#love and hip hop hollywood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therealcocoshady · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, coco!

You could make a third part of Eminem x Young Actress Reader, where the reader accompanies him to a game in Detroit and the cameras can't stop focusing on them because Em has never been seen so smiling and affectionate with someone. For the rest you can add what you want. By the way, I love your work and I love that you write about Eminem since almost no one does.<3

Family Game

Eminem x Younger Actress Reader

Part 1 : Daddy’s Spaghetti

Part 2 : Red Carpet Appearance

AN : thank you for your request ! I hope you liked it. I added my own little twist to it 🥰

Ever since your remarked outing at the Oscars, everyone knew you and Marshall were dating, much to your delight. Sure, you would gladly do without the press coverage, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a tiny bit satisfying to have everyone know that Eminem, hip hop’s most eligible bachelor was spoken for, by yours truly, no less. After all, you were not the first (nor the last) public figure to thirst over him and it felt nice to have the “competition” know that they should back off. Especially when you were in a long distance relationship : him in Detroit, you in LA. Sure, you trusted each other and often traveled to make it work but, still, it’s easy to get jealous, especially when both parties are public figures. Marshall was well aware of your status as Hollywood’s rising star and, since he had been your crush for years, you knew for a fact that he has tons of ladies throwing themselves at him.

In spite of the distance and a couple of jealousy episodes, the two of you managed to make your relationship work, however. Marshall frequently flew out to LA to record with Dr Dre and other artists and to visit you and, whenever you weren’t shooting a movie, you joined him in Michigan. Your relationship was now in the serious state of « we’re both hope at each other’s place ». Your living room table was full of CDs and notepads and his living room was made cozy with your favorite crystals (which he always made fun of), scented candles (which he secretly loved) and fuzzy blankets (which he stole whenever you weren’t around). The whole relationship, despite trials, felt cozy and domestic. And it was made even better by the fact that Marshall had finally managed to ease up. You tended to blame it on the good critical reception after the Oscars : as soon as the two of you had been spotted together, holding hands, Marshall happily gushing about you to the press, both your fans and his had showered you with love and showed nothing but support. Whenever you were positing, fans (most of the time, respectfully) asked about him and they seemed truly overjoyed by the relationship. From what you gathered in the social media comments, they were also dying for the two of you to be spotted together again. Marshall was pretty much an hermit and not the kind to go out and about when he knew he might be spotted but, on one occasion, he had to oblige the fans.

His beloved Detroit Lions were playing your Los Angeles Rams at Detroit’s Ford Field Stadium and there was no way in hell you would miss the occasion to attend. Knowing how protective of your relationship he could be, you made plans to attend on your own, with a couple of friends who would fly in for the occasion, but Marshall surprised you by actually requesting your presence.

Don’t you want to go with me ? He asked.

You mean… on a date ? You clarified.

I mean there would be other people around, like family, friends and shit but we could be together, he said with a smile.

You mean you would agree to being spotted with me ?! You asked jokingly. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in Lions apparel !

What I mean is that I’d be proud to hold your hand, even if you’re wearing that stupid Rams hoodie, he grinned.

Ok, you giggled. As long as I’m not forced to cheer for your team !

You ended up attending the event in a private suite with a lot of other people. Of course, his children were in attendance, as well as a couple of D12 friends. You had met everyone previously. A couple of months into the relationship, Marshall had organized a dinner for you to officially meet his daughters and everything had gone smoothly. You absolutely loved them, and same went for the friends he had introduced to you on different occasions. At the game, you were also joined by a couple of your friends, that you not so secretly planned on setting up with some of his. In your mind, there was no doubt that Alicia and Porter were meant to be and the Game seemed like the perfect occasion. It was joyful and everyone was really happy to be here. You were donning your favorite Rams apparel, much to Marshall’s dismay, but that didn’t prevent him from casually holding your hand.

For how much would you wear Lions apparel ? Your friend jokingly asked.

Nobody in this room can afford it, you replied with a grin.

Oh really ? Marshall asked with a smirk.

How about if you guys get married ? Porter asked. Would you be willing to support the Lions ?

That would require a HUGE rock, you giggled. But yeah, sure, if we ever get married, I’ll wear Lions gear for all games, except the ones against the Rams.

Your friends erupted in « oooohs » and « aaaahs ». The rivalry between your two teams was enough to fuel a dozen of conversations but, other than that, everyone around you had to agree that you were kind of the perfect couple. Your best friends always pointed out that Marshall was good at keeping you grounded and reminding you of the things that mattered - besides all the LA glitz and glamour - and Marshall’s circle seemed happy that you encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone.

He was usually stressed out whenever there were tons of cameras around. It was unsettling to you, at first, because it was part of the job, but as your relationship progressed and he came with you to some events, he seemed to ease up. Still, he wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his company nonetheless and you didn’t need him to kiss you in public or even hold your hand to be happy to be with him. In settings like football games, though, he was himself - the man you knew and loved in everyday life. He could be seen clapping, shouting, cheering… a far cry from the stoic face he arbored on red carpets and magazine covers. And you absolutely loved to see him enjoy himself and have fun. You were enamored with his smile and happy demeanor and you didn’t care too much about the 60 000 other people, you only had eyes for him. Obviously, though, as a Detroit native and global superstar, he was one of the centres of attention when Lose Yourself started playing before the game and everyone started singing/rapping along to the lyrics. Everyone in your group watched Marshall, who was definitely in a good mood. So were you, to be honest, and you couldn’t help but rap along, this song being one of your favorites ever. As the song ended, you could see Marshall sitting right next to you, trying not to laugh.

You’re adorable, he chuckled.

What ? You asked with a giggle. It’s the ultimate stadium song ! And my boyfriend is the one who wrote it !!!

I love you, he simply said before cupping your face and placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

That was the last tender moment the two of you shared before the end of the game. When your two favorite teams played each other, there was no romantic involvement anymore. It was all betting, taunting and calling each other names. For the first two quarters, the Rams seemed to dominate, which you gladly shoved in your boyfriend’s face, but when the Lions ended up winning, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Despite it all, and in spite of you being a sore loser, Marshall behaved like the perfect boyfriend and pecked you on the cheek, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exited your suite. His team winning always put him in a celebratory mood and he was more affectionate than usual, not giving a damn what people would see or think. He even went so far as to kiss your lips.

