks because it's all old rich people so you sneak out to a balcony where you find a young man drinking whiskey and texting on his phone.

he introduces himself as jason, and his hand is rough and calloused when you shake it, but it's warm and sends a tingle up your arm. (😏)

You chat about your work, he complains about the stuffiness of a life at Wayne Enterprises and you laugh when he warns you to get out while you can (he's joking, of course. not because he thinks it's worth staying but because if you leave he'd never be able to hear that adorable laugh again)

when you go off on a tangent about how excited you are for your project, he's not even listening anymore. the sheer passion that lights up your face has his mind going fuzzy and a full orchestra playing in the background

you're pulled back in before he can get your number :( he's so mopey all weekend he doesn't even have it in him to retaliate when damian makes fun of him for having pink pony club as his top song for this month :(

when you get home your email is flooded with warnings from other parents at your daughter's daycare about a lice scare?? okay, you think, she's definitely not going on monday, you can just bring her to work with you, right? what's the worst that could happen?

the following monday he just happens to show up at the office (He can't just stop by to say hi to his brother who he loves?) (tim calls security almost immediately)

you're not at your cubicle (in a meeting, your desk neighbor informs him) so he mills about the floor like a lost puppy just waiting for you to show up so he can "accidentally" run into you

the woman at the front desk has a chair pulled up next to hers where this little girl with pigtails is sitting, trying to console her as tears stream down her face

jason springs into action, kneeling in front of her chair to ask what's wrong

she just sniffles and holds up her stuffed animal, an elephant whose button eye has popped out, the woman watching her trying to get her to hand it over so she can sew it back on but she wont let go

he goes full grey's anatomy, fussing over the toy like it's in mortal peril and complimenting her for being so brave before gently asking if he can try to fix it

she lets him take it and he uses the woman's travel sewing kit to stitch it back on

she's ecstatic, leaping forward into his arms to give him a big hug

but now she won't let him leave because no he has to have a conversation with the elephant first and introduce himself and give it post-surgery care instructions and listen to it talk about how much she it wants a puppy and he feels like such an idiot talking to that thing but anything to make this little girl smile

she pulls a little picture book from the backpack hung on the back of her chair and asks him to read with her and he can't just say no!

so he plops down on the tile floor and starts reading out loud and even though she's standing next to him craning her neck to see the pictures he's a head taller than her

when you finish your meeting and head back to the front desk to thank gretchen for watching your kid the sight you see makes your heart absolutely melt

jason and your daughter are sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor of Wayne Enterprises as he reads to her, and he's pulling out all the stops, he's doing voices, sound effects, and she's giggling so hard she can't sit up straight

but then they both finally notice you

"mommy!" she yells, running to you and wrapping herself around your leg

you're surprised to see him, but definitely not disappointed, and if what you just walked in on indicated anything, it was that you wanted, nay, needed this man

so now you're flushed and hopeful, mind running with possibilities of why he's here; could it be? he couldn't stop thinking about you either? he came all the way to ask you out?

but jason is also surprised, astounded even, by the miniature carbon copy clinging to your leg saying something about scooby snacks

he's freaking out on the inside

through a tight-lipped greeting he excuses himself with what he hopes is a neutral demeanor (spoiler alert: it's not) and goes home to think

and you obviously know exactly what that was about, one doesn't go through pregnancy at 19 without becoming well-acquainted with the whole catalogue of surprised/judgy reactions

of course you're a mess because the early/mid 20s dating scene is hard enough as it is but with a toddler? forget it, might as well just give up now

you go home to call your best friend and get drunk over face time while she assures you that men aint shit and offers to put a curse on him (you consider it, but how are you supposed to get a lock of his hair?)

he's up all night hating himself for being such an asshole and trying to come up with a scenario in which this works, in which he can have you in his life and also a child and be the red hood because he can't stop thinking about you

so then he just says fuck it and the next morning he shows up at your office with flowers and a puppy stuffed animal and finally asks you out

[tjwritesfanfics]

I’m not jealous (Aaron Hotchner)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aaron was going to show you how not jealous he is.

Rating: Mature 18+ only

Warnings: Jealous Aaron (though he is adamant he isn't), Reader taking advantage of a sweet guy, manhandling, Dom!Aaron, condescending, being called good girl (which made me MELT), Aaron spanks her once, fingering, overstimulation, Aaron is a sweet aftercare guy

Words: 2.9k

Main Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

Jealousy can be very ugly.

It can also be very hot. And on Aaron Hotchner it was sexy as hell. The way his jaw clenched, his eyes darken, and the air around him just got thick with tension you knew about, but the line was never crossed.

You had feelings for Aaron, everyone in the BAU knew it, he knew it, and he still had yet to decide what, and if, he felt for you.

You always tried to push him, loving the way he seemed so close to losing it only to watch him attempt to reel himself in. Once you had danced with a guy at the bar after a long case and your eyes never left Aaron. No matter how many times the guy dipped his head to kiss (more like slobbered with how drunk he was) your neck, you continued to stare at him, surprised that the glass he was holding didn’t break with the force of his grip, his knuckles already white.

And when you decided you were done with your dance partner, you attempted to leave only to have him get aggressive. You knew you could fit him off if need be, but it was much more satisfying when Aaron strode over and introduced him to that amazing right hook of his.

It was even better when he took you roughly by the waist and led you out of the bar.

In his car, you tried to push a little more, wanting him to finally admit something to you.

“God,” You sigh and brush your hand down his arm, admiring the way they flex under your touch, “You are so hot when you are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“There is no need to deny the chemistry between us, Aaron. We aren’t on the clock so you aren’t my Unit Chief, and I am not your underling, though I would so love to be under you.” You purr, warmth flooding your as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, your eyes following the motion longingly.

It would be easier if he would just give in to what was going on between the two of you.

But sadly, that was where the night ended for you.

Aaron took you back to your apartment, walked you up (like the gentleman he was), and left you there all alone.

Over the next few months you tried again and again to prove there was something between you, not only physically, but emotionally as well.

Pulling him out of his office for lunch or bringing it to him, just to make sure he would eat. Putting sticky notes on his monitor or his desk with little encouragements and reminders since you knew he could get too far into his own head and needed some help out.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t do things for you.

Bringing you coffee, made just to your liking, at the beginning of the shift or when you run low on your own coffee. He always seemed to know when you needed your fix. He also would save you a seat on the plane, the one next to the window because he knows you like to look out at the clouds during long flights.

“When we land, Y/n, Reid and I will go to the police station to set up. Morgan, you and Emily check out the crime scene.”

Aaron dished out the rest of the orders as the plane started to descend. Honestly after he told you where you were going to be, which of course was with him because he always seemed to think he needed to keep an eye on you, something you couldn’t decide if was out of how similar your skill sets are or because he has a constant need to be near you, you stopped listening.

