#miles l x reader

[itwasrealtome]

AGENT GRAY

Chapter Seven • HAUNT YOU EVERYDAY

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⚠️DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU

Olivia Benson x fem! FBI Agent OC

Summary:

Content Warning: SVU & Violent Crimes talk • Mention of a Crime Scene, police talk, murder, bodies, SA, victims (adults and children), blood, violence and abuse, a killer| Mention of classified deployment | Mention of the Navy | BIG WARNING FOR THIS • Religious Talk • using religion as a way to punish and purify, mention of the Bible, being punished with a wooden spoon and soap, mention of Bible verses, using verses as weapons, committing a crime and using a religion to excuse it, mention of words such as sermon or preaching, explicit talk about being punished by an abusive parent.

A/N: Do not hesitate to share your opinion! A big thank you to those reading. Hope you have a nice day/night. ALSO, YOU CAN GET TAGGED BY FILLING THE FORM 👆🏻

*

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 4

Upper East Side — Manhattan

11:56 PM

The street was unnervingly quiet for a crime scene.

Midnight on a Sunday should've meant peace for this sleepy Upper East Side neighborhood–kids asleep, TVs flickering behind curtained windows, families winding down from the weekend. Instead, the house at the end of the block was ringed with cruisers and crime scene tape, flashing lights turning the early December frost into a strobe of red and blue. Officers moved with subdued urgency, technicians already setting up their equipment. A faint hum of radios and murmurs buzzing in the background like static.

Miles parked a few houses down, killed the engine, and stepped out into the cold. He slammed his car door shut, shoulders hunched against the bite of the air. The moment his boots hit the pavement, something in him shifted. That old, tight coil in his gut wound itself back up. He didn't need to see the bodies to know what kind of scene it was. The officer's voice over the phone had been clipped and grim. He hadn't asked for details. He didn't need them.

For the first time in a long time, he headed for the scene alone. He had been able to drive his own car, park as he pleased and hadn't even been allowed a few dry remarks on the way. His partner wasn't there. For once, she wasn't the one stepping out of the driver's seat, already halfway toward the scene before he could even close the door.

It felt wrong.

His shoes scuffed against the pavement as he made his way toward the crime scene tape, flashing his badge to the uniform standing guard before slipping underneath. The house, an elegant brownstone with Christmad lights already strung along the porch railing, looked almost untouched from the outside. But Miles knew better. He knew what kind of horrors hid behind walls that should've been safe.

Just at the foot of the front staircase, Olivia and Fin stood, deep in quiet conversation. The call had dragged them out of bed too, right into the city's paralyzing cold. They'd had their fair share of murders and shady cases, but this one was much more typical of what the FBI duo was used to. If they were there, it was on the grounds of clear signs of abuse.

The wind was tugging lightly at Olivia's coat, brushing away the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. She looked rigid–arms crossed against her chest, jaw set–but calm. Her eyes gave her away. She didn't look at the agent right away, scanning the street behind him, the shadows between the cars, the stretch of sidewalk that remained stubbornly empty. Only when he was a few feet away did her gaze settle on him, brows subtly lifting.

—Just you?

Her voice was low, carried more by cold air and instinct than actual curiosity. Miles nodded, stepping up on the sidewalk, shoulders still squared against the biting wind.

—Yeah. Just me tonight.

There was a beat of silence, the kind that lingered longer than it should have. Olivia's eyes searched his face for a second too long before glancing again toward the street, her brow furrowing.

—Gray's not with you?

Fin, reading the tension in the air with a veteran's ease, gave a slight nod and slipped inside, leaving them under the dull glow of the porch light and the howling wind that made the railing creak. The agent shifted his weight and looked past Olivia for a second, as if trying to organize his thoughts against the icy ache settling in his bones. Then he exhaled, long and slow.

—She left. November first. Got called up.

The words seemed to hang there for a second, carried between them by cold air.

Olivia blinked, lips parting.

—Left?

—Yeah. Navy. Classified deployment, he said, his voice lower now, edged with something that wasn't quite irritation–more like resignation. They didn't give her much time. They called her on Halloween night and she was gone by sunrise. Not a lot of room for goodbyes.

The wind blew again, harsher now. The SVU Lieutenant turned her face slightly into it, adjusting her scarf as she did, but not before Miles saw the flicker of something across her face. Surprise, of course–but also a note of something more personal, more subtle. Disappointment, maybe. It passed quickly, but he caught it.

—That was over a month ago, she murmured.

He hesitated. His breath came out in a puff as he tilted his head slightly, studying her.

—She didn't tell you?

Olivia met his eyes, and for a second, the streetlight caught something guarded in her expression. Her hands were buried deep in her coat pockets, but her voice had lost its evenness, just slightly.

—No. I thought... I don't know. I thought she might've said something. We'd been talking more, working more together. She didn't mention a word.

Miles pressed his lips together and looked away, dragging his gloved hand down his face before glancing toward the taped-up door.

—That's Lexi. She carries most of her life like it's classified, even when it isn't. Doesn't mean she doesn't want to talk–it just means she doesn't always know how.

Olivia gave a small nod, but her jaw was tense. She looked back down the street again as if she expected Alexis to materialize from the dark, a few minutes late, brushing snow off her jacket with a sheepish smile. But there was no movement. No shadow. Just cold.

—She was getting good at it, you know, Olivia added softly. The talking.

Miles didn't reply right away. He just stood there, eyes fixed on the distant shadows curling along the sidewalk. All he could think about was Alexis and the years of knowing her in ways few people ever would. He was her partner, he knew how her mind worked, how she compartmentalized every emotion with surgical precision, how she'd rather carry a burden alone than risk unloading it on someone else.

He'd spent long enough beside her to understand that Alexis didn't disappear to keep people out–she disappeared to keep them from having to carry pieces of her too. And yet, despite all that, she had started showing up in ways that surprised him.

She had been opening up, bit by bit, with Olivia. He'd seen it happening, watched her soften in ways most people didn't even realize she could. So when the Lieutenant said she'd thought Alexis might've told her, that she was getting better at talking, it didn't surprise him. It just made the silence she left behind feel that much heavier.

—What are we looking at?

He forced her to refocus, pulling both of their attention back toward the house. Olivia shifted, as if only remembering about the case.

—Family of four. Parents, teen daughter, little boy. All of them found dead by the father's brother who stopped by to drop off Christmas lights. The door was unlocked. Nothing's stolen, but...

The sights were still vivid in her mind. The bodies had been carefully moved and placed so as to leave a message. Blood had splattered everywhere, leaving trails on the floor. Both mother and daughter had suffered violence and abuse before being killed.

—Brutal doesn't begin to cover it. Some kind of religious undertone–scripture carved into the floors, handwritten notes on the walls. It's...

—Twisted.

*

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 6

Langford House — Manhattan

01:14 AM

The kitchen table looked more like a murder board than the heart of a family home.

Printouts and photographs had taken over the soft floral tablecloth Ava insisted on keeping year-round. Bible verses were scrawled on yellow legal pads, half a dozen highlighters lay uncapped, bleeding color into the wood beneath them. A tableau of violence was all Miles could see. Each evidence captured the grotesque aftermath of a family's annihilation: the father, the mother, the daughter and son, their lives extinguished in an almost ritualistic way.

The words haunted him. Words written in blood and etched into skin, words meant to condemn, to purify, to punish. His fingers traced the edges of the Bible that lay among the files–his own relic from a past life, its pages annotated with the scribbles of a younger, more devout boy. He could still remember the sting of the wooden spoon against his skin, the taste of soap as his father forced it into his mouth to 'cleanse the lies'.

"He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him"

"Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him."

Phrases his father had used like weapons.

Phrases Miles had once memorized alongside spelling words and the Pledge of Allegiance.

He drew in a breath through his nose, held it, and exhaled slowly. The silence of the house pressed down on him, different from the usual quiet that came with the late hour. This was something heavier. Oppressive. Every page on the table felt like a doorway into a past he thought he'd buried deep enough to forget.

Until this case.

Until a killer began using the same distorted gospel to justify atrocities.

Four victims in one day. Two other families targeted in another state. All with the same ritualistic pattern: scripture carved into walls, Bibles left open to marked passages, the same words whispered by the dying girl who clung to life long enough to speak.

"He said it was for God."

Miles rubbed at his neck, fingers pressing into the tense muscles just above his collarbone. The killer wasn't just quoting scripture–he understood it. Twisted it with precision. This wasn't zealotry. This was personal. Educated. Cold.

And somehow, that made it worse.

From upstairs, the house creaked—a soft, sleepy sigh of wood in the winter wind. Outside, December had buried the neighborhood in frost. The windows were fogged at the edges, and despite the heat running low, there was a chill in the air that made his skin feel tight.

The stairs creaked behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. The steps were slow, careful, almost too quiet. Ava had always moved that way when she didn't want to startle him—especially on nights like this.

—You're still up, she said softly, padding barefoot across the tile.

She wore one of his old shirts, sleeves pulled down over her hands, her voice the kind of warm and low that only came when she was worried.

—I could say the same about you.

He glanced back with a tired half-smile, taking in sight the woman he had once promised everything to. No matter the years, Ava was still the most beautiful woman in the world–even when she wore that concerned frown.

—I woke up and you weren't in bed.

She paused, looking at the mess across the table. Her eyes moved over the photos, the notes, the quotes underlined again and again. Miles had been called abruptly on Sunday night. She'd seen him leave in a hurry and, for once, hadn't had the chance to be reassured when spotting his partner's car in front of the house. Alexis hadn't returned yet. He had left on his own. If he hadn't said anything about the affair during the evening, Ava already knew it was nothing ordinary.

—It's the case?

—Yeah. He reached for the legal pads and pushed it a few inches to the side. It's the case.

Ava didn't need to ask what kind. He saw it in her eyes—recognition. Sadness. That edge of protective fire that always sparked when the past tried to claw its way into their lives again.

—He's not just using the Bible. Miles dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. He knows it. Word for word. Book, chapter, verse. He's not guessing, Ava. He's quoting it like a sermon. Like he's preaching.

She came to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her cheek to the top of his head. It was quiet for a moment: her breathing with him, him trying to breathe at all.

—It's hitting too close.

The agent didn't deny it.

He let the silence stretch.

—You remember when I was ten and I lied about breaking the garage window?

Ava's arms only tightened. She had heard the story before. It was part of the secrets they preferred to confide in each other rather than turning them into threats to their happiness.

—He washed my mouth out with soap, Miles said, barely above a whisper. Told me it would cleanse the sin. That lying was the Devil's tongue. Then he made me read Proverbs 12 aloud. Every verse about honesty. Over and over. Until I could recite it without stuttering.

His wife exhaled softly, her hand moving to the back of his neck, warm and steady. She wanted to envelop him, keep him away from all that darkness. It was all he'd ever known before her. All that continued to haunt him.

—He's not here anymore, Miles.

—But someone like him is. He looked up to her, jaw clenched. Someone who thinks pain is redemption. That blood is sacrifice. That fear equals obedience.

She stepped to one side, her soft, slender hands wrapping around his face. Somehow, she could still see in him the young boy she'd known. Timid. Haunted.

—And you're not that boy anymore. You're not a scared kid trying to survive in that house. You're the one protecting people now.

—I just... he hesitated. I wish she was here.

Ava stilled, her thumb resting on the man's dark eyebrow. She didn't need any clarification. She just knew. There were three women in Miles' life. His wife. His daughter. And–

—Lexi. She gets this kind of broken logic. She sees through it. And she'd know how to put herself between me and this damn spiral.

The brunette sat down across from him, gently nudging his coffee aside to take his hands.

–She'll come back, baby. You know that.

—Yeah, but when?

His voice cracked before he caught it, and he turned away, embarrassed. He loved to joke about Gray being a ticking time bomb and how she'd had that effect when she arrived at the New York Bureau. But one thing he never said was how much this woman had become family.

—She left the day after Halloween. You've been holding your breath ever since.

—I didn't realize how used to her being around I'd gotten until she wasn't. She's always just... there. No matter what. Even when I don't ask.

—Because she sees you. The real you. She doesn't flinch away from it.

—I don't want Charlie to grow up seeing that side of me, he said suddenly. The side that can't sleep. That spirals into these memories and won't let go.

Ava reached across the table, suddenly puzzled by one of the Bible verses on one of the pages. She tapped on it, bringing the legal pad closer.

—For the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. That one never made the cut when your father was preaching, did it?

—No. It didn't.

*

Taglist: @nciscmjunkie @certainlychaotic @thefatobsession @ginasbaby @makkaroni221 @kiwiana145 @kobayashi-fr @hi-i-1

[chuutu]

Million Dollar Man

old man!logan x young fem!reader

18+ NSFW

cw : age gap, pre-established relationship, pet names, needy!logan, soft dom!logan, marking, hair pulling, size kink, grinding, logan has heightened senses, sent kink, panty stealing, slight predator/prey dynamics, teasing, cunnilingus, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, cum eating/exchanging, spit kink, slight sub!logan undertones, body worship, unprotected sex, mating press, belly bulge, logan fucks you stupid, cream pie, slight ddlg (not sorry lol), daddy kink, breeding kink, aftercare ofc

wc : 2.6K

a/n : ngl I started writing this thinking of these two videos i saw (p!links under fic) because he looks exactly like Logan, but i accidentally got carried away and wrote my own thing lolz. hope you guys enjoy my first fic anyways <3 🍮

“Lo, give me a sec-c,” you try to mutter out as he holds your face in his hand, squishing your face as his hands ravish your body. “C'mon, my pretty girl,” he mutters hungrily against your stomach, kneading your plush skin.

He’ll never get over this, your soft skin against his rough, calloused hands. He considers himself extremely lucky to have a beautiful young woman like you by his side.