Of course, in the following hours, the Internet went absolutely crazy over the pictures of the two of you at the stadium. While some accounts were raving about your outfit (because you did put some effort into making that Sports apparel work !), most of them were gushing about Marshall’s display of affection and how in love the two of you looked.

« Look at his smile 🥰 » commented one, or « Look how in love he looks when she’s rapping his song 😭❤️ » were a few of the comments you could see under the videos of the event. It was extremely cute and, in moments like these, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth. However, a swarm of other comments started to appear, focusing on… Marshall’s daughters. The three of them were sitting on the row just behind you and they could be seen laughing at your nonexistent rapping skills (all fair, really) and mocking their father’s display of affection. You didn’t take offense at all - you’d been there yourself and you knew how icky it could feel, seeing your parent being affectionate with someone in public, but the press and social media accounts seemed to turn it into a family feud. If the headlines were to be believed, neither Alaina, Stevie or Hailie approved of the relationship and thought you were too young for Marshall. They apparently despised you and saw you as the most evil and wicked stepmother who was more than likely after their Dad’s fortune. Of course, reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Whenever you were in Detroit, you spent a great deal of time with Marshall’s daughters and you considered as friends. So much so that you even made plans of your own, that did not include him. It wasn’t rare for the four of you to have dinner or go shopping. On occasion, they even visited you in California and you soon planned to go on a girls’ trip in Morocco. So, when Hailie showed you the headline on your phone, everyone burst out laughing.

« Evil stepmother », Stevie chortled. That’s hilarious.

Is that because of the face you made, Hailie ? When Y/N was rapping ? Alaina chimed in.

I was making a face because they were corny ! She laughed. Look at Dad’s face on the video. He’s all cute and lovey dovey. Of course I wanted to puke !

Marshall rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to his kids making fun of how in love with you he was but, honestly, he didn’t care. For the first time in forever, he was happy and thriving in a relationship. A healthy one, at that. Whenever you were around, he could barely contain his joy and good mood and he often thought he would do anything to make you smile. He hated public attention but he simply loved showing you off and enjoying life with you. However, he had to admit he was a little annoyed by the comments involving your relationship with his daughters. He knew there was no truth to it whatsoever but that didn’t make it less annoying. First of all, he hated seeing his kids’ names in the media, especially if it was negative and, secondly, he hated the idea of lies involving all of you, the people he loved the most on this earth. However, the four of you were grown women and he knew better than to say something so he figured it would be best to wait for it to die down.

Unfortunately, though, the rumors did not die down and the whole thing got blown out of proportion. It wasn’t only on social media : press and other media outlets got ahold of the story and even dug up some obscure social media posts and took them out of context. They really made it seem like there was hatred between the girls and you were a mean gold-digger who wanted to estrange Marshall from his children. Nothing could be further for the truth though, and you even celebrated the holidays together. After years spent in the public eye, you tried not to let it get to you but it was hard. Even if some of your past relationships had been publicized, this one was on a whole other level and you had a hard time dealing with the scrutiny. Especially when some people were starting to wish for the end of your career with comments like « What a b****. Hope no one casts her ever again 🙄 » or « Hope she enjoys her Oscar because she won’t last much longer in Hollywood 💀 ». You tried not to let your feelings show. Marshall was already annoyed and you didn’t want things to get worse. After all, you knew how overprotective he could get over the people he loved.

A few weeks went by and the attention seemed to die down around the holidays. You had been with Marshall for a year and a half and it was your first time celebrating together. You would spend the days leading up to Christmas in Michigan, go back to your family in California for the holidays and then jet off to a private Island lent by a friend for some vacation time just the two of you. Marshall would even join you in LA to spend some time with your family who was definitely approving of him. They absolutely adored him and considered him a part of the family.

In the week leading up to Christmas, you were on Christmas tree decoration duty with the girls while Marshall was letting you do your thing. Hailie had come up with some ornaments as merch for her podcast and you thought it would be cute and funny to take a selfie with one of them that said « Shady or Nice ». You posted it to your Instagram account with some cheesy caption and didn’t pay it too much attention. When you checked the comments, a day or so later, you were surprised at the reaction. What you thought would be a cute nod to your boyfriend and his daughter’s podcast ended up in a shitstorm, with people basically accusing you on sucking up to Hailie to get to Marshall. In their mind, you were a master manipulator. Of course, these were just a bunch of people commenting and the rest seemed rather supportive and happy to see you acknowledging your relationship, something you rarely did on your social media account. Still, you were a little bugged off when you went to bed.

What’s up, babygirl ? Marshall asked as he laid next to you.

Nothing, you shrugged. Just these mean trolls.

What are they saying now ?

That your daughters hate me, you summed up. And that I’m trying to suck up to them.

That’s stupid, he scoffed. The girls love you and you know it.

And I love them too, you know ? You replied. But I don’t know… I don’t like people getting the wrong idea. And I see people commenting about me in their posts and it breaks my heart.

It’s not your fault, he said before kissing your forehead. Let’s not think about that, ok ? Just focus on the holidays and the great time we’re going to have.

I’m going to miss you for Christmas, you pointed out.

Three days, he chuckled. And then I’m joining you in California. And after that… you, me, a private island and your tiniest bikinis.

You nuzzled his neck and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, making you forget all of your worries. The next day, you were set to hop on the jet to go back to California and enjoy some family time with your brother and your parents. Before that, you enjoyed one last brunch at Marshall’s place, with his daughters. Hailie got everyone matching ugly Christmas sweaters and you were absolutely moved that she got one for you. You took corny pictures in front of the Christmas tree posing with your boyfriend’s daughters while he was rolling his eyes at your dumb poses. You even got Marshall to pose with you. He wasn’t big on taking pictures but he knew how important these were for you and the girls so he obliged with a smile on his face. A few hours later, you were on the jet, scrolling social media and noticed that Alaina had posted the picture of you, her and her sisters in front of the Christmas Tree with the caption : « Happy holidays from our FAMILY to yours 💕 ». You thought it was the sweetest thing ever that she considered you as family. Of course, trolls were still in the comments, but you tried to stay positive. A few hours later, Hailie updated her last podcast episode of the year, with Stevie as guest.

So, before we begin this episode, we wanted to address something, she began.

Family matters, Stevie specified.