You were certain that it was both. You knew Aaron wouldn’t sacrifice the case or the people involved just for a romantic feeling towards you.

Once you landed and got to the police station, everything seemed to flash by in a whirlwind.

You barely had any time to focus on anything other than catching the asshole that was killing women.

“You seem to be running into the ground, Agent.”

Officer Danny Grant was such a little cutie and seemed to immediately take a liking to you.

“I’ll rest when we catch this guy.” You reach for your cup of awful cop coffee, even though it was the only thing keeping you going at the moment, but frowned when you found the cup empty.

Cursing, you turn away from the board to get more.

“Here.” Grant offered you another cup, his face a little flushed and a smile on his lips. “I noticed you were low. I don’t know how you take it so I just made it black. If you need any creamer or sugar I can get it for you.”

“Thanks, Grant.” You smiled and took the cup. The warmth of it not only warming your hands, but your heart a little as well. Usually Aaron would bring you coffee, but this case seemed to take a toll on him, which you remind yourself you would have to check on him later. Now that someone else noticed and cared enough to bring you something so small, yet so vital, was sweet.

You take a sip of the black coffee, wishing it was sweeter, but the jolt of bitterness was the wake up you needed.

“I usually like it sweet, but black is fine. It’s just what I need.”

Grant continued to stick to your side, helping with the case whenever he could and bringing you more coffee (this time with a side of sugar). He was actually very helpful and you enjoyed the company of him, conversation and ideas bouncing easily.

Aaron on the other hand didn’t like the attention you were getting from the young, wide eyed officer.

He couldn’t stand the fact that he was distracting you from the case at hand (even though he wasn’t actually), the way you laughed when he said something you deemed funny, but it wasn’t, and the thing he hated the most was the smile you beamed at him when he brought you more coffee.

The smile you usually only gave him. Why were you giving it to this guy? Even when the group went out and you flirted with other men, knowing that it would get a rise out of him (though he would never admit it out loud) you never gave them that kind smile, the one that made your nose scrunch up so adorably.

It would be so easy for Aaron to go over there. He can imagine himself pulling you away from Grant. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you felt pressed against his own body. The amount of nights he had to pull himself away from you, unable to cross that line, the line between boss and subordinate. A line that he’s tiptoed since the first time he saw you.

If only it was that simple to give into you.

A few hours later, you could feel your steam running out and your eyes drooping, no matter how much coffee you drank.

“There hasn’t been any new information.” Aaron’s voice woke you just before your head hit the conference table for the second time that night, “Let’s call it a night and look at this in the morning with fresh eyes.”

“No no,” you whine, failing to lift your eyelids, “I can keep going.”

“Agent Hotchner is right. Come on, let's get you to the hotel.”

Just as Grant reached for you, Aaron was quick to his feet, striding over to you with only a few steps and grabbing your shoulder before Grant could. “I have her.” Aaron lifted you up, one hand resting under both of your legs and the other on your back, smirking at Grant as you wrap your arms around his neck and snuggle into him.

The look of shock on the officer’s face was sickeningly satisfying.

Never would Aaron be this bold, especially in front of others, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn't just let this man touch you. Not after spending all day watching his poor attempts at flirting.

You could, and probably would, be upset with him tomorrow.

Aaron lifted his chin, daring others to say anything as he made his way through the precinct with you tucked in his arms. Once you were outside, you push your face into his neck subconsciously, inhaling his scent and sending a shiver through him, thankful that at least some part of you waited until you were out of sight to get clingy with him.

“You are,” You yawn, lips brushing against his skin,”so hot when you are jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

All you did was hum in response as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

For the rest of the case you stuck to Grant every chance you got, barely paying Aaron any attention.

He knew you were doing it on purpose. You knew he knew that you knew you were doing it on purpose.

Thankfully the team was able to wrap up the case and it was only one night left before you left.

No more case. No more reason to stay in California. No more Grant.

Aaron wonders if he should be as happy as he was as he pressed the button for your floor on the elevator. He doesn’t have much time to think about it when a minute later the elevator door opens and he sees Grant standing at your door, leaning against the open door with you.

“So now that the case is over, do you want to get dinner before you leave? I’m sure hotel food isn’t as good as a good burger at this little dive I know down the street.”

You giggle at his forwardness. While you do love and want Aaron, turning down a free meal from a cute man before you never see him again couldn’t hurt, right?

“You know a little dive? Is it a ‘California delicacy?’”

Grant leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh absolutely.”

Rage and jealousy flows through Aaron, his jaw and fists clenched. His legs carried him towards you before his brain could catch up.

No more games.

In a flash, Aaron grabbed Grant by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back and away from you.

“A Aaron?!” You squeak as the man pushes you into your hotel room, closing and locking the door behind you.

His hands grab your wrists, tugging and trapping them above your head, the air leaving you completely as his lips crash against yours.

The months and months of tension finally exploded within you, arching your hips to meet him, gasping when he grips your wrists tighter in warning.

“You really can’t resist flirting can you?” Aaron’s voice may have been calm, almost bored, but his eyes betrayed the fire, the anger he held. “You just love to rile me up.”

“I thought,” you moan when he moves to kiss your neck, “you weren’t jealous.”

His laugh is condescending, one of his hands snaking down to your side while the other held tight. This was the Aaron Hotchner you wanted, the one you knew he could be if you just pushed right, but now that he was here you didn’t quite know how to handle him.

Not that you would let him know. Not as your body shivers when he rests his hand on your waist, nails digging through the material of your jeans.

“You and I both know I am not. Why be jealous when your body is so truthful with me? It tells me everything,” His smirk widens as he cupped your cunt and you whine, subconsciously grinding against his hand, seeking the dull pleasure you could get through the two layers of fabric separating you, “I need to know. It is an open book for me.”

You want to cry when Aaron withdraws from you, only proving his point further. God you want him. More than absolutely anything.

“Now be a good girl and get on the bed. I want you naked and on all fours by the time I get out of the bathroom.”

“T The bathr…” Your words die on your lips when Aaron gives you a pointed stare, one that has you clenching around nothing, before he walks away from you and into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar, almost as if daring you to disobey him.

As much as you wanted to, just to see what he would do to you, you decided that would be for a different time. Quickly shedding your top and jeans, you obey like the good girl you want to be for him.

You wait for what feels like an eternity, but was probably only five minutes before you could hear Aaron’s footsteps coming out of the bathroom. Instinct has you turning your head to look at him, “Don’t you fucking move.” but his harsh voice has you snapping it back and a shiver running down your spine.

Or was that his fingers that danced along your back? Honestly you didn’t know, but you didn;t have time to ponder it before he splayed his open palm across one of your ass cheeks, drawing back and coming down with a swift smack.

