#made me realize a few mistakes on my page

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Picture of a Cat.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After months of emailing back and forth, you finally meet the person you've been chatting with every day. Then you realize that Spencer is not just a girl's name.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: forensic!reader. with spencer of the early seasons very much in love in mind. the reader has a cat and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and maybe lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This is pretty chaotic and not particularly serious😭 It might be best not to try to make sense of it. They're just two idiots in love, really.

To say that Spencer was dying of nervousness was not enough to describe his true feelings.

From the moment he woke up this morning without any mail from you in his inbox, he began to feel that his day was going wrong and that it was becoming an endless nightmare. He had lost count of all the times he had checked his mail at work, hoping to see even a one-line message from you to calm his anxiety.

As someone who had received your good morning every day without fail for the last four months that you had been talking to each other daily, he was completely taken aback and couldn't quite put his finger on why. Perhaps he had said something to offend you, or maybe you were just not feeling the spark anymore. But astonishingly, none of your numerous emails that he had taken the time to reread on the jet indicated any cause for concern.

Everything had been so positive with you recently, and he was grateful to have someone to talk to, even if it was through a computer, every time he finished a challenging case and his mind just wanted to focus on something else. He found great comfort in reading about your day and your thoughts every morning, as if it were his newspaper. Even the pictures you always sent him of your cat sleeping in cute poses, eating, or doing anything else made him smile and gave him the idea of adopting a pet, even when he had never thought about the possibility of it before. You always helped him realize some desires he hadn't previously considered.

But suddenly he didn't have any of it. Nothing at all.

Reid's gaze fell once upon the computer on his desk, and his face was illuminated by its light as he reopened his email page for what might have been the thousandth time that day. His fingers tapped over and over on his knee in an attempt to calm his nerves as the page loaded at a slow pace. He took the opportunity to look at the time on the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. It was ten o'clock at night, and yet, once again, there was no trace of you among his messages.

His heart stopped for a second when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he had to close the page he had opened on his computer at full speed before he could even realize who it was.

“Hey, take it easy, kid.” Derek said gently, removing his hand from his shoulder and stepping back a step. His eyes fell on the computer screen, and he was intrigued. “What were you watching?” He asked, with a playful smile.

“N-nothing.” Spencer's voice trembled beyond his control, and he quickly rose from his chair, trying to shield the computer with his body.

You had been his best-kept secret for quite some time, and he was content with that. He enjoyed the idea of maintaining a certain level of privacy in that aspect of his life, as something just between you two. It was more special and romantic that way.

“Nothing? Is that what they call those things now?” Derek inquired, his tone teasing but not unkind. The boy blushed a little, unsure why. “I must admit I'm surprised.”

Reid had to think for a few seconds to figure out what his colleague was talking about, but even before he could understand, Morgan had started speaking again.

“Anyway, turn that off.” He said, pointing to the computer and settling his bag over his shoulder, ready to go. “Someone's waiting for you in the boardroom.”

Almost automatically, Spencer frowned and watched him, waiting for him to provide more information or at least laugh if he was making a joke. However, that didn't occur. Derek didn't laugh at him or anything of that nature.

“Go, Reid. It might be best not to keep the girl waiting.” He gave his friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile before heading off on the way to the elevator.

A girl? Waiting for him? How?

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts, attempting to grasp the meaning behind Derek's words and the circumstances surrounding the supposed visitor. With a measured pace, he stepped away from his desk and proceeded down the hallway, heading for the boardroom with a contemplative demeanor.

As he opened the door and cautiously stepped inside, he was met with the most glorious sight of his life, the one he had waited so long for, the one that now quickened his pulse and seemed to bring him back to life after feeling dead all day.

You.

Standing at the table, looking intently at the various maps and data scattered around the round table in the center of the room. So deep in thought that you were not even aware of his presence. As pretty as in the pictures of you that he had seen.

He couldn't help but let out a little "oh my" at the sight of you. His heart was pounding so hard he thought he could hear it from across the room, or maybe his ears were just ringing from the blood rushing to his head. Reid stood still, looking at you, amazed. He could see how the light touched your hair and how you bit your lip as you concentrated on organizing the papers and a folder in your hand. It was real. It had to be real.

“Hi.” His voice suddenly startled you, making you realize that you were no longer alone and that the door was now open.

You look up from the documents you are examining and see him by chance. It takes you a moment to realize that he works there, and only by the FBI badge in his pants pocket.

“Hi.” You responded after giving him a very obvious visual scan.

Your voice.

It was the first time he'd heard you speak, and it was just as he'd imagined it would be.

“I’m-” You extended your hand in a cordial manner to introduce yourself, but he interrupted.

“I know who you are.” He spoke quickly, smiling at you. “I...I...you are...” Reid cursed himself for stuttering the sentence as his tongue suddenly felt too heavy in his mouth.

“Okay…I'm waiting for someone.” You said it politely, but your tone showed your anxiety.

Oh, you didn't know it was him.

Spencer let out a laugh to relieve the growing tension, but it came out sounding like a cough. He wanted to hit himself. Why was he acting like a child? He was an agent, for God's sake. His job was to talk to complete strangers every day and do entire profiles without getting nervous. He found it hard to understand how that was changing so much now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak more clearly.

“Yes, I know.” He replied, sounding a bit nervous. His voice was a little shaky, as if he was straining to get the words out.

“Do you know if this person is coming?” You were standing there with your arms crossed, trying to see if anyone else was coming after him.

At that moment, a look of confusion came over his face. It had not even crossed your mind that it might be him. And although it was to be expected and totally understandable since you had never seen a picture of him, Spencer still felt a twinge of pain and insecurity inside. Perhaps you expected him to look different, or at least not look like a kid playing federal agent.

Maybe it would have been helpful if he had sent you a picture of himself when you sent yours. That way, you might have had a better idea of what to expect. But you were very understanding of his insecurities and lack of comfort with the photos at the time. So he thought everything would be fine anyway…he was so wrong.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before speaking up. “Actually, it's me.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to hide how nervous he was, with little success.

As soon as he said it, you looked surprised, your mouth slightly open, and then you laughed.

“That's pretty funny.” You said it with a slightly uncomfortable smile. When you realized he wasn't laughing, you added, “Good joke.”

Seeing your reaction, Spencer felt the urge to shrink back and disappear, as if that action could erase the last few seconds of your memory and also erase the feeling he suddenly had of having screwed up in an unfamiliar way. He felt his chest tighten as you asked him again if the person you were waiting for was coming. Was it so hard to believe that he was the person you were talking to? The one who earned your trust and affection?

“I spent several hours on a plane, so please let me know if your colleague is coming.” You spoke again, your tone conveying a hint of disappointment and fatigue. “If I'm a nuisance and Spencer doesn't want to see me, I'd appreciate knowing that.”

Hearing you say his first name gave him an unexpected shiver. It sounded so pleasant and intimate. He took another deep breath and forced herself to speak clearly.

“Wait, he does want to see you.” He paused for a moment, realizing he sounded a bit ridiculous. “I mean, I do. I'm Spencer.”

You're momentarily taken aback, unsure if the guy in front of you is joking. His nervous expression suggests otherwise, and you even entertain the possibility that he might be crazy.

Oh my goodness, you were all alone on a practically empty floor of the FBI offices with an insane agent.

“Just let me know if she's coming or not, please.” You said, taking a few steps back to be at a safe distance from him.

His mouth was so dry he could only manage a soft, hoarse whisper. “She? Did you think I was a girl?”

“You?” You furrowed your brow, feeling more confused and uneasy.

At last, he had a suggestion and reached into his pocket to retrieve his badge, holding it out to you in a gesture that seemed to convey innocence.

“I’m Spencer Reid.” He said, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he was caught off guard by the peculiar turn of events.

You looked at the badge, confused, and slowly looked up, looking into his eyes closely for the first time. You studied his face intently, not really believing it.

“Are you Spencer? My Spencer?” You asked.

When you said “my,” he felt a flutter in his chest. His brain was trying to tell him not to get too invested in the moment, but the vulnerable part of him was moved by the way you said it, like he was all yours. There was a special air of affection there that he liked.

“Yes.” He replied, almost in a whisper. “I am.”

You had to take a moment to process the information, eyes glued to his as you tried to make sense of it. Little by little, you come to understand. This was the person you had been talking to every day for months—the person with whom you had shared your fears, stories, and dreams. Yet you hadn't even asked him for a picture or a call—anything that would have made you realize that he wasn't a woman. It seems almost unreal to you to have fallen into such a confusion.

“I sent pictures of my cat to a man?!” Was the first thing you thought, and it managed to come out of your mouth clearly, in an indignant tone. “I said you were my soulmate!”

Now you were the one who sounded insane.

He stood there for a few moments, looking at you and seeing the different emotions on your face. When he finally spoke, his voice had a hint of insecurity in it.

“Yes…but your cat is cute, and you take good pictures.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit nervous. “Did you know that the evocative power of images is widely studied? They can help us verbalize and even rescue forgotten memories and stories from our collective memory and-” He silences himself. “Sorry.”

When he fell silent, your brain couldn't do the same, and thousands of hard-to-filter words began to appear. You had a strange feeling in your chest, a mixture of familiarity with the way his ramblings sounded to you, just like the emails you loved so much, and confusion about the whole situation.

“This is so strange.” You said to yourself, pacing around the room a couple of times. “I was so stupid-”

He observed you with great interest, trying to discern the thoughts and feelings that were likely swirling in your mind. He could empathize with your confusion, as he was also uncertain about the circumstances. He couldn't blame you for feeling bewildered. You had embarked on your journey with the expectation of meeting a girl named Spencer, but instead, you encountered him. You had envisioned a lovely girl, and you found him—a simple individual, a nerd who had been told on numerous occasions that nerds lacked charm.

“No. You're not.” He said, attempting to manage his desire to bridge the gap and offer solace. “It was a misunderstanding. I should have provided you with more information.”

“How would you even start a conversation by saying you were a man?” You let out a laugh to yourself. “I would have stopped talking to you instantly.”

The sentence hit him right in the heart.

The two of you had the opportunity to communicate by mail when your boss asked you to send reports on several of the autopsies with similarities you had done to the BAU. It was then that a picture of your cat was sent in the middle of the files. Spencer was the one who received it and made an attempt at a joke after your long apology. And then another, and another, until you ended up talking for four months until now.

But if you had known from the beginning that he wasn't a woman, you wouldn't have bothered to get to know him at all.

“I...I don't know what to tell you..” He admitted, sounding a little more vulnerable. “But why did you think I was a woman?”

After a moment's thought, you said. “Your name made me think of a girl I knew in college. And you...you were so nice and sweet in your emails that I found it hard to believe that a man could be like that through a screen.”

When you shared how you perceived him through his emails, it seemed that a certain vulnerability came to light. The situation had turned the tables, and now he was the one standing there trying to process the information.

“I thought I finally had a friend. You know what my job is like...and yours is just as all-consuming.” You spoke again, having to sit for a moment in one of the chairs in the place, trying to calm down. “It would've been great to have someone who understood me as a friend.”

He felt a pang in his heart at your words and was instantly reminded of the times you'd confided in him about how isolated you felt in your lab, surrounded by dead people and computers.

“You can still do that.” He replied without thinking. “I’m still the same person as before, just different packaging.”

For you, it was much more than that. First of all, you trusted him in the beginning because you thought he was a girl; that's why he understood you so much and you had that special connection.

Hell, you'd even told him how bad your period was, and he'd understood so well. He'd given you tips and facts that you didn't know that were beyond your expectations of what the average man knew.

“I mean, I'm still someone you can talk to.” He continued, his hands moving nervously in his pockets. “Unless you...unless you don't feel that way anymore.”

When you finally spoke, your voice sounded almost whispery and gentle. He couldn’t help but lift his gaze from the floor to you, feeling how his body relaxed just a bit with the soft sound of your voice.

“No, no. I still want to talk to you…if you’re my Spencer.”

“I am, all yours.” He replied with a smile.

[mariasont]

A Pen For Your Thoughts - A.H.

a/n: hi besties, this literally took my five hundred years but i love it so it was worth it <3 i just love these two soo much

masterlist

summary: 5 times hotch found himself unexpectedly drawn to bimbo!assistant!reader before they were together and 1 time when they finally were

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: just a whole bunch of fluff, fem!reader, aaron being a straight up simp, pining, 5 and 1

wc: 7.3k

Aaron Hotchner's steps slowed before he realized why.

The first flicker came in the form of a colorful blur in his peripheral vision. He might have ignored it—probably should have—but the movement tugged at his attention like a reflex. Without thinking, he glanced over his shoulder.

Big mistake.

You were seated in one of the stiff, fabric-covered chairs that lined the hallway outside HR, and he felt as though someone had hit pause on his mind. Your legs, crossed at the knee, seemed endless, every line perfectly sculpted. Your hair spilled over your shoulders in perfect waves that looked effortless but undoubtedly weren't, and your lips--gods, your lips--pulled at his focus like gravity.

It wasn't unusual to see someone unfamiliar on this floor, and most strangers barely recognized. But it was unusual to see someone who looked like they'd stepped out of a magazine shoot—as if the universe had dropped someone out of a dream into the most mundane place imaginable.

Aaron had seen beautiful women before--countless ones, in fact, across years of cases and courtrooms and the occasional social outing. But you? You looked like you had walked out of another world completely (one completely out of his league), all shimmer and gloss. The kind of stunning that made it hard to look away--or to think clearly.

Aaron knew he should have kept walking. He didn't have time to for this, whatever this was. But then you shifted, the smooth, unhurried motion of uncrossing your legs pulling his gaze like a thread he couldn't snap. His eyes betrayed him, flicking back to you before he could reel himself in. He hated that he looked, hated the lack of control in the moment—but most of all, he hated how much he wanted to look again.

There seemed to be nothing accidental about you. From the way there was not a single hair out of place, to the unbroken line of your posture, it all felt... intentional, like you'd been crafted with care by someone who didn't believe in flaws.

Aaron felt a twist of discomfort in his chest, something about you left him off-balance, and he didn't like it.

When your eyes lifted to meet his, Aaron felt the shift immediately. The tightness in his chest changed, became something warmer, something less familiar and far more dangerous. 

Your gaze was steady, curious, and completely unaware of the way it held him in place. He wasn’t used to being the one caught—being the one struggling to pull himself free from a moment that had stretched too long—but here he was, unable to look away.

Somewhere in the background, computers hummed and printers sputtered out pages, but none of it mattered. The world around him felt muted, stripped down to only you. You tilted your head slightly, that faint curve of your lips threatening to pull a smile from him in return—something he hadn’t done in a place like this for longer than he cared to remember.

Aaron blinked, hard, tearing his gaze away finally like a man breaking free from a spell. He resumed his stride with sharpness he didn't necessarily feel. Focus, he told himself, jaw tightening as though the word alone could erase the lingering pull in his chest. 

He had far more pressing matters to deal with than... whatever that had been. He told himself it didn’t matter, even as a faint ache settled somewhere deep in his ribcage at the lie.

But as he passed you, a faint, unexpected sound followed him.

"Excuse me--uh, sir?"

He turned slowly, his gaze landing on you a few feet away. You stood there with a pen in your hand, arm outstretched, as though you were offering him the world's most valuable artifact.

Seeing you up close was worse—or maybe better, he wasn’t sure. The graceful slope of your jaw, the delicate shape of your lips, and the faint light in your eyes that seemed almost too perfect��it was too much. He thought, briefly, about stepping back, as though more space could dull the effect you had on him.

"You dropped this," you said brightly, like you were genuinely pleased to hand it back to him.

Your smile was brilliant, almost too much in its sincerity, and it caught Aaron off guard. It clashed so completely with the hard lines of his own expression—the squared shoulders, the set jaw, the seriousness he wore like a second skin.

He frowned slightly, glancing at what was in your hands: a pen.

"That's not mine."

"Oh." Your expression faltered, but only for a second. Then you shrugged, your smile back in place. "Well, it was on the floor, and you were walking by, so... I figured it had to be yours."

"It's not," he repeated, his tone more clipped than he intended.

He didn't mean to be rude, really he didn't, but the interaction felt dangerous—like stepping to close to the edge of a cliff and daring to look down. If he let himself give you even an inch, he knew he’d risk losing his footing completely.

"Right." You nodded, not in the least bit deterred. "But, I mean, it could've been. You look like the kind of guy who always has a pen. You sure you don't want it? Just in case?"

You twirled it once between your fingers before holding it out again.

For a second, he almost walked away. It would've been the logical thing to do—move on, let the moment slip into irrelevance. But something about the way you stood there, head tilted like you were sizing him up, your lips twitching with barely-contained amusement, made him pause. The whole exchange was absurd, and yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to end it.

With a resigned sigh, he reached out and took the pen. His fingers brushed against yours for the briefest second, a fleeting touch that felt entirely too noticeable.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice rough, as though the single word had taken more effort than it should have.

"No problem! Good pens always find good people. Or, like, maybe the other way around?"

You laughed softly, the sound light and unselfconscious, like you hadn't just made one of the most absurd statements he'd ever heard.

"Anyway, it's yours now. Fate or whatever."

Hotch blinked, unsure whether to laugh, respond, or simply walk away. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."

Before he could decide what to do next, you gave a quick, cheerful wave, the motion fluid and natural, as though it required no thought at all. Turning on your heel, you moved back to your seat with an easy stride, settling in as though nothing had happened. Your legs crossed neatly as you opened the glittery notebook, your attention shifting back to it without hesitation, leaving him standing there like a man caught in the middle of something he didn’t understand.

Aaron forced himself to resume walking, the pen clutched in his hand as though he might actually use it. He had a drawer full of pens—good ones, expensive ones, and this one wasn't even his. Still, as he rounded the corner to his office, he felt his grip tighten on this particular one.

Aaron shut the door behind him with more force than necessary, the sound reverberating in the otherwise quiet office. The pen—your pen—landed on his desk with a clatter far louder than it had any right to be.

He stood there for a moment, his hands braced against the edge of his desk, his breath coming heavier than he wanted to admit. Unusual.

Sliding into his chair, he opened the first file and scanned its contents, letting the familiar details of a case seep into his mind. A triple homicide in Phoenix. Victims were a family of four—father, mother, two children. The youngest, a boy, survived. Age seven.

He wrote a note in the margin, flipped the page, and tried to ignore the memory of your voice.

His fingers tightened around the pen he'd grabbed from his desk—not the one you'd handed him, which still sat untouched where he'd tossed it earlier. He stared at the file, his handwriting blurring slightly, jagged and uneven in a way that irritated him.

Victimology. Unsub profile. Possible geographic location. He moved carefully through the pages, his mind grasping onto the structured familiarity like it was all he had left.

By the time he reached the third file, he felt a flicker of relief. Routine. Structure. This was his element.

And then his mind betrayed him.

The memory of pink heels, a short skirt, and soft lips that he wouldn't mind—

Aaron scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering a curse under his breath. This wasn't like him—he was better than this. Or at least, he liked to think he was. He didn't get distracted. Not by anyone.

Certainly not by a bright-eyed woman who looked like she'd stepped out of some sparkly alternate reality.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as though it somehow might clear the intrusive thought. Gripping the file tighter, he buried himself back in the details, his jaw clenched with the effort of willing himself to focus.

An hour slipped by, then another. He busied himself in his tasks, methodically combing through reports and notes until the details blurred together in a haze of ink and paper.

Just as his mind began to clear, a sharp knock at the door cut through his concentration, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts.

"Come in," he called, setting down his pen and leaning back in his chair, already bracing himself for whatever new interruption was about to derail his morning.

The woman he recognized as the head of HR stepped inside. She carried a folder under her arm, expression brisk as ever, and Aaron felt the slightest prickle of irritation at the disruption.

"Agent Hotchner, I wanted to introduce you to your new assistant," she said without preamble, gesturing toward the door.

His brows knit together. "My assistant?"

"Yes, we finalized the selection process this morning," she said, stepping aside. "I thought it would be best for you to meet her in person."

Aaron's stomach dropped. He'd completely forgotten about the interviews for the assistant position—Strauss had been pushing him for weeks to fill the role, but it had fallen so far down his priority list he hadn't given it a second thought.

And now, as you stepped into his office, notebook in hand and that same bright smile lighting up your face, Aaron felt the sharp pang of realization: he was doomed.

"Hi again!" you chirped, offering a little wave. "Guess I'll be seeing a lot more of you!"

He blinked, trying to keep his reaction in check, though disbelief and a hint of dread churned just beneath the surface. You were his assistant? This had to be some sort of test—Strauss’s latest ploy to see if he could remain composed under the most absurd circumstances. Or perhaps the bureau had finally decided that sending someone like you—someone who looked like you—was the surest way to undermine him, to make him throw in the towel.

He wasn't sure the motive, but he was sure he did not like it.

The HR representative gave a curt nod. "She'll be handling your schedule, communications, and general support tasks. Her credentials are impressive, and I think you'll find her capable and efficient."

Aaron forced a polite smile. "I'm sure."

His voice was even, but internally he was so certain that you could never be of help, that he'd never be able to focus again with you around 24/7.

You beamed, seemingly oblivious to his hesitation, which he couldn't figure out if he preferred or not.

The HR representative cleared her throat. "I'll leave you to it, then. She's officially on the clock as of this morning."

With that, she left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Aaron. By himself. With you. The gods hated him. That was the only logical explanation.

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

You tilted your head, studying him with a curious smile. "So, what's first on the agenda, boss?"

Aaron let out a measured breath, his thoughts already spiraling into contingency plans. Logically, he couldn’t fault your qualifications—your resume likely backed the bureau’s decision, and they didn’t make careless hires. But logic couldn’t compete with instinct, and instinct told him that having you around wasn’t plausible. Not for him.

"We'll start with familiarizing you with the basics," he said, his tone clipped but professional. "My schedule, ongoing cases, and departmental protocols. After that, I'll assign tasks as needed."

Despite his words, he was already combing through ways he could reverse the situation. Could he request a reassignment? Shift your duties elsewhere?

You nodded enthusiastically, flipping open your notebook. "Got it! Basics first. This is gonna be great—I can feel it."

He pressed his lips into a thin line, glancing at the pen still sitting on the corner of his desk. The one you'd given him.

--

The filing cabinet gleamed mockingly at Aaron Hotchner from across the office. Or maybe it was the glitter that gleamed. Yes, definitely the glitter.

He squinted at it, half-hoping that prolonged focus might transform it back into his carefully maintained filing system. No such luck. Pink and purple labels seemed to mock him from the distance, each one emblazoned in a font that could only be described as aggressively cheerful. Post-it notes stuck out at sharp angles like rogue confetti, and—God help him—there was definitely a smiley face in the corner of one drawer.

Aaron crossed his arms, his jaw clenching as he drew in a slow breath through his nose. He wasn't a man prone to dramatics, but at that moment, the cabinet might as well have had a neon sign reading crazy flashing above it.

 He'd been meticulous about keeping things orderly since day one at the BAU. His filing system had been straightforward, functional, and--most importantly--serious. And now it looked...

Well, it looked like you had gotten involved.

You had been his assistant for just over three weeks now--twenty-four days, to be exact. Not that he was counting. Aaron still wasn't sure if the role suited you--or if you were bending the role to suit yourself.

He had no intention of snapping, no matter how tempting it was to question your sanity, but with a final glance at the glittery atrocity in his filing cabinet, he rose from his desk. 

"Is there a reason," he said, voice calm albeit clipped, "why my filing system looks like it's been vandalized by a kindergarten art class?"

You popped your head up from the other side of the office, face brightening instantly. In true form, you didn't look even slightly apologetic. Instead, you grinned, holding up a stack of color-coded sticky notes like you'd just won an award.

"Oh, you noticed!"

"It's hard not to," Aaron replied dryly, gesturing toward the cabinet that now sparkled like a disco ball under the overhead lights. "What exactly am I looking at?"

You practically skipped over to him, the soft swish of your skirt catching his attention for just a second too long.

"It's called innovation. I color-coded everything—pink for cold cases, blue for active ones, purple for solved. Oh, and the glitter? That's to, you know, boost morale."

Aaron schooled his expression. "Love isn't the word I'd use."