Right, Hailie nodded. You guys have been commenting a lot on last episode’s video and on my Instagram account…

All our accounts, her sister corrected.

Yes. Everyone’s account. It seems like Internet is going crazy about a certain video that was taken at the last Lions Game, so I thought… we thought we should clear things up, Hailie said. I understand that there are always going to be rumors about our family, and we can’t help it at this point, but it’s the Holidays and I don’t my mood to be ruined by negative attention and lies. So… Stevie, do you want to comment on the video ?

Basically, we were at the game, enjoying some family time and people filmed our reaction to Y/N… our Dad’s girlfriend, rapping Lose Yourself, Stevie explained. And kissing afterwards. And what really sparked the whole thing is the face Hailie made.

Yeah, I pretended to puke, Hailie giggled. And no, guys, it’s not because I hate Y/N or anything like that, it’s just… we’re a normal family, guys. Whenever you see your parents being cheesy and corny, you want to puke, right ?

Right, Stevie giggled. So, let’s not dwell on this but for the record : we love Y/N and she is not what people make her to be. We see her as family, you know ?

Yes ! It’s the Holidays, it’s a family time and we all know I love Shady stories but… nothing Shady here. It’s all love, Hailie chuckled.

Too much love, Stevie joked.

This warmed your heart even more. The girls absolutely didn’t have to jump to your defense but the fact that they did warmed your heart and you couldn’t wait to spend some time with them again. You sent texts to thank them and wished them happy holidays, saying you were looking forward to seeing them soon. You also texted your boyfriend, telling him how amazing his kids were and that you loved him and his family.

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall was eating dinner with his daughters when he got a text from Y/N that immediately put a smile on his face.

You girls are amazing, he said with a smile.

No idea what you’re talking about, Alaina said with feigned innocence.

I think you do, he replied with a grin. Seriously, you didn’t have to do that but… thank you. It means a lot to me.

We weren’t going to let people think we hate her, Stevie said.

Not when she is actually about to become our stepmother, Hailie said with a smirk.

Marshall immediately let his fork fall on his plate, a look of surprise on his face.

I… erm… wanted to talk to you about it first, he said. How do you even know… ?

I found the ring sketches in your office last time I went there, Stevie said. I was searching for one of your old CDs.

And you had to go yapping to your sisters about that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Are you really going to propose ? Hailie said with excitement.

I mean… I’ve been thinking about it, yeah, he admitted. I wanted to make sure you girls were ok with it first but, if that’s fine with you, I’d like to propose to her over the holidays.

The girls erupted in cheers and immediately gave their blessings, commenting on how they never thought this day would come. Of course, they quizzed him about his plans.

Were spending a couple of days with her family before going on vacation for NYE, so I was planning on asking for her father’s blessing, he explained.

Isn’t he like… almost your age, though ? Stevie chuckled.

It’s a matter of respect, he shrugged. I appreciated when Matt and Evan asked for my blessing so I thought I’d do the same. Can’t hurt to have your future father-in-law on your side.

And… as for the proposal ? Alaina asked.

I know it’s not super original but I was thinking of doing it on the private island, over a nice dinner on the beach, at sunset or something like that, he said.

It’s so cute ! Alaina said. I love it.

I think my Dad’s gone corny, Hailie joked.

You think it’s corny ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

Oh definitely. But she’s just as corny so she is going to love it !

One question though, Stevie said. If you guys get married, she’ll move to Detroit, right ?

That’s sort of the plan, yeah, Marshall said. She’d move for work quite a bit, depending on where movies are shot, but she’d live with me. Why ?

So… she’d have to turn into a Lions fan eventually, right ?

I’m counting on it, he said with a smirk.

Is that why you’re proposing ? Alaina joked.

Maybe, he chuckled. I swear to God, I’m putting a ban on Rams apparel in the prenup.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #eminem imagine #daddy's spaghetti

712 notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 7 months ago

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

118 notes · View notes

redroomreflections · 5 months ago

Text

The Ghost in The Window Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a former child star and one-half of one of Hollywood's most powerful couples, you’re no stranger to the dangers of the spotlight. Life has just begun to settle for you as you navigate motherhood, marriage, and your career. When a fan-turned-stalker gets a bit too close for comfort, everything is turned upside down

Warnings: mention of stalking, cursing, semi-smut

w/c:6k

Note: for now this story only three chapters - i am finishing up a few other stories before this one so read at your own risk

As you step into the spacious backyard of your mansion, the warm summer breeze gently rustles the leaves of the surrounding trees. The area is busy with activity, voices heard every which way, and the clinking of silverware. You take a moment to appreciate the stunningly landscaped gardens, creating a picturesque backdrop for the event tonight.

Your annual summer throwback party is known for its fun and charm, and this year's gathering promises to be no exception. Tonight was a night to let loose, get into the groove, and have a good time with friends and family.

You keep an eye on everything, and you catch a glimpse of your attentive staff, clad in crisp uniforms, moving gracefully to fulfill their assigned tasks. The caterers, dressed in pristine black jackets, skillfully arrange an array of meals on the elegantly decorated tables. The aroma of freshly prepared treats wafts through the air, tempting even the most discerning palate.

As you approach the central area, you see the talented event planners overseeing the setup. They expertly arrange vintage-inspired decorations, transporting your guests back in time to an era of hip-hop and oversized t-shirts. Strings of soft fairy lights twinkle above, casting a warm glow, while strands of colorful bunting flutter in the gentle breeze. The atmosphere is vibrant, yet refined—a perfect reflection of your unique style.

Amid the preparations, your attention turns to Rose and Grace. Rose, with her usual curls braided into a bun and infectious laughter, excitedly runs around the yard, exploring every corner with wide-eyed wonder. Meanwhile, Grace rests peacefully in her stroller, her tiny fingers gently clutching a plush toy.

As you continue overseeing the preparations, ensuring every detail is in place, Natasha approaches with a gentle smile on her face.

"Hey, love. I am confirming that the kids will be in bed by the time the party kicks off. I've arranged for Carla to come over so that we can enjoy the evening without any interruptions."

You nod in agreement.

“Now, we just have to break the news to the little one that she’s not invited,” You gesture to Rose who is still running around the yard. Just as you finish speaking, she skips over to you with a wide smile.