You moan, the sudden motion causing you to fall forward, your arms giving out.

“Just a little taste of what happens when you play with me.” Aaron rubbed the spot where you were sure was going to be slightly red from the force. “But I won’t give you more since you seemed to follow my orders like such a good girl.”

A whine escapes you at his words. You wanted to hear them over and over. To be praised by him over and over. His fingers ghost from your ass straight to your center, pressing and feeling, but never fully sinking into you.

“Oh fuck,” You squirm under his carful attention, “Please. Please Aaron!”

“Please what? How will I know what you want without words?”

You cry as the tip of his finger comes dangerously close to your clit only for him to pull it away just as quickly. You knew what he was doing. He was teasing you just like you had teased him, almost like a form of sick payback, and though he did have the upper hand, you felt like you had already won.

You had him in bed.

“Please touch me, Aaron. I need your hands on me, in me, anything.”

“There we go.” 

The reward for your confession was sweet. His fingers circled your clit, applying the right amount of pressure that had you moaning loudly. Aaron continued to work you, leaving your brain in a haze of pleasure which only intensified when he finally moved to sink one finger into your core.

“Fuck..” Aaron curses, his finger setting a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, admiring the embarrassingly wet noises your cunt makes. “You are so wet.”

You moan when he slides a second finger in, then a third, the stretch burning oh so deliciously.

He’s got you at his mercy, hips rocking back to meet his thrusts, drool pooling on the hotel sheets below you. “Aaron!” You cry, the coil in your gut pushing and pushing you closer to the edge, threatening to break and toss you into a sweet release.

“Let go.”

With his permission, and his fingers brushing that sweet spot that made you see stars, you do.

You scream as your orgasm crashes into you. If the outside could hear you, you didn’t care. All that mattered was Aaron, his name the only thing occupying your mind and the only thing spilling out of your mouth as if it was the only name you knew.

And right now it was.

Aaron continued to thrust his fingers into you, helping you through your orgasm until you tried to pull away from him, but his other hand gripped your waist, pulling you back and onto his fingers.

“Aaron!” You squirmed. It was too much, but you didn’t want him to stop as his fingers expertly stroked and thrust, bringing you to a second orgasm in record time. Tears prick your eyes, your body shaking, feeling weightless and not here.

You didn’t even notice when Aaron carefully turned you on your back, brushing your hair back from your face and kissing your forehead. He treated you like procaline, peppering kisses all over your face until you came back to him. “There’s my girl.”

His girl. The thought had you smiling like a lovesick fool, which was appropriate because you were. No longer were the steel eyes and lustful gaze, but soft brown eyes filled with an adoration you weren’t used to seeing. You swallow and reach for him. Aaron wrapped you in his arms and held you close.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Now what? Was he going to continue? Fuck you? Or, and something you hoped he wouldn’t do, leave you.

Aaron, the ever brilliant profiler he was, could see the war going on in your head before you could speak. He leaned down to kiss you, hand gently rubbing shapes on your upper thigh.

“Don’t worry. I will be right here for more when you wake.”

You feel a little guilty about not returning the favor, but Aaron quickly shuts that down. He grabs the hotel comfort and pulls it up, covering the two of you, tucking you into his chest. Your eyes feel heavy from the force of cumming twice (and Aaron’s skilled fingers) that you couldn’t seem to argue, eyes closing as sleep takes over.

You definitely would make him feel good when you wake up.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[grabattheseballsss]

141 and their captain’s assistant

- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing

- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help

- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly

- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager

- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course

- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+

- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’

- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain

- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”

- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base

- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork

- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no

- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates

- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”

- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !

- “so why ar’ ye here?”

“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”

- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”

- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask

- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food

- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly

- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you

- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”

- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes

- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’

- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground

- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast

- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”

“The mess hall still have some food there”

- “I don’t eat that rubbish”

“Well too bad, you need to eat”

- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now

[w4ndal0ver]

Seduction Techniques (mommy!wanda x sub!fem!reader)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: mommy!wanda maximoff x sub!fem!reader (set in the 1960s decade of wandavision, i forgot she doesn't have children at this point but I'm not rewriting it so pretend pls <3)

summary: You work for Stark Innovations as a secretary for Vision. After getting invited to a party at his house you turn up with a clingy and flirtatious colleague. Wanda immediately takes a likening to you, wanting to make you hers, but when she see's your colleague trying to mark her territory, she has to teach you a lesson.

content warnings: shameful mommy kink, gagging, slapping, praise and degradation, slut shaming, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, toxic possessive wanda, mention of innocence and wandas fascination in your age gap and inexperience, images linked to breast feeding, adultery and gloriying affairs.

word count: 8k (strap in, its a long one)

Seduction Techniques

Stark Innovations, you read tracing the words with your finger. You hadn’t been at the company long, but to be completely honest you had no idea what you were actually working for. You knew that it was a leading technology and defence contractor, known for pushing the boundaries of modern engineering, but that wasn’t where your specialities lied. You’d been Visions secretary for about a week now, basically just running files between different sectors, answering emails and calls, but mainly you felt like you floated around the brightest minds within a 40 mile radius of Westview. 

This morning you were sitting at your desk, papers scattered across the surface, trying to figure out what you were supposed to do with all the folders. The office as a whole is a large, sterile space, intimidatingly quiet and you would do anything you could to avoid being noticed by the people who worked around you. This was impossible considering the only woman in the office was sitting adjacent to your desk and every time you glanced over at her, she was always looking curiously at you. 

The door of the main office creaked open and everybody looked up as Vision walked into the room, visiting each and every person at their desk with little A6 pieces of card. Once he got to you he spoke in a professional manner, “I wanted to give you this,” He reaches over the unorganised mess of your desk, acting as if he was pretending not to see the state of all of his files, giving you the benefit of the doubt considering it was only your first week. 

You take the card, glancing over the elegant script. It was an invitation to a party at his house, seemingly addressed as a mildly professional birthday gathering for himself. “It will be good for you to meet some people outside the office so please come along if you can,” He suggests, “And get this sorted out, come on.” His hands gestured to the stacks of paper all out of order. 

You nod, returning the gentle smile, though your mind is already racing with anxiety. You hadn’t expected to have to attend something quite this personal, a considerable line you were forced to cross so soon. You looked around the room, nobody else seemed mildly interested in the invitation, clearly a usual event for the rest of your colleagues. You glanced down at the invitation again, it was signed, Wanda and Vision. 

As you looked up from your desk, the brunette woman from across the room was now perching against your desk. “Hi, I’m Natasha by the way, I felt rude for not introducing myself.” She spoke softly, her eyebrow raised slightly as you held your hand out to meet hers in a shake. “Especially considering the testosterone in the room.”