Aaron stared at you, then at the glittery disaster. "Morale."

"Yep! Morale," you said, nodding. "It's proven that bright colors make people happier and more productive. Or... at least, I think I read that somewhere."

Aaron opened his mouth, then closed it again, momentarily at a loss. He'd been managing this filing system for years without so much as a single misplaced folder. Efficient. Logical. And now, his cabinets looked like they'd been hit by a craft store tornado.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "Let me get this straight. You reorganized my filing system—without asking—and added glitter. For morale."

"And to make your life easier," you said with a grin. "You're welcome."

Aaron opened his mouth, but you weren't done.

"Also," you added, holding up a small floral notebook, "I wrote a guide for the system! Just in case anyone gets confused."

He blinked, unsure where to even begin.

'You added a guide?"

You nodded enthusiastically, twirling a pen with a little gem on the end between your fingers. "Uh-huh! You never know—someone might need it. I made it super clear, though, so even Derek can figure it out."

"You're saying Morgan needs help with file tabs?"

"Well," you said with a grin, "he's very action-oriented. This system's a little more... delicate."

Aaron stared at you, his expression giving nothing away. "Right. Delicate."

"It's perfect, isn't it?" you said, oblivious to his tone as you turned back to the cabinet and pulled out a folder. "See? You need a case file—bam! There it is. No digging, no hunting. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy."

He wanted to be irritated. Really, he did. But to his growing dismay, the system actually worked.

"It's... functional," he admitted reluctantly.

Your eyes widened, and you pressed a hand to your chest as if he'd just handed you the world's most heartfelt compliment. "Hotch! That's, like, the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

"I wouldn't go that far," he said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

You gasped dramatically, leaning against the cabinet with a grin. "I'll take it! Oh, this is the best day ever. I can't wait to tell Garcia. She's gonna lose her mind."

Aaron sighed, running a hand down his face. "Please don't."

"No promises!"

He shook his head, turning sharply toward his desk, as if reclaiming his focus were as simple as shifting direction. His hand moved automatically, landing squarely on the case file he’d been working on earlier. No fumbling. No sorting.

Aaron glanced at the filing cabinet again.

It was efficient. He hated that it was efficient.

And you—standing there with your floral tape and sparkly folders, looking so impossibly pleased with yourself—made it impossible for him to argue. He didn’t have the heart for it.

--

From his desk, Aaron glanced toward you. You were seated at your usual your spot, head bent over a stack of case files, highlighting passages with a bright pink marker. You were bathed in a warm light, and for once, you weren't humming under your breath or tapping your nails on the desk.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, watching as you quietly worked. Your hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands framing your face, and your usual heels had been kicked off, leaving you in a pair of fluffy socks with little bows at the ankles. On the corner of your desk sat your water bottle, the words Sparkle Like You Mean It emblazoned across the side in bold script.

Aaron frowned slightly, returning his gaze to the papers in front of him, though his focus remained divided. You'd stayed late before, of course, but always with your usual energy--talking a mile a minute, asking endless questions, or filling the silence with offhanded comments. But this quieter version of you felt unfamiliar, and though Aaron knew he shouldn't, he found himself wondering why.

He cleared his throat. "You didn't have to stay this late."

You glanced up, startled, as if you'd forgotten he was there. Then you smiled, soft and easy. "It's not big deal. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do."

Aaron raised a brow. "No plans to color-code your closet or reorganize your pantry?"

Your smile widened just a little, but the teasing edge he expected wasn't there. 

"Already did that last weekend," you said lightly, returning to your files. "I figured this was a better use of my time." Better use of your time. The words seemed to hang in the air, unexpected and uncharacteristically serious.

He watched as you flipped to another page, carefully highlighting a section and jotting a note in the margin. Pink folders were stacked neatly beside you, each labeled in your unmistakable handwriting--looping, bubbly, with tiny hearts dotting every "i". The sight should have annoyed him. Should have.

Aaron wasn't sure how long he watched you before you looked up again, catching his gaze.

"What?" you asked, tilting your head, a faint smile playing at your lips.

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat and looking back down at his file.

Silence settled between you again, the kind of quiet that felt heavy but not unpleasant. He could hear the faint swish of your marker against the page, the creak of his chair, and the soft sound of your breathing. And, without meaning to, Aaron found himself listening more closely than he should have.

The clock on the wall ticked past midnight by the time Aaron closed the last of his files. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion beginning to set in. When he glanced up, he noticed you stifling a yawn, your shoulders slumping slightly as you stretched your arms over your head.

"You should go home," he said, his voice softer than usual.

You blinked, as if surprised by his tone, then shook your head. "Not yet. I'm almost done."

Aaron frowned. "You've done more than enough for one night. I'll finish the rest."

"No way," you said, a spark of your usual energy creeping back into your voice. "I said I'd help, and I'm gonna help. I mean, unless you're saying you don't trust me with this, boss?"

The corner of Aaron's mouth twitched. "That's not what I said."

"Good," you replied, sitting a little straighter and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

He sighed, standing and crossing the room to your desk. As he approached, he noticed how quickly you shifted, as though trying to regain your usual poise.

"At least let me walk you to your car when you're done," he said, his tone low but firm.

You glanced up at him, and for a moment, something soft flickered in your expression. Then you smiled, teasing but lighter than usual. "What, are you afraid I'm going to trip over my own two feet in the parking lot?"

He regarded you for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a faint twitch of his lips, he replied, "It's not entirely out of the question."

You laughed, pushing your chair back as you gathered your things. "Well, I guess it's good to have an FBI escort. You never know when the sidewalks might strike."

He stepped aside, letting you pass, and followed as you made your way into the hall. You cradled the papers to your chest, your ponytail swaying gently with each step. A strange, nameless feeling pressed at the edges of his mind.

"You know," you said as you pressed the elevator button, glancing at him with a grin, "I think you're starting to like me, Boss Man."

He raised an eyebrow. "Starting to?"

You laughed, the corners of your eyes crinkling as your grin widened. "Oh, so it’s official then. We’re besties."

Aaron waited until the elevator doors opened, stepping inside before glancing at you. With a small smirk, he said, "If that’s what you want to call it."

--

Aaron's pen stilled in his hand, the soft scratch of it against paper replaced by the voices rising behind him. He didn't react immediately—he rarely did. Years of leadership had taught him the value of restraint.

But then he heard it.

"Damn," one officer muttered, the smirk practically audible in his voice. "If that's what the FBI's hiring, sign me up."

His colleague snorted. "She might not know how to handle evidence, but she's definitely handling that skirt."

Aaron's shoulders stiffened. His eyes stayed on the profile in front of him, even as the words began to blur. His fingers curled tightly around the pen, the slight tremor in his grip betraying the simmer of irritation he fought to contain. Normally, he could ignore the noise, let it slide off his back, but the sound of their laughter grated against him, making his jaw clench.

"Wonder if her job description includes anything extra," another voice chimed in.

"Bet the boss has her bending over files all day. Lucky bastard."

Aaron's head lifted slightly, his sharp gaze flicking to you. You were still focused on the corkboard, entirely oblivious to the attention you were drawing. Your fingers tugged at a pinned map, your heels lifting off the ground as you reached higher, and the hem of your skirt crept up just enough to draw another low whistle from one of the men.

Aaron set his pen down carefully, his fingers flexing against the table.

"If she reaches any further, I'm gonna owe her dinner," one of them added, his laugh rumbling through the room.

Aaron's chest tightened, heat rising uncomfortably in his veins. He could feel the pulse in his temple, his irritation mounting with each word.

"I don't doubt she's great at after-hours work."

Aaron didn't hesitate, stepping forward with quiet, calculated purpose. The officers’ laughter sputtered and died as they registered his approach, their bodies stiffening in response. 

He stopped just close enough to unsettle, positioning himself squarely in their line of sight. His broad shoulders blocked their view of you entirely, his gaze cold and unflinching—a silent warning that left no room for misinterpretation.

He stood there for a beat too long, letting the tension grow. The officers shifted awkwardly under the weight of his stare.

"Hotch?"

Aaron turned, his expression easing as his eyes met yours. You stood by the corkboard, one hand absently adjusting a pin, your head tilted in question.

"Everything okay?" you asked, your brows knitting slightly.

"Fine," he said, his tone smoothing out as he addressed you. "Are you finished?"

You glanced at the board, tilting your head before stepping back to inspect your work. "Almost. Just need to add one more report. Be right back."

You gave him a quick smile before heading toward the other side of the room, your heels clicking softly against the floor. Aaron's gaze followed you briefly before returning to the officers in front of him.

They shifted awkwardly under his unrelenting stare, their earlier smugness dissolving into unease.

Aaron's voice was quiet, almost too quiet. "If you have time to make inappropriate comments, I assume your reports are finished and flawless."

One of the officers opened his mouth, but Aaron held up a hand, silencing him before a single word could escape.

"I don't tolerate disrespect on my team. If you feel the need to revisit what professionalism looks like, I'm sure your supervisor will be happy to help."

"Yes, sir," the first man mumbled, his face burning.

"Understood," the second added quickly.

Aaron stood there for a moment longer, his jaw tight as he exhaled slowly. With a sharp pivot, he returned to the table, his expression composed once more as he resumed his place at the head of the team.

A few minutes later, you appeared beside him again, balancing another stack of papers. His gaze flicked to you almost instinctively, his expression softening before he even realized it. The shift was subtle, natural—something he didn’t let himself dwell on.

--

The knock at Aaron's door was sharp, urgent, and loud enough to pull him from the lull he was trying to fight against by pouring water into the coffee maker.

He crossed the room in three long strides, his body reacting on instinct before his thoughts could catch up. A million scenarios flashed through his mind, each one worse than the last—someone hurt, an emergency. By the time he reached the door, his hand on the knob, his breath felt tight.

What he didn't expect was you.

You stood in the hallway, frozen in place, your hand still half-raised from knocking. Your sweatshirt hung loosely off one shoulder, the hem unevenly bunched, and your sock-covered feet shuffled against the carpet like you were contemplating bolting. But it wasn't just your disheveled appearance that hit him like a freight train.

It was your eyes.

Tears hovered on your lashes, catching the hallway light like fragile drops of glass, ready to fall at any moment. Your lips parted, trembling slightly as though forming words that never came.

Your lips parted as if to speak, but no words came, and the sight of you--glassy eyes, unshed tears bubbling as if they were waiting for permission to fall--hit him like a gut punch. The look in your eyes—raw and exposed, holding back a flood of emotions—struck him with a force that knocked the air from his lungs.

For a moment, all Aaron could do was stare. His mind raced, scanning your face for clues, cataloging your every movement like a case profile.

Aaron had spent the entire day watching you more closely than he cared to admit. He hadn't said anything—hadn't wanted to overwhelm you—but this had been your first real exposure to the kind of cases the BAU handled. You’d tried to bury your discomfort under a sunny smile, but he’d seen it anyway—the way you avoided looking at the crime scene photos, the nervous energy in your hands when someone mentioned the unsub.

He'd seen it all, and now, standing in front of you, the weight of his worry hit him full force.

"Are you okay?" His voice was sharper than he intended, but he couldn't stop the questions from spilling out. "Are you hurt? Did something happen?"

Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. You shook your head quickly, your hands twisting in the hem of your sweatshirt. 

"No—I'm fine," you said, though your trembling voice and red-rimmed eyes told a different story. "I just—I couldn't sleep."

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his gaze sweeping over you once more, lingering on your tear-streaked eyes and the way your shoulders curled inward, as though shielding yourself from an invisible blow. His mind raced, unwilling to accept your answer at face value.

He opened the door wider, stepping aside. 

"Come in," he said firmly, his voice low but steady.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, your movements slow and uncertain. 

The door clicked shut behind you as Aaron turned, his focus still trained on you. You stood frozen in the center of the room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your sweatshirt. Tears clung stubbornly to your lashes, and for one heart-stopping moment, Aaron forgot how to breathe.

"What's going on?" he asked, his tone softer now but no less serious.

You glanced at him, your lip trembling as you struggled to find the words. Finally, you let out a shaky breath, your voice cracking as you spoke. "I can't stop thinking about the unsub. About what he did. I just... It's like.... it's haunting me."

Aaron stayed rooted in place, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides as he forced himself to speak evenly. 

"It's hard to turn it off," he said. "Especially the first time. I know."

"All those people," you continued, your gaze dropping to the floor. "And he didn't care. Not even a little. He just—he just did it, like it didn't even matter. How can someone be like that? How can someone be so... empty?"

Aaron stayed quiet for a moment, watching as your gaze stayed fixed on the floor. He recognized that look—the hollow kind of disbelief that came with trying to reconcile the worst parts of humanity. He'd seen it in new agents, in victims, even in himself. And now he saw it in you.

"People like him don't think the way we do," he said finally, his voice calm but firm. "You can't make sense of it because it doesn't make sense. You're not supposed to understand someone like that."

You looked up at him, your brows knitting together as you searched his face. 

"But why?" you asked, your voice cracking again. "Why would someone want to hurt people like that? Just for... for no reason?"

Aaron exhaled softly, his hands resting on his hips as he glanced away for a moment. It wasn't an easy answer—not one he could sum up in a way that would make this any less awful for you.

"People like him don't think the way we do," he said, choosing his words carefully. "To him, it's not about right or wrong. It's about control. Power. That's all he understands. It's not something you can rationalize."

Your arms tightened around yourself, and you looked away, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. 

"I just keep thinking about everything they went through—all those people. Like, I can't stop picturing it, and it's just... it's too much." You exhaled shakily, your voice trembling. "I know this is your world, but it's... it's really awful."

Aaron stepped closer. 

"It's your first case," he said. "And it's normal to feel overwhelmed by it. This kind of work—it takes a toll. On everyone."

You let out a shaky laugh, swiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "Do you ever get used to it?"

Aaron paused, considering the question. 

"You learn how to handle it," he said finally. "You focus on what you can control. On what you can do to stop it."

Your nod was faint, tentative, and the tension in your shoulders didn’t ease, not completely.  He’d pieced others back together before, often without a second thought, but with you, the need to protect and steady you felt far more personal.

"You should try to get some sleep."

"I don't want to go back to my room," you said suddenly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He froze, his back to you as he processed what you'd just said. When he turned, you were staring at him, wide-eyed and wringing your hands.

"Not in your bed!" you added hastily, gesturing toward the spare bed in the corner of the room. "I mean—not with you. Just, like, over there. In the other bed. So I'm not alone. You know, because... nightmares."

You pressed your lips together as you continued. "Don't worry, I'm not making some grand declaration of love or trying to seduce you or anything. Promise."

Aaron's lips twitched faintly, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. He took in the way your breathing hitched, your hands still at your sides, fingers clenching and unclenching as if searching for something to hold onto. He could see it—how hard you were trying to smooth over the cracks, trying to make the moment lighter than it was.

He hesitated, his thoughts swirling. Having you in the room—spare bed or not—introduced complexities he wasn’t ready to address. His gaze flicked to the empty bed and then back to you, taking in the way you shifted nervously under his silence.

Aaron raised a brow, his tone wry but gentle. "Well, I guess I'll have to cancel the champagne and roses."

Your laugh came quickly, a little more genuine this time. "Okay, now you're just mocking me."

His expression softened, and he gestured toward the spare bed. "Stay as long as you need. It's fine."

"Thanks, boss," you said, standing and moving toward the spare bed. "Promise I won't snore—or, if I do, I'll deny it forever."

Aaron didn't answer right away. He followed you to the bedside, crouching down until you were eye level.

"If you need anything," he said, his voice low, "wake me up. Understood?"

Your smile wavered for a second before you nodded. "Okay."

He stayed there for a beat longer, his gaze searching yours, before standing. When he finally stepped back, you had already drawn the blanket around yourself. Without a second thought, he leaned down and adjusted the corner over your shoulder, his hand lingering for the briefest moment before he straightened.

As he settled into his own bed, he glanced over at you one last time, taking in the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks as you drifted closer to sleep.

It wasn't in his nature to dwell—not on things he couldn't change. But as he stared at the ceiling, the image of your tearful expression stayed with him. He'd seen it coming, the way this case had worn on you, and he'd worried all day about how it would hit you when things finally went quiet.

Aaron exhaled softly, rolling onto his back as he closed his eyes. This job didn't leave room for many absolutes, but he was certain of one thing: he'd make sure you never felt that way again.

--

Aaron sat at the far end of the table, his customary spot for team dinners, where he could watch over everyone without drawing much attention to himself. Usually, his gaze moved easily from one teammate to the next, but tonight, it kept circling back to you.

You were seated next to him, close enough that he could catch the faintest hint of your perfume, something light and sweet that lingered every time you shifted in your chair. The warm lighting of the restaurant cast a soft glow on your skin, highlighting the curve of your jaw when you laughed, the way your lips curved upward with such natural ease that it felt like a magnet for his attention.

He'd spent much of the evening trying to appear unaffected, keeping his gaze on the table or his plate or even his wine glass when he felt himself watching you for too long. But you weren't making it easy.

"Hotch, you have to try this," you said, holding out your fork, a small piece of bruschetta balanced precariously on the edge. "It's amazing."

"I'm fine," he replied automatically, though his lips twitched slightly as he glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes, leaning just a fraction closer. "You're always fine. Live a little—this is life-changing bruschetta."

The team chuckled softly, but Aaron barely noticed. 

He sighed quietly, relenting, and took the offered bite. The warmth of your fingers brushed his when you handed him the fork, and he swallowed quickly. The bruschetta tasted fine—probably great, even—but the flavor barely registered.

"Well?" you prompted, your head tilting slightly as you watched him expectantly.

"It's good," he said, his voice even, though he felt anything but.

You grinned, satisfied, and turned back to your plate, your shoulder brushing his in the process. The touch lingered for a second too long—or maybe it didn't, but it still sent a wave of heat up his spine.

Aaron reached for his water glass, more to ground himself than anything else, and found your hand there first. Your fingers bumped his as you pulled back, your eyes darting to his with a flicker of apology that melted into something softer.

"Sorry," you murmured lightly, though the smile curving your lips made it clear you were anything but.

He shook his head slightly, his chest tightening in a way he couldn't fully explain. How had this happened? How had you, so unapologetically bright and warm, managed to work your way into his life so seamlessly that he now couldn't imagine it without you?

Across the table, Emily made a comment about the case, and you chimed in, your voice as animated as ever. Aaron listened, though his attention strayed to the way you gestured when you spoke, the soft movement of your hands, the way your lips curved when you made a point.

"This place is so cute," you said brightly, glancing around at the rustic décor. "I mean, it's no Olive Garden, but still, it's got charm."

Across the table, Derek snorted, folding his arms. "Olive Garden? That's your gold standard for Italian food?"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Are you saying unlimited breadsticks and salad aren't the peak of dining luxury?"

Emily raised her glass with a smirk. "I feel like we're learning a lot about you tonight."

A laugh bubbled out of you when Emily made a dry joke, and Aaron couldn't help but feel the corners of his own mouth lift in response. He glanced away quickly, hoping no one noticed, but when his eyes drifted back to you, you were already looking at him.

Your smile softened, your gaze lingering on his for a moment longer than it should have. Aaron cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as his hand brushed against yours under the table.

The light pressure of your fingers against his was brief but intentional, and Aaron's chest tightened as he realized how quickly he was starting to crave these small moments—moments that, not long ago, he would have never allowed himself to have.

You didn't pull away immediately, your fingertips grazing his before the noise of the team pulled you back to the conversation. It was subtle, so subtle that the others might have missed it entirely, but JJ didn't. She raised a brow, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

"So," JJ said, her tone casual but edged with curiosity. "How long has this been going on?"

Your hand froze mid-reach for the butter, and you glanced at her with wide eyes. "What's been going on?"

Spencer Reid tilted his head, his gaze narrowing as he studied you and Aaron. "You and Hotch."

Your eyes darted to Aaron, who had straightened slightly in his seat. He didn't look uncomfortable, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—something softer than his usual stoicism.

"Depends," you said, flashing a teasing smile. "How long do you think it's been?"

Derek leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he chuckled. "Oh, you're good. Deflecting like a pro."

"It's not deflecting," you said, feigning offense. "It's a legitimate question."

Aaron sighed quietly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. "It's been a few months."

The table fell silent for a moment.

"A few months?" Emily repeated, her brow arching. "And you didn't think to mention it?"

"It's not like we were hiding it," you said quickly, glancing at Aaron. "Right?"

"We just weren't announcing it."

"Well, it's about damn time," Derek said, breaking the silence with a wide grin. "Seriously, Hotch. I was starting to think you didn't have it in you."

Aaron gave him a look, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "It's not up for discussion, Morgan."

"Noted," Derek said, his grin unrelenting.

You leaned closer to Aaron, your shoulder brushing his as you lowered your voice. "Think we'll ever live this down?"

"Doubtful."

The conversation shifted, the focus moving to Spencer's latest trivia tangent and JJ's plans for an upcoming weekend with her family. But as the night wore on, Aaron found himself more at ease than he'd expected.

At one point, you leaned over to steal a bite of his pasta, and he let you, his lips twitching into a faint smile when you made a show of how much better his dish was than yours.

By the end of the evening, as the team trickled out of the restaurant one by one, Aaron found himself standing beside you near the entrance, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

"That wasn't so bad," you said, tilting your head up to look at him.

"No," he agreed, his voice quiet. "It wasn't."

You smiled, leaning slightly into his touch. "See? Told you they'd be fine with it."

He huffed softly, shaking his head. "I think Morgan's already planning his next round of questions."

"Probably," you admitted with a laugh. "But, hey, it's progress. You smiled twice tonight."

His lips twitched slightly, though he shook his head in mock exasperation. "Twice, huh? You're keeping count now?"

"Absolutely," you teased, leaning a little closer. "I'm very goal-oriented, you know. Almost got a smile out of you with my pen trick, too, but you were a little too busy that day."

Aaron frowned slightly, his brow furrowing. "Pen trick?"

"Oh, come on, Hotch," you said, rolling your eyes with a grin. "That was my totally genius plan to get you to notice me. Thought maybe you'd smile, maybe even flirt back, but no—you shut me down with the whole, that's not mine. Absolutely brutal."

His frown deepened as he stared at you, trying to process your words. "You planned that?"

"Obviously," you replied. "I saw you walking by all serious and handsome, and I thought, why not? Of course, I didn't realize I was interviewing to be your assistant. That kind of killed the whole plan."

He tilted his head, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Killed it how?"

"Well," you said, giving him an exaggerated shrug, "if I'd known you were the guy in charge, I would've worn something with more cleavage. Really sell it, you know?"

Aaron stared at you for a moment, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and dry. "There's still time to test that theory."

You gasped, swatting at him as your laughter bubbled up. "Aaron Hotchner, are you flirting with me?"

"I don't know," he replied smoothly, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. "Did it work?"

You looped your arm through his, your grin softening into something fonder. "A little late for flirting now, boss. You've already got me."

"Good to know."

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[jaikoyaki]

Midnight Flight

//Kang Haerin x Reader//Hogwarts AU//

SYPNOSIS: Y/N L/N had just finished her prefect duties and was finally ready to enjoy a quiet night in her dorm, a book in hand and peace at last. That was until she heard an insistent tapping on her window. To her disbelief, there was her girlfriend, Kang Haerin—on a broom, in the dead of night, throwing pebbles at her window.

TAGS: fluff, Slytherin!Haerin, Ravenclaw!Reader, Harry Potter AU, Short oneshot, Prefect!Reader, fem!reader

WARNINGS: mild language, miscommunication (I think)

WORDCOUNT: 1.2k

A/N : Apologies if this feels rushed, this'll be my last one-shot before school starts </3

Flying around the castle in the dead of night wasn’t exactly the smartest idea.

But when was she ever one to play it safe? The broomstick wobbled as she soared higher, the Ravenclaw tower looming ahead.

Her fingers tightened around the broomstick, the chilly night air biting at her face. She knew the risk she was taking—getting caught would mean detention for weeks, maybe even an owl sent home to her parents. But she had come this far, and there was no way she was backing out now.

None of that mattered, Anyways.

What mattered was y/n.