“Mommy, can I have ice cream at the party?” Rose looks up to you. She bats her lashes, giving you the best puppy dog eyes ever, and you chuckle.

You share a loving glance with Natasha before addressing Rose's request.

Natasha kneels to be at eye level with her. “Oh, Rose, sweetheart, I'm sorry you can't come to the party this time. It's for grown-ups, but we'll make it up to you, okay? How about before your bedtime story, we have a special ice cream treat just for you?"

“Ah, but I want to see everyone,” Rose pouts. “I never get to come to parties.”

“Well, maybe when you’re a bit bigger,” Natasha suggests.

“How big?” Rose shoots back. “Seven?” Natasha thinks.

“She’s going to hold you to that.” You warn her. Kids never forget anything you promised them. You learned the hard way after promising to take her to get a doll. She begged you for that thing for an entire week. Only for it to end up in a toy box with the others.

Rose deflates. "Can I get chocolate ice cream?”

“Sure, kid, two scoops just for you,” You promise her. “If you give Carla a hard time you’ll have to answer to me in the morning. Do you hear me? You get two scoops and a bedtime story. That’s it. Understood?”

“Mhmm,” Rose nods obediently. It’s just going in one ear and out the other.

She wraps her small arms around your legs, a gesture that warms your heart. “I love you, Mommy, and Mama.”

"We love you too, Rose. Now, go find Carla for your bath, and we'll have that ice cream surprise waiting for you right after."

With a grin, Rose scampers off toward her room, already dreaming of the delightful bedtime treat in store for her. As you watch her go, a sense of fulfillment washes over you—knowing that while the adults indulge in the festivities, your children will be safe, cared for, and treated to their special moments.

“Ready to get this thing started?” Natasha looked at you.

“Something like that,” You shrug. “We still have an hour or two. No one should be here just yet.”

“Can we bet who’s showing up the latest?” Natasha offers. “I’m betting on Yelena.”

“Oh, that’s a good choice. I’ll say, Monica.” You offer her. You two shake on it.

As you look around the backyard, you catch sight of your event planner, Melissa, coordinating the final touches with the staff. Making your way towards her, a wide smile brightens your face.

"Melissa, everything looks fantastic! The decorations are on point. Have you seen my outfit for the '90s party? I want to make sure it's ready in my bedroom."

"Absolutely, y/n! I've made sure your outfit is prepared and waiting for you in your bedroom. It's a fabulous throwback piece that I'm sure you'll rock!" Melissa complimented.

You exchange a knowing nod, appreciating Melissa's attention to detail. As you stroll through the vibrant scene, the event planner leans in to share some exciting news.

" By the way, we have some new staff members joining us today. It's their onboarding day, and I think it'll add fresh and fun energy to the party. I thought you might enjoy meeting them."

Your eyes light up with anticipation, eager to welcome the new team members into your event-planning family.

"That sounds great, Melissa! Make sure to introduce them to me later. Make sure they know they’re allowed to have food too. There’s going to be more than we can keep."

Melissa nods enthusiastically, sharing in your enthusiasm. With a glance towards the staff setting up, you notice a few familiar faces among the seasoned team members, diligently working to set up your party in time for the night.

As Melissa hurries off to attend to her responsibilities, you take a moment to soak in the lively atmosphere. The sounds of upbeat '90s music fill the air, enhancing your meticulously crafted nostalgic ambiance. A surge of excitement courses through your veins as you imagine the party's transformation, transporting your guests back in time to an era filled with iconic fashion and music.

With a sense of purpose, you return to preparing for the party, ensuring that everything aligns seamlessly with your vision. The staff members move swiftly, responding to your instructions with precision and enthusiasm. As you navigate through the crowd of dedicated individuals, you catch snippets of conversations, laughter, and the occasional clatter of glassware, all signaling the harmonious collaboration taking place.

This party, while not exactly the big event you’re making it out to be, is always enjoyable. This would be the night of your life.

*************************

A few hours later, the party has begun with a bang. The music and laughter fill the yard as your family and friends filter in one by one. You excuse yourself for a moment, leaving Natasha to continue hosting, as you make your way to the nursery. You sit in the cozy rocking chair, softly humming a lullaby. You cradle Grace in your arms, gently swaying back and forth.

The room feels serene and warm despite the noise coming from just outside of her window., the soft glow of a nightlight casting a warm ambiance. With the party atmosphere humming in the background, you continue to rock gently in the nursery chair, your focus solely on Grace. You guide her to your breast, embracing the intimate bond that nursing creates. Grace nestles contentedly against your chest, finding comfort in the familiar rhythm.

As you gaze down at your daughter, you whisper sweet words of love, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

After Grace has had her fill, you carefully burp her, tenderly patting her back. The little one lets out a satisfied sigh, and her eyes slowly begin to flutter closed. You cradle her in your arms, standing up from the chair with a gentle sway, ready to put her to bed.

You walk over to the crib, adorned with soft blankets and a mobile of gentle melodies. With care, you lower Grace into the crib, your touch soft and reassuring.

As you turn to leave the nursery, you hear a commotion from Rose's room. The sound of frustrated cries and protest reaches your ears, indicating that Rose is giving her nanny a hard time going to bed. Your brow furrows with concern, and you make your way towards Rose's room.

Inside, you find Carla patiently trying to calm Rose down, but the little one is resolute in her resistance. You enter with a warm smile, your presence instantly drawing Rose's attention.

"Hey there, what’s going on?" You ask, your voice gentle but firm. "It's time for bed now, Rosie. You know you need your rest to have all the energy for tomorrow. We talked about this earlier."

Rose pouts, crossing her arms defiantly. "But I don't want to go to bed! I want to stay up with you and have fun!"

You crouch down to Rose's level, your eyes full of understanding. "I know it's hard to go to bed when there's so much excitement going on. But remember, we all need our sleep to be happy and healthy. Can we make a deal?"

Rose's eyes widen with curiosity, her resistance softening slightly. "What kind of deal?"

You smile, a playful glint in your eyes. "If I take you downstairs to say hello to everyone, and you dance one song with Uncle Steve, you come back up and you go to bed.”Negotiating again. You were never the winner of these things. It’s probably not the best parenting tactic, but it works some of the time.

Rose's stubborn expression melts away, replaced by a mixture of anticipation and compliance. "Okay, deal!"