“Need you,” he whispers against your skin as he kisses down your stomach, pinching your skin with his teeth and sucking the skin right after leaving pretty purple bruises all over your stomach. “L-lo,” you grab his silver hair in your hands, tugging at the roots, which makes Logan groan.

Though you don’t know it, those precious little hands of yours have always driven Logan insane. Logan knew that you two had an obvious age gap, and with that came a size difference, but he'll never get used to seeing your dainty body intertwined with his.

"Mhm, beautiful." "Only mine." You hear Logan mumbling to himself as he grips onto your shorts like a starved man. You've always noticed that once Logan gets into the mood, it's hard to pry him off of you in a way you'd say it's almost like he craves you.

"Need to get rid of these useless things," Logan says as he starts to unbutton your shorts and slides them off, throwing them on the ground. "Now we're talkin'," Logan says as he's now looking down at your pretty pink panties.

"Ya like?" you say, giggling, doe eyes staring right back at Logan. You notice his expression has changed; his eyes darken, engulfed in pure lust. "You alright there, Lo?" you say as he's peering down on you; it almost makes you feel little.

Logan's mind is running a mile a minute; he can feel the strain in his jeans from his pulsating cock now hardening. Just the sight of you alone does something to him that he thought he'd never feel again at his age.

You made him feel needed, and that alone excited him. "You just know how to rile me up, don't you, princess?" He says with a low growl, his head now near your neck.

"Mmm L-lo," you let out a quiet moan as he starts sucking and nibbling on your neck, leaving noticeable dark purple bruises to let others know that you are taken care of already.

"Always so pretty for me," he mumbles as his kisses start trailing down to your collarbones, giving them a lick that makes your body shudder. "Hurry," you say, voice needy, now grinding your hips up towards his bulge to feel some sort of friction.

"Atta girl, keep goin' for me," Logan says in a gruff voice, continuing to pamper you with little pecks as you continue grinding on the rough fabric of his jeans to give you some sort of stimulation.

Logan thinks If he could, he would spend the rest of his life worshiping your body. To him, you are perfect in every way, and he wouldn't change a thing.

Continuing to pamper you in kisses once again, he trails down to your stomach, inching closer to his favorite pink panties. "Mmm, fuuck you smell sweet," Logan groans out as he inhales the scent of your arousal, which leaves a noticeable darkened damp spot on your panties.

"Already so nice and wet for me, princess," Logan says as his tongue lays flat against the wet spot, licking a stripe up to the little white bow on your panties. "I'll be taking these now." Logan's fingers hook onto your panties, pulling them off and pocketing them for later use.

"Jerk," you kick Logan's chest, giggling. Logan looked down at you like you were his prey, ready to devour you up in a split. The corners of Logan's lips quirk up as he lowers himself back down, facing your bare, sloppy, dripping cunt. She's so pretty for him, begging to be fucked. Logan grips your thighs tight, making sure to hold you in place to keep you from moving away from him.

Logan is in awe of your cunt, so beautiful and needy, always ready to take him because that's what she was taught to do—to take his cock.

Logan's pointy nose is now right against your clit as his tongue slips through your folds, licking and sucking, devouring your cunt like an animal. He is hopelessly addicted to your taste of your arousal, lapping up every inch of your cunt.

"L-lo," you pant, grabbing his scruffy grey hair and pushing his head down, grinding your pussy towards his face. Logan's nose is now rubbing right against your clit as you continue gripping into his hair. "S'good," you moan, now feeling a tight knot in your stomach.

Your hips start to falter now, trembling, and Logan knows you're about to cum. Logan raises his head up for a split second, "Cum for your old man, princess," lowering his head back down to your cunt. Sloppily lapping at your pussy like a needy pup, hungrily moaning into your cunt, which stimulates you even more.

You feel yourself tipping over the edge, legs shaking, eyes watering—the feeling of pure bliss taking over. "M'c-cumming," you cry out shakily as Logan continued to lap at your messy cunt, wanting to see if he could push you even further.

Lapping quicker and quicker, his nose still rubbing on your now swollen, puffy clit, he then takes one of his fingers and slips one inside your dripping cunt. "L-Lo!" you yelp; your thighs were now squishing Logan's face now that you were freed from his grasp.

"Come on, pretty girl, let it all out," Logan says as he resurfaces for some air, feeling a bit lightheaded from stuffing his face in your cunt, but he wouldn't have it any other way, going back down so that he can immerse himself in your arousal.

"Mmm, s'too much-h!" Your voice trembles out a choked moan as your thighs shake violently, losing grip on Logan's head. You feel something snap in you, feeling a gushing sensation releasing all over Logan's tongue. Your mouth agape, drool trickling down your chin, eyes shut tight, feeling dazed in your pleasure, you swear you could almost see stars.

"Mhm," Logan moans into your cunt as he hungrily laps up your spilled juices. His eyes roll back, tasting your arousal on his tongue; he's in pure bliss, cleaning you up with his tongue. After licking you clean, Logan takes his thick, calloused fingers out of your cunt and perches himself over you.

"S'a good girl," Logan says with a smirk, his salt-and-pepper beard drenched in your sweet arousal along with his nose and thick, calloused finger still slicked in your juices. Logan then pops his finger into his mouth, looking straight at you, sucking his finger clean. He lets out a faint moan, "Mm," "So sweet," he says with a devilish smile.

Above you, Logan admires your fucked-out expression, still coming down from your high, chest heaving and face covered in drool. Logan lowers his face to yours, softly caressing your cheek and leaving pecks on your face and licking at the drool that covered your chin.

Noticing you coming to Logan kisses you, your arousal still on his tongue; he wants you to taste yourself. The same sweet taste that Logan was addicted to, his sensitive senses making it easy for him to smell the scent of your arousal.

You always found it quite interesting how sensitive Logan's senses are, and you always took advantage of it. As Logan's tongue was prodding around your mouth, spit exchanging, his nose pressed right against your warm rosy cheeks, you lift a hand towards his ear, caressing it in your soft hands.

Logan lets out a guttural groan against your mouth, continuing to ravish the inside of your mouth, savoring every last bit of you.

He forces himself to pull away from you to let you catch your breath, but you had other plans in mind. Raising your head to his ear, you leave pecks down from the tip of his ear and playfully bite his earlobe. "Easy there, doll," Logan says in a low growl, sending shivers down your spine.

You then lick his ear, "Watcha gonna do about it, Lo?" You say playfully, in hopes of pushing him over the edge, and it definitely works. Logan's now rubbing his pre-cum-stained jeans against you to feel some sort of friction against his hard, pulsating cock.

Seeing Logan lost in pleasure was something you adored because it was the only time you've been able to see Logan relax and let himself be immersed in bliss without shame. You continue to leave kitten licks on the cusp of his ear, and his hips finally find a steady motion against yours.

"Mm, fuuck princess, you make your old man feel so good," Logan says in a low, gruff voice as his face is now in the nook of your neck. Low growls can be heard falling from his lips, letting himself go and immersing himself in you.

It doesn't take long before Logan feels himself about to release; he feels a buildup in his lower abdomen. A feeling he can only describe as warm and fuzzy, this feeling makes him feel almost lightheaded as his muscles start to contract, and he eventually releases in his jeans.

After Logan comes down from his high, he lifts up his head from your shoulder. His face heats up, feeling embarrassed, but you've always adored the look of pure pleasure on his face. You then raise your hand towards his face and cup his chin. "My handsome man, always so needy for me," you say in a teasing manner, looking into his eyes.

"How can I not be? Have you seen yourself, doll?" Logan chuckles to himself. He always finds himself getting lost in your presence; it's like momentarily he gets the chance to indulge and forget about all his problems.

Pulling his face towards yours, you give him a peck on the lips, and Logan deepens the kiss. "Hold on," you mumble, taking this as a chance to finally get rid of all the extra fabric that was between you two.

"Such a pretty girl," Logan says as he's admiring your naked body under his, your soft features and curves; it drove him wild. He could already feel his cock hardening again, pulsating against your stomach. You felt it as well, pre-cum already leaking from his reddening tip and spilling into your stomach.

Logan grabs your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders; he then aligns his girthy, angry red tip against your cunt. "Ready for your old man?" Logan says teasingly as you look up at him doe-eyed, waiting to be fucked senseless.

"S'good s-sir," you moan as Logan's girthy cock splits you open, your warm, tight cunt squeezing around him. Your walls were clenching onto his cock so tightly he'd thought that he'd cum quickly, but he was able to restrain himself in the moment as his hips found a rhythm.

"You feel so good around me, sweetheart," Logan says in a low, deep growl as your walls are clenching around him. The angle at which Logan was pounding into you allowed him to bury his cock to the hilt, making your lower stomach protrude out, showing the outline of his thick cock in your stomach.

Your belly bulge catches the attention of Logan, and he takes a hand, pressing down on your lower stomach as he increases his pace. "L-lo t'm-much," you shakily moan out. The pressure of his large hand and him pounding into your cervix have you cross-eyed and drooling.

"Atta girl, you can take it," Logan groans in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Logan's pace starts to falter; his hips start stuttering, and he can feel the same tightening in his abdomen. "Daddy's going to fill you up nice and good, princess," he says, staring into your doe eyes, lost in pleasure.

Drool running down your mouth, hair slicked onto your face with sweat, body trembling with pleasure, inaudible mumbling, and soft moans falling from your lips as Logan continues his sloppy pace.

"Come on, pretty girl, use your words," Logan says with a shaky voice. "I—inside," you cry out to Logan, bringing your hands to his chest, scratching down his finely chiseled chest adorned with salt and pepper hair that led to a happy trail, which you absolutely adored.

"Huh, princess, I didn't catch you," Logan says, removing his hand from your lower stomach and grabbing your chin, squishing your face to catch your attention, doe eyes staring up at him. "C-cum i-inside," you tell him with a fucked-out expression on your face.

With that, Logan snaps; you can feel his cock twitching inside of your velvet walls, pulsating, ready to release inside your perfect cunt. "Daddy's going to get you pregnant," Logan lets out a deep groan; his cock pulsating quicker as he feels his balls throbbing, tightening up from his release.

"C-cumming," Logan moans out. You feel his cock twitching as he cums deep inside your cunt, filling up your pretty pussy. Seeing your face engrossed in pleasure, he saw his purpose, and that was to satisfy his pretty girl.

"D-daddy's s'good," you tremble out, voice shaky, Logan's cum filling up your stomach as he pounds away, riding out his high. "C-cumming daddy" you moan out as you cream around Logan's thick cock, eyes shutting tight as your lower stomach convulses.

"My pretty girl," Logan says softly as he takes his hand up to your face and caresses the side of your cheek, leaving a small peck.

Your hips bucking up to Logan quicker as you ride out your high, his voice so sweet and gentle. He knew it drove you crazy, so he used it to his advantage, praising his good girl like she deserves for being so sweet to her old man.

Finally coming to, your eyes focus on Logan's glistening hazel eyes. "Are you alright there, princess?" Logan says playfully while rubbing your cheek with his thumb. "Mhm," you tiredly nod as Logan lowers himself, moving the both of you to face each other, cock still filling your cunt.

You notice Logan's chest heaving, bringing your hand to rest on top of his chest. "Is the old man all drained?" you say in a teasing tone as your hand moves with his chest from his deep inhales. "Keep it up," Logan says firmly with a stern look on his face, which makes you giggle.

"Let's get you all cleaned up, pretty girl." Logan stands up and scoops you up in his arms, taking you to the bathroom. He fills the tub up, dipping his hand in to check the temperature, making sure to get it just right for his sweet girl.

Logan picks you up and slowly lowers you into the warm water; he then steps in and sits right behind you, your body now plush against his chest. You lay your head on his chest, eyes heavy, listening to Logan's soothing heartbeat has you drifting off to sleep.

Logan notices your eyes shutting, so he decides to clean you up and himself up quickly to get you two to bed quickly. Once he was done cleaning you up and dressing you in one of his shirts, he picked you up and laid you in bed carefully. "Sleep well, princess." Logan kisses you on your forehead and settles in right next to you, pulling you into his arms.

Logan was always very careful with his princess, never wanting to hurt you because you are his precious treasure. The one consistent person in his life, and he treasured you for that; you are his blessing, his gift.

feel free to reblog and leave a comment <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ old man!logan p!links ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

ʚ old man!logan pt.1 ɞ

ʚ old man!logan pt.2 ɞ

[rafesbbdoll]

ticket repay ✩ rafe cameron

୨˚̣̣̣୧ where dumb!reader tries to get out of a ticket with officer!rafe.

warnings ׅ 　female!reader, cursing, cheating, drunk driving, smut, blowjob in public but hidden, reader is actually dumb as hell, mentions of law enforcement, reader is 22 & rafe is 34

word count ׅ 　1.2k

masterlist taglist

it was 1:27 AM on the streets kildare. it was quiet in some areas, some loud and booming with music. you just so happened to find yourself at a party that a few kooks had thrown in celebration of a new edition on the island, expanding figure eight. you were drinking with some other girls, giggling and dancing with a drink in your hand. your head was to floaty to comprehend that time was going by fast. before you knew it, it was 2:03 AM.

your boyfriend had texted you several times, called you, and even tried to contact your friends, but you were having too much fun to notice. it wasn't until you felt sick when you decided to head out for the night. you had grabbed your purse and made sure your phone and keys before heading out. your feet stumbled upon each other as you walked clumsily to your car.

now, you knew this wasn't safe, but how else would you get home?! you didn't want to leave your car at some random house where you wouldn't remember the address, so your best bet was to attempt to drive back home. once you got into your car, you blinked a couple of times, trying to fix up your vision. taking out with phone, you texted your boyfriend back, letting him know you're on your way back.

you knew that he would be mad at you, but at least you were coming home! clumsily, you put the keys into the ignition before starting and driving off. the roads were were mostly empty, occasional cars passing by, side eyeing you from their window. unbeknownst to you, you were swerving in your lane, as well as driving 10 miles under the posted speed limit. singing your heart out to your spotify playlist, you were unaware of the flashing police lights from behind you.

it wasnt until you heard and male voice come from a speaker when you pulled over to the side. you turned your music down, winding down your window with a confused pout on your face. "what? i didn't even do anything," you slurred to yourself. a few min later, a cop walked up to your window. you looked up at the man, noticing his uniform, making your heart drop.