Haerin replayed the events from earlier that day, every detail making her wince. Y/N had called out to her in the Great Hall, but Haerin had been too distracted, too wrapped up in whatever nonsense Hanni was yapping about, to respond properly. She barely even gave Y/N a glance before brushing her off with a vague wave and an “I’ll talk to you later.”

Except “later” never came.

How dumb could she be?

Haerin hadn’t realized the weight of her mistake until hours later,

When Y/N hadn’t even looked her way, her attention buried in her books or something else Haerin couldn’t quite see. It wasn’t like Y/N to ignore her, which could only mean one thing:

She was mad.

She was mad at Haerin.

Her girlfriend was mad at her.

The Ravenclaw dormitory was quiet, save for the soft snores of your sleeping roommates and the occasional groan of the old wooden beams.

You lay on your bed, propped up by a stack of pillows, the book Haerin had given you resting open in your hands. The candlelight on your bedside table cast a comfortable glow across the pages, though your eyes kept drifting toward the window.

It had been a long day—prefect duties, patrolling the halls, and trying to keep Peeves from dropping ink pots on unsuspecting first-years. Now, the peace of your dorm room felt like a small slice of heaven.

In your hands was a book Haerin had given you last week. “I think…you’ll love it,” Haerin had said, her words accompanied by one of those smiles that always made your heart flutter. “The main character kind of reminds me of you.”

Your lips twitched at the memory.

You hadn’t had the heart to tell Haerin that you hadn’t gotten past the first few chapters yet. It wasn’t that the book was boring—far from it actually—but between your duties as a prefect and classes, your free time was almost nonexistent.

Speaking of Haerin, you kind of missed your girlfriend right now—

Tap.

The sound snapped you out of your thoughts.

Tap.

You froze, your eyes darting toward the window by your bed.

Tap.

What the hell?

The noise came again, louder this time. Your heart quickened as you set the book aside and scooted closer to the glass. It was too dark to see clearly at first, but then the faint moonlight illuminated a figure hovering just beyond the window.

There she was—your girlfriend.

Haerin.

Outside.

Riding her broom.

In the middle of the night.

Throwing pebbles at your window.

WHAT THE HELL.

Haerin waved awkwardly, holding up another, bigger pebble as if to say, I’ll throw it if you don’t open the window.

You gestured wildly at the window, mouthing:It doesn’t open!

Haerin blinked, then mouthed back, What?

You facepalmed mentally.

Grabbing a piece of parchment, you scribbled in bold letters: THE WINDOW IS FIXED, YOU IDIOT.

Pressing it against the glass, you watched as Haerin squinted to read it. She frowned, then looked around, as if the solution to this problem might magically appear out of the sky. When nothing did, she hesitated before pointing down, mouthing again, Let me in!

You scribbled on the back of the parchment: HEAD GIRL IS PATROLLING THE COMMON ROOM.

You pressed it against the glass again, trying not to panic.

Shit.

Your mind raced. Getting caught sneaking someone into the Ravenclaw dormitory would mean losing your prefect badge and probably facing suspension. But there was no way you were leaving her out there to become a popsicle.

After one last exasperated glance, you pointed toward the rooftop.

Haerin blinked a few times, processing, then nodded and directed her broom toward the rooftop.

With a sigh, you quickly grabbed your robe and scarf, wrapping it around your neck, and slipped on your slippers.

“Are you okay? What the hell were you thinking?!” you whisper-yelled, spotting Haerin’s flushed cheeks and red nose. The cold had clearly gotten to her—she was only wearing her Slytherin sweater and a skirt. Without hesitation, you wrapped your robe and scarf around her.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled, pulling the scarf tighter around herself. “I just… needed to see you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of the night? On a broom? You know you could have just waited until tomorrow, right? How- how did you even sneak out?? You could’ve fallen! Do you even realize how dangerous that was? ” You couldn’t stop the questions spilling out of your mouth, your worry overpowering your ability to keep your voice calm.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly.

“For what?” you asked, momentarily thrown off. “I’m not mad at you, Haerin. I’m just worried. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt—”

“No- no.” Haerin interrupted, cutting you off. She suddenly hugged you, burying her face in your shoulder.

This was the first time she had hugged you without you initiating it.

“You're mad at me.”

You froze for a moment, surprised, but your arms instinctively wrapped around her. “What’s going on, Haerin?”

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” she whispered into your shoulder.

“What?”

“I—I messed up today. I was so wrapped up in everything that I didn’t even listen to you. You called out to me, and I just… I brushed you off. I was too busy. And I… I didn’t even notice you were mad.”

oh.

You blinked, feeling a wave of realization hit you.

“Why are you laughing…?” she pulled away slightly to meet your eyes.

“You dummy,” you giggled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t mad at you. I figured you were just busy. You didn’t ignore me on purpose, and I knew that.”

Haerin blinked, her lips parting slightly as if she didn’t quite believe you. But then she let out a shaky breath and hugged you again, tighter this time. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

The moment might have lasted longer if not for the creak of a door opening nearby. Your heart stopped as a familiar voice called out.

“Who’s there?”

Minji. The head girl.

Panic flared in your chest.

Quick, think of an excuse, Y/N.

You scrambled to pull the cloak over Haerin’s head, tugging it down just as Minji’s silhouette emerged from the shadows.

“It’s Y/N!” you called out, your voice just a bit too cheerful.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

You quickly placed a steadying hand on Haerin’s cloaked shoulder. “Just escorting a first-year back to the dorms,” you blurted, forcing a smile.

Minji emerged from the shadows, her sharp gaze narrowing. “First-years? At this hour?”

“Yeah, they got lost on their way back from the Astronomy Tower.” You gave a nervous chuckle, gripping Haerin’s shoulder to keep her from fidgeting.

“First years,” you added with a nervous chuckle. “Always wandering where they shouldn’t be.”

Minji crossed her arms, her piercing gaze flicking between you and the cloaked Haerin. For a moment, it felt like she might press further. But then she sighed, rubbing her temple. “Fine, but make it quick. It’s past curfew.”

As soon as she disappeared, you turned to Haerin with a glare. “You’re not flying back,” you hissed. “We’re taking the hidden tunnels. Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.”

Join the Taglist: @arihiu @silvvrenn @fruityg0rl

@keiji-jin @hazel-tanthamore22

[kyeomkuppie]

Say it again!

Pairing: Jeonghan x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Synopsis: In which the mighty Yoon Jeonghan was rendered speechless by just three words.

You were absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the book you were supposedly "reading" which, just a heads up, you were holding it upside down.

Occasionally glancing at your boyfriend who had been sitting next to you for the past 15 minutes. I mean it wasn't really strange for you to stare at your boyfriend but your frequent sighs with your slightly pouty lips made him absolutely lose it.

Were you upset? Was he the one who upset you? Was the prank he set up a few days ago too much? Were you hungry? Touch-starved? Tired?

Jeonghan is patient, really patient even, but when it comes to you, he's everything he swears he's not. And when you release another big sigh, it was the last straw for him.

"What's wro-"

"I love you." You barely whispered.

"Huh?"

"Huh?"

Jeonghan.exe has stopped working

"Why would there be anything wrong?" You furrowed you eyebrows.

No response.

"Hannie? Earth to Yoon Jeonghan?" His cheeks were flushed and words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to say it back but he was rendered speechless by just three words.

Was it too random? Was the timing not right? Was it not natural? All these questions raced through your mind as you saw his reaction.

You were about to apologize but he pulled you into a hug. Tighter than usual. Warmer.

Just three words that he realized you said for the first time. The three words that were unspoken yet expressed by actions every moment you two spent together.

He never knew something so simple would cause the snarky Yoon Jeonghan to shut up— no, to be forced into silence.

He snapped back into reality when you apologized for the timing again.

"Say it again." He loosened his hold on you a bit.

You tilted your head slightly in confusion. "Say what again?" You knew he had heard you but it was about time the tables had turned. You making Jeonghan flustered wasn't exactly on your bingo-card this month, but you were certainly enjoying it.

It was the first time you had said it. He had said it numerous times, but for some reason after 6 months into your relationship, you'd realized you've never actually said it.

"Say what again?" You tried to hide your smile.

"you know" he clears his throat "those three words."

"Ahhhh, those three words." You put emphasis on "those"

"Say it."

The way he was looking at you with those eyes, pleading for just one more time. How could you ever refuse him?

It was now you who was getting all shy "I love you." You say once more but clearer.

You could feel his smile on your lips as he gave you a quick peck.

"God when will you stop driving me crazy." He hid his face in the crook of your neck.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

I apologize for any mistakes since English isn't my first language <3

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

archives l Javier Peña

Summary:  you shouldn't have met him there

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, swearing, sex without protection (don’t do that!),

A/N: I don't have much to say. I'll just leave this here. please be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

"Shit!"

You cursed quietly as the cardboard box you were trying to take off slipped out of your hands and fell to the archive floor, spilling its contents. Folders with carelessly written names, scattered pages of typescript, photos - all of this now lay under your feet.

You had been sitting in this dark and musty room for almost an hour, trying to find the documents you needed. But the number of shelves and bookcases made this place a real labyrinth. Your eyes slid over the names and places that the files lying on the floor referred to - still not that one.

Another dark alley didn’t look inviting, but you had no other choice. You strained your eyes when suddenly you heard a strange movement, and then a voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"A lonely woman in a place like this." someone tsk-tsked approaching you "I guess they don't teach you anything in this office, do they?"

You sighed with relief when you saw the familiar face of a man leaning against the shelf next to you.

"Javier. You shouldn't be sneaking around like that." you hissed. "What are you doing here anyway? It's late."

"I had some paperwork." he replied, his dark eyes shamelessly gliding over your figure. "I saw you left your stuff. I thought I'd look for you."

"Mhm. For what purpose?"

You saw the tip of his tongue as he licked his lips with it. "I haven't seen you in a while." he noted.

"I'm here all the time." you mumbled and averted your gaze to the shelves in front of you. Although you could see the letters that formed the descriptions of individual boxes, you didn't understand anything from them. The room suddenly seemed even more stuffy to you.

"I haven't seen you at my place." he clarified.

Something tightened your insides. You knew perfectly well what Javier meant. You knew it all too well…

For the past few months, you and Javier Peña had a certain relationship. It all started after one of the more brutal arrests. You were both stressed and overstimulated, and then something snapped and without knowing how you ended up in Javier's apartment fucking him on the couch.

No. You knew exactly how you ended up there. You weren't drunk, and neither was he. But then you had a few drinks and felt terrible guilt. Javier absolved you, and showed up at your place a few days later. And you fucked again, this time in your bed.

It was just sex. 

To get rid of the pressure and stress. And Peña had a lot of it in him. Sometimes it was rough and strong, sometimes he used the time to play with you, like a predator before devouring its prey. But you didn't complain.

Only when you noticed that you were waiting for the familiar knock on the door, that you were searching for him with your eyes in the office, that you were sensitive to the sound of his voice - that made you think.

That's when you backed off. "This is the last time." You told him as you put on your panties. "I met someone. He's a nice guy. He works at the embassy." Javier snorted. He didn't believe that you could leave him. Not when his cum was still dripping down your thigh. But you left his apartment, the door closed, and that was it.

He saw you with that guy. Once in one of the bars. And he knew that you saw him too. That evening, for the first time in a long time, he took a hooker home. But she wasn't you.

You became his obsession. You were within arm's reach, and yet he couldn't touch you. And then he realized that it hadn't been just about sex for a long time.

He could see that you were confused. Your fingers were nervously tapping some rhythm on one of the shelves, your eyes were avoiding his.

"We talked about it." You finally answered.

"Yeah, I know. You have someone." Javier snorted "A nice guy from the embassy. Did you tell him about us?"

"There was no 'us'."

"So you didn't." A smirk spread under his mustache, and you felt like punching him in the face. "You're a naughty girl."

"Oh, stop it!" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. "Don't act like a kid who lost a toy. You have plenty of them!"

Peña tilted his head, watching you carefully, processing your words. There was something hypnotizing about him. You saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, his chest heaving with his steady breath. His eyes, dark as night, were still watching you, and you were slowly afraid to move.

Finally, you were the first to speak. "Listen, I don't know what you've got in mind, but I'm not going to get into this. I'm in a healthy relationship with a cool guy, you're not going to interrogate me now."

"A happy relationship?"

"W-What?" you stuttered, surprised.

"I'm asking if it's a happy relationship." Javier raised his eyebrows slightly, repeating his question, "You know, satisfying. Exciting. Arousing."

He said each word in a way that hit all your senses at once.

"A healthy one." You repeated, and he smiled again.

He took a few lazy steps toward you, his fingers sliding over the boxes on the shelves.

"So you're not getting wet just thinking about him?" his voice lowered and you felt warmth creeping up your neck "Don't you feel that pleasant shiver when he's close? Does he know what he has to do to make you come in just a few minutes? How long did it take us, hermosa? Four, or five?"

"You're an asshole, Peña!" you hissed.

"I am." he shrugged "But you felt good with me, didn't you? You were in my bed like that lazy kitten stretching in the sheets. Your thighs covered in hickeys. You had chaff instead of brains from how many times I let you come."

Every word he said struck those chords inside you that made your legs go numb. Peña was a devil in human skin and he decided to possess you. He was so close that you could smell the remnants of his cologne and cigarettes. This must have been what hell looked like. You were damned.

"I'm happy, Javier." you said quietly "He treats me well."

Warm fingers brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, running over your warm cheeks to your chin.

"That's good." he mumbled. "If he treated you badly I would have to kill him, cariño. But was I bad to you? Tell me."

Finally you looked into his eyes, almost defiantly. Javier wanted to kiss you right then, but he held back.

"So you tell me how you treated me, Javier." you said. "Who was I to you? A pussy on two legs that you had whenever you wanted?"

"That's funny." he laughed quietly. "You don't say anything about the evenings when you came to visit me." you swallowed loudly. "You were so horny then. So unsatisfied. You let me do such things to you..."

"Shut up!"

A sly smile appeared on his face again. You were already in a losing position. But suddenly Javier softened.

"Do you love him?"

"Please."

"Do you?"

"It's not that simple."

"Oh, it is. You see, baby, if someone asked me if I loved you..." your heart stopped beating for a moment, you listened to his words with horror "...I'd tell him to fuck off." You couldn't help but snort, and Javier smiled but didn't stop talking "But if I asked myself, do you know what I'd answer? I'd say you're a thorn in my side. You've dug yourself under my skin. You've made yourself at home in my heart. I'm pissed off when I see you with him. And when I think of him fucking you..."

His hands tightened on your hips. You were so stunned by his words that you didn't protest when he pulled you closer.

"Tell me that if I slip my hand into your panties, I won't feel how wet you are. This pussy knows she’s only mine. And I want you, all of you."

"Javier, please..." your lips brushed against his.

"What are you asking for, cariño? I'll do anything for you. Just tell me."

Tears pressed into your eyes. His words filled your head, reaching for everything you didn't want to feel. Fear followed right behind the desire, how much Javier had imprinted himself on your heart.

"Don't destroy me, Javier." You whispered as the first tear rolled down your cheek. "I couldn't be just your girl for one night anymore. It was killing me... The thought of never owning you."

"I've been just yours for a long time, hermosa. And I'll never stop being."

His lips crashed against yours so hard that you could barely catch your breath.

Your fingers slid into his hair as you pressed yourself even closer to him. God! You missed him so much. It was torture to work with Peña in the same place, when looking at him you remembered how his head was between your legs giving you orgasm after orgasm.

And now his tongue was deep in your mouth again, his hand tightened on your breast, but your moan was drowned out.

You felt the shelf behind you, and Javier's body pressed you against it hard, spreading your legs with his thigh. The hard bulge in his pants rubbed against you, making you feel hot in your core.

His lips slid down your neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin. Your blouse and  bra were pulled up to free your breasts. Hot lips sucked on your nipple. You rolled your hips to feel the friction, something to give you relief, because you couldn't hold it in anymore.

Javier overwhelmed your senses, and your body begged for him intensely.

"Just as I thought." he mumbled as your breast slipped from his lips and his hand dug into your panties. "You're wet. So juicy, hermosa. Just for me."

"Please, Javier, I want to feel you." you stuttered with difficulty.

You could see in his eyes that he was already on the edge. He was barely holding himself back from destroying you right now, in a second. But as your hands began to unbuckle his belt, he began to pull up your skirt.

"I want to feel that tight pussy again." he panted as he grabbed your thigh tightly and rested it on his hip, opening you up for him. "You were rude to take her away from me, you know? I was starving to taste her again." he pushed your panties aside and his fingers ran over your folds "Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me to ruin this beautiful pussy, hermosa."

"I want you, Javi." you whispered "I'm only yours."

"That's right. Only mine."

With one quick thrust, his hard cock slid inside you. You moaned loudly at the sudden stretch. Javir pushed himself all the way to the base, filling you up like only he could. You were pinned to the shelf behind you by his body, but you didn't mind.

Peña began to move hard. His hand gripped your thigh, and the other helped you stabilize. With each subsequent thrust, you felt like he was going deeper. His lips found yours, but they were just kisses stealing your precious breath.

"Fuck, you take me so well. You're made for me, baby." he panted as he pressed his face against your cheek "I want you all to myself again, to fuck you the way you like. To hear you scream my name until - shit - I fill you to the brim. You like that, don't you? You love the way my cum leaks out of you."

"I... I didn't let him." you replied, tightening your fingers in his hair "He never... I never let him cum inside me. Only you, Javi... Only you."

"Fuck! I knew it!" he kissed you hard, his movements quickening.

You couldn't pretend anymore. You were on the edge, and Javier wanted to push you off with great pleasure. His cock moved inside you, hitting the spot you needed.

"Cum for me, cariño! I want to feel you. I want to feel that pussy squeeze me. Shit! I’ve got you, baby!"

An animalistic moan escaped your throat, your nails digging into his shoulder. But Javier didn't feel any pain. He only felt you, saw only you. He saw your body trembling with the pleasure he gave you. Now his thrusts were stronger, but he didn't need much to come.

"Fuck, you're only mine. Only mine." he panted, hiding his face near your neck as his seed poured inside you.

You felt a twitch as he spurted the last drops, and then he stopped. This small space was filled only by your breath. You felt the sweat running down your back, Javier's hot body. And then he pulled out, leaving you strangely empty.

You adjusted your clothes as he buttoned his pants, and after a moment you felt warm hands cupping your face, his lips finding yours again. He kissed you slowly, tenderly, gently. Like a lover, not the man who had just fucked you in your office archives. Although maybe it was the same thing.

He rested his forehead against yours leaving you in a sweet distraction "I don't want you to slip away from me again." he whispered "Never again."

"I won't do that." you replied "I'll always be a thorn in your side."

"The sexiest I know."

He kissed you again and you knew what you had to do. You were scared but you knew that together you would do it. And after this all you had was each other.

And that was good.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[your-nanas-house]

Cillian murphy x fem!reader

The reader's aunt is going to a honeymoon with her husband for two weeks, so she leaves her 10 months old baby with her niece and her boyfriend cillian

And cillian is INLOVE with that baby, and he keeps saying he wishes he could give you one until he tries to

Fluff and smut plss🥹

Sure thing!!! Sorry it took me so long 😭 very unique idea btw. 🙇🏼‍♀️

Baby fever

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X girlfriend/fiancè!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut (Cillian cums too fast), mention of pregnancy and baby fever, babysitting, both off age, fluff

◇ Summary: You and Cillian babysit your baby cousin and your amazing boyfriend gets baby fever.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing... sorry about that, I'm still trying to "get my mind back in the writing".

"I really wish for us to have one too" the so unexpected and sudden sentence left Cillian's lips a quiet evening.

You've been busy taking care of your cousin, since your so kind aunt left you to babysit him during her honeymoon. A baby, a 10 months and some weeks old baby, dropped in your care at your door with some begging and thanking.

It has been just some weeks since your not-paid job began, and ignoring the first days of struggling, you and your boyfriend, Cillian, took the new routine strangely well. Adapting well to the new schedules and cries and needs that a baby could have.

A few days and you both were smitten; that baby had you really wrapped around his little, chubby finger.... and he didn't even know it yet. Everything about babysitting made you wish for it to never end, even the random tantrums or the diaper moments.

You had been sitting on the sofa, your baby cousin asleep in his crib in the other room as you cuddled with Cillian. The TV off. You had been just enjoying your small moment of silence and intimacy when that sentence slipped from his lips:

"I really wish for us to have one too" your mind froze, slowly taking in every since word your boyfriend just said.

"I don't wanna rush things or put any pressure on you, love... but we've been together since years now and this weeks with your baby cousin made me realize how ready I am to take... any further steps in our relationship" he continued after a moment of silence, you could tell he was pondering about it carefully by the way his gaze remained focused on a spot and his eyebrows slightly raised

"Plus I might have what they call baby fever" he added in a weaker tone to lighten up the mood... and it worked. You didn't let him add anything else not wanting him to think you weren't on his same page

"I think so too... I mean we are about to get married and I just love you so much. Plus we don't know if it will work right away" you commented in a shy but earger voice, glancing at him as if it was your first time having sex... asking for it.

"Yeah?" Cillian asked after your answer, his light blue eyes finally looking at you with hope and love, making your heart skip a beat

"Yeah" you replied in a softer tone, taking his face in your hands to bring him in a needy kiss.

Soft noises of approval kept living your mouth as his soft lips trailed a path down your neck to your chest; his warm tongue draw shapes on your skin while his slender fingers in quick motions, finally, removed the layers of clothes.

"I love you" your eyes met as you caressed Cillian's pale and flushed skin up to his messy hair as soon as your kiss broke. Your breaths became one and your chests moved together, brushing against each other.

His cock was already painfully hard, resting against his stomach and leaking precum; it just needed a couple of strokes, and it got fully ready. His other hand worked your clit, his index finger explored your cunt, adding in no time another finger

"Yes, yes!" You whimpered out, your body shaking in pure pleasure.

The intimacy of the moment made it feel even more intense, forcing you to hold back moans, limiting them to heavy breaths and soft praises.

It felt so right and so good. You hoped it would never end.

Your mouth connected again, sharing the same passion; your hearts nearly beating in sync. You just needed one more thing.... his cock finally inside of you, stretching you out like only Cillian could do and bring you to feel— not exactly what you expected.

As your mind focused and dreamed about the imminent pleasure, it didn't register the warm feeling of his cum shooting in. It was just when his cock started to soften that you finally realized

"I'm so sorry, love. I was bit too excited—" Cillian voice interrupted the silence, his pale face flushed in embarrassment and bit of shame

".... I make it up to you" he added quickly while already trying to move down your body to finish you off with his tongue, but without succeeding since your legs had his hips caged in a iron grip

"Don't you dare move, Cilly. Stay inside... We can always try tomorrow and you can make it up then"

[heartfullofleeches]

Blurbo with Angie/Angel Milk [Femboy Cow Hybrid Yan] and Bunnyboy Streamer Darling because I think they'd be real cute together. Darling loves to bake because yes. (Darling is called boyfriend once but they/them pronounced used otherwise)

-

"Who's that next to Angel?"

"Dunno. Think he mentioned something about them being into baking? Would explain why they're in the kitchen together...."

"Wonder if they're dating...Angel has been in a pretty good mood lately."

"Kinda hope not.... I'd love to have that bunny guy for myself...."

Traitor- He knew he shouldn't have shown you off to these creeps.

When you first brought up the idea of becoming a streamer to your roommate - he was delighted. The change in career path meant taking less hours at that awful job you were working at, giving you more time to spend at home away from customers who berated you over the smallest things, or similarly as infuriating - tried to flirt. He could have you all to himself, leading up to the moment where your mutual feelings are realized and you confessed your undying love - yet there was something he failed to take into count.

Helping you get off the ground with your streaming was the biggest mistake he ever could've made. All these thousands of eyes on you now - a lovable rabbit with a passion for baking, especially for those you love. Who wouldn't fall in love with a cutie like that?! Why did he have to buy you that apron too- Angie has read hundreds of messages commenting on how precious your little tail sticking out the back is. It won't be long until they flood your own page - he has to do something before they get too cocky-

"Y/n~"

Centered on mixing cake batter to the perfect fluffy texture - the bowl in your arms tilters as someone bumps into you from behind. You catch the bowl as your roommate presses his chest to your back, hiding his face in your neck.