You both giggle, yours slightly more nervous than hers. “Are you going to this thing?” You ask, unsure if you’d be able to attend without a friendly face you could use as a safety blanket if things went south. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Her eyes flickering over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken, even if you weren’t entirely comfortable with how publicly she was speaking to you. “But if you’re going, maybe I could tag along with you?”

“Well I’ve got an invitation, so I guess I’ll see you there.” You laugh nervously, not wanting to seem too thrown by her advances, considering she was the first person, other than your boss, to make an effort to talk to you. Not seeing you as below her as Vision’s secretary. “Who’s Wanda?” You ask, trying to shift the conversation away from her advances.

Natasha’s raised eyebrows tell you all you need to know, her expression clearly surprised. “You haven’t heard about Wanda? Everyone knows who she is.” She smirks, stepping back a little as she sips her coffee out of her floral patterned mug. “She’s Vision’s wife, you’ll see her this weekend. Trust me, you won’t miss her.” She winks, brushing her arm past yours as she walks away. You just nod, feeling a strange flutter of anticipation in your chest at the mystery that went by the name of Wanda. 

A few days went by and you were finally in your car, parked outside the address on the envelope. You were a little later than planned, but the grandeur of Vision’s house sat in front of you and you felt a wave of nerves pass over you. It was taking every part of you to not pull out and drive away from the white picket fence that enclosed the well-manicured lawn and perfectly trimmed hedges. You take a deep breath and decide to just face it, knowing that this might be your only chance to be forgiven for what you had to admit was a very bad first impression on your first week. 

Inside, everything is even more pristine than the front, polished wooden floors and family souvenirs scattered purposefully everywhere that you looked. It was a warm and welcoming atmosphere, aided by the warm lighting and harmonies of multiple conversations that was happening in the main room. You felt a little out of place, glancing around the small crowd that had gathered all together. You pull at your white buttoned blouse, re-adjusting your collar and smoothing down the creases in your forest green pencil skirt. 

Your eyes quickly find Natasha, standing in the corner with a glass of champagne in her hand. She notices you immediately, flashing you a mischievous grin as she saunters over, a slight sway in her hips as she approaches you. “You made it!” She says, her hand sliding casually onto your lower back as she leans her hip slightly closer to yours. You stiffen slightly but you try to play it off, not wanting to break friendships already. 

“Yeah, I couldn't miss it.” You admitted honestly, feeling stuck in a state of awkwardness which was quickly cut off by Vision approaching you both, dressed in a well tailored suit. 

“I’m glad you could both make it.” He exclaims, his voice slightly tired from the endless introductions and greetings that he was forced into at his own party. He shakes your hand briefly, then glances over his shoulder. “Wanda, darling, come say hello.”

You feel the air shift as Wanda emerges into your eyeline. She’s breathtaking in a subtle, but devastating way. Her red hair twisted into a French plait, pinned elegantly at the back of her head, the soft curled strands falling loose around her face. She’s wearing a deep green dress that hugs her curves in a professional manner, the material catching the warmth of the light just right. Her eyes are green, sharp, almost knowing as they settle on you. Then came her smile, one that could make you melt in an instant, making it hard to look away. 

“So, you must be the new one Vision’s told me about.” Her voice is rich, with a slight teasing edge that makes your hairs stand on end. She looks you over in a way that feels far too intimate for a first meeting, her eyes lingering just a little longer than they should, not remaining solely on your face. 

Before you have a chance to respond, someone calls her name from across the room. “Sorry I have been summoned,” She laughs, “But please get yourself a drink darling, don’t make me look like a bad host.” You watch her walk away, your eyes drawn to the casual sway of her hips, the graceful way she appears to move through people, like they magnetically moved and formed a path for her. 

For the next hour you tried to remain focused in your conversation with Natasha and other fellow colleagues who dropped in and out of your small circle. There was a pull in your chest that kept drawing your gaze back to Wanda, her auburn hair bounced as she spoke, that blush across her cheeks was a magnetic pull. Your stare always seemed to find her figure in the crowd, barely adding anything to any conversation. 

“I’m just going to grab another drink.” You say, interrupting the aimless conversation that you weren’t the slightest bit interested in. You, less elegantly, move through the crowd and through the arched doorway into a kitchen that was so suburban you thought you’d stepped into a film. It certainly was no match for your tiny apartment where you can sit on your bed and also open the oven at the same time. There was metres of space around you, but still photo frames and children’s paintings littered the room. 

You walked by, eyes catching a wedding photo of Wanda and Vision and you felt guilty for drooling over the way the housewife looked in her wedding dress. You immediately put the frame down, walking to the bottles of wine that were stacked on the counter, twisting the lid open and refilling your own glass. 

You’re lost in thought when you hear the soft click of heels against the wooden floor. You turn and your breath hitches when you see Wanda entering the room, a glass of red already in her hand, her lips, slightly wine-stained curling into a smirk as she catches your eye. 

“Hiding in here?” She asks, her voice low and smooth as she steps closer. You swallow hard, feeling your heart race in your chest, silently praying that she couldn’t hear it thump against your skin. 

“Just needed a moment,” You say, trying to sound casual, “And you know.” You laugh nervously, lifting your freshly refilled glass as Wanda’s eyes beam at you with satisfaction. The tension between the two of you is palpable, almost like you could slice through it with a knife. 

“Hm, I don’t think you’re supposed to refill your own glass, especially not at your boss's party.” She teases humorously, watching the pink flush into your cheeks and you hold up your hands ready to apologise. “Ah, ah no need, you’re always welcome.” She reaches over you, your back up against the counter as her fingers graze your upper arm as she grabs for the bottle that you opened. You feel the spark of the touch, sharp but settling as you swallow hard. 

“It’s a lovely party Mrs Maximoff.” You compliment, not sure what else to say. She looks down at you, satisfaction lies deep within her green eyes. She waves her hand as if to say she’d heard enough of the small talk all night. 

“I couldn’t help but notice how close you and Natasha are.” She asks with genuine curiosity, but you blink surprised by her unashamed bluntness. 

“Natasha? No, It’s not like that.” You stammer, caught off guard as your bodies remain intensely close. “We work together, that’s all.” 

Wanda laughs softly at your nervousness, her eyebrow arched as she presumed you were suggesting that she would have a problem with it even if you were more than colleagues. “Relax, I’m not that kind of woman.” Her eyes gleam as she takes a deliberately slow sip of her wine, never once breaking eye contact. Your flush was creeping up your neck now, unsure of how to respond. “So no one special hm? Pretty girl like you.”

You couldn’t almost choke on your small sip of wine at the compliment, the liquid getting stuck in your throat. “No, I don’t, most of my time is spent taking care of Vision and work.” You’re not sure why you’d lied, you spent the majority of your time worrying about your job, spending less time doing what you were actually paid to do. There was something about her gaze that was making you feel strangely exposed to the point you were making stuff up on the spot. 