"good evening ma'am. do you know why i stopped you tonight?", he asked, flashing his light into the car to get a look at you and your surroundings. you shook your head, looking up at him with your dazed eyes. "i wasn't doing anything bad. jus' on the way home," you slurred to him. he chuckled at you, noticing your eyes. "have you been drinking tonight?"

you blinked slowly before replying, "only a little bit." he could obviously tell that you were lying, your leg bouncing up and down in your seat. "what's your name again, officer?", you asked. "officer rafe cameron," he replied. "can you step out of your vehicle for me?", he requested, standing back enough for you to open the door. you frowned and sniffled before opening the door and stepping out. "am i under arrest?", you asked, stepping over to him, your blown out eyes brimming with tears.

he sighed before explaining, "not yet. just gonna run some sobriety tests to see how much you've had to drink." you nodded, wiping the falling tears off your cheeks. "what's your name, hun? gotta write it for our records," he explained while taking out a small notebook. "y/n l/n.... you said i wasn't under arrest!", you mumbled to him, crossing your arms and turning away.

"you're not. just have to write it down, okay? the first test we're gonna take is this: say your abc's backwards," he explained to you. you giggled a little bit, "that's easyyy! z... y... x... w... v... t... r... s...." he shook his head, sighing to himself. "you failed, y/n. let's try walking in a straight line, hm?" you huffed in confusion, swearing to yourself that you did it correctly. "but- its right!" officer cameron laughed in response before orchestrating the next test for you.

after you failed the other tests dramatically, officer cameron finally had enough of your antics. "alright miss. you will be receiving a ticket tonight for driving under the influence. do you have someone that can take you home tonight?", he asked, staring down at your face. your bottom lip wobbled, shaking your head. "i can't get a ticket! i didn't do anything wrong", you said to him, moving to tug at his uniform.

he looked down into your eyes, moving his hands on your shoulders to adjust you slightly, "i'm sorry sweetheart, but these are the repercussions." you tugged at his uniform again, looking up at him. he could stop the way his cock stirred in pants as he looked into your eyes, the desperate yet helpless look in your eyes. "i'll do anything, just no ticket please," you sniffled, your hands moving to his belt buckle.

"y/n. this is not appropriate behavior. you know that," he said quietly to you. you blinked up at him, moving your clumsy fingers to unbuckle his belt. "please, i-i don't want to have a ticket. i'll be good i swear," you say, reaching your hand down into his pants. rafe grunted lowly, sighing once your hand removed his cock from his pants

your eyes looked down at his dick, sucking in a breath at his size. rafe looked around, making sure that you two were in a secluded area. he then looked down, finding you on your knees in front of him. letting out a shaky breath, he spoke, "go 'head. get out of a ticket, hm?" you nodded, taking his tip in your mouth a sucking gently. your thighs squeezed together in order to stop the throbbing from your cunt.

having had enough, he took your head into his hands, pushing himself fully down your throat making you gag. he loud out a moan, head tilting back into the night sky, his hips moving back and forth into your mouth. your hands had moved onto his thighs to hold on for support as his pace quickened. he grunted as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, "fuckfuck ㅡ you're so good, y/n. no more ticket, a'ight?", he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair.

you moaned around him, taking him out of your mouth to jerk him off. "thank you s-so much," you replied, looking up at him with your fucked out eyes. the idea of a police officer always turned you on, but now that you finally have your hands on one, it made you so much more horny. yes, you knew it was wrong to cheat on your loving boyfriend at home, but you couldn't have this on your record!

before you know it, rafe was finishing on your face, groaning as he watched his cum mark you. he sighed, his high subsiding. you stood back up on shaky legs, watching him closely. your fingers collected his cum from your cheeks, putting them in your mouth to get a taste. you hummed to yourself at his taste; it was salty yet sweet in a weird way which made your head even more fuzzy than before.

"good?", you asked. rafe nodded, tucking himself back into his pants. he fixed up your hair and fixed your lips before speaking, "don't let me or one of my guys catch you again." he took out his notepad again, writing down something before giving it to you: his number.

and that's how your relationship began.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@13hischiers @rafestoothbrush @ohgodimgoungtodie @massivepenguinfart

[afterglowsainz]

we used to have more | oscar piastri

part 2 part 3 part 4

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: while working as community manager in formula 1 you have to follow a rule of no fraternization with the drivers, which keeps you and oscar from being together

fc: different girls from pinterest

warnings: some characters have names (because there’s only so many y/f/n that i can use), some mentions of oscar’s girlfriend as her ex

a/n: so i have this one shot called guilty as sin? (that you should totally go read) and i’ve been thinking about expanding on it a little because i keep getting ideas around the same concept so welcome to an au version of my own fic in smau format, enjoy!

—

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yourusername another season, another year of trying to make f1 fun for the girlies🎀

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lissiemackintosh do you just casually serve face like this on a random thursday?

yourusername occupational hazards 😝

username my girl is back !!!

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username i need the girlies that find her clothes to find everything in this dump asap!

username my icon

username y/n please stay in f1 forever thank you❤️

username oh to be a woman in f1

username FINALLY

liked by f1wags and others

f1gossip mclaren’s oscar piastri was seen this weekend next to y/n y/l/n (the community manager of f1 social media) on different occasions. the people who sent us the videos said that oscar was the one that looked for her and approached her every time

tagged oscarpiastri and yourusername

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username yeah no

username pls lord let this be fake news

username he. approached. her. every. time.

username idk they look kinda cute together

username hoping and praying this was just for content or something

username nooo y/n is one of the f1 female icons, dating a driver would be such a setback for her 😩

username pls if she wants to date a driver then it’s her business, doesn’t take away everything she’s done for women in motorsports

username i love y/n and oscar separately, together …. uhmmm

username omg my faves!!! i hope they date they’d be so cute together 🥰

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oscarpiastri back to my roots in baku 🏎

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username good luck this year 🧿🧿🧿

username manifesting a championship as we speak 🕯

username ugh look at him i just KNOW a future F1 champion when i see it

username omg the ex girlfriend liked 🫣

username are we about to see episode 37283 of them getting back together after breaking up? 😅

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username let’s go oscar 🍾🍾🍾

landonorris 👊🏽👊🏽👊🏽

oscarpiastri 😉

username nonchalant king!

lissiemackintosh’s instagram stories

[caption 1: milesbaldwin, declanmurray] [caption 2: yourusername my 💗]

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yourusername always hustling as you can see 🧘🏽‍♀️

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milesbaldwin working hard or hardly working? 🧐

yourusername you’re one to talk

milesbaldwin i’m being attacked here pls defend my honor declanmurray miguelsossa

lissiemackintosh y/n is right miles you took two naps in one hour while we were making content

milesbaldwin !!! declanmurray miguelsossa

declanmurray girls be nice to miles

milesbaldwin 😁

declanmurray it’s past his bedtime

miguelsossa 🤣🫵🏽 milesbaldwin

username i love their friendship😩

username wtf oscar’s ex liked her post and unliked it 😭

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f1gossip mclaren’s oscar piastri was seen this weekend with his ex girlfriend at the paddock together, emerging rumors of possibly getting back together after six months of breaking up

tagged oscarpiastri and exgirlfriend

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username not again

username does this man doesn’t know there’s other women alive?

username guys leave him alone he’s competing for the trophy of who can get back with their ex the most times

username but … but … y/n ….

username i thought they were together too 😩

username i honestly prefer him with y/n than back with his ex for the millionth time

username guys they’re holding hands… it’s over

username my guy really lost the game of getting over your ex

[ggukivrse]

the art of pretending – jjk | teaser

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content, swearing, alcohol consumption, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs, other chapter specific tags

word count: 1k

notes: right soo... this fic was not apart of the poll i put out BUT i did manage to finally write something so you can't say anything (writer's block has been kicking my ass lately, study break was just a result of my horniness loll). this is j a teaser so if we like this, i’ll prioritise it, if not, it’ll still get written, just a bit slower! enjoy reading my angels <333

ps. kiara is pronounced like tiara, just with a k

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The road stretches out ahead, long and quiet, humming under the tires. You lean into the car door, forehead pressed against the glass, fingers mindlessly tugging at the threads on the hem of your shorts.

Summer air seeps through the half-cracked open window, warm and heavy with the scent of trees and sun-baked asphalt.

You should be excited. Everyone else is.

A full week away — just your group, no classes, no work shifts, no group projects hanging over anyone’s head for the first time in four years. A final trip before the “real world” starts to pull everyone in different directions.

But your stomach’s been tight since the moment you packed your bag. And now, with every mile you put between yourself and home, it just gets worse.

“You’re really quiet,” Kiara says, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. She’s got one hand on the wheel, the other flipping the volume knob down on the music. “Like... unusually quiet. Do I need to be concerned?”

You shake your head without looking at her. “Nah. Just tired.”

Kiara makes a sound like she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t press, and you're grateful for it.

You glance over at her. She’s in an oversized T-shirt, dark brown hair falling in curls past her shoulders, sunglasses balanced on top of her head instead of over her eyes.

“I thought you’d be in full DJ mode by now,” you say, nodding toward her phone. “Where’s the summer playlist?”

She smirks. “I’m easing you into it. Jimin says my music tastes give him whiplash.”

“He has a point.”

She scoffs. “Please. Hoseok says my music’s amazing.”

“He says that about everything you do," you say with a smile.

She shrugs, casual. “He’s not wrong.”

It’s adorable how hopelessly smitten they are. Even after a year together, Hoseok still looks at Kiara like she hung the stars.

You remember when they finally got together, after years of dancing around it. Everyone in the friend group had seen it coming — everyone except them.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Kiara laughs, and you can’t help but join in. For a second, the knot in your chest loosens. Just a little.

"Speaking of Hoseok," you start, glancing over at her. “How come he's not coming with you?”

She sighs. “Shift at work. He tried to switch but his manager’s being a dick. He’ll drive up tomorrow morning.”

You nod. “That sucks.”

She hums in agreement, but you’re already half-lost in your thoughts.

As much as you feel bad for Hoseok, you're quietly grateful Kiara asked you to come with her. The idea of doing this drive alone — just you, a quiet car, and way too much time to sit with everything you haven’t let yourself feel — would’ve made the weight in your chest unbearable.

She hasn’t said much, but she’s always had good timing. Maybe she didn’t even realise how much you needed the company. Or maybe she did.

“Lucky me, I got upgraded,” you say lightly.

She grins. “Damn right you did.”

The playlist switches songs, something soft and nostalgic. You stare out the window again, at the lazy sway of trees and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

“I can’t believe we actually pulled this trip off,” Kiara says, after a beat. “Twelve people committing to anything at the same time? Miracle.”

You nod. “Taehyung’s been talking about it since first year.”

“Yeah, and threatening to disown us if anyone bailed.”

You huff out a small laugh.

Back when this trip was just an idea tossed around during late-night study sessions and half-finished group projects, you'd been genuinely excited — borderline giddy, even. The promise of a full week at a fancy resort with your closest friends had felt like the perfect reward after years of deadlines, breakdowns, and pulling all-nighters on cheap coffee and instant noodles.

It was one of those plans that didn’t feel real at first — the kind of thing you talk about just to survive the semester — but then slowly, it started taking shape. Rooms were booked. Deposits paid. Group chats flooded with outfit ideas and packing lists.

You remember counting down the months, then the weeks. You’d imagined bonfires and inside jokes, sunsets by the water, slow mornings in a warm bed.

Back then, this trip had felt like the light at the end of a very long tunnel. Something to look forward to. Something certain.

Now, you can barely keep the dread from crawling up your throat.

“You sure you’re good?” Kiara asks again, gentler this time.

You blink, pulled back to the present. “Yeah. Just... a lot on my mind.”

Again, she doesn’t push. Just gives you a side glance and says, “Well, don’t overthink it. We’ve got a whole week of sun, overpriced cocktails, and probably at least one group fight. You’ll be fine.”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah, you're right. I’ll be fine.”

But your stomach’s still a mess, and the name you’ve been avoiding thinking about drags itself right back to the front of your mind.

Jungkook.

You haven’t seen him in a month.

Not since it ended.

And in about an hour, you’re going to be standing under the same roof as him — spending an entire week in the same space, breathing the same air, pretending it doesn’t feel like your insides are still bruised from the last time you spoke.

A small, irrational part of you hopes he won’t show. That something will come up. That he’ll decide it’s not worth it.

But you know him. He’ll be there.

Of course he will.

Kiara says something — probably teasing, probably meant to distract you — and you laugh on instinct. Keep the smile on your face, even as dread pools low in your gut.

This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime.

You glance out the window again, the road narrowing in the distance.

Now, a part of you can't stop looking for the nearest exit.

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taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

ANIMALS- L. HOWLETT

Pairing: Boyfriend!Logan x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 636 (quick drabble lol)

Summary: You and Logan play a game of hide and seek while you have the manor to yourselves…

Warnings: Smut implied, fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, a little degrading, size kink, Logan being a dommmm, priminalish? Logan, swearing, teasing, grinding etc

“baby i’m prayin on you tonight, hunt you down and chew alive just like animals, animals like animals… baby you think that you can hide, i can smell your scent for miles…”- animals, maroon 5

You counted your breaths, trying to steady them. A quick, sharp inhale.

One, two, three, four. Out.

You gripped the bannister of the oak headboard, squeezing yourself in a corner by the back of the bed. It wasn't long now before he found you.

It was a chase. A hunt, a hound sniffing out his prey.