"Y/n, don't forget about me-"

"A-Angie! Be careful, I could've dropped this..... What are you even talking about?"

Angie sniffles, biting the wall of his lip to deepen in the pain in his voice. "I'm sorry! I was just reading through chat and I saw a few people already have a crush on you. Please don't forget about me when you get really famous. I'm here too!"

Placing the bowl on the counter, you wriggle in Angie's grasps til you're able to face him. "Angie, I could never forget about you. If I have any kind of popularity - it's all because of you."

"I know, but I really don't want to lose you. I don't know what I'd do if I did."

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Hugging your friend, the affliction in his voice fades away as he faces his laptop camera.

"Did you hear that, chat? My boyfriend isn't going anywhere! So don't get any funny ideas!"

"B-boyfriend?! Angie!-"

[velvetures]

Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

[jojissalsa]

Perfect body, Pretty face

Warnings: dom!Leon x fem/sub!reader, power dynamics (boss/assistant), daddy kink, mentions of nudes/sex work, taking pictures during sex, facial, condescension, slight praise, mentions of age gap (reader is in mid 20s), clothes ripping (tights), reader is bratty at some point.

hello again :3 i wanna post what i can while i have the time, so i can kinda build this page up. hope u guys enjoy this one even if i feel like i made a few mistakes and lmk where i can improve! constructive criticism, reposts and requests are always welcome :D (minors don’t interact, touch grass.)

WC: 3.3k (proofread)

When Leon first came to the D.S.O, he expected bigger missions and harder work. Not boring ass reports and paperwork. The missions were definitely longer, which meant piles atop piles of paperwork that would take longer than it should. When the D.S.O realized Leon needed more time on his reports compared to the rookies or standard agents, they gave him a hand. You, his new assistant. And god, were you helpful. You were more than a sight for sore eyes, you were distracting at first, but even more so as he got to know you. You even remembered his favorite coffee order, and what he liked most for lunch. To him, you were just doing a good job. But in reality, you just wanted to get in his pants more than anything.

Your last boss was such a douchebag, the typical mansplaining and ungratefulness. But Leon? He was such a sweetheart, and so understanding. He didn’t get annoyed when you made a tiny mistake, a couple minutes late or working slower at the end of your shift. You knew damn well your attraction to him was bad for you and this job, but Eve still ate that apple didn’t she? You were the same, always attracted to forbidden fruit. But when it was Leon, who cares about forbidden? It just adds to the flavor. Obviously being an assistant didn’t make the most money, but at least you got a pretty face to work with. And there’s no shame in a side hustle, right? That’s what you thought when you made a Twitter account when you first became an assistant, well, intern at first. The job was so damn stressful and your shitty boss didn’t help. It was harmless fun at first, posting a few lewd pictures of your cleavage or in cute two-piece bathing suits you got. And then it got even lewder, posting pictures of your bare tits, dim lighting from your computer, things like that until you said fuck it and showed all the goods. Complaining about your shitty boss became part of your brand, as well as the faceless part of your nudes. You never showed your face, only your hair if it was a full body picture, not because you were ashamed of what you were doing. Not in the slightest, actually. You were just worried about word spreading around the office, especially since you were getting fairly popular. No face, no case, right? Plus, it’s not like anyone had x-ray vision to see if you had the same tits. It’s not like it hurt business either, you had a perfect body. You weren’t the skinniest person in the world, average like most people’s bodies. But to you, it was perfect. It suited you and flaunting it made you happy.

Your brand definitely shifted when you changed bosses, less complaining about how much your job sucked to more complaining about how badly you needed your boss to look at you differently. Pictures of you up-skirt under your desk whenever he wasn't looking or left to grab you both coffee or lunch, captions that always mentioned him.

"is it bad that my boss gets me this wet?"

"wish my boss would crawl under my desk and take care of this ;p"

And they would only get more and more risky. Posts of your increasingly skimpy outfits and a courtesy picture of you out of them captioned "you guys think my boss will like? lol". A video of you cumming in the bathroom at work, another where you cheekily slipped your fingers in your cunt, rubbing your slick over your clit before giggling as you turn the recording off.

Leon really didn’t mean to find something of yours this personal, he was just a guy looking for porn where he knew he could find it. He may be old but the man still needs to get off. And he was a man of taste, he liked the amateur stuff, and he knew Twitter had it. When he stumbled across your account, he thought it was perfect. At first he didn't know it was you, but by your most recent posts, it was obvious. You never name dropped him, or even said what he looked like, only saying he was fine and looked like a dilf, which was definitely an ego boost when he figured out it was you. It was easy, really. He was bored at night, couldn’t sleep like usual, and hoped that jacking off would clear his head a bit. It didn’t clear his head in the slightest when he saw your most recent video. It was of you working overtime, fingering yourself on his desk. Biting your lip to stay quiet but failing miserably as your fingers keep rubbing against that spongy spot in your walls, palm slapping against your clit. The best part? You said his name while you came. Maybe not his full name, but the way you let it out subconsciously, saying "Mr. Kennedy" in the most pornographic way possible, realizing you did and then giggling when you felt no remorse. Only an "oh shit" and a cutesy laugh as you abruptly ended the video. He was gonna say something tomorrow. He had to.

The second you walk in the door with that polite smile you always have, cute pink blouse and short pencil skirt, he waves you over to his desk. "Y/n, come here for a sec." His stern tone makes you blush and immediately walk over after setting down your bag. "Yes, sir? Is there something you need from me?" You expect him to say he needs a file or some kind of paper, but he shocks you when he turns his monitor around to show your twitter page. "You know anything about this?" You don't show it on your face, but the way you clench your jaw makes it obvious. You've got a good poker face, he'll give you that. "No sir, am I supposed to?" You get a bit of an attitude, mainly because he just totally called you out. "I don't know, you tell me." He scrolled very little down to your last post, the video. You gulp, knowing damn well you said his name. "Is that you saying my name?" His tone is still stern, but it feels more teasing now, considering his cocky smirk. He has you in a corner. "Don't you think it's a little sleazy to be prying into my personal hobbies?" Your attitude gets more prominent, crossing your arms and giving him a sharp glare. You were more prideful than anything, his smugness starting to piss you off because of how turned on you were getting. "Don't you think it's a bit slutty to finger fuck yourself on my desk?" When he shot back at you with that you froze, face going completely red. Not only was he right, you had no room to talk about his habits, but the way he said it was so fucking hot it lit a fire in you, shockwaves shooting straight to your clit.

You felt uncomfortable under his gaze, your lips parted as you felt your pulse throbbing between your thighs, knowing your panties were soaked. "You gonna say something or just come over here already? Stop wasting my time, I have work to do." It was instant when he said that, hips swaying as you walked to him, holding your hands in front of you as you looked down at the ground. "What's got you all shy? You certainly weren't shy last night." His teasing was really getting to you, making your lips squeeze as you shift your thighs again, your chest feeling so heavy with every breath you took. "Didn't I tell you not to waste my time? Sit on my desk and spread your legs." Your breath hitches at his demanding words, hopping up on his desk and spreading your legs. You thank god that it was a little chilly today, making you wear sheer black tights. Not that you'd be wearing them long, you just hope the wet spot on your panties wasn’t noticeable. "Jesus, soaked through your fucking tights? You're that excited?" His teasing made you go wide eyed, whimpering at his smug gaze piercing through you. "Yes sir.." You finally manage to speak, even if it sounds breathless and needy. Your eyes stay steady on him, taking in every feature you can. You lick your lips from the sight of his hard cock pressed against his tight slacks, not daring to close your legs in the slightest even if you were desperate for friction. "See something you like?" You watch him palm over his hard on, just watching something that sinful makes you moan softly. "I thought you said not to waste your time? What are you waiting for?" You throw any bit of shyness out the window, brattiness taking its place instead. After all, he meddled into something private, why make it easy for him? That’s no fun~

His brows furrowed as he gives you an annoyed look, groaning in frustration as he shoots up from his office chair and grabs your waist, pulling you from his desk and flipping you to bend over. He certainly doesn't waste any time now, pulling your skirt up and ripping a massive hole in your tights, making you gasp and squirm, turning your head to try and see the damage. "Don't complain, no point in denying you like it. Why else are your panties fucking drenched?" You throw him a frustrated glare before grumbling something about those being expensive under your breath. "Sorry, what was that?" You gasp as his hand slams down harshly on your ass cheek, whining at his gentle kneading on the now stinging red spot. "You're trying so hard to be bratty, when you're usually such a sweet girl. Always coming here early, bringing me coffee, remembering my favorite lunch. You don't do that because you like this job, hell, a slut like you doesn’t care about working hard. You do it because you want my attention." His hand keeps kneading the fat of your ass, making you back up into his palm for more. That doesn't stop your attitude though. "Oh boo hoo, as if you didn't love every second of it. How'd you even find my page? The nursing home gives you internet after 10?" Your bitchy tone doesn't go unnoticed by him, and neither does your smug smirk that is clearly challenging him, if anything it lights the same fire inside him, dick twitching under his slacks. He shoots you a glare that says "you really wanna do this?", as if you care about that silly warning. What's the worst he could do? "Y'know they shouldn't give a pervy old man like you access to stuff like that, it rots your brain~" You get cut off by another slap on your ass, harder than the last one, he doesn't even bother to soothe the sting with his hand. "Pervy old man? Then what are you? Some slut thinking of her boss's cock all day. How high and mighty." Another slap, and you're already unraveling by the second, the tingling sensation from his spanks sending shock after shock to your clit.

"You go on and on about me on that damn site for thousands to see, so why not take what you want? You're getting nowhere by being an ungrateful brat." He's really starting to make sense with how desperate you are to be touched, for that release you so desperately need. And with how hard his spanking is getting, it's making your head dizzy. He presses his hard-on against your ass, making you whine and grind against him. That's not enough for him though, he needs you to say it, the same way you said his name last night. "C'mon pretty girl, get what you want and ask for it, I know you can." He grinds against your ass, finally snapping through the sane part of your brain. "Fuck! Fine, please, please give it to me, I can't wait anymore, please Mr. Kennedy.." You beg in a gravelly voice, nails digging into his desk as the neediness in you builds. "Need what? You can say it." He slaps your ass again, a little gentler now that you're finally getting there, sliding his hand down to press his thumb on the gusset on your panties, hissing at how wet it felt. "Your cock, Leon, please, I need your cock so bad.." You whimper in broken fragments from your voice breaking, sighing in relief as he finally pulls down your panties, feeling your slick connect to them in strings and the cool air contrasting how hot you feel. As you heard the sound of metal clinking and a zipper pulled down you wished he flipped you over, because you really wanted to see his cock, turning your head in a desperate attempt to steal a quick glance. "Don't worry baby, you'll get a good look later." You don't care enough to question him, you care more about his tip pressed against your folds, threatening to stretch you open.

The coil of anticipation that's released when he finally slides inside you is the most euphoric feeling, growling as he fills you completely, balls nestled right against your clit. "Fuck, barely had to do anything and it slipped in so easy. Like you were made to take this cock, huh, sweetheart?" He goes slow at first, letting you adjust to his thick size, agonizing in how slow he drags his cock along your walls. All you can mutter is 'yes' like a mantra to keep you in reality, but every stroke is sending you further into that cloudy part of your brain where all you can think about is how you can feel everything. His hands on your hips to keep you in place, the way his cock kisses right against your cervix then pulls all the way out just to make you drunk off the feeling, his low and heavy grunts dangerously close to your ear, and it's all getting you even more impatient and needy. "Leon, please, go faster, need it faster." You speak through broken sobs and high pitched whines, looking back at him with a pleading pout. You can't say no to this cute face, can you? His nails dig into your hips, finally fucking you faster, and so much harder, you can feel the air in your lungs get choked out with every harsh thrust. "Just can't help yourself, can you? So fucking impatient." He can hear you getting louder, and between you and the sound of skin slapping against wet skin, he can at least silence one. "So loud, the whole fucking office can probably hear you." He puts his hand over your mouth and pulls your head up, body arching backwards as your head meets his shoulder. You can barely make out his smug grin as he looks down at you, glossy eyes with blown out pupils, your cheeks flushed a deep red.

"You look so pretty like this, looking up at me without a thought in that pretty little head. Just needed Daddy to fuck you stupid, huh?" He gets a wicked chuckle at your wide eyes, the way you clench tighter and move your hips to meet his rhythm. You curse yourself mentally for tweeting about that godforsaken daddy kink you have, or any of your kinks because now he knows every little thing that makes you tick. How frustrating. "Ohhh, didn't think I would look that far? You have no idea, spent hours looking at your stuff, even during missions I couldn't help but think about this sweet pussy wrapped around my cock." Your expression goes blank at his words, completely cockdrunk. You know you shouldn't do any of this, you can only imagine how much trouble you’d be in if someone walked in right now. But who could blame you? You couldn't name a single person who would throw away an opportunity like this. Who needs responsibility when you could have the simple yet intense pleasure that Leon Kennedy brings?

"Almost went crazy when I heard my name in that dirty fucking mouth, never been that hard in my life. Gonna make sure that mouth is full of my name every chance I get." You scream and whimper, the sound rumbling against his hand as you get closer and closer, toes curling into your heels. The sight is so damn beautiful to him, and he just has to see what you look like when you cum in person. When you cum on his cock, not some silly toy that could never satisfy you the way he can. His free hand takes its time sliding up your blouse to palm your tits over your bra, his fingers raking over the soft skin of your stomach before stilling at your bunched up skirt around your waist, right above your clit. "You wanna cum, don't you, baby? You're gonna be good and ask nicely, yeah? Go ahead, tell Daddy you wanna cum." He moves his hand away from your mouth but keeps your head up, gripping your face instead, watching as you greedily suck in air between mindless moans. "Please Daddy, please, please, please let me cum, need to cum so fucking bad-" Your pathetic babbling cuts off when his fingers put pressure on your clit, rubbing fast circles that make your brows frown as your walls clench, the knot in your stomach slowly coming undone. "There you go, such a good girl, asking me so nicely. Cum for me, sweet girl, cum on my cock for me." And you do, harder than you have in a while, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you see white spots, those sweet, broken sobs leaving your lips involuntarily, moaning his name as he slows down.

Before you know it, you're on your knees in front of him, finally getting a full, up close and personal view of his fat cock. He's thick, pre-cum pearling at his tip as he uses your slick to finish himself off, fisting his cock feverishly. "Told you you'd get a better look, now open up sweetheart. Gonna cover that pretty face in my cum, maybe even take a picture for those depraved little boys that get off on you." He’s one to talk.. His grunts and soft whimpers between his words make you bite back an eager grin, lolling your tongue out and getting blessed with the salty taste on his tip. You keep your lips pursed on his cock, looking up at him with doe eyes that make his cock kick in his hand, your own hands resting on his thighs. He pulls some hair away from your face with his free hand and keeps it there as he finally coats your cheeks and tongue with pools of cum, chuckling through breathless moans as he slaps his cock on your tongue. He grabs his phone as his free hand leaves your hair to press his thumb on your tongue, keeping your mouth open. He groans with a smug smirk as you look up into the camera, a clear, empty head as drool dribbles down your chin and onto his fingers holding your chin. "You'll get this picture tonight when I drive you home, 'kay?" He helps you back to your feet, cleaning off your face with his handkerchief and pulling your skirt down, fixing your wrinkled blouse. “Now go finish those reports for me, try not to work too slow, don’t wanna work overtime, do you?” He softly strokes your back, coaxing you closer to your desk. "Yes, Mr. Kennedy.." You breathe out, still wobbly on your feet as you walk to your desk, feeling the sting on your ass as you sit down, shivering at the tingle. Worth it.

[navybrat817]

No Other Love

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Bucky wants to surprise you with a romantic evening.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, slight feels (it’s me, okay), Bucky Barnes being romantic (he’s a warning, okay?).

A/N: I received some sad news and almost didn't post, but I wanted to share something that brought happy tears to my eyes with Stud. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky sent you to your room and wouldn’t tell you why. He had a surprise planned for you and refused to give you any sort of a hint. He only said he debated kicking you out for a few hours, but didn’t want to risk you getting back too early or late. Oh, and he asked you to put on a dress. Your boyfriend had a romantic plan in mind and you wouldn't deny his request.

You did, however, demand snacks while you waited.

“You want me to feed you just because I’m asking you not to go into the kitchen or dining area for a bit?” he smiled when you pointed to the pantry.

“If I can’t leave my room, I will need sustenance,” you replied.

Just like you didn’t argue about his surprise plans, he didn’t argue when he handed over the food.

“What is he doing out there?” you mumbled to yourself, crossing your arms. You debated pressing your ear against the door to listen, but your stealthy boyfriend managed to keep quiet. “Can I come out now?!” you called out.

“No! Don’t distract me!” he yelled back.

You huffed and flopped back against the pillow. It wasn’t that you didn’t like surprises. You just preferred knowing things. Blame it on your curious nature. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed studying. Expanding your mind and absorbing knowledge centered you. With surprises, however, the only option you had was to wait.

But it’s worth it because it’s Stud.

“‘Don’t distract me.’ Like you haven’t distracted me when I have things to do,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a book from your nightstand. “Menace of a boyfriend.”

“You talking about me?” he shouted as you mindlessly flipped through the pages.

How the hell…?

“No! Just reading! Get back to work or whatever it is that you’re doing!”

“You trust me, right?” He asked.

Even though he couldn't see your face, you smiled. “Completely,” you answered.

If there was anyone in the world you trusted with your entire being, it was Bucky.

“Then trust that this will be worth it.”

“You got it, Stud!” you said, assuming he went back to work since he chuckled and didn't say anything else.

You passed the time with your book before you got up to look in the mirror. Since Bucky didn’t say what kind of dress to wear, you picked something simple and blue. You loved the color before, but he made you appreciate it more. You felt peace when you looked into his eyes.

Trust, loyalty, love.

You just finished spritzing a bit of perfume on your neck when Bucky knocked on the door. Instead of opening it as you expected, he slid a piece of paper under it instead. As you moved closer, you realized it was shaped like a puzzle piece. Smiling, you picked it up to read the message he wrote.

In my wildest dreams, I never thought someone as amazing as you would come into my life. I hope I’m your dream come true and better than any book boyfriend you've read about.

Oh, Bucky.

With misty eyes, you read the message again and traced the letters with your finger. Bucky was the best boyfriend in the universe and you didn’t think that just because he was yours. Any girl would be lucky to have a man like him by his side. Someone loving and steadfast and true.

“Count to ten and then come out,” Bucky said through the door as you composed yourself.

After silently counting to ten as he instructed, you opened the door with a gasp. Bucky took your apartment, one you saw daily, and transformed it. Fairy lights, adjustable lamps, and candles replaced the normally brightly lit place. You could see blankets and pillows ready in the living room for cuddling and hopefully more. And the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air.

Best meal ever.

“Bucky?” you asked when you didn’t see him. Was he hiding? You didn’t even see Alpine or Soot. Maybe he put them in his room. You almost called for Bucky again before you spotted another piece of paper on the floor a few feet in front of your door and went to pick it up.

Before I met you, I never knew what it was like to smile for no reason. And I found the reason for my smile the day I found you. Like when I think of that cute look you get on your face when you put a puzzle together.

You held the sheet close to your chest as you found another in the direction of the kitchen, smiling as you went to retrieve it. This was like a treasure hunt, a puzzle you couldn’t wait to complete. Bucky was the “X” that marked the spot.

If I write your name in the sand, it will wash away. If I write it in the clouds, it will blow away. So I wrote it in my heart where it will always stay in my care. Just like I promised your parents.

I’m going to be a blubbering mess if he keeps this up.

“Wise men say.”

You walked into the kitchen as “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You” filled the room, where Bucky was waiting for you. The song you danced to before you became a couple, one that would forever hold a special place in your heart. And it was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room as you took in the sight of your boyfriend. Instead of sweatpants or jeans, he wore slacks and a button up shirt. The blue matched your dress. That’s how in sync the two of you were.

He even styled his hair for me.

"Hey, Smartie," he said, his voice gentle as he smiled and nodded to the ground in front of him where another piece of paper lay waiting. “You look beautiful.”

"Thank you, Stud," you smiled, sniffling as you bent down to pick it up. "These messages are beautiful, but are you trying to make me cry? Because if so, well done and it's a good thing I didn't overdo it on the makeup. I'd be a mess."

He laughed, the sound making butterflies flutter in your stomach. "Only if they're tears of joy or pleasure. And you don't need to wear any makeup because you're beautiful," he replied, heat rushing through your body before you read the message.

Love is two people dancing in the kitchen. May I have this dance?

You lifted your gaze to find Bucky holding out his hand. “I’d love to,” you said, setting the pieces of paper on the counter before you joined him. There was no way you would refuse, easily taking his hand for him to pull you into his arms. It was almost overwhelming the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who mattered. If you ever needed to know what love looked like, you only had to gaze into Bucky's eyes.

Am I worthy of such devotion?

"You really are good on your feet,” you said as he began to lead you in a dance.

"I'm even better off my feet," he winked, making you laugh before he spun you away from him, only to pull you back. "That was cheesier than the pizza waiting for us, wasn't it?"

“So cheesy. You had to ruin the moment,” you teased, giving him a coy smile. “So, what’s the special occasion for all this?”

You had a feeling why and wanted your instinct to be correct, but didn’t want to get your hopes up. Family wise, they were ready for you to take the next step. Your parents adored the hell out of Bucky. Becca welcomed you like a sister. Your friends, of course, were also supportive and ready for you to tie the knot.

“Do I need a reason to spoil my girl with an extra romantic pizza and movie night? I’m even letting you pick the movie, even though you chose last time.”

“How generous of you. And no, you don’t need a reason to spoil me,” you said. Even if he didn’t have something specific planned, he made you feel special just by calling you his girl. You knew, no matter how many years passed, the two of you would continue to find ways to make each other feel loved and cared for.

“Do you remember the day we met?” he asked, smiling as if the memory was playing in his mind. “I warned you that Alpine chased off the last person who came over to look at the place. I was worried for a second she'd try the same thing with you.”

“You did warn me,” you giggled. “And I just crouched down and stuck my hand out toward her.”

“She loved you from the start,” he said, pulling you closer as he brushed his mouth against your ear, the gentle tickle of his scruff making your eyes slip shut. “I think I loved you, too.”

Bucky and his perfect voice and perfect words and I'm about to cry all over again.

“You think you loved me from the moment you met me?” You asked, sniffling as he pulled back and nodded. “Because I think I loved you, too. Which sounds crazy, but we're both a little crazy in the best ways.”

We're a couple of dorks who found a way to fit together.

“We are a little crazy. And who would Stud be without his Smartie?" He asked, handing you a sheet that he seemed to pull out of thin air. “One more piece.”

My love for you is like a circle: It has no beginning and no end. And it would be an honor for you to wear my family ring.

Bucky dropped down to one knee and grasped your left hand as he took a box from his pocket. You couldn’t slow the beating of your heart as he looked up at you with loving eyes. “When I tried to think of the perfect proposal, I wanted it to be the kind you deserved. And I couldn’t get our apartment out of my head. This is where we met. The place where you became my roommate. And we made it a home together. You even fell in love with me. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I’m thankful every single day that you allowed me to love you, too.”

Your breath hitched when he opened the box. Even expecting it, your soul was ready to leave your body. “Bucky,” you whispered, a sob bursting from your throat when he tenderly smiled.

“My mom told me to give this to the person who stole my heart. You gave me the world when you gave me yours. And I promised your dad I'd always take care of you and love you the way you deserve. We’re made for each other and I don’t want to live a single day without you by my side.”

You could only cry when he removed the ring from the box. For him to think you were worthy of wearing something so significant and special to his family was a precious gift. One you would never let him question or regret. “I don’t want to either.”

“You're my missing piece. My forever. My Smartie,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you cried, your hand shaking a little as he slipped the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly, like it was made for you. Like you and Bucky were made for each other.

My missing piece. My forever. My Stud.