Wanda’s lips twitch in amusement as she swirls the wine around her glass at your response, “Oh trust me, I know what that’s like.” There's a wicked glint in her eyes, and just as you’re about to ask what she means, a familiar figure fills the doorway as Vision walks into the room. 

“Wanda my darling, can I steal you for a moment.” Wanda nods instantly, turning back to you and rolling her eyes, but not before stealing another slow and lingering glance as she steps past you, her hand brushing your arm, this time her fingers squeezing harder against your skin, lasting far too long to be deemed as innocent. 

“We’ll talk later,” She says softly, almost under her breath before she slips out of the room, leaving you standing in the empty space of her kitchen, breathless and more confused than ever. You gulp down the wine, refilling your glass once again. 

You noticed how quickly you were getting through drinks, beginning to feel yourself get a little more tipsy. You were now perched on a stool in the living room, listening to the drunk slurs of Natasha still rambling on about something that you lost interest in about half hour ago. Your eyes were still fixed on Wanda, who by the continuous scrapes on the back of her neck and quick breaths that she took when she walked away from someone, you could tell was also becoming slightly more tipsy. She was holding herself better than you, somehow her heels keeping her stable as she pranced elegantly around in that dress that was driving you crazy. 

The evening continued to progress and the effects of the wine were at the forefront. It was more than a gentle buzz now leaving your thoughts clouded and your steps a little uneven. You were trying so hard to leave Wanda alone, but the faint clicks of her heels against the polished floor kept bringing you back to watching the way her emerald dress clung to her curves. You watched as a faint shadow of discomfort clouded her usually poised face and you watched her try to slip away unnoticed towards the hallway, which would have been successful if you weren’t watching her so closely. 

The tension in her shoulders when she walked made you feel uneasy at your core. Instinctively, you followed her steps, slow and measured, trying to stay upright as you trailed her toward the bathroom. You stop in your tracks when you hear muffled voices behind the door. You could recognise it anywhere, Vision’s voice stern and sharp cutting through the silence.

“You should’ve paid more attention Wanda. Do you know how stupid you’re making yourself look?” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the irritation beneath it. You could barely make out her response, but the emotion in the silence that followed was clear. Moments later, the door flew open and Wanda rushed out, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t see you as she brushed past, head down, her heels clicking faster as she made her way to the back door, escaping into her back garden away from the crowd. 

You didn’t know what came over you, your heart racing at the sight of her as you followed her out into the garden. The cool night air hit your wine muddled brain and you spotted her sitting on the low stone wall that bordered the garden, her head in her hands, the hem of her dress sitting perfectly around her form. Her red hair was slightly messed from the evening, a few stray tendrils escaping the elegant french plait she had worn so proudly earlier, but you thought she still looked beautiful. 

You hesitated, questioning whether the wine was pushing you forward, but you needed to make sure she was okay. “Mrs Maximoff,” Your voice was soft as you stepped closer, she lifted her head quickly, her tear-streaked face turning toward you. In a flash, she wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself.

“Hi, sorry it’s my turn to have a moment.” She tried to laugh, but her voice was hoarse and the lie was painfully obvious. 

You sat down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. “You don’t seem fine,” You reach out, placing a comforting hand on her knee. While the contact meant to be reassuring, it sent a jolt of electricity through you both. 

Wanda’s lips twisted into a wry smile, her hand overlapping yours as a silent thanks, “It’s just hard you know, You think you’re doing everything right and then it's suddenly not enough.” She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to be a good wife, a good mother, but I don’t know what I’m saying, you’d have no idea, you’re so young.” You could hear the wine laced tone in her voice as she continued rambling, but the genuine hurt was written all over your face. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing her hair back gently, your fingers lingering at the nape of her neck. 

“You are an amazing wife Mrs Maximoff, Vision is lucky to have you. And your kids? They’re lucky to have a mother like you,” You compliment honestly, letting your wine thoughts take over, “You’ve got them all plastered all over your house, It’s obvious how much you care about them.”

She paused, her eyes widening slightly, a mixture of surprise and hope. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you both faded away.

“You think so?” Her voice softened, a hint of unexpected vulnerability breaking through. Yet despite it all, the tension hung tick in the air as she searched your eyes, her expression shifting. “You barely know me. How could you possibly think that?”

You felt a surge of confidence as you leaned in slightly, heart racing quicker than before. “I don’t need to know everything about you to see what kind of person you are.” You paused, letting your gaze roam over her face, the way the moonlight illuminated her features. “I can see good people from the moment I meet them.”

Her lips now formed a teasing smile, her eyes holding a certain depth that made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. They were flickering with something unreadable. She leaned in just an inch closer, her voice low and laced with flirtation. “Good people, hm?” Her fingers now create circles against the back of your hand, “Careful darling, you might find that I’m not as good as you think.” She tilted her head, deciding to go easier on your innocent face that responded silently to her teasing, “I can’t imagine a young, attractive girl like you could really mean that.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks, caught off guard by her compliment. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady, though you were sure she could hear the slight tremble in it. “I do mean it. I might not know everything about you, but you’re more than just Vision’s wife or your children's mother.” You shifted closer, your heart pounding harder in your chest as you dared to let your gaze linger on her lips. “You’re something special Mrs Maximoff.”

Her face darkened at your words, her smile fading into something softer, more intense. She let out a quiet breath, every inch of your skin tingling with anticipation. Her thighs subtly began to squeeze together, every time you addressed her by her title rather than her name which she had introduced herself as, but you choosing to remain innocently respectful was driving her crazy. Wanda couldn’t help but imagining corrupting your innocent little mind, having you bent over for her while she fucked you dumb. 

“Special... is that what you think I am?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, dripping with curiosity and something else—something far more dangerous.

You nodded, the words caught in your throat as your pulse quickened, your heart hammering in your ears. Her fingers stopped their slow, deliberate movements and instead curled gently around your hand, her thumb brushing the side of your palm in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

Wanda’s eyes darted down to your lips, her breath warm and shallow. She hesitated, her voice now even softer than before, vulnerable beneath the weight of the growing tension between you. “You’re so sweet to me honey, and you barely know me.” Her lips now hovered inches from yours, so close you could feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. “I might not be the good person you think I am. What if I make you regret it darling.”

Your core trembled at how close her face had become to your own. The desire in her voice was slowly unravelling you, but instead of pulling away, you allowed the wine to give you the confidence to lean in further, closing the distance until your lips were almost touching. Your voice trembling, “I don’t think I could regret you Mrs Maximoff.” 