You and Logan had made a deal- your agreement more a joke then anything, but nonetheless- you were here, in hiding.

“If I catch you, I get to fuck you.” He smirked , flipping his pocket knife in the air, fidgeting around between his fingers like the blade was nothing. You laughed, eyeing him up suspiciously.

“You get to fuck me, hm?”

“Yeah sweetheart. Anyway that I want.”

Well you had never backed down from a challenge, especially not from him. As your boyfriend it was his job to rile you up- and to get you going. You couldnt say you minded it though.

So now you were here, a hand gently held against your mouth, as you tried to slow your heartrate down. You knew he had heard you, there was no way he hadn’t. The manor was empty, everyone gone on either summer break, a mission or were just out for the day.

It was when you and Logan could have your fun. The real fun.

Your footsteps surely echoed down the grand hallways, bouncing off the oak furnishings and dozens of old paintings hung. It was only a matter of seconds now, before he found you.

You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, wetness coating the apex of your thighs. Your skin turned hot to the touch, heart beating so loud you could hear it rattling as if it were a fly buzzing in your ear.

Sure enough, the clack of his boots stopped at the doorway, pushing it open slowly. It creaked so loudly you winced.

“Cmere pretty, pretty girl. Come to daddy.” he chuckled, tormenting you with his slow and stead stride.

You heard an armoir open, then slam shut. He was toying with you.

“I know you're in here baby. I can smell ya.”

One, two, three, four. One, tw-

You let out a loud yelp as two large arms caged you in, sweeping you off your feet as if you were a sack of potatoes. “Caught ya.” he whispered teasingly in your ear, throwing you on the bed.

You bounced with an oof, scrambling back as he pounced on you. “Mghm Lo-“ you whined as he tore your top off with such ferociously you feared his claws would come out.

“You like running from me baby? You like the chase hmm.?” You nodded, gasping as his denium clothed knee pushed your legs apart, leaving you to grind shamelessly on his knee “Yeah, yeah I know you do. Fuckin slut.”

“F-fuck..” you stuttered as he pinned your hands above your head, letting you ride him. “Such a needy girl.” he cooed at you, mocking your moans and whimpers as he tugged down your shorts.

“She’s so needy too. Should I give her what she wants?” he asked, eyes greedily taking in the wet patch on your underwear. You clenched at the mere sound of his voice, panties dripping wet. Soaked. “Please Lo- you have to-“

“I have to what hm? I don’t think I have to do anything. You’re not in control here, princess.” You sucked in a gasp as his hand slithered down your underwear, large fingers coaxing you as they lightly brushed your clit, pinching it.

“Pretty girl.” he cooed, sliding a finger down past your folds, to pump deep inside you, curling until he hit the spot that had you seeing stars. “Stretchin ya out baby, cause you’re too tight. Always so tight f’me. I’m gonna fill you up so good, just the way you like baby. Such a tiny lil thing, you just wanna get wrecked hm?”

You were beyond flustered, muscles tensing as he picked up the pace- your toes curling. “You’re doing so good princess. But you gotta take my cock now, m’kay?”

[thediaryofaurora]

𖧐Kinktober - Day 3𖧐

Theme: Car sex / stranded

Pairing: Ticci Toby x colleague!reader

CW: NSFW, dry humping, f!reader, riding

Word count: 1.0k

Side note: Sorry this is late, I’ve been caught up in doctor appointments, but good news is I’m off my crutches 🧚 Also I didn’t prepare for Kinktober what so ever, burnout is going CRAZY. I’m gonna spend the weekend preparing more, but day 4 might be a little late also 💔

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

“I-I already tried, damn en-engine won’t start.” Toby huffs, putting his hands in his pockets while he leans against the trunk.

“Then what the hell are we supposed to do??”

It’s the middle of winter for fuck’s sake, walking nearly 90 miles back to the mansion would take days, probably even get you both killed in the process. You already notified Tim, but even in a car it’ll take over an hour.

“W-we might as well get back in the car. I-it’s better than standing o-out here with the wind.”

“I guess.” You grumble, opening the driver’s side door and slipping in, Toby following suit.

Being shielded from the wind and light snow is definitely better than waiting outside and getting frostbite, but the temperature in the car had still dropped once the heat was turned off.

“It’s too fucking cold for this, are you sure we didn’t pack any matches?”

“No l-lighter either.”

Sighing, you put the keys back in the ignition, hoping for any chance of it turning on.

Vrrrrr, pufk

“Piece of shit.”

You two had already been out in the cold for half an hour, having to walk back from your mission, and looking down at your hands turning a faint purple makes the situation even more urgent.

“Get in the back.” You gruff, climbing over the center console and into the backseat. Toby doesn’t hesitate to follow, if you have an idea to keep you both from freezing to death he’s open to it.

“A-are we huddling?”

He chuckles, resting against the door while you crawl on top of him. No wonder he’s not as worried about the whole ordeal as you, he’s barely cold. You nestle up against him, draping your arm around his chest with a sigh. Even though you both had known each other for a while, he’s obviously nervous, the way his rapid heart beat is thumping in your ear while you rest your head on his chest making that clear.

Trying to take in any warmth you can get, you drape your leg over his hips, then you feel it: the reason he’s so nervy.

Maybe you can help him out, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Gently you grind down on him, enough for him to not know if you actually are or if he just wishes you were. Slowly but surely you begin to add more weight, and more, and more. After a few minutes it’s noticeable the way you’re perfectly rubbing your clothed cunt against his restrained boner.

His breath starts picking up, his wood only getting harder as you make it obvious what you’re doing. Your head is still rested on his chest, his heart thumping even louder than before.

You had been doing it for a few minutes now, keeping a steady pace of dry humping this poor, desperate boy. A small whimper escaping his lips as he begins bucking his hips up into yours, moving his hands down to your ass and pulling you closer onto him, his fully hard cock now rubbing perfectly against your swollen bud.

Now you’re both grinding into each other, the friction too much to handle. You need him.

Quickly you pull off of him, letting a whine. Your knees are on either side of his hips, hastily undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. All he can do is look at you in awe, his eyes big and greedy as he watches you slip his pants down. His dick springs out, the tip already red and shining with precum. You slide off your bottoms, revealing your puffy, wet pussy. His length twitches as you position your hole above his needy cock.

Slowly you begin lower yourself onto him, his tip barely brushing your hole while it pulsates on his most sensitive part.

Toby has always been a beat it and get it over with kind of guy, not bothering to even use lotion while watching porn; so now, you slowly sliding down his girth makes it difficult not to cum immediately.

Your hole clenches around him while you take your time adjusting, his throbbing cock making you want to slam down on it. He stretches you good, but the pain can’t compare to the pure nirvana of him being inside you.

It’s half way in, just almost hitting your cervix. His heavy breaths have turned into pants, sweet little whines in between while you slide down.

“H-mghn… Y-y-y/n- please-“ His voice is a pure whine as he begs for more, his attempts to buck up into you stopped by your hands pushing his hips down to the seat.

The tip finally hit your sweet spot, your hips rolling against his as you adjust to the girth. You start picking up your pace, shamelessly riding him as you feel your high coming to a breaking point. It’s obvious his is too, his mouth agape while he pants and whimpers incoherent pleads.

Your climax comes crashing down over you, riding out your high on his twitching dick, your once freezing face now dripping with sweat. Toby came right after, his cum spilling out of you as you pulled off of him.

The car’s windows were completely unusable, the condensation too thick to see through. Small droplets of water formed and raced down, your body heats immediately filling the streak.

Toby’s dazed panting below you, eyes fluttering open and shut with every breath, his shaky hands still holding onto your hips as you lay back down with him.

A loud knock on the window startled the two of you, Tim’s voice breaking the silence.

“You better be clothed when you come out of there.”

Together you both gather your clothes and redress, stepping out of the humid vehicle into the baby blizzard. Tim’s car is pulled over to the side of the road in the distance, his headlights flashing.

You and Toby stumble behind him, your legs weak and unstable. At least you stayed warm.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

Kinktober Masterlist

Creepypasta Masterlist

[moonlight-prose]

SWEETNESS OF THE DAMNED

a/n: this was a quick drabble at first, but somehow turned into an allegory for persophone and hades. which isn’t surprising for me given that i’m already plotting october fics. logan isn’t a monster in this, nor is he a vampire even though the vibe and title may give that off. i just really love gothic vibes in everything i write so who better to give it to than old man logan.

summary: when night falls and wine overflows in glasses of crystal, logan finds his home in between your thighs.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, allegories for persephone and hades, biting, scratching even though he heals, cumplay, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, older logan is so filthy i’m blushing.

The acrid embers of the fire burned your nose the deeper your breaths became. Red wine remained chocolatey and bitter on your tongue; the dinner you tried to eat quickly was now forgotten in favor of something else. You thought you could smell the cigar he smoked on the porch an hour ago on his bare skin. You couldn't.

Not when his fingers dug into your hips, lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He grunted with each slap of skin. The wet slick of how he pounded into you echoed loud and bright in the cabin.

You would have been embarrassed if it weren't for the sounds he let out. The way his eyes fell shut the closer you got to that fiery peak.

"C'mon baby," he sighed, ragged and needy. "I can feel ya."

Wine had gone to your head the second he poured you a third glass. Your red dress of crushed velvet lay in a heap on the floor. A pair of his jeans and a shirt beside it. The soft fabric of his flannel was smooth beneath your knees where he dropped it. Careful to keep your skin from going raw as he took you before dinner could even finish.

The alcohol is what brought this night to an early conclusion.

You already knew it would happen. Hoped for it on long days with hours that stretched for miles. Ached for his presence when you curled up in bed—the scent of his body still stuck on the cotton sheets. Logan promised to give you everything with a soft kiss at the door, his fingers gripping your chin to hold you there a minute longer. To slip his tongue past your maroon painted lips and lick along your teeth.

"'S too much," you garbled.

He laughed as you clenched around his leaking cock—tearing a deep moan from his chest. The heat of his body burned its way into yours where the fireplace couldn't reach. Each muscle and ridge along his stomach pressed into your back—his hips strong enough to break you slowed into punishing thrusts that bounced you on his thighs.

Time didn't exist; seasons began to blend into one.

The both of you resided where spring met summer and the shadow of night met fall's full moon. You wore a crown of wilted flowers—red spilling over your hands from where he asked you to bite into his skin. This was your damned hour. Your time of need.

You were the other half of an already broken soul, and he found that in your absence he couldn't hold it together for quite as long.

"You feel that?" His hand cupped your cunt—fingers spread around where he ended and you began. "She's leakin' for me baby."

"L-Logan," you gasped your throat thick with too many emotions.

The slow grind of his hips into yours sent your body hurtling towards yet another release. Your stomach was sticky where his other hand pressed - already coated in the three before. Holding onto the fraying pieces of your mind proved to be difficult when his teeth latched onto your shoulder. His fingers drew a shape around the edge of your throbbing clit.

His initials.

"You want another one don't ya honey?"

Yes. No. Please never fucking stop.

Instead all you could get out was a whine of his name. Your back arched into his hold, head pressed hard against his chest, as you fought to keep up with him. To grind against his lap and feel the drag of his cock along your walls.

"Yeah. You do," he murmured against your ear. "She wants to be good for me."

Down in the base of your stomach you felt the familiar pull of bliss begin to draw tight. You knew what came next. The rush of mind numbing pleasure trickled into your veins. Slowly drawing you higher with each stunted thrust—each echo of his fingers toying with your stretched cunt. You could count the seconds until it finally burst.

"I'm gonna–" The breath caught in your throat, hands clasping around his wrists as something shifted. "F-Fuck. Logan I'm–"

"Fuck yeah ya are," he grunted into your neck. "Gonna lick you clean after this. Get my fuckin' dessert."

His cock pounded deep against your walls, fingers pulling up the hood of your clit to circle rapidly against nerves that were already shot. And you sobbed his name. Your nails drew red angry marks on his arms that healed moments later; your body too fucking rigid and too hot to process what the fuck he was doing.

Elysium and the River Styx were ripping you apart. As if you were being pulled in two very different directions.

A clatter echoed beside you when he reached for your glass of wine, still stained with the now faded red of your lipstick. You felt his thigh shake—his cock twitching in the heat of your body. You wondered if this is what it felt like to burn alive. The sweet aching bliss of being held by your lover as he drowned you in the fire. Would this be how he took you to the Underworld?

The cold wash of wine spilled along your body as he poured out the remainder of the glass. His tongue quickly dragged across your blistering skin—drinking the cabernet off your body with a raspy groan of your name.

"'M almost there." He gripped the back of your neck and yanked you back with a kiss. His tongue plunging into your mouth—sharing the wine as his fingers pressed hard and fast against your swollen bud. "Give it to me huh? Fuckin' cum on my cock."

Your release ripped through your body with a scream. The echo of his name came back to you eventually, yet you couldn't figure out if you were the one saying it. With your nails piercing his skin, he felt you gush, choking his cock and milking him dry. A splatter of something wet landed on his thighs as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you still.

To bury himself as deep as he could go and finish with a blissful ragged groan against your shoulder. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over your spent body and you felt him fill you until it began to leak out. Coating the inside of your thighs.

"Are you breathing?" he chuckled, lips sliding along your neck to find your mouth.

You answered with a whimper. Which proved enough for him.

The stickiness of the wine began to dry against your bare body while his fingers dragged through the mixture of your cum that stuck to your thigh. He sighed—content and warm—as he lowered himself to the floor. His back pressed against your clothes and softening cock still buried in your dripping cunt.

"Speak to me bub." His fingers tapped your cheek, nose nudging against your jaw. "I can't have killed ya."

"You almost did," you mumbled, barely able to open your eyes.

Exhaustion sunk right down to your bones the longer you lay there wrapped in his arms. You knew the both of you should shower. Clean up and actually eat something in its entirety this time around. Logan would say the same if it weren't for the comforting press of your weight against his body. He cupped your breasts, thumbs toying with your peaked nipples, and kissed you with a sigh.