Bucky stood and leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips. You eliminated any distance between you by pressing your mouth to his. You clung to him, your mouth soft against his as he brought a thumb up to wipe away your tears. You drew back, your heart fluttering in your chest as he brought his lips to your damp cheek.

“I love you so much,” he breathed against your skin.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you whispered, bringing your mouth back to his. “I love you, too.”

You never could’ve imagined someone like Bucky in your wildest dreams. He was the reason you smiled, sometimes for no reason at all. You’d write his name on your heart and forever keep it there. You would dance with him in the kitchen or wherever he asked you to. Your love for him, like his love for you, was an unbreakable circle.

And you couldn’t wait to be his wife.

Yay! He proposed! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 10 Home

Summary: How bittersweet it is to come home. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 8.6k Warnings: NONE!!!! Find out for yourselves xoxo A/N: If you made it this far, thank you. This obviously isn't the absolute END, there will be an epilogue to come... but I still want to thank each and every one of you. This series has such a special place inside my heart, and I will be forever grateful for the love and support you all have given. All the kisses and hugs and love to you all. (I also realize there are going to be a few questions left unanswered, but I promise it'll be resolved in the epilogue) * And once again, I'm the most thankful to @loonmartell for helping me create the most beautiful story. Sending you all my love, sweet pea <3 *

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You most definitely had a concussion—which was not ideal when you were behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. Not only were you trying to subdue the memories still filtering through your mind, but you were also trying to navigate the roads with blurred vision. Streetlights that had once been unfamiliar slowly morphed into a memorized path, leading you right back to the place you once called home. Sarah had guided you home just months ago after a soccer game, but this was different. This was a reawakening, a thousand tiny moments rising from their endless slumber. Each turn of the wheel and stopsign guided you back to the one person your heart cried out for… Joel. 

If only your brain and heart could get on the same page. While your heart ached for Joel in ways you hadn’t felt in months, your mind still clung to the anger you associated with him over the last several months. You couldn’t just stop loving him, but you didn’t know how to stop hating him at the same time. 

The final turn into his neighborhood was coming up fast, yet your speed came to a crawl. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he could have moved on. Half a year was enough time for Joel to move on, to find another woman, to be happy without you. You experienced the exact opposite: you couldn’t move on, didn’t find another man, and were far from happy. Seeing him again was probably a mistake, but how would you move on now that you knew everything?

The nausea was back in full force as you pulled up to Joel’s home, his truck parked crooked in the driveway. This was your home once upon a time. Yeah, you were going to be sick again. Wrenching the door open, you leaned out of your car and dry-heaved. Nothing came up, which you were thankful for. You needed a strong stomach and a clear mind for whatever would come. The ground beneath your feet became distorted as you walked the path up his front yard. You took a moment to shake away the double-vision, your mind clouding around the edges. It was not the time to lose your grip on reality. 

The worn wood of Joel’s front door taunted you, your hand hovering over the center as you debated knocking. All it would take is a quick rap of your knuckles, and you’d see him again. Before you could sabotage yourself, your knuckles tapped against the door. 

“Comin’!” 

The sound of Joel’s voice in the distance electrified your nerves. He was right there. Any moment, he’d open the door and—.

The door cracked open, and you stared up into the familiar brown eyes that plagued every memory overlapping inside your mind. Joel stood motionless, his eyebrows slightly raised and lips parted. He looked at you as if you were a ghost. You gave him the most pathetic smile, unsure of what to do with your hands or body. 

“Can I come in?” You blurted out. 

“Of course,” he said softly, opening the door wider. 

A simple step over the threshold, and you were home. 

You took a moment to let it all settle in: nothing had changed. The varnish was worn in certain places on the floor, the same as it had been when you lived here. Joel walked the same path daily: through the front door and to the right, directly into the kitchen. Sarah’s soccer bag hung on the staircase railing, a pair of her shoes strewn across the second step. 

“Is Sarah home?” You asked, your eyes still wandering around the downstairs of the house.

“No, she’s stayin’ with a friend this weekend,” he replied.

Joel shifted his weight, tearing your focus away from the house and back onto him. There was a look of confusion furrowing his brows together, and you realized you hadn’t entirely explained yourself to him yet.

“Listen, I know I’m here unannounced,” you started. “I, uh, I haven’t touched the book since you gave it back. Well, I didn’t until today. I found it again, and this slipped out.”

Digging through your purse, you pinched the Polaroid between your fingers and pulled it free. Joel hesitantly reached for it, his fingers avoiding touching yours as he held it between his hands. A small smile formed on his lips as he ran his thumb over the photo's edges. 

“This was from a campin’ trip we went on with Sarah,” he sighed. “Sarah had just taken a tumble in some mud, and I remember I couldn’t stop laughin’, and you were quick with a camera and snapped this photo.”

“I know.”

“I got a photo of you, too. I still got it hangin’ up somewhere—.”

Joel’s voice trailed off, his eyes drifting up to yours. He had been so wrapped up in reminiscing that he didn’t listen to what you said. 

“Do you still have the one of Sarah, too?” 

Joel’s eyes grew wide, swaying in place. 

“You remember?” He faltered.

“I remember everything, Joel.”

Not Mr. Miller. Joel. 

Joel opened and closed his mouth at least three times before finally just shaking his head. He took a step back, letting the picture fall to the ground. You glanced down at the Polaroid lying between your feet, the photo of Joel doubling in your vision. Your body moved on its own accord, your balance teetering as you stumbled a bit to the side. Joel quickly caught your weight, his hands firm around your arm. 

“Woah,” he exhaled. “Y’okay?”

“I might have a concussion,” you laughed absently. “Took a bit of a fall earlier and hit my head.”

Joel cursed under his breath and slipped an arm around your waist, guiding you toward the dining room. Sunlight bled through the window shades on the wall, and you squinted your eyes to avoid intensifying your headache. The kitchen was just as you had remembered: cluttered and homey. Piles of dishes were laid in a drying rack by the sink, the dark countertops void of dirt aside from a few crumbs from toast or a residual ring of condensation from a beer bottle.

Joel helped you into one of the dining room chairs, moving swiftly to get you a glass of water. You weren’t sure if he meant to do it, but he had sat you in your chair at the table, the one you had always chosen during any family meal with him and Sarah. You smoothed your hands over the table, digging your nails into the groves of the woodwork.

“Here,” Joel said, extending a glass to you. 

You muttered a soft thank you, taking a drink as he took a seat beside you—his seat. The silence between you both was louder than the ringing in your ears, and you couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“Say something,” you pleaded.

Joel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he peered up at you through glassy eyes. You knew that look: the exhaustion, the sadness. You had worn it well the last several months, and clearly, so did Joel. The person you were six months ago would have loved seeing Joel look so disheveled, but not now. Not when the past was hanging in the balance, finally uncovered and real. 

“Does Bennett know you’re here?” Joel asked, his eyes rising to yours. 

“What?” You gaped. Out of all the things Joel could have said, he chose that?

“Tommy saw y’all together,” he huffed. 

You wracked your brain, remembering when Tommy could have seen you and Bennett together. The only time you had seen Bennett was after the…. Oh. 

“He asked to meet me after everything happened,” you explained. “He wanted to share his side of things. You left out a lot, Joel. There was so much you didn’t tell me, and I had to rely on Bennett to piece the rest back together.”

“Are you datin’ him again? ‘Cause if you are, just tell me, and I’ll—I’ll find a way to move on and let you be happy. I ain’t gonna get in the way of your happiness, even if that means it’s with him.”

There was no way to ignore the bitterness in his words, yet you stifled a laugh. 

“After everything that’s happened, you actually think I'd go back to him?” You questioned. 

“Christ, I don’t know,” Joel sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. 

“Bennett’s married,” you stated. “You must not have seen his wedding band when you were beating the shit out of him.”

Joel was harrowingly silent, his eyes trained on the work boots covering his feet. All you ached for was some sort of reaction—some kind of response—and he gave nothing. Your expectations had been set so high for this moment, yet nothing was going as you hoped. 

“I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest,” you said.

“Of course.” 

“Why didn’t you fight for me?” You whispered. “When everyone was making decisions for me, why didn’t you step in and fight back?”

“I tried,” he lamented. “Your family decided on everythin’, and I couldn’t step in.”

“Yes, you could have,” you pressed. 

You brushed your hand over the stumble on his jaw, lifting his face to meet yours. You saw it deep within the dark brown of his eyes: regret. 

“That’s not a good enough answer, Joel. No one fought for me,” you pressed. “I was alone in everything, and you should have been the one person standing up to them against everything they were choosing to do. You let Bennett come back into my life when you knew he had been horrible to me in the past. Why were you so willing to just let me go?”

Joel grabbed your free hand and brought it to his lips, pressing soft kisses into the center of your palm. It wasn’t till the first tear hit your fingers that you realized he was crying. Joel looked defeated, his face framed between one hand and your other pressed against his lips. Truly and utterly defeated. 

“I never wanted to let you go. Sayin’ that last goodbye to you while you were in the hospital was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do, and I ain’t got no excuses for the choices I made. If I could go back and change everythin’, I would. I swear I would in a heartbeat. Losin’ you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I know I coulda done more. You deserved more. You deserved better, and I shoulda been the one there for you. Not Bennett. I know I ruined everything. Fuck, I—I really fucked it all up.”

“I hate you for what you did,” you said, lifting your hand to brush away his tears. “I hate you so much for hurting me.”

Joel only nodded, more tears streaming down his cheeks as he closed his eyes. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, tracing the line of his beard as it dipped down to his jaw. Joel released a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. 

“There ain’t enough words to describe how sorry I am,” he mumbled into your hand. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry for hurtin’you, and I’ve been livin’ with that guilt for years. I just wanted you to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.”

“I was happy, Joel. With you. I loved you so much. So many memories are still unraveling in my head, but in each of them, I know I loved you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he cried softly. 

“I hate you, Joel. I hate you, but I can’t ignore the fact that I still love you. I love the life we built together and the memories we made with Sarah. I miss this house, and I miss this kitchen where we’d make breakfast together. I miss waking up beside you every day. I miss staying up late with you and annoying you about the books I was reading.” You took a deep breath, trying to slow yourself down. “I miss you, Joel. I don’t know how long it will take me to forgive you, but I—I really miss you.”

A choked sob escaped from Joel’s mouth, and he leaned his head back, your hands falling into your lap. You didn’t know what to do with yourself other than try not to throw up—because your body was still trying to desperately fight off the nausea rolling inside your stomach. Confessing feelings while also battling a minor concussion had not been your brightest idea, but you had braved through worse before. 

So many moments of silence passed before Joel finally glanced back at you, his lips twitching as he held back another round of tears. 

“Y’have no fuckin’ idea how much I miss you,” he confessed. “I’ve waited so long for the moment you’d remember everythin’. I tried to imagine what I’d do when y’got those memories back, and… fuck. I’m so sorry for everythin’ I did.”

You took his hands in yours, interlocking your fingers around his. It was your turn to start crying, and you felt the tears fall against your fingers.

“What did you do?” You asked. “When you imagined me getting my memories back, what did you do?”

“I imagined kissin’ you and tellin’ you how much I loved you,” he said.

“What’s taking you so long?”

In one fluid motion, Joel sent his chair flying backward as he dropped to his knees before you. Reaching up, he cupped your face between his large hands, his mouth hovering over yours. You weren’t sure what he was waiting for, but you gave him a simple nod, and that was enough. 

The first kiss was delicate— cautionary. He wavered between losing control and reluctance, the path of his lips moving fluidly like they had always known their place against yours. It was so much different than the first kiss months ago, where then it had been about discovery and excitement, each draw of your bodies together new and profound. But now, it was a kiss to rekindle a flame that had dwindled out, a resurgence of emotions neither of you had experienced in years. Yes, those few months together had been exhilarating, but you had barely scratched the surface of where the bounds of your love lay.

You were the first to cave into the chaos, deepening the kiss until Joel’s movements determined your breathing. When his head moved, so did yours. When his tongue overlapped yours, you repeated the motion. Over and over until you lost the ability to identify where you started and he ended. 

“Joel,” you panted, his lips still crushed against yours.

“Hmm?”

He was too enamored with you to respond coherently. You raked your nails over his scalp, refamiliarizing yourself with the softness of his curls. Joel groaned into your open mouth, his tongue dancing with yours once more.

“Joel,” you muttered again. 

“Yeah, baby?” He exhaled, finally breaking away from your swollen lips. 

You pressed your forehead against his, your eyelashes fluttering up at him. Joel looked down at you with blown pupils, the brown color in his eyes nearly black as he waited for your response.

“I think you forgot to say something,” you whispered, laughing softly. 

“Don’t think I forgot at all, baby. Just wanted to savor you a minute,” Joel grinned. “I love you. God, I love you so fuckin’ much. Ain’t ever gonna stop tellin’ you how much I love you.”

“I still don’t forgive you for everything,” you reminded him. “It’ll take me some time to heal from all of this fully.”

Joel brushed his nose against yours, his lips tugging upward.

“I got all the time in the world, baby. Gonna spend every damn day provin’ myself to you. I’m already on my knees for you. Anythin’ you ask of me, I’ll give it to you.”

Breathless. You were breathless. This was the man you should have spent your life with, the man you should have married. Joel saw his faults, admitted them, and submitted himself to you out of love and dedication. Anger was still to be had, but it could wait. 

“Anything?” You echoed.

He trailed his fingers up your bare legs, his hands teasing their way higher. You mindlessly decided on a dress earlier and thanked yourself for it. A shiver ran over your skin as he pushed the hem of the dress further up, his head bending down to kiss a path over your knee and up your thigh. 

“God, I missed you so damn much, baby,” Joel groaned, his tongue gliding over your pebbled skin.

“Show me how much you missed me.”

Joel lay his head in your lap, his puppy dog eyes staring up at you with a glimmer of desire. You knew that look; you had seen it so many times before in his eyes. Too many memories had taken their place in your mind to ever let you forget the way Joel looked at you when he wanted you. 

“Can I?” He asked, brushing his hand between your thighs.

Your body responded easily to his touch, a familiarity you once knew. The friction of your underwear against your clit was growing uncomfortable as it throbbed at the vibration of his voice. Like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to Joel in more ways than one. You craved to be touched, to be pulled apart and put back together in the ways only he knew. 

Joel tugged your ass down to the edge of the chair, flicking the hem of your dress into your lap. You tried working your fingers over the band of your underwear, but Joel beat you to it with a swiftness that left you dizzy. Well, dizzier than you already were. 

Joel hoisted your calves over his shoulders, settling himself between your thighs. Flashes of memories in this exact position came flooding in; this was familiar. Familiarity beyond compare and something you desperately yearned for. 

“Please,” you whined.

He wasted no time giving in to your plea. Joel licked a thick stripe up your slick entrance, rewarding himself with a soft moan leaving your lips. You unknowingly lied months ago when you said no one had tasted you like this… Joel had. He thrived on giving you pleasure like this, doing this countless times before. He knew your body better than anyone else, and your body cried out for him in ways you could not control. 

He devoured you like he sought to destroy the years of distance that had passed between you. Every flick of his tongue against the apex of your sex, every gravelly moan from his throat—it all revolved around that undeniable truth that you both were meant to be together. That’s how it should have always been. 

“More,” you begged.

Words failed you, yet Joel knew what you needed. His tongue plunged inside of you, curling ever so slightly. The pleasure inside you burned slowly, igniting a warmth through your veins. You throbbed against his mouth, his breath hot on your skin as he latched onto your clit. You arched against him, your hand snaking down to latch onto the hair on his scalp. Joel let out a prideful moan, working his tongue faster against your aching bud. 

“There… right there…” You whimpered.

Joel gave the softest nod as if to say I know, driving you closer to the edge. A hitch of your breath, another flick of his tongue, repeated motions back and forth until your orgasm was crashing against the surface. You cried out, tears springing from your eyes as you succumbed to the climax wracking through your limbs. Joel pulled away, his mouth and mustache glistening from your release. 

Lowering your legs off his shoulders, Joel wordlessly hooked an arm around your waist and hauled you onto the dining table, the wood creaking under the weight. You pawed at his shirt, and Joel obliged your silent request as he yanked it over his head. You lifted yourself on your forearms, drinking in the sight of his bare chest. You glanced up at Joel to catch him smirking, amused by your silence.

“Y’can’t be lookin’ at me like that, baby,” Joel groaned, stepping between your open legs. “Not when I got you spread out and ready for me.”

“I can look at you however I want,” you smiled. 

Joel leaned down to meet your lips, dragging you in for a long kiss. 

“I missed you so fuckin’ much,” he chuckled.

His lips worked their way down your neck, sucking marks into your skin, while his hands worked quickly at the belt around his waist. Hooking one leg around his waist, you drew him closer, your breath hitching as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

Joel drove himself deep inside you in one thrust, the tip of his cock spearing into you. You gasped as his cock filled you with its entirety, your body stretched passed comfortability. You forgot how much you loved feeling him everywhere. With his cock fully seated inside you, Joel leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I need to hear y’say it, baby,” he begged. “Please tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Joel,” you exhaled. “I love you.”

That’s all he needed to hear—a simple admission, a coupling of words that rewrote the story lost between the both of you. You spent months trying to deny your love for him, but there was no way to deny this connection. There was always an invisible string connecting you both, and though the string had frayed and unraveled, this moment snapped it back into place. 

“I love you,” Joel said. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you go.”

He pulled out slowly, only to snap his hips forward and render you speechless. You reached up to hold him against you, your nails digging crescent-shaped marks into his shoulder blades. Thrust after thrust, Joel drilled into you forcefully—brutally. You cried out every time his body slapped against yours, and your vision started to blur around the edges. Your core clenched around him, your thighs slick from your arousal that dripped between your bodies. 

“Takin’ my cock so well, baby,” Joel praised. “Doin’ so good for me.”

“Yes… yes…” You chanted the word between every thrust that he assaulted you with, every caress of his fingers around your waist, another revelation of how perfect you were together. 

“My perfect—fuck—perfect girl,” he gritted out.

Joel locked an arm around your back and lifted you from the table, spinning you both until your back hit the wall across from the table. The impact was enough to knock the air from your lungs and dizzy your mind, but he gave you no opportunity to recover before he was driving upwards into you, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through your muscles. With one arm braced around your body and a hand pressed against the wall beside your head, Joel ground into you deeper…slower… your body begging for release. He could sense it, too, the way your thighs tightened around his waist and your cheeks dampened with tears.

“Yeah, I can feel it, baby,” Joel crooned. “I know you’re close. Gonna cum for me? Gonna give me what I want?”

“Please,” you cried, nodding vigorously.

Joel crushed his lips against yours, and you sobbed into his open mouth. Your body sized around him as your orgasm tore through you, stronger than the first. His thrusts stalled as your core pulsed through the aftershocks, the room spinning quicker every time another wave of release rocked through your stomach.

“That’s it, baby. That’s my good girl. Give me everythin’. I got you. Keep goin’.”

It was disastrous how obedient your body was to his commands. You entangled yourself in him, your tongue rolling over his tongue to silence his muffled words. Joel wasn’t far behind you, and soon enough, he punched out your name through clenched teeth, spilling himself into you. 

You rested your head back against the wall, his body sagging into yours as you both fought for air. The slow drip of his cum down your inner thigh and the sweat clinging to your brow was the only sensation you could feel as time passed in comfortable silence. 

“I love you, baby,” Joel groaned, his head falling onto your shoulder.

You carded a hand through his hair, leaning your cheek against his sweat-dampened curls. Right there, in Joel’s arms, everything made sense. The anger inside you could dissolve away—at least for a little while—and you could remind yourself that this was what love felt like. To be held. To be seen. To be cherished. 

Faint sounds of sniffling traveled past the rush of blood pumping in your ears, and you tugged at his curls to pull his head off your shoulder. Joel looked up at you through blurry eyes, his thick lashes coated in fresh tears. 

“It’s okay,” you hushed. 

“It’s not, though,” he argued. “I shoulda came back sooner. I shouldn’t have waited. There’s so much time we can’t get back, baby. S’all my fault.”

“We’ve got time,” you said softly. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you, Joel.”

“Promise?” He asked. 

“I promise.”

The evening grew late, and both you and Joel had settled into bed. It surprised you when you cried at seeing his room again, realizing nothing about it had changed. The fan was still humming softly in the corner as it always had, the soft breeze floating over the bedsheets as you climbed under the covers. Miscellaneous items were scattered on his dresser, and worn clothes littered the floor beside his hamper. Joel mumbled a slew of apologies at the sight of the mess, but it only made you cry harder. You didn’t care if it was messy. You only cared that you were finally home. Even without the memories resurfacing, your house never felt this way. It had never been a home because Joel wasn’t there to make it a home.

“How’re y’feelin’, baby?” Joel asked, his hand drawing circles into your back as you leaned against his naked body. 

“Like I could spend the rest of the night throwing up,” you said, half-jokingly. 

Your headache was splintering into a full-blown migraine, and your body had yet to recover from the fall earlier in the day. You had no regrets about being fucked against the wall, but it definitely proved to have done some damage to your fragile state.

“If I had known y’needed a good hit to the head to get all these memories back, I woulda tripped you myself,” Joel teased.

You attempted to laugh, only to have the nausea rising in your throat silence your efforts. 

“Don’t make me laugh right now,” you groaned, curling yourself tighter around his body.

“S’only kiddin’, baby. I’m just way too damn happy to have you in my arms again. I spent the last few months tryna figure out how I’d go on livin’ without you.”

“It wasn’t easy for me either,” you sighed. “I hardly recognize myself most days.”

“I won’t lie, seein’ you at parent-teacher conferences nearly broke me,” Joel admitted. 

“It broke me, too.”

Silence slipped over you, and the fan turned into the only noise inside the bedroom. Joel’s chest rose and fell softly under your head, his heart pounding echoing through your ear as you pressed yourself further into his embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. “I wish I had a better word to describe how sorry I am. It wasn’t right of me to lie to you, and I shouldn’t have ever let your family make that decision.”

“I haven’t talked to them in months,” you muttered. “I don’t know how to forgive them for what they did.”

“Y’don’t need to forgive them until you’re ready. I just hope y’know they love you, baby.”

“I do know they love me, and that’s why it’s so hard. How can they love me yet still hurt me so much?”

Joel pressed a soft kiss against the crown of your head, his fingers squeezing around your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” you said, your voice cracking. “But I don’t know how to feel anything but anger towards them. Especially toward Beth. The things she’s said to me in the past…How do I forgive her?”

“I ain’t gonna take sides,” he cautioned. “But I think the accident affected her the hardest. She was so angry at your family's plan, and I think she took out a lot of that anger on you when y’didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair that she gets to be angry when she wasn’t the one that lost everything.”

“You were her everythin’, baby,” Joel whispered. “She lost you.”

“You’re taking her side,” you grumbled.

“I’m just tryna show you the other side of things,” Joel offered. 

“I know you are.”

Joel sunk further into the pillows, dragging you down beside him. You nestled into his arms, your limbs twisting around him like they had a hundred times before. It’s odd what your body remembers, but your brain forgets; it is a simple gesture of an embrace that can never be entirely forgotten. You understood why things always felt so right when you met him again last year; your soul knew he was the missing piece that had been lost. 

Joel spoke your name softly, the syllables more beautiful than ever when they rolled through his accent. You hummed in response, gazing up at him through tired eyes.

“I woulda waited an eternity for you, baby,” he confessed. “I woulda gone to my grave waitin’ to have you back in my arms like this again.”

You blinked away the tears welling in your eyes, failing miserably to hide the quiver of your lips. Joel didn’t wait for your response, nor could you verbalize anything to match the poetry of his words. You only nodded and said, " I love you, " before your eyes drifted shut. Home. You were home.

Joel was softly snoring when you woke up. In the quiet light of the morning, you took the time to admire every softened feature of his face. The worried creases between his brows had smoothed overnight, yet you still found yourself brushing a finger over the spot they usually were. Brushing your hand down his face, you traced the outline of his lips, slightly parted and pouty, the soft kiss more kissable now than ever. Kissing him could wait; you wanted to savor this moment. 