“Carla, I’ll take her downstairs for a few minutes,” You promise and the other woman nods. She’s fine with that. You place Rose onto your waist, her legs wrapping around your hips, as you carry her downstairs to the party. There’s someone in every room and she lights up whenever someone greets her. You find Natasha at the door, scolding Yelena playfully about being late.

“Yeah, yeah, I made it here on time didn’t I?” Yelena grumbles with an eye roll. She pushes past Natasha to come and say hello to you and Rose. “There’s the flower girl. How are ya?” Yelena grins widely. “I thought you would be in bed by the time I got here.”

“Not a chance,” You shake your head. Rose stretches her arms out to get a hug from her aunt. The commotion is interrupted by Monica, an indication you’ve won your bet, as she walks in with a new beau on her arm and a bottle of champagne in her other hand.

“Diva in the house!’ Monica announces loudly to catch your attention.

“It’s about time,” You chuckle as you move to kiss her cheek. “I guess you lost the bet.” You say to Natasha who takes the loss gracefully.

“Uh, were you betting on me? No way,” Monica shakes her head. “This is my friend, Ryan, he’s here for the weekend. Thought I’d stop by and show him a great time.”

“Oh, I bet you will,” You smile through your teeth. “Nice to meet you, Ryan.” You introduce yourself and Natasha. The first thing you notice is he’s cute with an incredible smile. A win for Monica if you do say so yourself.

“Thank you,” Ryan smiles widely. “It’s a pleasure to be here.” He says.

“Well, you guys could go ahead to the backyard the fun’s already started,” You gesture to the back. You wait for them to leave before looking at Natasha. “I’d like my money in cash. Thank you.” You pat Natasha’s back gleefully. As you begin to walk away, she catches your hand, tugging you back into her, before leaning in for a kiss. You happily oblige, raising a hand to caress her cheek, before you pull back. “I love you.” You sigh.

“I love you too,” Natasha replies. “Where’s the munchkin?” She questions as she looks around the room.

“Probably out there being the life of the party,” You shake your head. “She’s never going to sleep at this rate.” You listen to the sound of cheers and “Go Rose!” praises coming from the backyard. This should be interesting.

As you and Natasha step into the party, the vibrant atmosphere of the '90s hip-hop theme instantly engulfs you. The yard is alive with laughter, pulsating beats, and a sea of people crowded around the dance floor. The DJ spins the classic hit "This Is How We Do It" by Montell Jordan, and the infectious groove fills the air.

You and Natasha exchange knowing glances, feeling the electric energy in the room. With Natasha in tow, you make your way towards the center of the dance floor, where the crowd is most animated. Rose, is wide awake despite being way past her bedtime, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As "This Is How We Do It" blares through the speakers, Rose's little feet start to shuffle, her body moving to the rhythm as if she's been waiting for this moment her entire life. She's drawn to the pulsating beat like a magnet, her laughter and giggles blending harmoniously with the music.

The crowd around her notices her adorable presence and can't help but cheer her on, creating a circle around her, and providing her a stage for her impromptu performance. Family becomes her biggest fans, smiling and clapping along with the infectious rhythm.

Natasha wraps her arm around your waist, her eyes fixed on Rose, her heart overflowing with love and pride. She leans in and whispers, "Look at our little superstar. She's stealing the show!"

You nod. "She's definitely got the groove in her blood. Just like her Mama."

As Rose spins and twirls, her dance moves a delightful combination of her own creativity and the influences of the '90s hip-hop era, the joy on her face is palpable. She bounces with infectious energy, absorbing the positive vibes from the crowd, completely lost in the moment.

Montell Jordan's voice fills the air, and you can't help but join the crowd, clapping and cheering for Rose, basking in her radiant spirit. It's a memory you know you'll cherish forever—the night Rose, with her innocent enthusiasm, became the star of the '90s-themed party, captivating everyone with her authentic joy and carefree dance moves.

As the song nears its end, Rose takes her final bow, having watched you do it a dozen times, a beaming smile spread across her face. The crowd erupts in applause, showering her with love and praise. You and Natasha rush to embrace her, filled with overwhelming pride and love.

“Mama, did you see me?” Rose bounces in place. “I danced around and around.” She makes circles with her pointer finger.

Natasha leans down, brushing a strand of hair away from Rose's face, her voice filled with admiration. "You were amazing, sweetheart. The party wouldn't have been the same without you."

Rose, still catching her breath, beams up at both of you, her eyes shining with happiness. "I love dancing! Can we do it again?"

You share a look with Natasha, your hearts swelling with warmth and affection. "Of course, my little dancer. We'll have many more dance parties together. But now, it's time to head upstairs and get you tucked into bed."

With a last wave to the cheering crowd, you kiss Rose goodnight and send her on her way back to her bedroom and Natasha follows her to ensure she’s in fact going to bed this time.

Behind you the DJ transitions to a remix of a Spice Girls hit, and the infectious beats fill the air, instantly transporting you back to the '90s. A simpler time. You find yourself surrounded by Monica and Wanda all dressed in iconic '90s fashion, ready to rock the dance floor.

Monica grabs your hand, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Come on, y/n It's time to unleash your inner Spice Girl!”

“Oh, no, that’s so corny,” You yell over the music. Despite them both grabbing an arm to pull you further onto the floor. “Guys, I don’t even remember the dance moves.”

Wanda joins in, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Yes, you do. It’s like riding a bike! We won't take no for an answer.”

Feeling their infectious energy, you can't help but surrender to the moment. With a laugh, you let Monica and Wanda pull you toward the center of the dance floor, ready to immerse yourself in the nostalgia of the Spice Girls era.

The rhythm takes hold of you, and you start moving to the music, swaying and grooving alongside Monica and Wanda. As the remix intensifies, you unleash your inner Spice Girl, spinning, twirling, and throwing your hands up in the air with unabashed joy.

The crowd around you can't help but notice the trio of friends, radiating happiness and contagious energy. They cheer you on, appreciating the camaraderie and the lively dance moves that embody the carefree spirit of the '90s.

Monica, with her infectious laugh, grabs your hand and starts choreographing a playful routine, her moves perfectly synchronized with yours. Wanda, always the trendsetter, adds her own flair, creating an electrifying dance trio that captivates everyone around.