The both of you should say something to get the other moving. Yet neither of you did.

Instead you were met with silence and the crackle of the fire. Time, now a nonexistent variable to a night spent in each other's arms.

[yae-energy]

the reader being left for a white girl is so insane 😭

almost is never enough, miles morales x black fem reader

synopsis: saying that you and miles just didn’t work out was the easiest way to deal with the reality that you both were over. yet, deep down, both of you were aware of the real reason why things had to come to an end.

wc: 2.8k

a/n: i realized about 1.5k words in that i completely erased miles’ storyline of being spiderman. i’m sorry </3 but it kinda wasn’t relevant to the storyline so in this fic everyone is just normal teenagers lol. + not proofread.

THINGS BETWEEN YOU AND MILES started off amazing. it was a case of the typical childhood best friends who ended up falling in love. you had known miles since you gained consciousness. your mother and rio were close friends in high school and vowed that the both of their children would grow up to be the bestest of friends, just like them.

and of course, they kept their promise. —including their wishes that had been fulfilled. over the years, you and miles had been joined at the hip. you both hung out every day, whether or not you both had school, you just both had to make sure that you got to spend time together. at first, you genuinely cared for miles. he was your best friend, and nothing could ever change that.

you would hear stories about people falling in love with their best friends and just couldn’t believe it—or the endless teasing from both of your mothers claiming that you both would, “get married one day.” you continuously responded with an as if, rolling your eyes in the process. miles could do the same and the conversation would always end with the both of you reassuring that you would never be anything more than friends.

however, in came freshman year of high school. it was like a rush of emotions came in one day, and from that day forward, you would find yourself over-romanticizing every little thing miles did. whether it was putting his hand on your shoulder, or hugging you, with the small squeeze at the end pulling away with his signature smile before heading off to his home. the look that always left you speechless with the endless amounts of butterflies flying around in your stomach.

or the nights where you would sit in your room thinking, could he possibly like me? while throwing a balled-up piece of paper over and over into the air, trying to occupy your body as your mind had already been reserved for the boy you were deeply infatuated with. you also spent your free time trying to figure out how you were gonna tell him your feelings.

it was impossible to contain how you felt especially since you saw him every day. so there would come the day that you would finally have to let him know, but how? when? when is the perfect time that you could let him know this vital piece of information? then, the idea finally came to mind. homecoming.

it was early september, meaning that the homecoming dance was coming in a few weeks and it would be the ideal occasion for your confession. so you spent the next week, coming up with ideas for how you would ask him and what corny joke could you write on a poster. you had a few pages of drafts drawn in your notebook and left it on your desk just so you wouldn’t lose it. unfortunately, that next day, while you and miles were hanging out, he started to snoop around in your things.

at first, you didn’t mind because you both did it to each other often, but once you realized that he was going through the same notebook you had ideas for homecoming proposals your heart dropped.

“hoco proposal ideas?” he read out loud, slightly confused. he looked up at your frozen figure, tilting his head to the side.

“uh..” you looked down. “yeah. i was planning on taking someone to homecoming. it’s nothing, kinda stupid ‘nyways.” you got up and walked up to him gently taking the notebook out of his hand, and dropping it into the trash next to you out of nervousness.

“stupid? no. honestly, the ideas were pretty cool.” he smiled. “i mean, if you were asking me, i would be dumb to say no to that.” he chuckled and you followed suit. he sat back down in your desk seat and spun around. your mind overflowed with the possibility that he probably reciprocated your feelings. you hurriedly walked back to your bed and you both went back to your situation. him not knowing that your ideas were meant for you.

today was the day. it was one week before homecoming and you had everything you had prepared tucked away in your closet. miles was on the way and you were more nervous than you had ever been in your whole life. you were pacing around your room, trying to compose yourself for what was about to happen. soon you heard your door open, and miles walking in.

“hey…. y/n?” his sentence first started enthusiastically but soon the look on his face read perplexed. he was just witnessing you throwing your hands around while walking around in your room frantically. somehow you didn’t hear him and were too wrapped up in your thought process that when you finally realized he was standing there your heart stopped.

“miles! h…hey.”

“looks like you’re having a good time.” he closed the door behind himself.

“yeah, i was.” you scratched your neck before sitting down in the chair next to you.

“sooo… n/n.” the way he said your nickname never failed to make you melt on the inside. “what are you wearing to homecoming? me and my mom already picked out this sick suit. it has all my favorite colors on it without looking too… tacky? you know what i’m sayin’?” you shook your head in response.

“yeah, actually me and my dad we’re going to go shopping together tomorrow. but speaking of hoco.” you stood up. “can i ask you something?”

“sure! anything.” he watched you as you open your closet door, and bring out a big white poster rolled up along with a bouquet full of lollipops. his eyebrow raised as he was curious as to what you were up to.

“i didn’t know how to do this or how to tell you this miles.” you slid the rubber band off of the poster for it to unravel and show big words written neatly with design. “but i was wondering…” you swallowed. “if you would go to homecoming with me?” he looked at you with wide eyes. his eyes scanned the writing in front of him.

“i’d be a dum-dum if i didn’t go to homecoming with you.” he said, reading the poster out loud. his eyes suddenly softened and he stood up. he walked over you and engulfed you in a hug. you were taken aback but you hesitantly returned it not knowing how he would respond. he pulled away, still holding your arms.

“yeah. yeah, i’ll go with you.” you both shared smiles before embracing each other again. “i was hoping that you were asking me, y’know?” you pulled back this time.

“oh really?”

“yeah, i mean, those ideas couldn’t have been for anyone else. and plus, i like to think that i would be a perfect fit as your date.” you hit him playfully as he laughed. his eyes lingered on yours a little longer before he leaned toward you to give you a peck on the cheek. the temperature in your room seemed to raise and in that moment, your body malfunctioned. you couldn’t believe what was happening, but what you did know, was that it was finally in the air. your feelings were clear and he most likely felt the same way and you were content.

homecoming night you both were officially boyfriend and girlfriend. if your happiness had to be determined on a scale, you would’ve broken the machine. you went home that night and the first thing you did was scream into your pillow and kicked your feet into the air. you were excited for the next days to come.

over your freshman year, you both were known as the golden couple in your grade. it was a stupid name, sure, but you didn’t care. the entire freshman class knew not to try making moves on you or miles, because you both were devoted to each other.

it was hard to split you too up, especially after homecoming. you guys waited another week before letting both of your parents know that you both had started dating. your mom and rio were overly excited for you both. rio wouldn’t stop going on and on about her mijo finally finding someone who made him happy. you both sat there mildly embarrassed but happy that you told them because keeping the secret had been hell.

your freshman year as miles’ girlfriend, god that felt good to say, went by in a breeze and it was already the beginning of sophomore year. it was coming on your one year anniversary and you were stoked. you had been planning on telling him that you loved him. the only reason you hadn’t said anything before was because you were keen on taking things slow.

you didn’t wanna rush into things with him and he also respected your wishes. it took the both of you 6 months to have your first kiss, so the relationship was going in a slow pace intimacy wise but you both were happy so it bothered neither of you too much.

it was after school when miles asked you to come over by his house, because he had something to show you. you agreed, letting your mom know that you were leaving them made your way to his house. a few minutes later, you ended up at this front door and ringing the doorbell. his mom answered. “y/n! hi! did miles want you?” you nodded.

“hi mrs. morales, and yeah, he said he had something to show me. no idea what it is.” you shrugged.

“awww, cariño, you don’t have to call me that. just call me rio.”

“is this a trap? you hate when young people call you by your first name.” she glared at you for a second before a smirked appeared on her face.

“that’s right. good girl, y/n.” she patted the top of your head before walking away. you shook your head before heading up to miles’ room. as you got to his door, you knocked on it before opening.

“miles?” you peeped your head in, watching him look up at the door in shock. his room was dark, but surrounded by lit candles. his hands holding a bouquet of roses. your eyes widen and your hand covered your mouth. you walked in completely and closed his door.

“hey y/n. i’ve never done this type of stuff before so excuse if this seems… corny?” his voice raised an octave higher at the end of his sentence. he raised the roses toward you, which you took with tears rolling down your cheeks. “happy one year, n/n.” speechless, you set the roses aside and quickly enclasped the boy in front of you. he hugged you back. “happy one year miles. i love you.”

he pulled back, he laughed awkwardly. “i kinda wanted to say that first. but, i love you too.”

✾

that was the last intimate moment you and miles had together before she showed up. she was the new girl at your high school, moving from a different city. why? no one knew. her name floated the halls, gwen. you didn’t like the name gwen. it sounded weird. maybe you didn’t care about the name, maybe you just didn’t like her.

miles was assigned to show her around and help her around the school, just your fucking luck. miles of course offered that he could have you stick around with them and that he’ll find some excuse to get you out of class. at first you wanted to deny because you didn’t want to seem like an overbearing girlfriend, and he reassured you that he didn’t care and that he didn’t feel that way.

so you accepted, and the entire time you felt like that you were third-wheeling the happy couple. maybe you were just overthinking things, and just being jealous, but the way he talked to her and the subtle way his hands would always make it to her shoulder while they talked left an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

his eyes lit up while talking to her. the way he would stare so lovingly at her as she spoke, the same way he used to look at you. and this wasn’t the first time they hung out with each other, so you couldn’t have imagined what they looked like alone. anyone with a brain would assume they were perfect for each other.

nonetheless, you took all this information with a grain of salt. you didn’t want to assume, or paint miles out to be the bad guy when he wasn’t. he still treated you the same way he’s always treated you. the flirtatious banter and daily hangouts between you too never stopped. things were exactly the same, even with her in the picture. so you just assumed that he just really liked being her friend. it’s not like he didn’t have a lot of friends, but he never really clicked with a lot of people besides ganke. so you were happy for him.

but over time, he started to leave your hangouts more often. or would get a text, stand up quickly, and state that he had to leave. he would give you a kiss and a brief goodnight before leaving out of your room in a rush.

“yeah, and i told her that she was kinda stupid for leaving him on read like that.” you explained to miles, who was sitting next to you, holding your hand while you told him that your friend was stupidly playing hard to get with someone who wanted to be with. “and i’m like, if you like him so much, why don’t you just—“ a loud ping interrupted your speech. it was miles’ phone. he grabbed it and his face grew into a smile.

“gotta go. it’s gwen. i’ll see you later, okay?” you nodded your head. one thing about miles, is that he was transparent. too transparent. maybe he would’ve done better if he just lied too your face about who it was. it would spare the heartbreak that you were enduring hearing that name that you sure you had escaped this time around. he gave you a kiss on the lips before hopping out of your bed and out your window, for a quick shortcut and to avoid running down stairs.

this happened time and time again. to the point where he stopped giving you kisses on the way out or having a huge lack of physical affection. after an entire month of this nonsense, you figured that it was time for a talk with miles. to see where his head was at, feelings and relationship wise. did he still want to continue playing this game with you or would he give you the same bullshit excuses that he kept pursuing each time you questioned his friendship with gwen.

she seemed like a nice girl, but the conversations you both would have would always end awkwardly with miles suddenly intervening. you just couldn’t get along with her knowing she maybe had feelings for your boyfriend.

you sent him a message saying that you both needed to talk and he had to come over immediately. a few minutes after he read your message, your bedroom door opened to a worried miles.

“y/n? what’s wrong?” he sat down in front of you, placing a hand on your leg. you nearly flinched from the way that was the first time he had touched you in that way for two weeks. you sighed.

“what’s going on between you and gwen, miles?” you could barely form the words coming out of your mouth. “and don’t fucking lie to me.”

it was silent. you expected miles to instantly flood you with reassurance and say that he would never do that to you, and that he loved you and only you. you both had been going on for a year and a month and nothing would change that. that he only had eyes for you and gwen was just a great friend. nothing could have prepared you for what he would say next.

“i think i like her, y/n. like a lot.” you heart dropped.

“of course you do.” you shoved his hand off your leg, anger overcoming your senses. “i should’ve known.”

“look, y/n, i’m sorry—“

“no you aren’t. just get out my room miles.” you were entirely too close to screaming and going off on him. you would if you weren’t in your room and that your parents would hear everything you said loud and clear.

“but n/n—“

“get. out.” you clenched your teeth together, trying not to raise the volume of your voice as he used your nickname so effortlessly, like he just didn’t tear your entire world apart with those simple words. he looked at you for a little while longer before standing up and leaving your room.

all the emotions you managed to keep inside yourself for the past months came out and you started sobbing into your pillow. as your tears drenched the place you lay your head, you realized that not only you had lost your first love but your lifelong best friend.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost & Found

Summary: You suffer memory loss after an accident, only remembering your sister, Emily, and not your boyfriend, Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: car accident, depressive thoughts, fighting, crying, memory loss, struggling with memory loss, showering together, suggestive content (16+), use of Y/N

Word count: 19.6k

a/n: this reminds me of the vow lol my bad but i already wrote it sooo

main masterlist

The sun had just begun to rise over Washington, D.C., casting long shadows across the bustling streets. You were driving to work, your thoughts on the day ahead, when the unthinkable happened. Out of nowhere, a semi-truck barreled down the road, its brakes screaming in protest, unable to halt its deadly path. There was no time to react. The world slowed as the massive vehicle collided with the driver’s side of your car, the sound of metal crunching filling the air like a thunderclap.

—

Spencer Reid sat in a sterile conference room, surrounded by maps and case files in a small town in Missouri. He was miles away from home, yet his mind kept drifting back to you. It had been a little over two years since you and Spencer began dating, and in that time, he had come to rely on your comforting presence. Even though he was away, the two of you made it a point to call each other whenever possible, exchanging stories about your days and sharing a few jokes. Today, he hadn’t heard from you yet, and a nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind.  