You drew a path down his neck and chest, the spattering of hair across his torso tickling your fingertips. Joel stirred above you, his head rolling to the other side of the pillow. His eyes never opened, though, and you took the opportunity to crawl under the sheets. 

Joel’s cock lay heavy against his lower abdomen, precum leaking onto the soft skin of his stomach. You ran your hands over his hips, settling yourself lower until you were comfortable between his legs. His cock twitched as you wrapped a hand around his length, stroking him slowly and deliberately. Leaning your head down, you kissed up the shaft of his cock, dragging your tongue up the length and around the head. Joel’s body tensed up, yet he still didn’t wake. You took him into your mouth, the salty taste and musky scent overwhelming your senses. You hadn’t pleasured him like this in so long, and you had forgotten how much you loved it. 

Taking him deeper, you flattened your tongue, teasing the base of his cock with the tip of your tongue. You faintly heard a moan slip from Joel’s mouth, his cock twitching against your tongue. 

“Baby?” He groaned.

You hummed softly, pulling him from your mouth. With your saliva coating the entirety of his cock, you pumped him quicker, feeling his body seize up under your touch. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, bucking his hips upward. 

You rewarded him with another swirl of your tongue over the head of his cock, your mouth and hand working in tandem. He was close; you could feel it. 

“Just like that, baby. Forgot—fuck—forgot how good your mouth feels.”

You took him deeper, the tip of his cock tapping against the back of your throat. You sputtered around him, drool rolling down the corners of your mouth, yet you didn’t stop. Hollowing your cheeks, you heard Joel choke out a gasp. The warmth of his release flooded your mouth, coating the back of your throat and tongue. You drank down every drop, pulling off of him with a soft pop.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed, slumping into the pillows. “Get your ass up here, baby.”

You crawled over his body, your legs straddling his waist. Joel grinned up at you, his tired eyes still barely open as he drank in your naked body. 

“C’mere,” he yawned, reaching up to grab the back of your neck.

His soft lips met yours, and you molded your body to him, letting him guide your mouth however he pleased. There was still a pang of anger tucked into the darkest corner of your heart, but you knew with time, it might fade away, and all you wanted was to bask in Joel’s love as long as possible. Things would take time, but you were willing to work on it. 

“I missed wakin’ up to you,” Joel muttered, his lips working down your jaw.

You could feel him growing hard against your core as you ground your hips down on him. It was impossible to hide the fact you were slick with arousal between your thighs, your body terribly responsive to every touch he placed on your body.

“You’re drenchin’ me, baby,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy now.”

“I’m all yours.”

“Damn fuckin’ right you are.”

You lifted your hips, notching his cock at your entrance. Inch by inch, you sunk onto him, both of you exhaling a shaky moan as he stretched you open. Leaning forward, you laced your fingers through Joel’s, holding him firm in your grasp. All you ached for was the tenderness he could provide, the slow synchronicity that flowed through his body and into yours. 

A gentle rub of his thumb over the back of your hand, the slow rise and fall of your hips against his cock… it was the lazy movements that spoke louder than words. It was the recognition that you were his just as he was yours. Soft moans fell off your lips as Joel guided you against his cock, little reassuring grunts leaving his mouth with each roll of your body.

“S’fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” Joel exhaled.

The sun seeping through the blinds lit the amber flecks around his pupils, the morning light painting his naked body golden. The veins beneath his thick neck strained as he lifted his head to watch you, his lips parted in awe as you sucked him further inside your slicken sex. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he demanded. “Let me feel you fall apart around me.”

Your fingers slipped away from his hand, brushing down his flexed stomach as you made a path to your throbbing clit. The feather-like touch immediately sparked pleasure through your core. You clenched around his cock, whimpering with each circle of your fingertips. 

“I feel it, baby. I know you’re close.”

“Mhmm,” you whined.

Joel raised his body to press into your chest, one hand cradling your heavy breast, the other kneading the flesh of your ass. With his weight against your body, your hand pressed harder against your clit, the arousal pooling between where your bodies connect. 

Your head fell onto his shoulder, teeth sinking into his sweat-covered skin. Joel groaned at the sensation, only grounding you down harder onto his cock. You needed every atom of your being injected with Joel; every one of your senses evaded with his taste, touch, and scent. 

“Joel,” you mumbled, nestling your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m so close… so close.”

“I got you, baby. Gonna fall apart right here with you.”

He barely finished speaking by the time your orgasm ignited in your stomach, your body shuddering within his embrace. Joel spoke your name in broken syllables, his release pouring into you only moments later. 

Neither of you broke apart once your spasms subsided. Joel tangled a hand into the hair resting at the nape of your neck, urging your lips to his. Slotting your mouth over his, you slipped your tongue over his bottom lip, a starved search for a deeper connection. Joel fulfilled your need, devouring the soft sounds you exhaled.

Slowly—reluctantly—you tore from his lips, gasping for air to fill your lungs. Joel’s swollen lips formed into a crooked smile, his brown eyes softening the longer he gazed at you. Somewhere inside your chest, you felt that pain reawaken, a haunting reminder that you could have had this all along. Had the lies never been told… Joel would have always been yours. 

How did he survive the years of pain? How did he allow himself to let you go, knowing you’d never be satisfied with another?

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you turned your head to hide the emotions cresting over your face. Nothing went unnoticed with Joel, and he gently pinched your chin to bring your eyes back to his. With furrowed brows, Joel studied your features, the realization striking home for him, too.

“I know you’re scared, baby,” he whispered. “And I know there’s a lot I gotta fix between us, but I swear to you that I ain’t ever gonna leave again. I made that mistake once, and I’ll never do it again.”

“I want to trust you, Joel. I’m trying. But I don’t know how to forget what you’ve done… what everyone has done. There’s so much pain inside me. It’s unbearable.” 

Joel cradled your face in his hands, leveling you with a gaze you couldn’t discern. So many emotions swirled within his eyes, an endless expanse of grief that weighed him down. 

“Give me your pain. Give me all your anger and everything inside you, and I swear I’ll keep you safe. Y’ain’t ever gonna be alone again. Not while I’m still breathin’, baby. It’s you and me. Forever.”

“Forever,” you echoed. 

“Yes, forever. I don’t want another moment of my life without you in it. I can’t lose you again.”

“I can’t lose you, either,” you cried. “I never wanted to lose you in the first place, so please don’t leave.”

Joel’s eyes clouded with tears, and he shook his head. 

“I love you too much ever to leave you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m keepin’ you so long as y’let me.”

Eventually, you both made it out of the bed. Joel grumbled at your wishes to leave, keeping you in his arms and peppering your skin with kisses. It wasn’t long before your dizziness set back in, and you were demanding water and painkillers. 

As Joel poured you a glass of water, you found yourself swaying against the cold tile floors of the kitchen, the corners of your vision blurring. Your nails scratched at the kitchen countertop as you tried to suppress the lightheaded feeling creeping in. You just needed to sit…that’s all you needed. 

You called out Joel’s name the moment your knees buckled beneath you. His body moved in a foggy haze as you tried to keep consciousness, yet you were being pulled beneath the surface of your headache. Strong hands tucked themselves under your armpits, and Joel lowered you to the ground. 

“Baby?” His voice was frantic—strained. 

You mumbled a few incoherent words as your body sagged into his arms. Christ, your head ached. You hadn’t experienced a fainting spell since the accident, and you forgot how terrifying it was. 

Joel choked out your name, his hand snaking around your jaw to wag your head back and forth. You could see his silhouette over you, the shadow molding into the spots within your field of vision, but nothing else registered. Slipping. Drowning. You weren’t strong enough to fight it. Fear set your nerves alight; what if you lost it all again? What if everything melted away into the darkness consuming you? You clawed tooth and nail as your body plunged deeper into unconsciousness. 

It was no use. 

**

Joel paced the hallway outside your hospital room like a madman. The moment you went limp in his arms, he knew something was wrong. He should have taken your injury more seriously and urged you to the hospital yesterday. But he had you in his arms again, and the world would have had to fall apart before he even considered letting you go. Every admission from your lips weighed down on Joel’s shoulders, another swell of guilt growing inside him. He anticipated your anger, your grief, your heartbreak; he willingly listened without argument. His own struggles were nothing compared to what you endured, and he’d be damned if you ever felt those emotions again. Chewing at his nails, Joel glanced back at the open blinds of your hospital room. The doctors assured him you’d be okay; it was only a concussion, and there’d be no complications. That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be absolutely sure you’d recover. 

The door cracked open, and Joel rushed toward the neurologist leaving your room. 

“How is she, doc?” Joel asked. “She’s gonna be okay, right?”

The neurologist, Dr. Oliver, nodded with a soft smile. The smile alone settled the rapid heartbeat banging against Joel's ribcage. 

“Miss Smith is going to be just fine,” Dr. Oliver reassured. “There’s going to be a long road to recovery, but I don’t see any long-term effects. I suggest you bring her in for check-ins with me every few months just to monitor her progress.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Joel nodded. 

“What I need you to do, Mr. Miller, is to help her. She may be a bit forgetful occasionally, so leaving lists around the house or notes will help keep her on track. You do live together, I assume?”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick he had yet to learn how to shake. 

“We don’t, but if y’recommend it…”

“I recommend it, but only because she’ll need someone looking over for her. At least, until she regains enough cognitive strength to keep her memory at full capacity,” Dr. Oliver explained. 

“I can do that, Doc. All I want is for her to be okay.”

Dr. Oliver clapped a hand on Joel’s shoulder, his lips curving into a grin. Joel could finally breathe; you’d be okay. 

“You’re a good man, Mr. Miller. She’s lucky to have you here to care for her.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

“Give her some time to rest, and she’ll be clear to go home tomorrow.”

Dr. Oliver said his goodbyes to Joel and bounded down the hallway to other patients. Joel glanced at the open door, your sleeping frame tucked into the bed among the cords and beeping monitors. He entered quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor so he wouldn’t wake you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Joel took your hand in his, cautious to avoid the IV tube taped onto your skin. Smoothing lines over the inside of your wrist, Joel watched you with weary eyes. 

“I love you, baby. I’m gonna be right here when y’wake up,” he vowed. “Like it always shoulda been.”

Leaning over your body, Joel pressed his lips against your forehead, inhaling your sweet scent as he pulled away. 

You’d be okay, and you’d forever be his. 

**

The harsh light above you reflected behind your eyelids. You groaned as you stirred awake, your eyes squinting to adjust to the layers of white surrounding you. Curling your fingers into the scratchy blanket, you found a familiar body sagged into a chair beside the bed. Joel slept peacefully, yet the worry lines creased between his brows. Extending your hand over the edge of the bed, you brushed your palm over his knee. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

His body jolted upright as he scrubbed a hand down his face. Big, brown puppy dog eyes met yours, the concern in his face dissolving away once his eyes settled on yours. He made no effort to contain the smile breaking across his face. 

“Hey, handsome,” you croaked. 

“Baby,” Joel sighed, crouching beside the bed. “How’re y’feelin’?”

“A little fatigued, but I think I’ll live.”

“You better,” he chuckled. 

With your arms outstretched, you ushered Joel into an embrace. Joel’s lips crashed against yours the second he wrapped his arms around you, his touch soft and cautious. Beautiful melancholy emotions wracked your body; this was the moment you ached for from the start. To be held in your vulnerability, to be cherished, to be loved. Joel didn’t leave. He’d always be here, now. 

“There’s someone here to see you, baby,” Joel muttered against your mouth. 

You pulled away, confusion scrunching your eyebrows together. God, don’t let it be your family. 

“I know that look. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be right back. I promise you’ll be happy,” Joel reassured. 

Joel disappeared from the room, and you sat up, settling back into the pillows. You glanced at the monitor beeping beside your bed, the steady line of your heart rate cruising along the screen. Footsteps sounded outside your room, and your eyes flicked back toward the door, a small silhouette hiding behind Joel’s large frame. 

Sarah. 

Her bright eyes looked between you and Joel, her stare quizzical–skeptic. You gave her a small wave, ushering her into the room. 

“Hi, Sarah,” you faltered. The tears were already forming on your waterline. 

“Hi, Miss Smith,” she said wearily. 

You patted the bed, scooting over to make room for her. Her steps were slow as she neared the bedside, her eyes glancing back at Joel. He gave her an encouraging nod, a knowing grin on his lips. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” you laughed softly. 

Sarah settled onto the bed, her tennis shoes swinging over the floor as she fidgeted with her curls. Joel leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile glued to his face. 

“But you’re my teacher,” she muttered. 

You tucked a loose strand behind her ear, the same hair you had braided and brushed years ago. She wasn’t yours, not by birth. But she was yours just as much as Joel was; she was your home. They weren’t just photos captured in time; they were real. They were real, and they were yours. 

“Do you remember when I used to read you bedtime stories?” You wondered aloud. “You would always ask for the same one over and over.”

There it was. The light sparkled in the gold flecks of Sarah’s eyes, the same gold that sat deep within Joel’s. 

“You and Dad would read The Kissing Hand every night,” she nodded. 

“I know you’re a lot older now, but do you remember what we would do before you fell asleep?”

You reached for Sarah’s hand, lifting it to your lips. With a soft kiss on her palm, you guided her hand to her cheek. Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she leaned into your touch, the simple caress of your hand against her face enough to bring you both to the brink of crying. 

“I missed you, kiddo,” you cried softly. 

Sarah threw her arms around your neck, muffling her sobs into your hospital gown as you squeezed your arms tighter around her body. You missed so many milestones and moments of her life because of the accident, so many memories that were never made. Every family meal, every soccer game…you lost them all. 

You lifted your eyes, catching the moment Joel swiped away a tear from his cheek. Beckoning him over with a quick motion of your hand, he crossed the room in two quick strides and wrapped his large arms around you and Sarah. You rested your chin on Sarah’s shoulder, hugging her closer. Joel kissed the crown of Sarah’s head, then placed one on your forehead. 

“Wait,” Sarah blurted out, forcing you all to break apart. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Joel asked, craning his head to look at her. 

“Does that mean you’re coming back home?” She asked. 

You looked at Joel for guidance, trying to find the answers within his gentle gaze. He waited in silence, giving you room to decide. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt about your answer, not when you had everything you needed right here. 

“Only if you promise never to make pancakes again,” you smiled, pinching her cheek. 

She buried herself into your arms again, her head resting against your heart. You looked up at Joel, your mouth forming three little words. 

I love you. 

~ Two weeks later ~

Joel refused any help as he unloaded the last of your boxes from the back of his truck. When you got home from the hospital, you patched up the holes in the wall—with Joel’s help, of course—and got the house ready to sell. It barely lasted a week on the market before the offers came in, making it easy to start packing. That house was filled with memories you didn’t want to remember, memories that you no longer wanted to revisit. It wasn’t home to you anymore. 

You and Sarah sat on the front porch, popsicles in hand, watching as he huffed an exasperated breath once the box hit the steps. Joel straightened out, running sweaty hands down the sides of his jeans, glancing back at the empty truck bed. 

“Well, I think that’s the last of it,” Joel sighed. “Y’sure we ain’t miss anythin’?”

“I think I’ve got all I need right here,” you grinned, nudging Sarah with your shoulder. 

Joel plopped beside you on the porch, leaning over to lick up the sticky residue of the popsicle that had fallen down your arm. You gave him a warning look, shifting your eyes toward Sarah as if to say: Behave. He only shrugged, sticking out his tongue again to tickle your skin. 

“You hungry?” He asked, quirking a brow. 

“Starving!” Sarah declared, rising to her feet. 

You laughed, knowing Joel wasn’t asking her. Nonetheless, you and Joel followed her into the house hand in hand. Over the last couple of weeks, he had decorated the house in countless sticky notes: ones in the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen. Each said something important. The one in the bathroom was stuck on the medicine cabinet, reminding you which toothbrush was yours—the purple one. Joel stuck one by the front door with Sarah’s soccer schedule—snack duty included. There were a few scattered around the kitchen: one telling you where to find the coffee mugs, another one with a list of groceries to buy over the weekend. Three photos hung beside the list, sitting in perfect harmony as they always should have been.  But your favorite was stuck to the cover of Romeo and Juliet, Joel’s messy handwriting scribbled across the yellow paper. It was only a few words but the only reminder you needed. 

Welcome home, baby. 

I love you.

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 16

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of drugs and alcohol, a painful flashback, mean!Steve

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: As you get closer and closer to your birthday, you are taken back to a painful day.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @mysticmunson & @hellfire--cult thank you for listening to my rambles and helping me with ideas and inspiring me more and more to write this fic 🤍

series masterlist

-

In the months after Steve had left you, you had never felt as miserable as you do now, which is surprising, considering how happy you were in the past few weeks before you had gone on that stupid date with Ray. Not only did that night trigger every bad memory, every negative feeling that you have pushed away for months, you had also made it worse by calling him. 

You shouldn’t have called him, you wouldn’t be dealing with all these messed up feelings now if you had just stayed at Rick’s place and waited for Eddie to come back out of the house instead of running off and calling your ex boyfriend.

You shouldn’t have gone to see him on Sunday when you finished your shift at the record store, you should have just gone home but your stupid heart led you there to make it hurt even more when you saw him with her, how gentle he was with her, how happy he looked with her. 

You feel as though you are back to square one. 

Seeing them together shouldn’t be this hurtful, you should be used to it by now but your feelings are just so hard to ignore. Seeing the way he treated her reminded you of the way he never treated you – only in the first few weeks of your relationship was he this gentle and sweet with you.  

When his gentle touches turned into rough ones and the softness in his eyes disappeared, you knew that something had changed, but you were so in love with him, you didn’t care how badly he treated you when he stopped being the Steve you once knew.

You stare at the pages in your book with a blank expression on your face. You are not reading, you are not taking notes, you are not focusing the way you should be. No, your mind is too busy recalling every painful moment that you have had with him. 

Heather puts her notebook down, throwing her pencil on the bed, she lets out a groan as she stretches her arms out. Chrissy glances at her as she tears her eyes away from her book. While you and Heather study for finals, she is catching up on her favorite novel, her finals aren’t until next year as she had to repeat second grade after she had gotten sick and missed too many school days. 

Heather looks at you, a frown appears on her face when she notices the expression on your face. 

“Y/n?”

You blink, furrowing your brows as you look up at your friend, “yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

No. 

You shrug and close your book, “yeah, why?”

Heather isn’t convinced and neither is Chrissy who watches you with worried eyes. She had noticed that something is off with you, after spring break, something had changed and you are now more distant than before and it’s not just that, you are also very quiet. Just like you were after your breakup with Steve. 

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Heather says. 

You feel bad for lying to them, for not telling them things that you would have told them a few months back, but you still aren’t the only one who keeps secrets.

Without thinking, you push your sleeves up, accidentally revealing the fading bruises around your wrists. Heather notices them right away, her eyes widen and a gasp falls from her lips. Chrissy furrows her brows at her friend before she notices what she is looking at, she places the book down and straightens up to see what had shocked her friend so much. 

When you see the confused and shocked look on Chrissy’s face, you realize your mistake and quickly push your sleeves back down, as though it will reverse your mistake. 

“What the fuck?” 

“W-What is that, what happened?” Chrissy asks, worriedly. 

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing, you shake your head. 

“Nothing happened,” you mumble and get up from your bed after pushing the books off of your lap. You leave your room, desperately wanting to escape this situation but of course they follow you, calling out your name bewildered. 

“That’s not nothing, y/n!” Heather says angrily as she follows you downstairs.

“I fell,” you mumble, coming up with the weakest lie ever. 

Heather snorts in disbelief, “and I’m supposed to believe that?” She asks, almost yelling. You don’t take her anger to heart, you know that she is worried. 

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Heather,” she mumbles, trying to calm her down. 

You turn on the lights in the kitchen, blinking rapidly as you feel tears of frustration building up. You try to distract yourself by reaching for the newspaper on the counter, a flyer from some pizza place at the new mall is laying on top of it. 

“A-Are you guys hungry?” You ask, without looking up, “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving. We could order a pizza, there’s a new place, Surfer Boy–”

“Y/n,” Chrissy says, quietly as she walks towards you with a look of concern in her eyes. 

“We could order different kinds,” you say, still hoping to be able to change the subject of the conversation despite knowing that it’s a lost cause. 

Heather crosses her arms over her chest, her brows are knitted as she looks you up and down. 

“What happened?” She asks again. 

Chrissy turns around to send her a warning look, shaking her head. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” Chrissy says as she places her hand on top of yours, trying to give you reassurance. 

You narrow your eyes, trying to hide your tears as you give her a small smile. 

“You always tell us everything, y/n,” Heather says and for the first time you hear sadness in her voice, sadness and concern. “Since when do you keep secrets?”

Her question irritates you and it sparks the anger inside of you. You snap your head up and look at her with raised brows, “I don’t know, you tell me.” 

She looks a little taken aback at your words, surprised even. Though, her eyes flash with guilt. She doesn’t say anything this time, neither does Chrissy and when you look back at her to see her avoiding your eyes, you can’t even help but scoff. 

“What are you guys not telling me?” You finally ask the question that’s been on your mind for months now, “what are you hiding?” 

Chrissy mumbles your name with a pleading voice, her cheeks glow red, she looks embarrassed. 

“You do know that you’re doing the same shit that Steve did to me, right?” 

Heather can’t even look into your eyes anymore, she looks down.

“He did that too, he kept secrets, he didn’t talk to me, he didn’t tell me anything, he kept lying to me a-and then it all got too much and he spilled everything to me the moment he had one too many drinks – is that what it takes for you to be honest with me? D-Drinks? Do you need to get drunk too to tell me that you don’t want to be my friend anymore?” 

Both of them raise their heads to look at you, shocked and confused as though they can’t believe that you would think that of them. 

“What!?” Heather asks, raising her voice, “you think we don’t want to be your friends anymore? What the hell, y/n? You are the one who pushed us away!” 

“Because you are both keeping secrets! You whisper behind my back! You don’t tell me shit anymore! What do you expect me to do? To sit there and wait for you to leave the way everyone else does?” Your voice breaks and once again, your tears spill. You can only huff in annoyance when you feel your wet cheeks, “for fucks sake,” you whisper as you wipe away the tears in anger. 

Chrissy looks down, she had never felt this guilty before. She knows it’s because of her. The secrets and the whispers. It’s her fault that you feel like they don’t want you but she is scared, so scared to lose you if you find out the truth but right here is where she realizes that she will lose you either way. 

Heather’s eyes soften and she looks at you with a frown. 

You step away from Chrissy and turn away from them, you place your hands on the counter and look out the window. 

“We are not leaving you, y/n,” Heather says, walking towards you, “we would never leave you, you’re our best friend.”

You try not to show how bitter you are, how angry and hurt you still are. 

“Doesn’t feel like it, Heather.”

“But she’s right,” Chrissy says with a shaky voice, “we would never leave you.”

You are so sick of the tears, of the pain, of all of this. 

Heather and Chrissy share a look and you watch them with narrowed eyes.

You wipe the fresh tears with your sleeves and turn around, leaning against the counter as you look at the blonde, who stares at you with nothing but fear in her eyes and suddenly, you feel guilty for the outburst you just had.

“I’m sorry,” Heather whispers as she reaches for your hand, “I’m sorry we made you feel that way but you are still our best friend, even when we’re not yours anymore.”

“Yeah, Eddie stole that title,” Chrissy mumbles, rolling her eyes when she says his name. She leans against the counter beside you and looks at you with an apologetic look in her eyes and the guilt. The guilt is not very hard to miss. 

You know that she is hiding something, something that Heather knows about, something that she doesn’t want you to know. It hurts, she used to tell you everything, now Heather is the only one she confides in and as hurtful as it is, you have to respect that. 

“You are still my best friends too,” you murmur and lower your head to hide the pain, “I’m sorry for getting so mad.”

Heather sighs, she rolls her eyes at her own outburst, “I’m sorry too, you don’t have to tell us what happened but just know that we are here for you.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy whispers as she once again reaches for your hand, this time, you squeeze her hand back.

You know that they want to know what happened or better yet, who happened. You don’t want to talk about Ray or the date and the awful things that happened, least of all what happened afterwards when you decided to call him. 

“I went on a date with Ray.” You say after a beat of silence. 