With each passing moment, you can feel the bonds of friendship strengthening, the shared love for the '90s music and fashion deepening your connection. As the music reaches its peak, you glance at Monica and Wanda, all three of you breathless but full of life, their laughter echoing in your ears.

The song comes to an end, but the memories and the joy linger. As you catch your breath, you exchange high fives and hugs, reveling in the incredible time you've had on the dance floor.

Monica grins, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "That was epic! We rocked it, y/n!"

“Oh, sure,” You laugh as you hold onto your aching side. “This was more cardio than I’ve had in a while.”

Wanda nods, her smile beaming with pride. "Well, look at it this way, Mel B would be proud."

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart full of gratitude for these incredible friends. "Thank you both for dragging me onto the dance floor. This night wouldn't have been the same without you.”

Arm in arm, the three of you make your way back to the sidelines, but the joy and energy of the party continue to reverberate in your hearts. This was only the beginning.

*************************

Inside the house, Natasha makes her way downstairs to the kitchen, her eyes scanning the room for the refreshments table. But as she approaches, she notices a new face among the servers. Carissa, a young woman she recognizes from the local IHOP, is diligently attending to the hors d'oeuvres table, her eyes filled with excitement.

A mix of surprise and discomfort washes over Natasha as she realizes that Carissa, seemingly a fan of yours, is now serving at her own party. She knows that fame can sometimes attract attention, but having a fan in her home feels invasive.

Suppressing her unease, Natasha takes a deep breath and approaches Carissa with a polite smile. "Hi there, I don't think we've met. I'm Natasha."

Carissa's eyes widen with delight, clearly recognizing Natasha. "Oh my gosh, Natasha Romanoff! I'm Carissa. I've been a big fan of yours for years. It's an honor to serve at your party! We met at the iHop remember?"

Natasha's discomfort intensifies, but she maintains her composed demeanor. "Thank you, Carissa. I appreciate your kind words. I do remember.” Natasha swallows thickly. “If you need any assistance, please let me or Melissa, the event coordinator, know."

She’s short and to the point. Which it seems Carissa doesn’t pick up on.

“I will,” Carissa nods.

With that, Natasha discreetly excuses herself, heading over to Melissa, who is busy overseeing the event logistics. Natasha briefly explains the situation, voicing her concern about having a fan serving at the party.

Melissa listens attentively, understanding the delicate nature of the situation. "I completely understand, Natasha. Let me handle it. I'll discreetly find a replacement for Carissa so that the atmosphere remains comfortable for everyone."

Natasha expresses her gratitude, relieved to have Melissa's support in resolving the matter. She returns to the party, determined to enjoy the celebration without the unease that had briefly clouded her excitement.

With Natasha gone, Melissa discreetly approaches Carissa, who is diligently attending to her serving duties at the hors d'oeuvres table. She politely taps her shoulder, catching Carissa's attention.

"Carissa, could I have a quick word with you?" Melissa asks, her tone gentle yet firm.

Carissa smiles warmly, eager to assist. "Of course, Melissa. What do you need?"

Melissa guides Carissa away from the busy party area, leading her to a quieter corner. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts, wanting to handle the situation with care.

"Carissa, I wanted to let you know that I appreciate your hard work tonight," Melissa begins, her voice sincere. "However, there has been a minor change in the serving staff schedule, and we won't be needing your assistance for the rest of the evening. You can go ahead and take the night off."

Carissa's smile falters slightly, a tinge of disappointment in her eyes. "Oh, I see. Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?"

Melissa shakes her head, assuring Carissa with a reassuring smile. "No, no, not at all, Carissa. You've been doing great. This change is simply due to some last-minute adjustments in the schedule. It's nothing personal."

Carissa nods, understanding Melissa's explanation. "Okay, I understand. Thank you for letting me know. I'll go ahead and gather my things. Should I let anyone else know before I leave?"

Melissa shakes her head again, her tone reassuring. "No need, Carissa. I'll take care of informing the rest of the team. You can go ahead and excuse yourself. If you have any questions or need anything, feel free to reach out."

With a smile, Carissa expresses her gratitude. "Thank you, Melissa. I had a great time serving tonight, and it was an honor to be a part of this event."

Melissa returns the smile, genuinely appreciating Carissa's positive attitude. "The pleasure was all ours, Carissa. Thank you for your hard work. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Instead of leaving out the front door, Carissa makes her way to the bathroom, and Melissa takes a moment to reflect on the situation. She understands the delicate balance of maintaining a comfortable atmosphere for all guests, including Natasha. With Carissa's departure, Melissa is confident that she has handled the situation in the best way possible, protecting the privacy and comfort of everyone involved.

Returning her focus to the party, Melissa resumes her duties, ensuring the smooth flow of the event and allowing the guests to continue enjoying themselves in the vibrant atmosphere.

In the bathroom on the second floor, after finding the first one occupied, Carissa leans against the sink, taking deep breaths. Had Natasha asked for her to be dismissed? Would she tell you she saw her? Was she in trouble? All she wanted was to get a little close to you. Maybe this would become a wake-up call.

“Mommy?” A voice calls out from the hallway. Carissa looks up. She knows that voice. She’s listened to it plenty of times in the small snippets you would post on your Instagram. Stepping out of the second-floor bathroom, Carissa comes face to face with Rose.

"Hey there, sweetie. It's okay, I'm here," Carissa says, entering the hallway with a reassuring smile.

Rose turns towards Carissa, her eyes still filled with sleep. "Where’s Carla?” She asks tiredly. "I couldn't find my moms. Are they still at the party?" she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

Carissa's heart melts at the sight of Rose's concern. She walks over to the little girl and kneels in front of her, offering a comforting presence. "Your moms are downstairs, taking care of some things. They'll be back soon, but in the meantime, how about we find a cozy spot for you to wait?"

Rose nods, her trust in Carissa growing as she takes in the warmth and kindness in her eyes. She figures as long as the girl has on a uniform like the rest of the staff she’s fine. Carissa gently guides her towards Natasha and your bed, adjusting the blankets and pillows to make it extra comfortable. Looking around, her eyes take in the bedroom. The room is spacious, and adorned with warm, earthy tones that create a soothing atmosphere. The walls are painted in a soft, muted shade of yellow, offering a serene backdrop for the space.