That was her final straw, she snapped the tension as she closed the gap between you with a soft, deliberate kiss, the kind that felt like a blow burn igniting deep in your chest. The touch of her lips was light at first, testing, teasing, but when you didn’t pull away from her advance, her hand cupped the back of your neck, tangling itself in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss. 

Your fingers instinctively gripped her waist, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her now bunched up dress, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the way her lips moved against yours, her tongue swiping your bottom lip before taking it into her teeth and tugging against it, making you whine desperately against her mouth. 

Wanda pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing uneven as she whispered, “I told you, I’m not as good as you think,” Her thumb brushed over your jaw, her lips ghosting yours again, a low, teasing chuckle escaping her, “But I could take care of you, you know that don’t you.” 

Her voice dropped lower, that familiar tone slipping into something more playful, more commanding, “Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special.” 

Your pulse quickened again, heat flooding your body as her words wrapped around you. You were at a loss for words, you were particularly inexperienced and you’d never had anyone that looked or sounded like the way Wanda spoke to you. You could feel the arousal pooling between your legs, your mind reeling from the kiss, from her touch, from the way she held complete control. Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached from behind you.

“Well this is cosy.” Natasha’s voice broke the tension like a whip. You jerked away from Wanda, your heart racing as Natasha appeared at the edge of the garden, her expression one of amusement, but there was something dangerously possessive flashing behind Wanda’s eyes. “There you are,” She slurred, her hand reaching out to grab your arm and you could see Wanda desperately trying to not stand up for your defence, “Come on, let's get back inside gorgeous.” 

You were too stunned to resist as Natasha pulled you up from the wall. You glanced back at Wanda, your heart aching at the sight of her. She sat there, watching you with a look that was far more than just jealousy—it was something primal, something dark.

Your chest tightened with a sense of dread, knowing you were in deep trouble. You’d crossed a line, and there was no going back.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, but Wanda’s gaze never left your mind. You didn’t see her again before you left, and now, the thought of returning to work and seeing Vision—after kissing his wife in their own garden—was enough to make you feel dizzy.

That night, after you’d managed to find your way home, you felt a shameful amount of guilt and you couldn't sleep. Even as the moonlight spilled through the slats of your blinds, casting a soft glow across your room, your mind was racing. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. The way her lips had felt pressed against yours, the warmth of her breath, her voice, thick with desire, echoing in your ears.

"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special"

The words sent a shiver through you, settling deep in your core. Your body stirred, heart pounding harder as you recalled the way her fingers had brushed over your skin, the unspoken promise in her touch, the way her lips had lingered just a moment longer than necessary. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was no use. Wanda was all you could think about, and the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

Your hand moved slowly beneath the sheets, almost without thinking, fingertips grazing over your stomach as a small gasp escaped your lips. You hesitated for a moment, but the memory of her was too strong, too intoxicating. Your body ached with need, your breath coming quicker as you gave in to the desire swirling inside you.

You imagined her—her red hair falling in loose curls, the way her lips had formed into that teasing smile. The way her eyes had darkened with want when she’d leaned in close, her voice a low murmur meant only for you. "You’re so sweet…" her voice replayed in your head, as though she were there beside you, whispering in your ear. "But maybe I’m not as good as you think..."

Your hand slipped lower, and you bit your lip as a soft moan escaped you, your body responding to the thought of her, the memory of how she’d kissed you in the garden, her fingers so possessive, so commanding. Every touch, every word, was still fresh in your mind, and it made your pulse quicken.

You imagined her voice, soft and sultry, like velvet wrapping around you. "You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?" you could almost hear her purring, her lips ghosting over your neck as her hand trailed lower, just like yours was now. "I could take care of you, make you feel so good…"

Your breath hitched as your fingers dipped lower, finally giving into the need that had been building since that kiss. The pressure of your hand, the soft movement, made you arch into the sensation, biting your lip harder as the heat coiled in your belly. You imagined that it was her touching your clit, making you gasp carefully at the touch. The image of Wanda’s smile, her possessive gaze, fueled the fire, every thought of her pushing you closer to the edge.

"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special…"

Your fingers moved faster, the wetness between your thighs a stark reminder of how much she had affected you. You pressed your head back against the pillow, your free hand gripping the sheets as the memory of her touch consumed you. The way her voice had dipped, teasing and dangerous, the way her hand had lingered on your skin—everything about her had left you aching for more. Your eyes were closed, the image of her face hovering over you, that smirk cutting through you as she watched you fall apart underneath her touch. 

Your breath came out in soft pants, your body tense as the pleasure built, spiralling out of control. It was all Wanda—her lips, her touch, her dominance—everything about her had ignited something in you that you couldn’t ignore. Your hips bucked against your hand as you chased that release, imagining her there with you, whispering in your ear, telling you how much she wanted to take care of you.

"Good girl."

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your soft moan filling the quiet room as your hand stilled between your thighs, shivering in the aftermath. The tension released in a rush, your body trembling as you slowly came down from the high, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

But even as the pleasure ebbed away, Wanda’s presence lingered in your mind, a constant pull that you knew would only grow stronger the more you thought of her. And you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

As you lay there, your heart finally slowing, one thought circled back in your mind, sending a thrill through you: this was far from over. You had tasted something dangerous, something forbidden—and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to hold yourself together if you got the chance to see her again. 

You woke up a few hours later to the sound of your alarm, hitting the clock you rose and was immediately drawn to the stickiness between your thighs from your activity the night before. You’d made such a mess of yourself to the thought of her, something that you had barely done before. Even without her there she made you feel so dirty and a part of you absolutely loved it. You decided to leave the same underwear on, enjoying how uncomfortable you felt sitting in the dampened fabric, a constant reminder of Wanda. 

Your head was aching from the alcohol you’d consumed, but you managed to find your way to your desk as the office settled into its usual afternoon quiet. You’d been struggling to stay focused all day and when Vision approached you earlier you felt your voice squeak, squirming in your chair as you felt your arousal grow just at the thought of his wife.

Once again, Natasha was hovering over your desk, finding reasons to brush her hand over your arm, her touch lingering in a way that sent mixed signals. You were trying your best to stay focused, but your distracted mind didn’t have the energy to shake her away from you. 

“I wouldn’t mind taking you out for a drink later, If you’re up for it.” She leans in, her voice low and teasing but unlike Wanda’s tone from the night before, she didn’t make you want to drop everything in order to go on an uncomfortably flirtatious date with your needy colleague. You felt bad leading her on, but your mind was elsewhere. 

Before you can even formulate an excuse, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, the familiar daunting sound of the click of heels against the laminated floor. Everything around you seems to freeze. Wanda Maximoff. You tense up, recognising her immediately before her mind catches up to you. She walks into the office, a few greetings heading her way from the other men sitting at desks closer to the door. Your mouth hung ajar slightly at her figure wrapped in an elegant dress. 