Their eyes widen with both shock and confusion. 

Chrissy opens and closes her mouth, no words come out. 

“Ray Parker?” Heather asks, still confused. She saw you with him, at the bonfire party but she didn’t think anything of it. 

You nod, clenching your jaw. 

“Yeah.” 

You feel a shiver running down your spine when you think about that night. 

“Turned out that he never wanted to go on a date with me, he just wanted to fuck. I-I didn’t want to, I didn’t even want to go on a date with him, I don’t know what I was thinking,” you ramble as you quickly want to close the subject again, “H-He was very persistent and he kept trying but I pushed him away, nothing happened, luckily.”

Chrissy holds her hand in front of her mouth and Heather looks at you in disbelief. 

They see the fear in your eyes and how shaken up you still are.

“What the fuck,” she mumbles, angrily. “He did that to you?” She asks, pointing to your wrists. 

“Yeah but it’s okay, it’s–”

“It’s not okay! I’m gonna cut his dick off!” She says, throwing her hands up, “and his balls too!”

“Count me in,” Chrissy says with an angry frown in her soft features. “I hate men!”

You can’t help but snort as you bury your face in your hands. 

“This is not funny, y/n!” Heather says, nudging your shoulder, “why do you always go for the worst guys?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble. 

Heather is seething and so is Chrissy, that’s why you didn’t want them to know. It’s bad enough that the others know that Eddie and Steve went after him, that they risked getting in trouble with the cops. 

Heather keeps mumbling curse words under her breath, while Chrissy tries to make sure  that you are feeling okay. 

“Do you know where he lives?” Heather asks, “did you go to the cops?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to know where he lives, you don’t want to go to the cops. His wealthy parents won’t let anything happen to their precious son besides, you hope that he learned his lesson after what Eddie and Steve did to him. 

Heather and Chrissy might think that it’s Ray who causes you to feel this way, it’s not. It’s Steve, it’s always Steve who is on your mind. It's him who is making you feel like you are not okay because he is once again, haunting you in your memories, in your dreams, in everything. 

He is haunting you.

Heather keeps asking questions and it’s starting to make you feel sick. 

You close your eyes when you suddenly feel lightheaded, you pinch the bridge of your nose and take deep breaths. 

“Can we please just not talk about this?” You ask, interrupting Heather’s ramble, “I-I don’t want to think about it anymore. Besides, it’s been taken care of,” you mumble the last part. 

“Wait what?” 

“What do you mean?” Chrissy asks, “what’s been taken care of?”

“Eddie and Steve, t-they went after him.”

Chrissy stares with wide eyes and Heather looks at you, confused. 

“I’m sorry, did you just say Eddie and Steve?” 

You nod. 

“I’ll tell you everything but can we first order some food?” 

Chrissy notices the pale look on your face, the shakiness in your hands, the tired look in your eyes. She knows. Her eyes meet Heather’s, she nudges her head, raising her brows.

“Yes, of course,” Heather says, reaching for the flyer you looked at earlier, “let me guess, you want pineapple pizza.”

“No way,” you snort, “I only eat it when I’m high.”

“Which happens like three times a week nowadays,” Chrissy jokes. 

“What can I say, my weed man is really good.”

Heather laughs, “a very bad influence,” she points out with a smile on her face, “I’ll go order the pizza,” she says before she walks out of the kitchen. 

You clear your throat and turn to Chrissy, who is already watching you. There is still concern in her eyes and you desperately want her to stop worrying. 

“Chris,” you mumble as you grip her hand tighter, “don’t worry about me.”

She frowns at your words, how can she not worry about you? 

“You thought that we don’t want to be your friends anymore.”

“It’s okay, it was a misunderstanding–”

“I will– we will always want you to be our friend,” she says, “it’s always been the three of us, y/n.”

You smile, sadly. 

“A-And, I just want you to know that it’s not about our friendship with you or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

She swallows nervously and she runs her fingers through her blonde hair, looking at anything but you, she blushes and it makes you wonder. 

“I-I just, Heather isn’t hiding anything from you. T-There’s something that I can’t tell you yet but I will,” she says, looking at the floor, “when I’m ready, okay?”

She is scared of losing you, scared of pushing you away with whatever she is dealing with. 

You nod, “of course.”

You are worried about her, about what she’s keeping from you, about what she is so nervous about. You take both of her hands in yours and step closer to her. 

“Hey,” you whisper, “can you look at me?”

She raises her head a little, looking at you through her bangs. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, you don’t have to be scared,” you say, rubbing your circles on her skin, “I’m here and I’ll always be here, no matter what, okay?”

She nods, a smile tugs at her lips. 

“I didn’t mean to get so angry, I’m sorry.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I understand it.” 

“But we’re okay, right?” You ask. 

She nods, eyeing your face with a sad look in her eyes, “of course, we’re okay.”

“Good.”

“Good,” she repeats your words with a smile. 

“Hey guys, some guy named Argyle was on the phone! Never heard that name before,” Heather says, laughing from the living room, “he sounded cute.”

You and Chrissy look at each other with furrowed brows before you burst into giggles. 

-

The bruises have faded away, your skin looks healed again, you can finally wear skirts and t-shirts after weeks of hiding in sweaters and jeans. The weather is warm, the sun is shining and the flowers adorn the pretty fields of Hawkins, finally. It’s nearing the end of April and you’re getting closer and closer to exams and the final day of school. You can’t wait to get out of here. 

You are staring out the window, watching the white clouds move in the blue sky, you drown out the voices in the classroom, the laughter of Tommy and Carol as they gossip, as always. 

The past few weeks haven’t been easy on you, you have been trying to avoid him but everywhere you go, you see him, it reminds you of the way things were after he dumped you. Only this time, he tries, he really tries to sneak his way back into your life, you don’t let him – you want to but you don’t let him. Yet, you can’t help but love every little moment you have with him – passing by him in the hallway, seeing the way his eyes light up when you flash him a small smile, you don’t let it confuse you but, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach either.

You will forever regret the date and the call. That night changed everything. You were okay, you were okay without him. You were sure that you had moved on. You were sure that you did not want him anymore. You were so damn sure. Yet, here you are, unable to stop thinking about Steve Harrington.

Someone places their books on the table, picking the seat next to you. You don’t turn around to face whoever it is, not caring. But, when you smell his cologne, you tense up and your heart skips, you don’t need to look at him to have all these feelings rushing through you. 

You look away from the window, you lean back and finally turn to look at him. He looks good, the way he always does. He is wearing a black sweater, his sleeves are pulled up, you notice a silver bracelet around his wrist, you haven’t seen before. His knuckles are healed, no bruises litter his skin any longer but there’s a scar that hasn’t been there before. You wonder what he told her when he sported the bruises on his knuckles and on his temple. 

He doesn’t say anything, he just flashes you a small smile and looks away when the teacher walks in. 

Why does he sit here? Why next to you?

You force yourself to look away too. You hate the beating of your heart. You hate the way you feel when you smell his cologne, the stupid smell of Farrah Fawcett spray, you hate the way it feels to be so close to him. 

You try to focus on class, you try to write down notes, you try to think about anything but him beside you. 

Steve has other plans though when he slides his notebook over to you after scribbling something on the blank page. 

You turn to look at him with a questioning gaze but he is not looking at you, he is looking at the blackboard, pretending to listen to Mrs Jones.

You look down at the notebook. 

‘Hi’. He wrote with a smile next to it. 

You can’t help but snort quietly. 

He smiles to himself, narrowing his eyes to look at you. 

You take your pen, shaking your head as you write a ‘hey’ before you slide it back to him. 

He glances at the teacher before he begins writing. Mrs Jones isn’t paying attention to you, the elderly woman is too busy writing on the blackboard as she taps her heel against the ground. 

You bounce your knee, pressing your lips together as you look at anything but him. You dig your nails into your palms as you wait in anticipation. When he slides the notebook back to you, you glance at him for a moment before you look down. 

‘How are you?’

You wonder if it is a conversation starter or a genuine question but, when you find him looking at you with a soft eyes, you have your answer. 

‘I’m good, you?’

Steve knows it is a lie.

‘I’m okay. Can you believe that we’re graduating soon?’

You smile at him and shake your head.

‘No. Are you still becoming a basketball star?’ You write down. 

You watch the way he shakes his head with a blush on his cheeks. He leans down, putting his hand on the table as he writes. 

'Not good enough to be a basketball star.’

You raise your brows in question, pressing your lips together. 

What happened to his confidence? You wonder. 

‘You were always good enough, Steve.’

Steve stares at your words for a long moment, his brows knit together and for a second, he lets the sadness take over. He never felt good enough. 

‘Not for this. Are you still becoming a stripper?’ 

When you read the question, a giggle bursts from your lips before you can stop it. You always used to joke about it, telling him that you would become the best stripper in town. 

There is not a single strip club in Hawkins. 

You clasp your hand over your mouth and your eyes widen when you realize how loud your giggle was. Everyone is now looking at you. 

Steve presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. 

“Is there anything you want to share with the class?” Mrs Jones asks, raising her brows at you as she stands there with her hand on her hip.

You shake your head.

Steve snorts a little when he glances at you, you are staring wide eyed at the teacher with  a blush on your cheeks. Cute.

You kick his foot under the table and he has to hide his face behind his head when he laughs quietly. 

“Pay attention!” Mrs Jones says, pointing at you with her finger. 

You nod, “yes ma’am.”

She glares at you before she turns away. 

“Asshole,” you whisper to Steve before you reach for your pen again, ignoring the prying eyes of some of the cheerleaders and of course, Tommy and Carol, you don’t have to turn around to know that they are staring. 

‘No, I want to be a groupie now.’

Steve shakes his head, of course, you would say that. 

He changes the topic, though it’s a mistake, a very big mistake. 

Steve doesn’t know that you are haunted by memories of him. 

Your birthday is soon, any plans?’

You are already struggling. Why did he have to bring this up? Why did he have to remind you of your last birthday? Why? 

You stare at the words on the paper for what feels like forever. You hate your birthday, especially the last birthday. 

You remember the way you felt that day, you remember the way you waited for him, thinking that he would surprise you. You didn’t want a party, you didn’t even want a cake but Heather and Chrissy had still made one for you, they spent the afternoon with you, they gave you presents, ate cake with you and offered to take you out to dinner but you said no, because you knew that he would take you out for dinner and surprise you with the locket you have told him so many times about. The locket you had seen when you passed by the little jewelry store, he was with you, he saw the way your eyes lit up when you laid eyes on it for the first time, he knew you wanted it and you thought, you really thought that he would get you the necklace. You could have bought it yourself with the credit card your dad gave you before he left but you wanted it to be something special. 

Steve did not take you out for dinner that night, in fact, he didn’t spend the night with you, at all. 

You want to cry just thinking about it. 

You waited and waited, you sat by your window and looked out, waiting for him to finally arrive. You put on the pretty sundress that you had bought when you went shopping with Chrissy. You did your makeup and your hair the way he always liked it. 

With your hands in your lap and excitement still lingering on your face, you waited. 

Your eyes lit up when you saw his car pulling up to your driveway, you jumped up and rushed over to the mirror, taking one last look at yourself before you rushed down the stairs with a smile on your face. 

You opened the door just as he was about to unlock it with the keys you gave him. 

“Hi!” You said, unable to fight the smile off your face. 

Steve was holding a small box in his hands, you thought you knew what was in there.

“Hey babe,” he said but his voice did not match your excitement. 

He walked in and closed the door, handing you the box. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “happy birthday,” he said with a smile that could only be described as forced. 

Your own smile began to fade a little when you noticed the disinterested look on his face, you looked down at the little box. Did he give you what you wished for? You had wondered.

“What took you so long?” You asked as you looked at the clock, it was 7pm. “I’ve been waiting for you, Stevie.”

“I was getting ready for the party.”

You furrowed your brows and looked at him in confusion as you could already feel your heart dropping. 

“What party?” You mumbled, “I-I told you that I don’t want–”

“No, I know.” He said, “I know you didn’t want to throw a party, I mean Tina’s party.”

You couldn’t believe him. He knew, he knew you did not want that. He knew you wanted to spend the night alone, with him. 

“I-I thought we could do something else, it’s my birthday, Steve.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, happy birthday,” he said with fake enthusiasm in his voice, “now let’s go celebrate it.”

Your shoulders slumped, you opened your mouth to speak but quickly closed it again. You stared at him in disbelief as your eyes began to well up with tears. 

“But, I thought we could go out for dinner.”

He scrunched his face up, snorting, “what are we forty?” He said, “come on, get your stuff, we’re leaving.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head as you looked at him with sad eyes and a pout that always pulled at your lips, naturally.

He huffed. 

“Man, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You said with a small voice, frowning. 

“Like that,” he mumbled, pointing at your frown, “that’s fucked up.”

You wanted to cry, you wanted to run upstairs and crawl under the sheets, you wanted to escape this. 

“W-Well, you can go to that stupid party. I’m not going.” You pushed the box back in his hands and brushed past him, walking up the stairs as you began to remove the clips in your hair. 

“Babe!” He groaned. 

“You can go, Steve. I’m not feeling well anyways,” you lied and continued your way up the stairs, still hoping that he would follow you, that he would change his mind and apologize, that he would take you in his arms and kiss you, that he would take you out to dinner, that he would kiss you under the stars and put the necklace around your neck but he never did. 

Just as you walked into your room, you heard the front door shutting and his car starting just moments later. 

Despite how he had acted before, you didn’t expect him to leave, but he did. He left and you spent the evening alone with a bottle of Whiskey your dad left behind, you drank and you cried, missing the boy who used to protect you, who used to love you. You stayed in your dress and listened to David Bowie and then, four hours later, he came back but you wish he never did.

The memory of that night still hurts, it all hurts. 

‘No, you know I don’t celebrate my birthday.’ You write down in bitterness. 

Steve looks guilty, he feels awful for what he did on your last birthday. If he could turn back time and change it, he would. 

You can’t help but look at him, and you see it, you see the guilt and the sadness and the anger he feels for himself but it does nothing to ease your pain. It still hurts so much. 

‘Can I come over, the night before?’ 

It’s a tradition you have had since you were children. He would always sneak into your room and give you his presents at midnight. He didn’t do it last year. Why now? You are no longer friends, you are no longer a couple, you are not even acquaintances at this point. 

Are you a fool for saying ‘yes’? Maybe. Do you care? No. Apparently, he still has you wrapped around his finger. 

He smiles at you and closes the notebook when the bell rings. You wonder if he will throw the page away or if he will keep it. You would. You hate how giddy he still makes you feel, you hate the butterflies that still flutter in your stomach, why won’t they die? 

You leave the classroom together but neither of you say anything, you just glance at each other before you go separate ways, he flashes you one last smile – his is certainly much brighter than yours, yours is still etched with pain. 

You make your way towards your locker to retrieve your backpack and your jacket. Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone moving towards you and when you turn your head, you see that it’s Chrissy. 

A smile tugs at your lips. 

She looks determined, her eyes are set on you, she isn’t smiling and as she gets closer, you notice how nervous she looks. 

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you smile, “what’s up?” You ask, curiously when she still refuses to smile. 

Her hands are pressed together and she looks at you with uncertainty in her eyes. She fidgets with her shaky hands. 

“I-I’m ready to talk.” 

You did not expect to hear that from her. It’s been weeks since she admitted to keeping something from you and not once did you pressure her to talk, you did try to reassure her that nothing could drive you away from her but she still needed time. 

“You are?” You ask, looking around the crowded hallways. 

She nods, licking her lips as she stares at you. 

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” You reach for your backpack and pull the strap over your shoulder before you reach for her hand, “come on.”

You can feel how nervous she is, how clammy her hand is, how shaky it is as she grips yours tightly. It makes you a little anxious. What could possibly make her this nervous? 

You leave the school and walk towards your car. 

“Do you wanna go to my place?” You ask. 

She shakes her head, looking down as she lets go of your hand to walk to the passenger side. 

“Okay, uh, the lookout?” You ask. 

“Y-Yeah.”

You nod and unlock your car, you throw your backpack in the backseat and reach for the sunglasses in your glove compartment. You glance at her, noticing how nervous she still is as she bounces her knee. 

“Chris, don’t be so nervous,” you say, trying to reassure her, “if you wanna talk about your position on the cheer squad, you can absolutely have my spot as the captain,” you joke but she doesn’t laugh, she only cracks a small smile. 

You figure that nothing you will say will make her any less nervous, the only thing that will help is talk about whatever is laying heavy on her heart. So, you start the car and you turn on some music, hoping that it will calm her down. You drive to the lookout, you always used to go together. Back when you had only gotten your driver license, you, Chrissy and Heather would always come up here and have a little picnic, you would take pictures of each other with your dad’s polaroid camera. 

You miss those days. The simpler days. 

You both get out and sit on the hood of your car, looking down at the small town you live in. From up here, it looks so much smaller than it actually is. 

“I– I don’t know how to tell you,” she starts after a long few minutes of silence.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask as your take your hand in yours.

She blinks. The wind blows through her hair and she looks down to avoid your eyes. 

“That you won’t be my friend anymore.”

“Chrissy,” you whisper, holding her hand tighter, “we’ve been friends since we were little kids, what makes you think that I’d stop being your friend?”

She shrugs. 

“You and I, we're best friends for the rest of our lives.” 

She rolls her eyes, “except you got Eddie now.”

“Eddie isn’t a girl though, I still need my girl best friends – hey, are you jealous of Eddie, is that it?” You chuckle.

Her eyes widen and she tenses up, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her cheeks take the color of your red skirt and your smile falls as you stare at her reaction in surprise. 

“I-I, no! I’m not–” She stutters and her voice gets high pitched. 

“Wait, y-you don’t like Eddie do you?” You frown. 

She almost looks taken aback by your question and she draws back, scrunching her face up as she shakes her head, “what!? No!”

Your shoulders slump in relief. 

Her reaction is almost comical, if the circumstances were different, you would probably laugh at the twisted mouth and the disapproving look in her eyes. 

“I don’t like him,” she says, shaking her head, “I don’t like people like him.” 

“Oh,” you frown. Is that it? Is that what she is keeping from you? She doesn’t like Eddie? She doesn’t like your best friend? She doesn’t like his reputation and your reputation?

“N-No!” She huffs, rolling her eyes at her choice of words, “I don’t mean it like that, I don’t mean him in general, I-I mean – fuck.” Her shoulders slump and she closes her eyes when she feels the tears welling up. “I don’t like men – I don’t, I’m not into them! I like girls,” she says, quietly. 

Oh. 

Your lips part in surprise and your eyes widen but you finally relax and the tension in your body leaves. You were so worried about all the possibilities of what she could be hiding from you, out of all of them, you did not expect this. 

She is shaking even more now and you hold her hand tighter in response. 

“Chrissy,” you whisper and scoot closer to her. 

When she hears your soft voice and feels your even softer touch, she manages to open her eyes again and looks at you through her tears. 

“You scared me to death!” You mumble before you pull her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. “I thought you were hiding something bad!” 

You hear her sniffle first and then her sigh of relief as she melts into your touch and hugs you back. 

“I-I, you’re not, you don’t think it’s weird?” 

You scrunch your face up and frown, “why would I think that it’s weird?” You mumble, still hugging her. 

“‘Cause some people think it’s weird.”

“Fuck them,” you whisper, rubbing her back and squeezing her tightly before you pull away from her. You look at her soft features and smile, “I’m sorry you were so scared to tell me but I hope you know that I would never judge you, you’re my best friend and I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes light up and she smiles, “you are?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling. 

She presses her hand to her chest as she sighs in relief again, closing her eyes.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?”

And just like that, her smile fades away again and she looks at you with the same sad eyes you saw one too many times already. This time, it doesn’t take you long to put two and two together, the signs were always there but as always, you were too blind to see them, just like you had been blind to so many other things in your life. 

She was always protective of you, more so than Heather was. She was always a little giddy around you, nervous and shy. She was always more affectionate with you than anyone else. 

And then you remember Carol’s words, what she said – or tried to say about Chrissy before Heather intervened. 

God, you feel like a fool. 

Life passes by you and you don’t even notice. Where is your mind at all the time?

Chrissy’s eyes are filled with sadness and the same fear as before, she doesn’t need to say it out loud for you to know. The look on her face confirms it all. 

“Oh Chrissy.”

“I-It’s okay, y/n,” she whispers, “please don’t pity me, it’s just, it will pass.”

You tilt your head, you can’t help but look at her with the same look that lingers in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and look down at her hand. 

“No, I’ll be fine, really,” she says, “just promise me that nothing will change?”

Your chest aches and it hurts to know that she is hurting because of you. 

“Because that’s all that matters to me, that you are still my friend.”

“I am,” you reassure her again, “I promise.”

She nods at you, not letting her tears spill. She smiles at you again before she scoots closer to you. 

“Thank you.” 

You shake your head and wrap your arm around her shoulder as she leans her head on your shoulder. 

“No, thank you for trusting me,” you whisper, “and for everything.”

She smiles up at you when you fix the green bow in her hair and run your fingers through her ponytail.

As the silence takes over and you both listen to birds chirping and the wind that rustles the leaves on the trees, you hold onto each other a little more tightly when she finally relaxes, knowing that she will always have you, no matter what. 

And you feel the tension leaving when you realize that you had nothing to fear when it came to her and Heather. 

“Hey, you know what?” 

“Hmm?”

“I saw Heather making out with Billy in his car.”

“No way!” You gasp, laughing. 

“Yeah! And then she acted like nothing happened!” 

You giggle, cupping your hand over your mouth.

“Apparently they were high. She bought weed from that pizza guy.”

“What was his name again?” You ask, laughing. 

“Uh, something weird–” she mumbles with a concentrated look on her face. 

“Ar– Argyle!” You exclaim. 

“Yes, Argyle!” 

next chapter

-

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @taintedcigs @hellfire--cult @screammunson @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @somethingvicked @chrissymjstan

[paddockletters]

PLS WRITE SMTH ABT MARC BERNAL 🙏🏽🙏🏽

against the odds- marc bernal

paring:marc bernal x reader summary: An artist meets football star Marc Bernal, and their bond quickly grows. But with his demanding career and media pressure, their relationship is tested. author's note: Omg, I’m so sorry for the delay, but I hadn’t been around here for a while. You didn’t tell me what kind of story you wanted, but I tried my best to come up with something good. I hope you like it. Again, sorry for the delay. Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

The streets of Barcelona buzzed with the usual evening rush. People hurried through the fading light, but Elena moved at her own pace, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat. She hadn’t meant to end up here again—at her favorite café, a place she usually went to escape her own thoughts. Tonight, however, it felt different, heavier. She had recently broken up with someone she thought was "the one," and it had left her empty in a way she couldn’t explain.

As she settled into her usual seat by the window, her sketchbook open in front of her, Elena found it difficult to focus. The memories of her ex still tugged at her mind. The same questions—Why hadn’t it worked? Was she enough?—kept swirling in her head.

Just as she was about to pack up and leave, the door swung open. The warm glow from the inside illuminated the tall figure stepping in, and a wave of recognition hit her. Marc Bernal. One of Spain’s brightest football stars. His presence filled the small café, but what surprised her more was that he walked straight towards her.

"Hola," he said with a soft smile, his voice deep but gentle. "¿Te importa si me siento aquí?"

She blinked, unsure if she’d heard him right. “Oh, um, no… claro, siéntate,” she managed to stammer.

Marc smiled and took the seat across from her. The café was unusually empty tonight, so they were mostly alone.

“I’ve seen you here before,” Marc began, his eyes flicking toward her sketchbook. “Always drawing.”

Elena gave a shy laugh, glancing down at the pages. “Yeah, it helps clear my head, I guess. Not a lot of that happening tonight, though.”

"Lo entiendo," Marc said, leaning back in his chair. "Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to clear your mind, it sticks around. Los pensamientos."

She met his eyes, surprised at how easily he understood her. “Yeah, exactly,” she murmured, feeling the familiar weight of her unspoken thoughts. But for the first time in a while, she felt... seen.

Over the next few weeks, Marc and Elena began spending more time together. It started as simple conversations at the café, but before long, they were texting late into the night, sharing stories about their lives. Marc would talk about the pressure of being a football star, the overwhelming media attention, the constant scrutiny. Elena, in turn, opened up about her art and the lingering heartbreak that still haunted her.