The shrill ring of his phone jolted Spencer out of his thoughts. Hotch was in mid-sentence when Spencer abruptly stood up, excusing himself from the meeting as he glanced down at the caller ID and recognized your best friend’s name. 

“Hey, Spencer! Sorry for calling so early, I just wanted to ask if you knew what Y/N would like for her birthday dinner!” they chirped, their voice a bit muffled from what sounded like some activity in the background. “She’s so picky, you know! Maybe we could make a surprise for her?”

“I...I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her yet today,” Spencer admitted, his voice nearly shaking. “But she loves Italian food, maybe pasta?” 

“Oh, of course! I’ll start with that, then. Thanks, Spencer!” they replied before hanging up, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

The call left Spencer feeling hollow, a growing sense of dread gnawing at him. He sank back into his chair, his mind reeling. Moments later, his phone rang again, and he picked it up without even glancing at the screen. This time, the voice on the other end was urgent and frantic, and Spencer’s heart sank as he listened. 

"Hello?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though the room was still buzzing around him.

“Spencer Reid?” a calm, authoritative voice inquired on the other end.

“Yes, this is he,” Spencer replied, straightening up slightly as he recognized the tone of someone delivering important information.

“This is St. Agnes Hospital in Washington, D.C.," the voice continued. "I’m calling about Y/N L/N.”

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. The mention of your name brought everything else to a halt, and he felt a wave of apprehension wash over him.

“She has been in an accident,” the voice said, and Spencer could hear the weight behind those words. “You are listed as her emergency contact, how soon can you get here?”

He froze, unable to process the words as they echoed in his mind. “An accident?” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happened?"

“There was a collision with a semi-truck,” the hospital staffer explained, their voice professional yet tinged with compassion. “Y/N was seriously injured. She’s currently in surgery, but it’s critical.”

Spencer's mind raced, each word like a punch to his gut. “Is she—” he started, his voice breaking. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We’re doing everything we can, Dr. Reid,” the worker reassured him gently. “But you should get here as soon as you can.”

He nodded, though the person on the other end couldn't see him, trying to gather his thoughts through the haze of shock. The room around him felt surreal, the voices of his colleagues fading into the background.

“Thank you,” Spencer managed to say, his voice shaky with barely restrained panic. “I’m on my way from Missouri, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

As he ended the call, Spencer abruptly returned, shoes pounding against the floor. His teammates noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, their conversations pausing as they turned to him with concern.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, noticing the ashen look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice tight with urgency. “There’s been an accident. I need to get home.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his things, already planning his route to the nearest airport in his head. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the urgency to be by your side, to hold your hand, to be there when you needed him most.

“We’ll cover things here,” Hotch assured him, stepping forward. “Go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, his voice holding gratitude and desperation. He turned to leave, his thoughts solely focused on getting back to you, hoping with every fiber of his being that he wouldn’t be too late.

—

Spencer couldn’t remember the flight home. The moments blurred together as his mind replayed the words over and over: life support, coma, severe accident. They echoed in his head, refusing to let him think of anything else. His team had rallied around him, offering words of support and handling the details to get him back as quickly as possible. 

As the plane touched down in Washington, Spencer felt the full weight of the situation crashing down on him. His legs trembled as he stood, a numbness spreading through his body as he made his way through the terminal. 

The hospital was a short drive away, and yet it felt like an eternity. He barely registered the buildings and streets flashing by as he sat in the back seat of a cab, his heart pounding with each passing moment. 

Finally, he arrived at the hospital, a large, imposing building that now seemed more like a fortress. Spencer rushed through the doors, barely acknowledging the bustling activity around him as he focused solely on reaching you. He navigated the maze of hallways with a determination that surprised even him, eventually finding his way to the ICU. 

Your room was sterile and filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines, each sound a stark reminder of your fragile condition. Spencer stopped short at the sight of you lying in the hospital bed, tubes and wires snaking across your body. His heart wrenched at the sight, a profound ache settling in his chest as he slowly approached. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. 

He took a shaky breath, feeling the enormity of the situation press down on him. He felt helpless, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest with the assistance of the ventilator, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. 

Spencer reached out, his hand trembling as he gently took yours. The warmth of your skin was a small comfort, a reminder that you were still there, still fighting. 

“I’m here,” he said softly, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Please, Y/N... please come back to me.” 

The room was silent except for the steady hum of the machines, and Spencer felt a tear slide down his cheek. He brushed it away, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

—

The hours that followed were a blur. Spencer sat by your side, his hand never leaving yours as he kept a silent vigil. The nurses and doctors came and went, their words and actions a distant murmur as Spencer focused solely on you. He remembered snippets of conversations, assurances that you were receiving the best care possible, and updates on your condition that offered little comfort. 

In those moments, Spencer clung to hope. He recalled all the times you had smiled at him, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited or passionate about something. He remembered the quiet moments you shared, the laughter and love that had blossomed between you over the past years. 

—

Three Days Later

Spencer hadn’t left the hospital since he arrived. The team had been by his side, offering support and keeping him company, but he barely registered their presence. All that mattered was you, and the hope that you would wake up and return to him. 

On the third day, the doctor came in with a more hopeful expression than before. He checked the monitors, made some notes, and then turned to Spencer with a small smile. 

“There’s been some improvement,” he said gently. “It’s a good sign. We’re going to try reducing the sedation and see how she responds.”

Spencer felt a flicker of hope at the words, his heart clenching with a mix of anticipation and fear. He nodded, unable to trust his voice as he watched the doctor adjust the IV line. They assured him they would keep him informed as soon as your surgery was complete and directed him to the waiting area, where he could collect himself while waiting for more information.

Spencer made his way to the waiting room, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Memories of you together flooded his mind: the quiet evenings spent curled up on the couch, the laughter shared over inside jokes, and the whispered promises of a future together. He sat down, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, wondering what the next few hours would bring.

—

The hours stretched on interminably, each tick of the clock echoing loudly in Spencer's ears as he waited in the sterile waiting room. He couldn't bring himself to focus on anything other than the thought of you, lying in surgery, fighting for your life. The antiseptic smell of the hospital, the murmur of other patients and visitors, all faded into the background as he replayed every memory he had of you in his mind, trying to cling to the hope that you would pull through.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached Spencer with a solemn expression. "Dr. Reid?" the doctor asked, and Spencer quickly stood, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Yes, that's me," Spencer replied, his voice fullof hope and anxiety.

"The surgery was successful," the doctor said, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We were able to stabilize her, and she's currently in the ICU under observation."

Spencer felt a rush of relief wash over him, though the gravity of the situation was still heavy on his shoulders. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you so much."

The doctor nodded, understanding the depth of Spencer's gratitude. "She's not out of the woods yet," the doctor continued, "but she's made it through the worst part. However, I need to prepare you for the possibility that there may be complications. We won't know the full extent until she regains consciousness."

Spencer nodded, taking in the doctor's words with a mix of relief and apprehension. He felt his breath catch in his throat, knowing that there was still a long road ahead, but grateful for the chance to be by your side as you began to recover.

—

You pulled through, but it wasn't without its challenges. When you finally awoke, the room was filled with the soft beeping of monitors and the faint hum of medical equipment. Everything felt disorienting as you blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, trying to make sense of where you were and what had happened.

Spencer was at your side, his eyes filled with relief and worry as he watched you stir. He reached out to take your hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You're awake."

You turned your head slightly, trying to focus on the man before you. He looked somewhat familiar, yet your mind struggled to place him. The last thing you remembered was being 18, living with your sister Emily, and yet here you were, in a hospital bed, with a stranger by your side.

"Who are you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Spencer felt his heart drop at your words, a painful realization settling in. He had hoped that when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, that you would go back to the life you had built together. But the look of confusion and fear in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"I'm Spencer," he said gently, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'm your boyfriend. We've been together for over two years. You live with me."

You shook your head slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his words. It felt like a dream, a reality you couldn't quite grasp. "No," you said, your voice breaking with frustration and fear. "I live with my sister, Emily. I don't know you."

Spencer felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but he forced himself to stay strong for you. He knew this was a possibility, that the trauma of the accident could have affected your memory, but hearing it from you was a different reality altogether. He took a deep breath, his heart aching with every word he prepared to say.

“Um, no. I—I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh…” Spencer tried to speak through the tears coming on, his voice trembling. “You are 25 years old, Emily is 38,  and you work as a liaison for the Sex Crimes Unit in the FBI. Emily and I work together in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We met through Emily, and now you live with me. You were in a severe car accident three days ago, and you may be suffering from amnesia.”

His words hung in the air like a cloud, heavy and dense, as you struggled to process what he was telling you. The hospital room felt colder, the sterile smell more pronounced, as your mind tried to catch up with the information being presented to you. Everything he said felt distant and unfamiliar, like a story someone else was telling, not your own life.

“Amnesia?” you repeated, the word foreign on your tongue. You could feel panic beginning to rise in your chest, the fear of the unknown pressing down on you. “How is this possible? I—I don’t remember any of this.”

Spencer’s heart broke at the fear in your eyes, and he longed to reach out and comfort you. But he knew that, to you, he was a stranger, someone who claimed to know you but didn’t feel real. He had to tread carefully, to give you space to process the situation at your own pace.

“It’s okay,” Spencer said softly, his eyes filled with compassion. “I know this is a lot to take in. You’ve been through so much, and I’m here for you. We can take this one step at a time. Whatever you need, I’m here to help.”

You looked at him, studying his face for any sign of deception or recognition, but all you saw was sincerity. It was both comforting and unsettling. Here was a man who seemed to care deeply for you, yet you couldn’t find a single memory to support his claims. It was like standing at the edge of a vast, unknown ocean, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

“I just... I don’t understand how I got here,” you said, your voice small and uncertain, the edges of panic sharpening your words. Your eyes filled with tears as you grappled with the enormity of your situation. “Where’s Emily? I want to see Emily,” you added, the tears now spilling over, and you could feel your chest tighten with fear and helplessness. 

Spencer felt a painful twist in his heart as he watched you cry, the sight of your distress cutting through him like a knife. He knew how much you relied on Emily before, but he had been your rock these past years. To not be able to comfort you in your time of need tore him apart. Despite the situation, he felt a glimmer of relief that you still remembered your sister, a familiar anchor in a sea of unfamiliar faces and places.

“She’s at home sleeping. I’ll give her a call,” Spencer assured you, reaching for his phone with a steady hand, though inside he felt anything but calm. He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay, but he understood that right now, Emily was the person you needed most. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. You wiped at your tears, feeling both grateful and overwhelmed by the kindness of this man who seemed so determined to help you, even though you couldn’t remember him.

Spencer stepped out into the hallway to make the call, wanting to give you a moment of privacy. The hospital corridor was quiet, save for the distant murmur of medical staff and the occasional beep of machinery. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before dialing Emily’s number. 

“Spencer?” Emily’s voice was groggy but instantly alert as she answered the call, concern evident in her tone. “Is everything okay? How’s Y/N?”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Emily, she’s awake,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “But she doesn’t remember anything from the past seven years. She thinks she’s still living with you.”

“Oh my God,” Emily breathed, the shock clear in her voice. “Is she okay? What did the doctors say?”

“They think it’s retrograde amnesia caused by the trauma of the accident,” Spencer explained, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. “She’s asking for you, Emily. She’s really scared.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Emily promised, already moving to get dressed. “Tell her I’m on my way, okay? And Spencer... thank you for being there with her. I know this must be incredibly hard for you.”

Spencer nodded, even though Emily couldn’t see him. “I’ll tell her. Drive safely.”

After ending the call, Spencer returned to your room, his heart heavy with the knowledge of how disorienting this must be for you. He found you sitting up slightly, your eyes still red from crying but showing a flicker of hope at the mention of your sister.

“Emily’s on her way,” Spencer said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “She should be here soon.”

You nodded, the knowledge that Emily was coming bringing you a semblance of comfort. But still, questions swirled in your mind, the uncertainty of your situation looming large.

"Thank you, um, what was your name again?" you asked softly, your voice hesitant and tinged with the confusion that clouded your mind. 

Spencer’s heart ached at the question, a painful reminder of the gap that now existed between you. But he managed a gentle smile, determined to be patient and understanding. 

“Spencer,” he said quietly, meeting your gaze with a steady warmth. “My name is Spencer.”

You nodded slowly, trying to commit his name to memory, even though it felt like grasping at straws. There was something comforting about the way he looked at you, a sense of safety that you couldn’t quite explain.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you repeated, hoping that saying his name would help anchor you in this unfamiliar reality. Despite the overwhelming uncertainty, you felt a small sense of reassurance knowing he was there, a steady presence in the storm of your fractured memories.

—

Emily arrived at the hospital within the hour, her eyes filled with concern and determination as she made her way to your room. When she saw you, relief flooded her features, and she rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, reassuring embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emily murmured, holding you tightly as she stroked your hair. “I’m here, Y/N. We’ll figure this out together.”

You clung to her, the familiar comfort of her presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. For the first time since waking up, you felt a sense of safety, a reminder of the life you remembered.

Spencer watched the reunion, his heart aching with a mixture of emotions. He was grateful that Emily was there for you, knowing how much you needed her support right now. But there was also a longing, a deep-seated hope that one day, you would remember the life you had built with him, the love that had grown between you.

As you leaned into Emily's embrace, you whispered, “Can you stay with me, please?” Your voice was soft, almost childlike in its vulnerability, and Spencer’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

Emily smiled gently, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as she nodded. “Of course, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she said, guilt tinging her words. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“It’s okay,” you replied, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Peter is really nice.”

The misstep in Spencer's name hit him like a physical blow, and yet he understood. You were trying your best to piece things together, to make sense of the world around you, and that meant trying to fit him into a picture that didn’t quite match the reality you remembered. 

Emily glanced at Spencer, a flicker of understanding in her eyes as she gave him a supportive nod. She knew how hard this must be for him, watching you struggle to recall the love and life you shared. 