You try to maintain your composure, but as you watch Wanda glance around, her expression purposefully remaining neutral, yet you still feel the weight of her gaze land briefly on Natasha, who still stands too close to you. 

“I’m just dropping off some files for Vision.” Her voice is calm, smooth, but you can sense the underlying tension in the way her eyes dart between you and Natasha. 

“Vision’s actually out for the day, but I can take care of that for you.” You stand up from your desk, stepping towards her as you gesture toward the file in her hands, hoping to appear professional though your nerves are evident in the tremble in your fingers. 

Wanda’s lips twitch into a smile, her fingers tightening slightly around the folder as if she was considering whether to hand it over. For a moment, her gaze locks onto yours, and there's something intense, something dangerous simmering just beneath her incredible composed exterior.

“Are you sure? It’s important.” She says, her voice dropping with faux innocence, though the way her eyes linger on you sends a very different message. You nod, managing a small smile. 

“I’ve got it. You don’t need to worry.” You reach for the file, your fingers brushing hers briefly as you take it from her. That sends a jolt through your core and you can’t help but notice the slight smirk that pulls at Wanda’s lips as she watches your reaction. 

Natasha is standing behind you, recognising the obvious tension between you both. “Always so helpful, aren’t you?” She teases, but there's a sharp edge to her tone now. She steps closer to you, her hand lightly brushing your shoulder once again, as if claiming her territory in front of Wanda. 

Wanda’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, though her smile remains calm and composed. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.” Her voice is velvet, but you can feel the jealousy bubbling beneath her words. 

“I’ll make sure your husband gets them.” Natasha says, a harsh tone to her voice, accentuating heavily on the reminder that Wanda is married. The brunette continues to hover far too close to Wanda’s liking and you watch her gaze harden, her green eyes practically burning with unspoken possessiveness. The air between the three of you feels suffocating, and all you can do is stand there, caught in the middle, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Suddenly Wanda retracts her previous statement as she was about to leave, “Actually we need to talk privately,” She doesn’t wait for a response, her hand lightly gripping your arm as she gestures towards Vision’s office, “Now.”

The way she says it makes it sound less like a suggestion and more like an order and you follow her without hesitation, your heart racing as she sways her hips purposefully in time with the click of her heel as she steps. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts. Wanda is no longer the calm, collected housewife she usually presents herself as. She turns to face you, her eyes darkening with something that was dangerously close to fury. Before you have a chance to greet her properly she shoves you harshly into the office door, the blinds to the door window already closed from Vision before he left. 

“What the fuck was that.” She spits at you, her voice dripping with disdain. She grips your jaw between her hand, forcing your face up to look directly at her, her thumb digging particularly hard into your cheek. “Natasha is a bit too friendly, don't you think?” She growls her name, her manicured nails scratching into your skin as she sputters her name. 

You blink, taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanour, yet there was something so intoxicating and addictive about it. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what? Let her flirt with you.” She leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing against your ear as her grip on your jaw tightened. “You think you can play around with people like her? You’re just a little girl, you don’t know what's good for you.”

Your heart raced at her words, the fire in her tone igniting a thrilling mix of fear and desire within your core. “You’re so young, so naive. You think you can handle this?” She steps back slightly, her eyes narrowing as she assesses your body trembling, wincing as she roughly tugs your face up further, making you uncomfortable. “You need someone to teach you, to take care of you. Someone who knows what’s best for you.” There was an edge to her voice, a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off. “No, don’t say a word.” Her voice was low, commanding, stepping in closer again, feeling the heat radiating from her fury. She leans into your neck, her grip tugging your head to one side as she licks a strong stroke up the length of your throat, biting into your ear lobe making you whine. 

“You need to learn your place.” Her other hand gripped your wrist, shoving you harder into the door, “Your place is with me, not that pathetic little whore.” You felt a rush of submission wash over you at her words. 

“Mrs Maximo-”

She delivered a sharp slap to the side of your face and you let out a sharp moan at the hot sensation spread across your cheek. “You don’t get to speak right now.” Her eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness, “You are mine, you listen to me.” Her hand finds its way to your throat, gripping you so tightly she’d cut the oxygen completely off, your eyes fluttering as you went lightheaded. 

She loosens her grip, not letting you go, your head still flush against the door looking up to her with your innocent eyes. “You’re not ready for that type of attention.” She was looking at you now as if to be assessing your worth to her, “I will teach you to be good, how to belong to someone.” 

“But I want to make my own choices.” You plead, your cheeks flushed as her grip tightened harder than before, your throat caught in the whirlwind of her anger and jealousy. 

“No you don’t” Her voice had calmed and her grasp around your neck was now just fingers brushing against your skin, finding the curve of your jaw and gently caressing you. “You want me to take care of you.”

You couldn’t help but nod, the truth of her words resonating deep within you. You had wanted this since the moment you set your eyes on her, you just didn’t really know what this was before now. You felt your innocent leaking out of you in the form of your arousal dampening your already ruined underwear. 

“You don’t think pretty girl, just let Mommy think for you.” Her fingers like fire brushing against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “Aw, you like the idea of that don’t you.” Her breath was stern against your neck, “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Her hand brushing the pink flush of your cheeks, one side significantly darker from the slap you received earlier. 

“Now Mommy’s going to teach you how to behave.” She teases, finally letting go of your face and your throat and you breathe heavily in order to catch up with your racing heart race. You’re stuck flush against the door, watching as she packs up a section of Vision’s desk, tapping the top of the wooden surface, gesturing you to come and sit up on it. 

You do it immediately, but as you go to perch against it she grabs your thighs from underneath and roughly pushes you to where she wants you. Her hands bunch your dress up to your waist, revealing your light pink underwear, a little bow sewn in the middle of the hem. She also saw that you weren’t wearing tights, but thigh high socks and she scoffed at the sight of you. 

She cups your pussy, only again chuckling at the warm dampness that immediately soaked into her palm. “Honey you’re soaking for mommy.” She places more pressure into you, the heel of her palm pushing dangerously into your sensitive clit, making you yelp. You could tell that you looked guilty, immediately remembering how you’d ruined them a few hours before. “Have you touched yourself in these?”

You nod shamefully and she hooks her finger under the hem at the side, yanking them down quickly and removing them completely from your legs. “Did you get some big feelings, pretty girl? Tell me.” She bunched your panties in her hands, bringing them up to her face and inhaling your sweet scent before tossing them to the side. 

You could choke on her words, but when she pushed your thighs apart wider, standing between you, forcing them to stay open as she roughly pushed two fingers inside of you, immediately curling them upwards at a relentless pace you had never experienced before. “Tell me.” She warns dangerously, quickening her pace, wanting to hear the desperate shake in your voice. 