It was during one of their late-night chats that Marc invited her to a match.

"Come and watch," he had said. "I’d love to have you there."

Elena had hesitated at first. It wasn’t like her to get involved with someone whose life was so public. But there was something about Marc, something warm and genuine, that made her want to say yes. And so she did.

The stadium was packed, the roar of the crowd like a living, breathing entity. Elena sat in the VIP section, feeling slightly out of place. But as the game started, she couldn’t take her eyes off Marc. Watching him in his element, commanding the field, was mesmerizing. His confidence, the way he moved with ease—it was intoxicating.

After the game, she met him outside the locker rooms. His hair was still damp from the shower, his smile easy and tired.

"¿Qué te pareció?" he asked, pulling her in for a hug.

"It was... amazing," Elena said, her voice breathless. "I didn’t realize how intense it all was. You’re incredible out there."

Marc grinned. “I’m glad you liked it. It means a lot that you came.”

But that night wasn’t without its complications. As they left the stadium together, cameras flashed, and reporters swarmed. Marc’s grip tightened around Elena’s hand, guiding her through the chaos.

"Lo siento," he whispered, his voice tense. "This part... it’s not easy."

She had known it was coming—the media attention—but it still rattled her. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to being in the spotlight.

As their relationship deepened, they found themselves struggling to balance their lives. Marc’s schedule was relentless. Training, traveling, games. Elena’s own artistic career was picking up speed, with exhibitions and commissions that demanded more of her time.

“Marc, we haven’t seen each other in weeks,” Elena said one evening as they lay in his bed, the glow of the city lights filtering through the window.

“I know, lo siento, mi amor,” Marc sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Es difícil. Sometimes it feels like I’m always one step behind.”

Elena turned to face him, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “It’s just... I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. I miss you.”

Marc pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. “I miss you too. I’ll figure it out. I don’t want to lose this. No quiero perderte.”

But things weren’t as easy as either of them hoped. The distance grew, the missed calls piled up, and soon, Elena found herself questioning if she was enough for him—if they were enough. One evening, after a long day of work, she sat in her apartment, staring at her phone. Marc hadn’t called like he promised. Again.

Her frustration boiled over, and she dialed his number.

“¿Marc?” she began, trying to keep her voice steady. “We need to talk.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Elena, estoy en medio de una cena con el equipo. ¿Puede esperar?”

Her heart sank. “No, Marc. It can’t.”

Silence.

“¿Qué pasa?” he asked, his tone softening, sensing her distress.

Elena closed her eyes, the words she had been holding in for weeks finally spilling out. “I can’t keep waiting for you. This... us... it doesn’t feel like we’re a priority anymore. I’m always the one waiting, and I just... I need more.”

“Lo sé,” Marc said quietly. “You deserve more. Pero, I don’t know how to fix this right now.”

Tears filled Elena’s eyes, and she knew this was the moment. The moment she had been dreading. “Then maybe... maybe we need to let this go.”

Despite their deepening bond, cracks continue appering. Marc’s demanding schedule grew more hectic as the season progressed. The media was relentless, constantly hounding him, and it began to take a toll on their relationship. Elena tried to be patient, but the late-night phone calls and missed plans started to wear her down.

“Marc, you missed dinner again,” Elena said one evening, her frustration barely contained.

“Lo siento, mi amor,” Marc sighed, running a hand through his hair. “El entrenamiento se alargó más de lo previsto.”

“Siempre es lo mismo,” Elena replied, her voice breaking slightly. “I feel like I’m always waiting for you.”

Marc’s face fell. “No es lo que quiero para ti, Elena. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Marc. Just... be here. Be present. I can’t do this alone.”

His heart clenched at the sight of her pain. “No quiero perderte,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Te necesito.”

“Then show me,” Elena whispered, her voice trembling.

For a long moment, they stood there, the weight of their love hanging in the air between them. Marc wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He kissed her hair, her forehead, finally pressing his lips to hers, desperate to hold on to what they had.

The next few months were a turning point for them. Marc made sure to carve out time for their relationship, and Elena found herself thriving in both her art and her love life. They had found a balance, a way to be part of each other’s worlds without losing themselves.

One evening, as they sat together on the balcony of Marc’s apartment, watching the sunset over the Madrid skyline, he took her hand.

“¿Sabes qué?” he whispered.

“¿Qué?”

Marc smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m happier with you than I ever was on the field.”

Elena smiled back, her heart full. “Yo también.”

[thefandomdirtymind]

Would you be willing or interested in like either a small Drabble or fic about Sanji’s hands? Preferably with a chubby or plus sized reader? Like how he would grab them or pleasure them? Cause I am fucking obsessed with his hands and loving the work that you’re putting out ❤️❤️

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi ! Sorry for the wait, I had tried for a while to decide if I did an headcanon or a fic and my brain just decided a morning for me. The fact that the reader is a chubby or plus size is implied but without to much precision since every bodies are different and I succeed ( I still don't know how) to put 29 time the word hands in this ! I hope you will like it !

Under his touch (NSFW)

OPLA - Sanji x Chubby/Plus size reader

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

____

As you were sitting at the table in the kitchen. The declining light of the sun bathing of a golden orange, the pages of your book, the paper barricade lifted high enough to dissimulate your focused gaze.You couldn’t deny it any longer. 

When you sat there, after the departure of the others for a visit to the near island, you were determined to advance yourself in your reading. But, as much as you had tried, if anybody would have asked you what your book was talking about, you couldn’t have, even at the price of your life, given them an answer. 

For the past few minutes, you had been fixing the fascinating view that was the tall frame of Sanji, doing his preparation for the next day. But, more precisely his strong mid-sleeveless forearms and his hands, always in movement. His longs and slender fingers holding the knife and keeping firmly in place the diverse items he was chopping. 

Yet, meal preparation and appreciation of his skilled talent at cutting julienne wasn’t exactly what was putting your mind in a spin. For days now, the thought of his capable hands on your body, caressing tenderly your skin, exploring every one of your curves, giving them the admiration they deserved and traces with his fingertips your stretch marks like it was the most exquisite piece of art he ever saw, had made you wonder if something didn’t go well with you. Never before have you had this kind of thought or fixation about the part of somebody, neither it had caused you all those sensations. 

And then, the dream began, followed by the daydream until you couldn’t play the innocent anymore. You had a special kink for the hands of Sanji,in addition of the man himself. 

The fantasy, day or night, were always mostly different by the way it was started and the various locations it takes place. Still, every which of them have the same point that Sanji was eager, in the same way he was about a new recipe or annoy Zoro, to show you how much pleasures he can gave you with his hands, before properly fuck you.

Holding your book more loosely, your mind slowly drifting, you almost could hear him calling you by one of his sweet french pet names. But as you were trying to understand which one, you realized that the voice wasn’t in your head.

“ * Ma douce, are you okay ? You haven’t changed your page for a while now. I know that those carrots are the most sexy things you've ever seen, even my omelette au fromage * on the counter is jealous, but it's still just a vegetable” Sanji chuckles, extracting you from your daydream. * My sweet , * Cheese omelet 

“Oh sorry, I hm, I was just wondering how you cut those so quick without hurting yourself” You said, trying to hide the embarrassment of being caught fixing him. 

“ It’s nothing more than practice and good hand placement. I can teach you if you want, come here.” He joyfully replied, well intended and excited to share his cooking interest.

Putting down your book, you joined him behind the kitchen island, your nervous breath slightly caught in your throat when he held your waist to place you in front of the cutting board, before placing himself behind you. His warm breath brushed slightly the tips of your ear, as he was giving you the knife and positioning your hands.

“ So now love we will place our finger like this “ He said, helping you adjust your grip on the carrot.” And we will cut at this distance, retreating gradually our fingers without releasing your hold. We wouldn’t like it to slip and cut that pretty skin of yours “ 

“ Of course” You simply answer, the sensation of his body against yours after so many days of languin, making you quite hot.

You were only at the second carrot and archived to reach a good pace, when he sadly left you back, clearing his throat. 

“ hm, hm, mon coeur, even if I enjoy your company and your help I think I will have to finish it myself…” The blond tells, trying to smile as well as strangely avoiding your gaze. 

“ I know that my cuts are a little bit uneven but I thought…” You start before he interrupts you. 

“ It’s not it mon coeur, you did well, it’s more if we continue like that I’m afraid I wouldn’t longer be able to only be your friend. Being enveloped by your scent, feeling all those marvelous curves against me, it’s like Icarus and the beautiful sun,... I’m not that strong…” He confessed, clearly embarrassed, putting aside the collar of his striped shirt.

“ Maybe I don’t want you to only be my friend” You at your turn confessed, surprised by his reaction. Sanji was an obvious but gentlemanly flirt, but never you saw him as flushed for only a few touches. “ For days now I think at more…intimate things” 

Taking a moment to register your answer. Sanji slowly approached you, cupping the side of your face with one of his hands, his thumbs softly brushing against your lower lips. 

“ Then I should maybe show you how I would gladly burn for you” He whispered before taking possession of your mouth.  

Your lower back pressed against the island, the food long forgotten. His feverish hands were traveling on your still clothed body, trying to remove or put aside the fabrics to reach your soft bare skin, his mouth covering your neck and throat of kisses, leaving this and there love bites. Unbuttoning his shirt and helping him remove the frustrating clothes, until you finally stood in the simplest of your underwear. The nervous thought of your often insecure body washing away under his amazed gaze. 

“ Magnifique* “ Sanji said, throwed his shirt behind him, as his eyes encompassed you whole. * Magnificent

Pushing aside the neglected prep items. The blond cook tenderly took your waist, sitting you on the surface, chuckling at the little surprise noise you made as you bare ass met the wooden surface. 

As he let his hands roaming free on your body, caressing your side and slowly spreading your thighs, you felt his finger digging in your plum flesh, lazily advancing in the direction of your warm center. 

“ You know, I think I could become really intoxicated by all this. All this skin to explore, to mark, to flustered, to make mine” Sanji said “ Please, let me enjoy every inches of you Y/N“  

Nodding of the head,as your breath became more and more panting and he pushed aside the silky fabric of your bra while his mouth explored your breast, taking between his lips your hardened nipples and sucking on them gently. You tried to regain a certain clarity of mind, yet, you knew at the minute his digits reached your cunt that it was an already lost battle. His fingertips brushing against the covered lips of your pussy and his thumbs nonchalantly rub your clits, you let escape a anticipation sigh.  

“ Please, allow me” Your lover asked, waiting for your full consent, kissing your jaw. “ I will make you feel so good I promise, I will make you dance on my fingers, cry of joy under my palm, I want to find your special spot and I will take no rest before finding it“ 

“ Sanji,please, push those in me before I lose my mind “ You pleaded, his sweet promise making you head spin. 

The most adorable and joyful smile you had seen plastering his face, Sanji complied, helping you to remove the coton obstacle before sliding it in his pants pocket. His pace, at first, was slow and steady, letting you adjust around his digits, his thumb playing a warming game of brush and rub against your clits. But, as your body quickly accommodates, he gradually took more speed, drinking every one of your praises like a good wine. 

“ Oh please don’t stop, so good Sanji, so good ! “ You moan against his mouth, rolling your hips. 

“ You're so pretty when you dance on my hand like that, yes just like that ma douce “ He encouraged you, his hand pistoning in and out of you, his other helping your hips moving. 

Like he promised, he takes no rest, making you come on his fingers, his gaze glued to the magnificent vision of your form going undone. 

It was during the time you were getting down from your orgasm, Sanji fingers still buried in you, that he discovered your sensitive spot, accidentally pushing it as he was repositioning his finger.

“ Sanji ! “ You exclaimed, gripping his forearms in support. 

“ What mon coeur, did I find an interesting spot ? “ He asked, pushing it again, watching you close your eyes and almost lose your mind, before repeatedly playing with it, pushing you off the edge over and over.

“ Sanji wait, too much,please that too much, wait” You beg, your thigh shaking under the overstimulation of your g-spot and his palm rubbing against your pulsing clits. 

A proud smile on his lips and the ocean blue of his eyes darken by lust. He slowly removed his digit from your center, watching you getting down from your euphoria. He patiently licked his fingers clean, groaning like if your taste was the best flavor in the world. 

“ Mon coeur, if you let me. In a really near future,  I would love to take my time and savor you again, being in a rush like this will not give me enough time, but I swear to taste you again until your butter soft thighs close around my head and shakes  ” He promised you, tracing of his fingers the pattern of your mother nature given tattoos on your hips, his eyes never living yours. 

“ Yes please “ You replied, capturing his lips in a kiss, tasting on them your own arousal.

Opening his pants, gladly freeing his aching cock, taking your turn to explore him with your fingertips ,your name on his lips, as he grabbed your ass hard enough to leave fingerprints bruises.

“ Love, you’re really determined to put me on my knees or be the end of me isn’t it?“ He panted, accusing the regular stroke and movement of your hand along his already sensible length. 

Yet,It didn’t take long for you to feel him inside you again, you delicious torture reducing him as a begging mess to feel your warm around his cock.

Helping you to lie down on the island kitchen, resting your legs on his shoulder, he carefully penetrated you, his groan and moans mixing with yours as he thrusted in you in a steady rhythm, adapting his pace to your expression of pleasure.

The noise of your skins slapping against each other and your moaning filling the kitchen, you felt the turmoil in your body growing, making grip the border of the table , your hips lifting off the surface by themselves. 

“ Sanji I…I will come “ You cried out, reaching for his hands that he gladly gave you to hold.

“ I’m really close too, mon coeur. Seeing you like that, so pretty and in that pleasure state in my own kitchen, I would never imagine so much beauty “ He said, his voice showing his struggle to keep his hips to buckle. 

But,as he pushed further in you, making your orgasm burst and seeing stars. You felt his dick twitch as he came,letting escape in a whine the most beautiful way you had ever heard your name. 

As you were both putting back your clothes, exchanging kisses and glances, you heard the rest of the crew coming back from their island excursion. Luffy being like usual, the loudest. Giving a last glance to be sure that the kitchen was like is usual self , at the exception of the recently open window, you smile to Sanji, taking back your place with your book as he bend above you to whispered in your ears. 

“ Don’t forget your promise mon coeur, I haven’t finished exploring every inch of your beautiful body, neither will I soon forget your taste in my tongue” Sanji smiles, leaving a last kiss on your lips before washing his hands and returning to his carrots.

Trying to bring back your attention to your book, a smile on your lips, you knew that no daydream would ever beat those past and future moments. 

—–

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[violetasteracademic]

Hi hello! She's here she's alive! Happy New Year, please enjoy some Nessian

Chapter Two: I Pushed Each Boulder Up the Hill (Alternate Title: Fuck You Tomas)

Summary:

Nesta tries not to let the surprise of Cassian's presence at work throw her off balance and focus.

Content Warning: Explicit on page depiction of attempted SA in the workplace

Notes: Thank you to @foundress0fnothing, @rosanna-writer, and @nikachansstuff for such wildly thoughtful and valuable beta reads. I cherish you!

Read chapter two of The Albatross on ao3 here

*note: If you are reading all three stories, The Albatross is best read after chapter three of the Manuscript, found here. But this is not necessary or required, so please enjoy either way!

Preview:

He watched me for a few moments, gaze heavy. His eyes churned with the look that made me feel like he was reading my user manual. "So this is how it's gonna be between us?" he asked, more quietly than he had spoken thus far. "You hate me now for a mistake I never would have made had I known who you were?"

I tried not to let it bother me that he continued to reiterate how much he regretted last night. Especially when I left our encounter so turned on, I had a record-breaking session with my vibrator. I steeled my spine and tried not to let an inch of emotion show on my face.

"I never said I hated you."

Cassian chuckled in that low rumble that scraped down my spine. "Not verbally, no. But with your facial expressions, body language, tone of voice, and murderous intent in your eyes..." He raised a brow, waiting for me to argue or deny it. "Should I go on?"

"That's just how I look," I said curtly.

His voice dropped an octave. "It wasn't how you looked any time you were speaking to Rhys."

I shifted in my seat. Was he jealous that I was nicer to the literal owner of the hospital than I was to him? "I didn't realize you were watching me so closely."

"I told you," he leaned in, woodsmoke and leather cologne invading my system like a drug. "I'm good at reading people."

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P4

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid.

You woke up the next morning on the Monday a little later than expected. You were so exhausted from your first race in F1 and then all the social interaction that followed.

You had got Charles back to his hotel room with the help of Lorenzo his older brother who you'd found in the lift. You went straight back to your room, showering of the smell of alcohol and smoke that made you cringe before flopping onto the comfy hotel bed that was calling your name.

You stayed in the bed for a while before you realized it was getting closer to the checkout time of the hotel and that you should probably check on your fellow drivers. You and Alex would be on the plane back to Germany for debrief before he flew to the UK to see his family as there was a larger break between Bahrain and South Korea which had been added back onto the list of races this year.

"Alex?" you asked knocking on his door. In seconds he came out a smile on his face.

"Hello Y/N ready for the flight?" he asks smiling towards you.

"Yes, I'm all packed and my stuff has been sent to the airport, I just wanted to check on Charles before i left. He was pretty wasted last night" you exclaim smiling hoping he's come with you.

"Oh, he's already gone. I saw him down at breakfast this morning!" Alex smiled at you before taking your hand and dragging you towards the lift.

"He left? With who?" you asked him confused.

"Erm, Carlos i think. Guessing they're flying back to Maranello" he smiles pushing the ground button on the lift.

And that was that, you didn't hear from Charles. You flew to Germany where the Audi HQ was located before you went back to see your family for a week in the UK. On the Monday you and Alex went to South Korea together Lily joining the both of you on the flight. You liked Lily a lot, she had become a good friend of yours now that you were Alex's team-mate and you were basically there adopted child now.

Thursday came around so quickly and more people were filling up the paddock, it was insane how the race weekend was such an intense build up.

"Hey Y/N can we steal you for an interview" Martin said smiling walking over to you.

"Yeah of course" You smile fixing your hair under your Audi cap.

"So, you had an amazing first race last weekend in Bahrain, you are an exceptional driver P6 on your first race in F1!" he exclaims making you laugh and blush a little at the praise.

"Yeah, i think i made a few mistakes that the car 100% made up for. Audi are clearly going to be a great competitor this year and I cant wait for Alex and I to climb the ranks together!" you nod.

"Yes, what is that like, do you have have more of a friendship or a professional relationship of are things tense there like some grid members"

"Alex is an amazing team mate. He has really helped me settle into the grid and into racing in F1. I cant thank him and Lily enough, and for that I would consider him a friend. I hope to be team mates with him for a few more years"

"That's really good to hear that you have that kind of support there as it must be hard coming onto the grid as the only female! How are you relationships with the other drivers?"

"Yeah I'd say after getting to introduce myself in Bahrain everyone has really welcomed me into the sport and i cant be more thankful for that! You know some of the people on the grid have been my idols since I first got into a kart so its amazing to be here racing with them and have the support of incredible ex drivers!"

"Well good luck for the weekend I'm sure we will see amazing things from you on this old track in South Korea that the FIA have decided to reinstate this year!" he smiles before waving her off and she walks back towards the Audi garage.

She had media for the rest of the day, her and Alex trying Korean food and drinks for their TikTok page before they went to discuss the weekend.

You needed a drink desperately but were only just entering the paddock. You were hot and dehydrated and people could see just how pale you were.

You'd managed to get past Haas, Mercedes and Williams but by the time you got to Alpha Romeo and Ferrari, people started to notice the slight wobble in your step.

"Hey Y/N lets get you a seat. You look faint" Will Buxton says running over to you, he guides you to the nearest seats which happen to be outside the Ferrari Hospitality running in to grab you a bottle of water.

"Y/N?" Charles asks seeing your pale face and sweat lining under your eyes and across the brows that were currently shaded off by your hat.

"Charles, erm hi" you say, feeling a little dizzy.

"Are you okay, what are you doing here?" he asks looking around to see if you were with anyone that would explain why you were sat on a Ferrari table.

"Erm Will pulled me here because I haven't drank today and i feel dizzy" you tried to explain to the best of your ability but it was slower and you could tell how tired you were after this Saturday Quali.

"P5 is amazing today. Most of us haven't done South Korea so it was a new track for all of us but the dinosaurs" he jokes, it was a stolen joke of course. One he had heard Lando and Daniel talking about. which made a few people around them laugh so he thought he'd test the waters with you.

"That's true, it would be Lewis, Valtteri and Sergio right?" you say thinking about the current drivers on the grid and who would have been racing in 2013.

"Yeah"

You both sat in silence neither knowing what to say to each other.

"You didn't talk to me after Bahrain, did i do something wrong?" you ask now feeling better that you'd sat down.

"No, if i'm being honest I was rather embarrassed after my brother told me how you had to support me the whole way back to my room" he admitted sheepishly knowing he should have reached out, even if it was just to thank her as she had been a great help.

"Oh" you say quietly.

"Did I upset you?" he asks softly.

"A little, when I told Alex i was going to find you, he told me he'd already seen you down at breakfast and that you'd left already. Then you didn't say anything" you explain, you'd spent two weeks wondering if you'd just messed up a friendship.

"Y/N you must understand that it wasn't my intention!" he says leaning forward and encasing your hand in his with a genuine smile on your face.

"Fine, but you owe me dinner after tomorrow's race. Before the party!" you suggest.

"Done!" he exclaims, he hops up and walks into the hospitality as Will Buxton walks out.

"Here you go" he smiles handing you the bottle he'd managed to haggle from Ferrari.

"Thank you so much!" you says opening it and chugging it down.

"I'll walk you back to Audi, just to make sure!" he exclaims and with he does exactly as he said he would.

"And where had our P5 Queen gone" Lily exclaims in outrage that her friend didn't come to see her after the race.

"Sorry, but I'm here now!" you smile flopping onto the sofa laying your head on her lap.

"Are you really trying to steal my gf Y/N we've been over this" he chuckles with a teasing groan of mock annoyance.

"Look just because she likes me better doesn't mean you should get a mood" you grin turning into Lily and hugging around her stomach. In no time with the background sounds of the mechanics working in the garage and Lily lightly playing with your hair while talking to Alex you found yourself falling asleep.

"She is literally our child" Alex says to the interviewer who had come to find them in the garage. He looked back at where Y/N and Lily were still on the sofa, Lily letting the younger girl sleep.

"And how proud are you of her P5 today in a GP that only has 3 current grid members who have driven here in South Korea?" she asks.

"So proud, I know she's been feeling the pressure to make a good impression with everyone, from the people in the teams, to all the drivers and to the fans and public eye. She's just so natural and i think that's one of the things that pulls you into a friendship so strong with someone like Y/N" he explains.

"Yes, it seems earlier that she's been getting extremely close to some of the other drivers, what do you think about that?"

"Well on the track we all are doing our best to win, and so we become rivals. Of the track Y/N is another Daniel or Lando where there isn't one person on the grid that she wont get on with. Y/N is a friend of everyone" he smiles not to sure the direction that the interviewer wanted that question to go in.

"I'm talking about her and Charles Leclerc specifically?" she pushes and Alex looks at the person confused.

"Sorry?" he asks, he racked his brain wondering if this was why you'd been asking about Charles in Bahrain.

"Will Buxton reported seeing them together earlier outside Ferrari hospitality. She wasn't feeling well and he offered her to sit and get her and drink and he saw Charles and her talking. Some fans even got pictures of the interactions.

"Oh, well I'm sure if Will was kind enough to help Y/N when she was reporting as unwell that Charles also was concerned and was checking in on her!" Alex smoothly deems, the interviewer tries to hide their annoyance as the lack of gossip she was gathering but nods and thanks Alex for his time.

"That was weird" he whispers taking his seat next to Lily again.

"What do you mean?" she asks not having heard what they were talking about.

"They were asking me about Charles and Y/N, and after Bahrain i was just confused" he admitted. Of course at the time he had told Lily about your odd reaction to Charles having left early but not having thought too much off it, but now he was for sure thinking on it more.

"Lets just focus on tomorrow!" she smiles.

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