A large, plush bed takes center stage, dressed in luxurious red linens that invite rest and relaxation. The headboard, crafted from rich, dark wood, adds an elegant touch to the room. Soft pillows and cozy blankets are neatly arranged, inviting moments of quiet respite.

To one side, a sleek wooden dresser sits against the wall, adorned with personal mementos and cherished items. Framed photographs capture special moments and loved ones, evoking memories of laughter and joy.

A spacious walk-in closet stands nearby, neatly organized with clothing, shoes, and accessories. The closet is a reflection of your distinct styles, with each section carefully arranged to showcase your individual fashion preferences. This is what catches her attention the most. She notices the light on and decides to check some things out. She doesn’t touch anything, simply looks, but it’s then she notices a familiar item.

She reaches into the closet and retrieves a soft teddy bear, its fluffy arms waiting for a loving embrace.

"I found this teddy bear in the closet. Would you like to have it for a little while? It can keep you company until your moms come back," Carissa suggests, holding out the cuddly bear.

A spark of curiosity and comfort lights up Rose's eyes as she accepts the teddy bear, clutching it tightly against her chest. "Thank you. I like the bear."

Carissa's smile grows wider, a sense of fulfillment warming her heart. "You're welcome, Rose. Just remember, your moms love you very much, and they'll be here soon. If you need anything, just call for them."

With Carissa's words of assurance lingering in the air, Rose settles down on the bed, snuggling closer to the soft teddy bear. As Carissa quietly exits the room, Rose feels a sense of calm wash over her. She knows that her moms will return, and for now, she can find solace in the company of her new furry friend.

In the warm embrace of the teddy bear and the comfort of her moms' bed, Rose's worry begins to melt away. She drifts back into a peaceful sleep, content in the knowledge that she is safe and cared for, surrounded by a home filled with love.

**************************

Downstairs as the party continues to unfold, Natasha notices a brief moment where you and she are alone, away from the lively crowd. Sensing the need to address the situation, she gently pulls you to the side, finding a quiet corner where you can talk.

"Hey, there's something I wanted to discuss with you," Natasha begins, her voice filled with concern.

You look at her, curious and slightly apprehensive. "What is it, Nat?"

Natasha takes a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "I noticed that Carissa, the girl you told me about, was a server for the party.”

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and concern crossing your face. "Wait, really? How does something like that even happen? Did you send her home?”

Natasha nods, her expression serious. "I did. Melissa dismissed her. Having a fan serving at our own home makes me uncomfortable. I just wanted to give you a heads-up about the situation."

You take a moment to process the information, understanding Natasha's concern and the need to ensure privacy and boundaries. "I appreciate you letting me know, Nat. I didn't anticipate this either.” You look around the party to all of your friends having fun. “I’m just going to go and check on the girls if that’s okay?”

“Sure, yeah, I’ll be down here.” Natasha kisses your cheek. She understands your worry. She watches you leave before returning to the party. She’s still unsettled about this entire thing.

Feeling a pang of anxiety in your chest, you excuse yourself from the party for a moment, your instincts guiding you toward the house. You need to ensure that Rose and Grace are safe and sound.

As you enter the house, you head straight for the nursery, hoping to find Grace peacefully sleeping in her crib. And indeed, there she is, resting peacefully, unaware of the commotion outside.

Relieved at the sight, you let out a sigh of relief, but your attention quickly shifts to Rose. She's not in her own bed, and a sense of panic begins to rise within you. Your heart races as you search the room, calling out her name, but there's no sign of her.

Your footsteps hasten as you move towards your bedroom, your mind filled with worry and a million worst-case scenarios. As you gently push open the door, your eyes land on the sight that both confuses and comforts you.

There, lying in the center of your bed, is Rose, wrapped up in the soft blankets, clutching the teddy bear you’d stashed in the closet a week ago. Her face is serene, her breathing steady, indicating that she has found a peaceful slumber.

A mix of emotions floods over you—relief that she is safe, concern about how she ended up in your bed, and a touch of amusement at the sight of her embracing the teddy bear like a dear friend.

With a gentle smile, you approach Rose, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. You brush a stray piece of hair away from her face, marveling at the innocence and tranquility that radiates from her.

Though your initial panic has subsided, you make a mental note to talk to Rose about the importance of staying in her own bed. However, for now, you decide to let her enjoy her peaceful sleep, knowing that at this moment, she feels secure and comforted.

Quietly, you lean in and press a tender kiss on Rose's forehead, grateful for her safety and the love that fills your home. With a final glance at your peacefully sleeping daughter, you exit the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, allowing the soft glow of the hallway to cast a gentle light over her.

After confirming Rose was settled and comforted, you feel a sense of responsibility lingering in your mind. Wanting to ensure the safety and security of your home, you decide to take an extra measure of caution by checking the security cameras.

Making your way to the security system panel, you quickly access the live feed from various cameras placed strategically around your property. The screens come to life, displaying different angles of your home and its surroundings.

With a meticulous eye, you scan each camera feed, examining the perimeters, entrances, and important areas of your residence. The high-resolution images offer a sense of assurance as you observe the well-lit grounds, the steady movement of security lights, and the absence of any unusual activity.

As you navigate through the different camera views, you take note of the familiar faces of your guests, enjoying the party and embracing the vibrant 90s hip-hop theme. It brings a smile to your face, knowing that everyone is having a great time under the watchful eyes of the security system.

Satisfied with your quick inspection, you double-check that all the cameras are functioning properly and the feeds are clear. The security system provides an additional layer of comfort, knowing that you can keep an eye on your home even while being away.

*******************************

Once returning to the party for the millionth time that night, the vibrant energy of the gathering washes over you, lifting your spirits and reigniting your enthusiasm. Laughter and conversation fill the air, mingling with the rhythmic beats of the music.

Joining the lively group, you find Natasha amidst a game of truth or drink. Curiosity piques your interest, and you decide to jump in, eager to partake in the playful camaraderie. You take a seat among your friends, a mischievous grin dancing on your lips.

The game progresses, with questions ranging from silly and lighthearted to revealing and personal. Each person takes turns, answering with honesty or opting for a sip of their chosen drink instead. The atmosphere brims with anticipation, as the group eagerly awaits their turn to pose the next inquiry.

There’s a question from Mikey Tate, one of your long-time industry friends, as he uses his phone to ask.