“There was a funny feeling in my stomach that night you kissed me.” You panted heavily, “I had to touch myself, imagining that it was you.” You sounded so pathetic but Wanda was lapping it up, her thumb finding your clit as you leant back against the desk, holding yourself up by gripping the opposite end of the desk. 

“When was this pretty girl?” Wanda asks, her motions now remaining a continuous pace now that she’d found the one level higher than it seemed you could take comfortably. 

“Last night.” 

“And you wore them today.” Wanda scoffs, her smirk dangerous and sultry, her green eyes dark as she starts thrusting hard into you. You nod in shame, your head hanging low as she scrunched your eyes at the rough contact against your bundle of nerves. “You’re filthy aren’t you, a filthy little girl for mommy.” 

“Yes Mommy, I’m your filthy little girl.” You could barely string sentences together, each word caught in a high pitched moan. You hear footsteps from outside the office, people walking by and Wanda stills her movements, pulling out of you and moving backwards remembering that she’d forgotten to lock the door. 

“You sound so pretty for Mommy, but you need to stay quiet.” She whispers, her own hand dipping underneath her dress, feeling the soaked fabric of her own underwear before pulling them off. You watch in awe as her black laced panties hooped at her ankles, she steps out of them, the click of her heels louder as they step back to the ground. She bunches them in her hand, her other hand grazing your lips, prying them open before slotting her dampened underwear between your lips, “For safe measure.” She smirked, you looked so pathetically desperate with her laced lingerie gagging you. 

You felt dizzy as the taste of her arousal leaked onto your tongue, you groaned at the sweet taste of her, but your groan was painfully muffled. She delivered a quick slap to your thighs, you opened your legs immediately and she pushed her fingers back inside of you, once again not giving you a chance to react before she was thrusting harshly into you. “You enjoy the taste of Mommy while I ask you why you’ve come to work looking like such a slut when you don’t work for me, but rather my husband.” 

You try to defend yourself, but no words come out as your tongue continues to circle the dampened fabric, barely able to see as Wanda adds a third finger to the other two relentlessly working inside of you. “Who are you trying to impress?” You shake your head at the accusation, no other way of getting your words across. 

Your core is trembling as Wanda harshly fucks you with her fingers, her nails now digging into your back, forcing you forward to lean into her chest. The new angle made her go insanely deeper inside of you, leaving you moaning loudly into her chest. Your head rested right against her breasts and you could feel her painfully erect nipples against your cheek through her dress.

As her thumb begins to draw torturous circles around your clit, the sensations are way too stimulating for someone of your little experience. You tug desperately at the buttons of her dress and she looks down at you while her wrist continues its same rough thrusts. “You wanna suck on Mommy?” You nod frantically at the assumption and she smiles at you, placing a gentle kiss to your temple, your emotions confused at the gentle gesture while her fingers were fucking you dumb. She removed her underwear from your mouth, draping them over the edge of the desk as a constant reminder that she could gag you if you mess up. 

She allows you to undo the top of her dress, managing to find your way to her soft porcelain skin, her breast perked upwards and you immediately latch onto her hardened nub. You whimper softly at the feeling of your lips against her nipple, using your tongue to softly flick over her breast, making it easier for you to manage the pace in which she was fucking you, her nails gripping into your waist, pulling your front flush against hers as your mouth refuses to let go of your natural gag. 

Each time her thumb flicked your clit so precisely, you whined against her nipple, the vibrations making her wrist pump harder into you. She felt you suckles getting harder, your teeth lightly grazing as you felt your core tighten around her fingers. “You’re close aren’t you princess.” 

You nod desperately, letting go of her aching nipple with a pop as you look up at her pleadingly. “Those puppy dog eyes aren’t letting me forget how you let Natasha touch you, only good girls get to cum when they want.” Then suddenly all contact was removed from you and you looked up at her with desperate confusion. She brushes her hand across your lips, your sweet arousal lingering on your mouth. 

“Mommy?” You say, your voice laced with confusion as you are left on the brink of your orgasm, your hips jutting uncontrollably to try and gain contact. 

“Mommy wants to taste you, I’ll give you what you want once I hear what I want from that pretty mouth of yours.” She says, her voice stern as she drops to her knees in front of you, her hands caressing your inner legs through those sheer thigh-highs that were driving Wanda crazy. She imagined having you in her and Visions bed, ankles lied to your wrists as you lied on your front before she fucked you senseless with her strap. But she was more than satisfied as she smelt your arousal in front of you, your wetness glistening against your skin and your perfect folds. She was obsessed with the way your pussy looked, so tight and neat, perfectly untouched. 

Wanda pushes her hair behind her ears, diving in to consume you, taking one long lick from the bottom of your slit, right up to the top of your trembling clit. She looked up at you, trying your best to sit so she could see your face, your eyes crunched and bottom lip between your teeth. “Who do you belong to?” She asks, before sucking against your exposed clit, protruding desperately as she clasps her lips around it.

“You Mommy only you.” You pant breathlessly, your feet digging hard into her back in an attempt to stay still and docile for Wanda. She continued to suck against you, pulling back, kissing an individual kiss against your bundle of nerves. 

“Who is not allowed to go near you.” She says, before diving straight back in, this time her hand reaches the top of your mound, stretching your skin upwards so her tongue could flick harshly against your aching clit, pushing you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Natasha.” 

With the name spoken, her teeth gently nip at your clit and you let out an exasperated cry of pain before she soothes it with her saliva, spitting softly onto your cunt so her tongue would glide effortlessly through your folds. She pulls back one more time, enjoying the sound of your worn out voice, still trying so hard to please her. “What happens if Mommy finds out something like today happens again.” 

“Mommy will punish me.” You gasp, your core burning as the orgasm twirled in your stomach, threatening to rip right through you as Wanda maintains her hold, leaving your clit completely exposed to the rough attack of her tongue. You were doing everything you can to drag out the feelings of pleasure and pain against your cunt, not wanting this spaced out feeling to end, you knew you’d do anything she asked, take anything she wanted you to in this moment. With the grip of her nails into your waist, her tongue relentlessly working you up you reach the point of no return, the inevitable orgasm ripping through you at an intense level, your skin felt like it was burning apart as her name tumbled from your lips, her tongue not once stopping. 

She continued until you rode out your high, your hips rutting against her tongue as she tried to hold you down, but secretly loving the feeling of your body not being able to control itself, knocking into her mouth over and over again. Once you let out your last heavy breath, Wanda emerged from under your bunched up dress, one final kiss delivered to your entrance before immediately grabbing you into a soft, gentle kiss that shared your arousal through your tongues sliding against each other. 

“That's a good girl, I think you learned your lesson.” Wanda smirks, pulling you into a careful embrace as your body shakes against her hold. “Now you go back out there and pretend Mommy didn’t just fuck you dumb in your bosses office.”