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to return Emily’s nod with a small, grateful smile. He knew that rebuilding the bridge to your past wouldn’t be easy, but he was willing to do whatever it took to help you find your way back. 

He remained quiet, a gentle presence in the background as Emily continued to comfort you, knowing that while he might not be the one you remembered now, he would do everything in his power to be the one you’d remember in the future.

—

Spencer eventually went home, the weight of the last few days pressing heavily on his shoulders. The hospital had become a second home in the wake of the accident, but now, as he drove through the familiar streets of Quantico, he felt the exhaustion finally catch up with him. 

The apartment was quiet when he arrived, the silence amplifying the absence of your presence. He dropped his bag by the door and stood in the entryway for a moment, looking around the space that had been your shared sanctuary. Everything about it—the framed photos, the little touches that marked your shared life—felt like an echo of the past he was desperate to help you remember.

He made his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water cascaded over him, washing away the grime and fatigue, but doing little to ease the turmoil inside. As the steam filled the room, Spencer closed his eyes, allowing the water to drown out the noise in his head for just a moment. 

He thought about you, lying in that hospital bed, trying to piece together a life you couldn’t remember. The thought of your struggle weighed heavily on him, and he wished more than anything that he could simply take away the burden of your amnesia. But he knew that wasn’t possible, and it frustrated him deeply.

Stepping out of the shower, Spencer wrapped a towel around his waist and caught his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at him was etched with worry and sleepless nights. He knew he needed to rest, to recharge so he could be strong for you, but his mind was already racing with possibilities, with ways to help you find your way back to the life you had known.

Reluctantly, he made his way to the bedroom and sank into the mattress, pulling the covers over himself. 

—

When Spencer awoke, the morning light was filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He stretched, feeling the knots in his muscles protest at the movement, but he pushed through, determined to make the most of the day ahead.

His mind immediately returned to you and the questions that had haunted him since the accident. He needed answers, a plan, something tangible he could use to help you. Rising from the bed, he quickly dressed and made his way to the library, his thoughts already churning with possibilities.

The library was quiet, a haven of knowledge waiting to be tapped into. Spencer made his way through the aisles, pulling books from the shelves with practiced ease. He found volumes on neurology, psychology, and memory restoration, stacking them on the table as he prepared to dive deep into his research.

Sitting down, Spencer opened the first book, his fingers flipping through the pages with the kind of fervor only a man on a mission possessed. He absorbed every word, every study and theory on amnesia and retrograde amnesia, searching for anything that might provide a glimmer of hope.

He read about the mechanisms of memory, the ways trauma could affect the brain's ability to store and retrieve information. He learned about the potential for memory recovery, the techniques that could aid in jogging the mind back to the present, and the importance of emotional connections in bridging the gaps.

As the hours passed, Spencer lost himself in the sea of information, each new piece of knowledge building upon the last. He scribbled notes in the margins, cross-referencing studies and compiling a mental list of strategies he could employ to help you.

It was a daunting task, but Spencer felt a sense of purpose in the research, a way to channel his love for you into something tangible. He was determined to do everything he could to help you regain your memory, to guide you back to the life you had shared together. 

For Spencer, this was more than just a quest for answers—it was a testament to the bond that had grown between you, a bond he was unwilling to let go of. He was ready to fight for your future, to be there for you in whatever capacity you needed, until the day your eyes lit up with recognition and the memories flooded back. 

With renewed resolve, Spencer closed the book he was reading, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities. He gathered his notes, feeling a sense of determination settle over him. He would be there for you, no matter how long it took, until you found your way back to him.

—

Spencer called Emily, feeling a slight tremor in his fingers as he punched in her number. He knew how delicate your situation was, and he didn’t want to risk upsetting you with his presence if it would cause more harm than good. As the phone rang, he took a deep breath, hoping that Emily would have some insight into how you were doing and whether it would be okay for him to visit.

“Hello?” Emily’s voice came through the line, sounding calm but tinged with exhaustion.

“Emily, it’s Spencer,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nervousness fluttering in his chest. “I wanted to check in and see how Y/N is doing... and if it would be alright for me to come back to the hospital. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I think I might have found some helpful information on memory restoration tactics.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and Spencer could hear the soft murmur of the hospital in the background, the distant beeps of monitors and the hushed conversations of medical staff. Emily sighed softly, and he could picture her leaning against the wall outside your room, her hand running through her hair as she considered his request.

“Spencer, she’s been asking about you,” Emily finally said, her voice gentle and reassuring. “I think she wants to start trying to piece things together a little, and having you here might actually help.”

The fragments of your past felt like pieces of a puzzle scattered across the table, and you were trying to fit them together. The memory of just having graduated college and moving in with Emily in Europe while she worked for Interpol was clear in your mind, yet the reality you were living in contradicted that memory in every way. You obviously went to college, got an important job, met someone, and fell in love. That would be nice to remember.

The thought of your life now—a life filled with achievements, meaningful relationships, and moments of joy—was enticing. You felt a sense of longing to reconnect with those parts of yourself, to remember the paths that led you to where you were today. The idea of having accomplished so much, of having people in your life who cared deeply for you, filled you with both curiosity and determination.

You sat in the hospital bed, the beeping of the monitors a constant reminder of the present, and tried to reconcile the gap between what you knew and what was real. There was a sense of urgency within you, a desire to reclaim the life that had slipped through your fingers due to the accident.

As you contemplated this, Spencer arrived, a reassuring presence amidst the confusion. He had a folder in hand, filled with information he’d painstakingly gathered to aid in your recovery. His expression was one of quiet resolve, a testament to his commitment to helping you find your way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer greeted softly, taking a seat beside your bed. His eyes were warm and encouraging, and you couldn’t help but feel comforted by his presence. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve found some information that might help you remember.”

You nodded, eager to hear what he had discovered. The prospect of understanding more about your life, your achievements, and the connection you shared with Spencer filled you with hope.

Spencer opened the folder, revealing a collection of notes, articles, and studies on memory restoration and retrograde amnesia. “I’ve been looking into different techniques and therapies that could aid in restoring your memories,” he explained, his voice steady and full of purpose.

He began to outline the various strategies he had found, discussing everything from cognitive therapy and memory exercises to more experimental approaches. As he spoke, you listened intently, absorbing the possibilities and feeling a flicker of determination ignite within you.

“I believe that with the right approach and support, we can hopefully help you piece together your memories,” Spencer said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “I’m here to support you in whatever way you need. We can do this together, one step at a time.”

His words resonated with you, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a renewed sense of hope. The idea of reclaiming your memories, of rediscovering the life you had built, felt like a light at the end of a long tunnel. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “I want to remember.”

—

The hospital released you into Emily’s care. While the medical staff had done everything they could, the journey to regaining your memory would continue outside the hospital walls.

The decision to stay with Emily instead of Spencer hurt him, but it felt like the right choice for now. As much as Spencer wanted to be there for you, he understood the need for you to be in an environment that felt familiar and safe. The last thing he wanted was to push you further away by overwhelming you with too much, too soon.

“It’s okay,” Spencer assured you as you prepared to leave the hospital. His voice was steady, but the flicker of pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I understand. Emily will take good care of you, and I’m just a phone call away if you need anything.”

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. A part of you felt guilty for not choosing to stay with him, especially considering how kind and supportive he had been. But the gaps in your memory left you feeling adrift, and being with Emily was like holding onto a piece of your past that still made sense. Besides, he was still technically a stranger.

—

The drive to yours and Spencer’s apartment was quiet, Emily navigating the streets with the ease of someone who knew them well. You sat in the passenger seat, watching the city pass by, anticipation and apprehension swirling within you. This was a chance to see the life you had built, to find clues that might help bridge the chasm between the past you remembered and the present you couldn’t grasp.

Arriving at the apartment building, you felt a sense of déjà vu, as if you had been here countless times before, but it was all shrouded in fog. Emily led you up to the front door, her presence reassuring and calm as she unlocked it and gestured for you to step inside.

The apartment was warm and inviting, filled with little touches that spoke of a life shared between two people. You took a tentative step inside, your eyes scanning the space as you tried to grasp any spark of recognition. The furniture, the décor, the scent of your favorite candle burning on the coffee table—everything felt just out of reach.

But it was the photographs that caught your attention, lining the walls and filling the shelves with captured moments of happiness and love. You walked over to a series of framed photos, your heart aching at the sight of the images. There you were, smiling and laughing with Spencer, your faces filled with joy.

There was a picture of the two of you on a hiking trip, arms around each other as you gazed at the camera, the sun setting behind you. Another of you dancing together at what appeared to be a wedding, Spencer’s hand on the small of your back, your face lit with laughter.

And then there was the one that brought tears to your eyes—an image of you and Spencer sharing a tender kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gently holding your waist while the other stretched out to hold the camera. The love captured in that single moment was undeniable, and yet it was a memory you couldn’t access, a chapter of your life that felt painfully distant.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the weight of what you had lost settled over you. You turned away from the photos, covering your face with your hands as sobs wracked your body. The sadness was overwhelming, a deep, unbearable grief for the beautiful life you couldn’t remember.

Emily was at your side in an instant, her arm wrapping around you as she whispered soothing words, trying to calm the storm of emotions that had taken hold.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking with the depth of your sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I wish I could remember. I wish I could—”

Spencer’s expression was filled with compassion and understanding, though his heart ached at the sight of your distress. He longed to reach out and hold you, to reassure you that it was okay, that you would find your way back to him in time. But he knew that the memories were something you had to reclaim on your own.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer said gently, his voice soft and comforting. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Despite his reassuring words, the pain of not being able to remember was too much to bear. You were inconsolable, and Emily could see that you needed space to process everything, away from the emotional overload of the apartment.

“Let’s go home, Y/N,” Emily suggested softly, guiding you toward the door with a gentle touch. “We can come back another time when you’re ready.”

You nodded, allowing her to lead you away, the tears still streaming down your face. Spencer watched as Emily escorted you out, his heart heavy with sadness. 

—

The following Monday, the next step in your recovery journey was to visit your workplace, a place where you had spent countless hours building a career you could no longer remember. The decision to bring you back into the office was made with the hope that it might jog some of your lost memories, and while it felt daunting, you were determined to face it head-on.

Emily drove you to the FBI headquarters, the massive building both imposing and familiar as you approached. You had been nervous about this visit, unsure of how it would make you feel or what it might stir within you. Your unit chief had been extremely understanding about your situation, assuring you that you had all the time you needed to recover and that your job would be waiting for you if and when you were ready to return. The possibility of never coming back loomed large, but today was about exploring what felt right.

As you walked through the corridors, passing colleagues who greeted you with warm smiles and words of encouragement, you felt a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. The familiarity of the surroundings tugged at the edges of your mind, teasing you with whispers of recognition that were just out of reach.

When you finally reached your desk, something shifted within you. A small sense of familiarity washed over you, grounding you in a way that you hadn't expected. The space was uniquely yours, decorated with personal touches that reflected your personality and interests. The colorful keyboard and mouse pad, the photos adorning your workspace, all felt like pieces of yourself that you were slowly rediscovering.

Emily stood beside you, watching as you took it all in. Her presence was reassuring, a steady hand on your shoulder as you navigated the myriad of emotions swirling within you.

"This is your desk," Emily said gently, gesturing to the array of decorations and mementos that made it uniquely yours. 

You ran your fingers over the keyboard, tracing the familiar keys, and then turned your attention to the photos. There were images of you and Emily from your first apartment together in D.C., snapshots of a time when life felt full of possibility and adventure. Your eyes lingered on the photos of you and Spencer, capturing moments of joy and love that you desperately wished to remember.

One photo, in particular, caught your eye. It was of you and another person, both of you with wide smiles, arms wrapped tightly around each other, faces pressed together in a display of friendship and affection. The bond between you was evident, even in a still image, and you felt a pang of longing to recall the memories associated with it.

“Who are all of these people?” you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of sadness.

Emily leaned in, pointing to the photo of you and the person who seemed to be a close friend. “That is your best friend, Noah,” she explained. Her smile was warm, the fondness for your friendship evident in her tone. “You two have been inseparable for years. They’ve been by your side through thick and thin.”

You studied the photo, trying to summon any fragment of memory, but the connection eluded you. Still, it was comforting to know that you had someone like Noah in your life, a constant presence of support and friendship.

Emily then pointed to another photo, this one featuring a large group of people gathered in a spacious kitchen that looked to be part of a grand mansion. The scene was lively and filled with laughter, the closeness between everyone palpable even in a photograph.

“And that,” Emily said, gesturing to the group photo, “is my team. The Behavioral Analysis Unit, at David Rossi’s house for pasta and wine. It’s a tradition of ours to get together and unwind after a long week. You’ve become a part of that tradition too.”

The photo brought a sense of warmth and belonging that tugged at your heartstrings. Though you couldn’t remember the specifics of the event, the image conveyed a sense of community and acceptance, a reminder that you were surrounded by people who cared for you deeply.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—gratefulness for the connections you had forged, sadness for the memories that remained out of reach, and determination to piece it all together. As overwhelming as it was, the visit to your workplace had sparked something within you, a desire to reclaim the life you had lost and reconnect with the people who meant so much to you.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Emily,” you said softly, turning to your sister with gratitude in your eyes.

Emily smiled, her hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re doing great, Y/N.”

—

After spending some time familiarizing yourself with your desk and the environment, you felt a little more grounded. Emily suggested taking a break, and the two of you made your way to the break room for some coffee. The small talk and casual atmosphere provided a sense of normalcy, and you found yourself relaxing into the environment, even if it still felt like you were seeing it all for the first time.

As you sipped your coffee, Emily shared stories about the team, painting vivid pictures of the friendships that had developed over the years. Her words were filled with warmth, and you could sense the deep bond that connected everyone in the unit.