"Okay, here's one for y/n and Natasha our lovely hosts,” He gestures to the two of you, and a gaggle of “oohs” and “ahhs” surrounds you. “I’ll try to keep it tame. What’s the weirdest position you ever tried?"

The room fills with laughter and incredulous looks, your friends grappling with the absurdity of the question. The wildness of the question has you a bit giddy. You sip from your cup just because before looking at Natasha.

“I think we’re both going to drink on that one,” She raises her glass for cheers before downing the rest of her drink.

A knowing smile spreads across your face as you take another playful sip of your drink, signifying your choice to keep that particular secret locked away.

The room erupts in laughter and playful banter, the momentary diversion bringing a sense of lightness and camaraderie to the atmosphere. You join in, embracing the playful energy of the game, and sharing in the joy and laughter that fills the air.

At that moment, surrounded by friends and loved ones, you realize that it's not always about finding the perfect answer or unveiling every secret. Sometimes, the most memorable moments are found in the shared laughter and the bonds that strengthen with each lighthearted exchange. With that thought in mind, you settle back into the game, ready to relish the amusing and unforgettable moments that lie ahead.

******************************

It’s a few hours later, a few drinks later, and way too many songs to continue when the party dies down. The last of the guests bid their farewells and the echoes of laughter fade into the night, a comfortable stillness settles upon the house. You and Natasha find yourselves drawn to the warm embrace of the kitchen, seeking solace in its familiar walls and the intimate conversations that often unfold there.

You sink into a chair, your body is tired yet content from the festivities. Natasha joins you, her presence a comforting anchor in the quiet of the moment. The lingering aroma of the party lingers, blending with the scent of familiarity that permeates the space.

In the gentle glow of the kitchen lights, you share a gaze that speaks volumes, understanding each other without the need for words. There's a sense of contentment in the air, a shared feeling of fulfillment after a night well spent.

Seated comfortably, you lean against the counter, a steaming cup of tea cradled in your hands. Natasha sits across from you, her presence a soothing balm to your soul.

You take a sip of your tea, relishing in the comforting warmth that spreads through your body. The lingering echoes of laughter and music intertwine with the gentle hum of conversation as you and Natasha reflect on the events of the night.

"So, tonight was quite the adventure, huh?" Natasha says, a playful glimmer in her eyes. "I must say, I didn't expect us to be playing truth or drink at our own party."

You chuckle, the memory of the outlandish questions and the ensuing laughter fresh in your mind. "Definitely unexpected, but it was a lot of fun. I think everyone enjoyed themselves."

Natasha nods, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I agree. And it was great seeing you let loose, even if that last question left you momentarily speechless."

You join in her laughter, a playful sparkle in your eyes. "Well, some questions are just too wild to have an answer, you know?"

Leaning forward, Natasha rests her chin on her hand, her gaze gentle yet filled with curiosity. "Speaking of wild, what are your thoughts about Carissa? It was unexpected to see her here tonight."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, grateful for Natasha's understanding and openness. "Honestly, it was a surprise, but I don't think she meant any harm. Maybe? I don’t know.” You shrug. Natasha doesn’t look so convinced. You don’t even know what to think either. “I’ll mention it to Roxy tomorrow. After that maybe Melissa. Make sure she’s not hiring new people and if she does let us know.”

Natasha nods, her eyes filled with compassion. "That sounds like a good plan. It's crucial to maintain a sense of security and privacy. But remember, y/n, you're allowed to set those boundaries for yourself and our family."

You take a deep breath, grateful for Natasha's support and understanding. "Thank you, Nat. I just don’t to accuse this girl of anything. I mean it could be a complete coincidence. Everyone takes gigs in L.A."

“Not at our house you don’t,” Natasha shakes her head. “Let’s just shelve it for now.” She says as she rounds the counter. You turn in your chair to wrap your arms around her neck.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the weight of the night's events settling into a peaceful calm. Words are exchanged sporadically, thoughts flowing freely between you as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence.

“I love you,” Natasha says, now up close, you can see her eyes are a tad bit dilated from the alcohol.

“I love you too,” You murmur. Pretty soon the sweet murmurs, and the soft touches, turn into something else. Knowing you dismissed Carla to her own home earlier in the night, Natasha is all too willing to take this a bit further.

“So sexy,” She says more to herself than to you as her kisses trail from your lips to your neck. You lean back slightly, allowing her to hike up the waist of your slip dress. The fabric bunches around your thighs as she kisses down your chest. “You’re not wearing panties?” She raises a brow while massaging your thighs.

“Too restrictive,” You breathe. You receive no complaints from her. Natasha drops to her knees, wasting no time in building you up, as she kisses around your inner thighs. She sucks particularly hard on the skin of your left thigh, guaranteeing a bruise, before she directs her attention elsewhere. You moan, your hand finding its way to the top of her head, ensuring she won’t move. She’s skilled, and enthusiastic, as she begins to pleasure you. Your head drops to your chest, and your eyes open just a sliver before you’re jumping out of your skin, and not in a good way. You gasp, seeing the shadows in front of you in the double doors before you turn around.

“What? What’s wrong?” Natasha pulls back to wipe her mouth.

“I saw something or..” You trail off with a frown.

“What? Rose?” Natasha looks around. “She’s still asleep.”

“N-no,” You stutter. “I’m not sure.” You shake your head. “Did everyone already go home?”

“Of course, I checked the cameras and everything.” Natasha promises.

“Can you check them again?” You ask and she gives you a face that asks “Right now?”

“Fine,” Natasha stands. She kisses your forehead before walking over to the security system. You on the other hand stand, letting your dress fall to its full length again, as you check out the den and the living room. You come up short. “No one’s here,” Natasha calls out to you. “All cameras are clear. Are you sure you didn’t see your own shadow in the reflection?”

“What?” You frown. “I’m sure. I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not saying you are,” Natasha apologizes. “I checked the cameras and the foyer. No signs of life except for Mocha. Maybe you saw him?”

Right on cue, Mocha steps into the room, his collar and tag jingling under him, and you kneel to greet him. He rests his head in the palm of your hand and you reach around to unclip the collar from his neck.

“Time for bed,” Natasha sighs. You both know this means the moment has clearly been ruined as the mood has changed. You look around one last time before reaching to flick on the kitchen light, engulfing you in darkness.

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

73 notes · View notes