“–and then you and Penelope performed as much of the Rent musical as you could while Spencer took you home from girls' night.”

You laughed, a joyous feeling after all the sadness and confusion you’d been wearing like a cloud. It felt good to feel lighthearted again, if only for a moment, and the image of yourself belting out show tunes with Penelope at the top of your lungs was both hilarious and comforting.

“Was he mad?” you asked, picturing the scene in your mind.

“Quite the opposite,” Emily said, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the memory. “He asked you out the next week at work.”

“That’s so sweet,” you said, a warm glow spreading through you at the thought of Spencer’s patience and kindness. 

“He really loves you,” Emily added, her voice gentle and full of sincerity. 

You looked down at your coffee cup, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “I just can’t believe I’m loved so much by someone I don’t remember,” you said softly, your words carrying the weight of your current reality. 

Spencer hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but as he was walking to the break room, your voice reached his ears, and he froze just outside the door. The sound of your laughter was like music to him, a familiar melody he had sorely missed since the accident. It felt normal to hear you in the building, like it had been before, a sense of déjà vu that was both comforting and bittersweet.

But hearing that last snippet of conversation—that you couldn’t believe you were loved by someone you didn’t remember—was like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of how much had been lost, how fragile the threads of your connection had become in the wake of your amnesia.

Spencer’s heart clenched with longing and sadness. He wanted to be there with you, to share in the laughter and help rebuild the life you had once shared. Yet, he also knew that the path to healing was not a straight line and that you needed time to find your footing.

With a heavy heart, Spencer decided against going into the break room. He felt it would be too much to face you right then, knowing that he was part of the gap in your memory. He turned on his heel, heading back to his desk with a resolve to give you the space you needed while still being there for you in whatever way he could.

Back in his office, Spencer tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to you and the conversation he had overheard. He wished he could do more, be more, to help you remember. The thought of the love you had shared, a love you now couldn’t recall, weighed heavily on him.

—

Over the next few weeks, life became a series of ups and downs, filled with moments of both clarity and confusion. Living with Emily had its comforting moments—her presence a soothing balm to the chaos in your mind. You cherished the time you spent with her, grateful for the bond that had been rekindled. You missed Emily deeply during high school, and living with her felt like a second chance to reconnect and make up for lost time. 

But the reason for your reunion weighed heavily on you. You were so happy to be living with Emily again, until you remembered why. Some nights, the memories—or lack thereof—were overwhelming, and you’d find yourself crying silently into your pillow, grieving for the life you learned about but couldn’t recall. You mourned for the person you once were, the experiences you’d lost, and the love you had built with Spencer, a man who was now a stranger in your life.

In those darker moments, a part of you wondered if a second accident could somehow reverse the damage, though you knew deep down that it wouldn’t work. The thought was fleeting, a desperate whisper in your mind, quickly silenced by the knowledge that the path to healing lay elsewhere.

You wanted to love Spencer, you really did. Everything you’d learned about him painted a picture of a man who was kind, intelligent, and deeply devoted to you. But every time you looked at him, all you felt was a sense of apathy and resentment. It was an unfair burden, one you didn’t want to carry but couldn’t seem to shake. He knew you, but you didn’t know him. He had gotten to know the you that you couldn’t remember, had built a life with a version of yourself that no longer existed. 

Safe to say, you hadn’t spoken to anyone but Emily since that day at Spencer’s apartment. Despite Emily’s best efforts to coax you out of your shell, to encourage you to re-engage with the world, you found solace only in her presence. She would suggest small outings, opportunities to reintroduce you to the life you’d lived—a coffee date with Penelope, a lunch with Noah, a casual dinner with the BAU team—but you declined each invitation with a sense of dread.

—

Emily understood your reluctance, though she worried about the isolation you were imposing on yourself. She was patient, never pushing too hard, but she tried her best to gently encourage you to take those first steps toward reconnecting with your life.

"Y/N," she said one afternoon as you both sat in the living room, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. "I know it’s hard, but you have so many people who care about you. They’re all here, ready to support you whenever you’re ready."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the floor. “I know,” you replied softly, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “I just... I don’t know how to face them, Emily. It’s like they’re expecting me to be someone I’m not.”

Emily reached over, taking your hand in hers, her grip reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything,” she said gently. “They just want to be there for you, to help you find your way back. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be with you.”

Despite her words, the idea of facing Spencer or any of your friends felt daunting. It wasn’t just about remembering; it was about rebuilding a sense of self that had been shattered by the accident. You felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, unsure of how to fit back into the picture of your own life.

—

One night, as you lay in bed, the weight of it all pressed heavily on your chest. You stared at the ceiling, the darkness a mirror to the emptiness you felt inside. The person you were before the accident seemed like a ghost, haunting the edges of your consciousness, taunting you with glimpses of a life you couldn’t quite grasp.

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks as you grieved for the life you’d lost, for the love that was now a distant memory. It felt like an insurmountable chasm between the past and present, a gap you couldn’t bridge no matter how hard you tried.

You curled up under the covers, wishing for relief from the emotional storm, longing for a sense of belonging that remained elusive. But as much as you yearned for the past, you knew the journey to healing had to start from where you were now—from this moment, with its uncertainties and challenges.

Emily found you the next morning, the traces of tears still visible on your face. She didn’t say anything, simply pulled you into a hug, offering her silent support. You leaned into her embrace, grateful for the unconditional love and understanding she provided.

“I’m here, Y/N,” Emily murmured, her voice steady and reassuring. “Whenever you’re ready to take that next step, I’m here.”

—

On a random Tuesday morning, you regained a glimpse of yourself. It was an ordinary day, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you padded into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Emily was already there, pouring herself a cup and offering you a warm smile as you entered.

"Good morning," she said, her voice carrying the comforting tone you had come to rely on over the past few weeks.

“Did I bring any files home?” you asked, the question slipping out naturally as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I want to review the Cooper case.”

Emily whipped around so fast she thought she might get whiplash, her eyes wide with shock and a glimmer of hope. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice almost trembling with anticipation.

“The Cooper case?” you repeated, frowning slightly as you tried to grasp the memory that felt just within reach. “Oh, I wanted to review the evidence for the upcoming trial. I want to make sure that son of a bitch gets locked away.”

Emily’s face lit up with astonishment and disbelief, a slow grin spreading across her features. “Y/N… how do you remember that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

“What?” you blinked, the realization dawning on you like a gentle wave, the fog lifting ever so slightly. “Oh…” you murmured, the pieces clicking into place.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I remember!” you exclaimed, your heart pounding with excitement and relief.

“Do you remember anything else?” Emily asked eagerly, stepping closer as if to catch every word.

“My, um, my unit chief… her name is, uh, Sarah Freeman!” you said, a smile breaking across your face as more fragments of memory bubbled to the surface. It was like pulling on a thread and watching a tapestry unfold before your eyes.

“That’s amazing! You’re amazing!” Emily cheered, her eyes shining with pride and joy. She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly as if to anchor this precious moment in reality. “I’m going to call your doctor! Keep thinking!”

You nodded, your mind racing with possibilities. There was a thrill in the air, a sense of rediscovery that felt like sunlight streaming into a darkened room. 

—

As the days and weeks passed, your world gradually came into sharper focus. You began to remember more and more, and your doctors believed that your brain was finally healing from the trauma of the accident, allowing you to access information that had been temporarily locked away. It was as if the fog that had settled over your mind was beginning to lift, and the memories of your life were emerging from the shadows.

With each passing day, you started seeing people more. The familiarity of their faces and the warmth of their presence became less overwhelming and more comforting. You remembered small bits of Noah, moving in with Emily, a few girls’ nights, and coffee dates with Penelope. Each memory was like a small gift, a piece of the puzzle that was slowly coming together.

Whenever you shared a memory with someone, it was met with tears of joy and hugs of relief. They were all so patient and understanding, celebrating every little moment of rediscovery with you. It was a testament to the love and support that surrounded you, a constant reminder that you were not alone on this journey.

—

With your birthday approaching, the excitement in the air was palpable. Everyone was thrilled that they would at least get to celebrate with you, even if the memories of past birthdays were still hazy. The anticipation of the party, the chance to be surrounded by the people who meant so much to you, filled you with a sense of hope and gratitude.

The only person you couldn’t seem to remember, however, was Spencer. Despite the progress you were making with others, there was an inexplicable block when it came to him. It was as if the memories you shared were trapped behind a door that refused to open, no matter how hard you tried. 

Spencer felt the weight of this exclusion acutely. While everyone else reveled in your regained memories, he remained on the outside, watching as you reconnected with the life you’d once shared. At first, he tried to be patient, understanding that recovery was a complex and unpredictable process. But as time went on and the memories continued to elude you, Spencer began to feel a growing frustration, a simmering resentment that he struggled to contain.

—

The night of your birthday party arrived, and Emily had invited everyone important to you: the BAU team, Noah, your unit chief, and colleagues. The apartment was filled with laughter and music, the air buzzing with the joy of celebration. You moved through the crowd, receiving hugs and well-wishes, feeling more like yourself than you had in months.

The party was a joyful affair, filled with the warmth of friends and loved ones, each of them eager to share in the celebration of your continued recovery. You spent time with everyone, enjoying the opportunity to catch up and reconnect. 

You found yourself talking to Derek Morgan, recounting a small memory that had surfaced earlier in the day—a humorous moment from a case your units had worked on together. Derek’s laughter echoed through the room, a rich, joyful sound that drew the attention of others nearby. 

Spencer overheard your conversation with Derek and felt the frustration within him build past his boiling point. It was like a dam breaking, all the emotions he had tried to keep in check spilling over into an overwhelming wave. The exclusion, the constant reminder that you remembered everyone but him, finally pushed him to the edge.

Unable to contain his feelings any longer, Spencer stormed past you, his shoulder bumping into yours as he made his way toward the front door. The suddenness of his actions caught you off guard, the usually sweet and gentle Spencer now a storm of emotions.

“Spencer?” you called after him, confused by the abruptness of his departure. You quickly excused yourself from Derek and followed Spencer, determined to understand what had upset him.

You found Spencer in the hallway of the building, his back turned to you as he tried to compose himself. But when he turned around, you saw the angry tears in his eyes, the hurt etched across his features. It was a side of Spencer you hadn’t seen before, and it unsettled you.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle but firm, wanting to understand the source of his pain.

He took a deep breath, his emotions churning within him. The question felt like a catalyst, igniting the frustration and hurt he had been holding onto for so long. And then, finally, he exploded, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger and anguish.

“Why, Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was raw, filled with desperation and resentment. “Why do you remember everyone but me? Do you secretly remember me but don’t know how to break it off, so you keep pretending you don’t know me?”

His accusation hung in the air, sharp and cutting. It was a blow that took your breath away, the depth of his pain evident in every word. Spencer’s eyes bore into yours, searching for answers, for some explanation that could make sense of the exclusion he felt so deeply.

“I’m not pretending, Spencer,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the shock of his words settling over you like a heavy fog. “I wish I could remember. I want to remember you more than anything.”

Spencer’s expression shifted, hurt and frustration warring within him. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “It just feels like... like I’m the only one left out,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I watch you remember all these moments, all these people, and I keep hoping that one day you’ll look at me and just... know.”

His words hung in the air, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you—a distance neither of you wanted, but couldn’t seem to bridge. It was like standing on opposite sides of a vast chasm, reaching for one another but never quite able to touch.

“You think this is easy for me?” you shot back, your voice rising with each word. “Do you think I wanted to get hit by a semi and lose my memories? No! I want it all back, I want my life back.” You took a step closer, the intensity of your emotions propelling you forward. “Do you know how much it kills me that you know a version of me that I don’t? You want her back, and so do I, but Jesus Christ, Spencer! I’m not her, I can’t just be her, I’m fucking trying, okay?”

The hallway seemed to close in around you as you stood there, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise at the raw honesty in your voice, the depth of your struggle laid bare before him.

“I know you’re trying,” Spencer said, his voice softening even as his frustration simmered beneath the surface. “But it’s so hard to watch you remember everyone else and not me. It feels like I’m losing you all over again, every single day.”

"I’m losing myself too!” you replied, your voice breaking with emotion. “Every time I remember something, it’s like I’m meeting a stranger who’s supposed to be me. It’s terrifying, and I don’t know how to make it better. And it doesn’t help when I’m constantly reminded that you’re disappointed in me too.”

Spencer ran a hand over his face, his own anger and hurt warring with the compassion he still felt for you. He wanted to say the right thing, but his emotions were tangled, pulling him in different directions. The frustration that had built up over the weeks finally met the compassion he still felt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the fight leaving his voice as he took a step back, trying to regain control. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the anger giving way to vulnerability. “I know it’s not fair to put this on you. God, I’m not disappointed in you, I’m just... I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared that I’ll never get you back.”

The vulnerability in his words pierced through your own defenses, the rawness of his confession echoing the fears that had plagued you both. It was as if the anger that had fueled the argument had stripped away the layers, leaving only the truth of your shared fears and insecurities.

You sighed, your own anger giving way to a wave of exhaustion and sadness. The argument had drained you both, leaving behind a hollow ache that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’m scared that I’ll never be able to remember the love we had, that I’ll never be able to be the person you fell in love with.”

Spencer's eyes met yours, and you could see the struggle within him—the longing to reach out and bridge the gap between you, the desire to hold onto the love that had once been so strong and certain. “You’re still the person I fell in love with,” he said softly, his voice tinged with desperation. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but you are. And I don’t want to lose you, even if it means starting over.”

His words hung in the air, a lifeline thrown across the chasm that had opened between you. You took a deep breath, the weight of his words. 

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer spoke up, his voice laced with vulnerability. His eyes held yours, searching for an answer he seemed afraid to hear but needed to know nonetheless.

“Of course,” you replied, curious about what was weighing so heavily on him. You wanted to reassure him, to offer some comfort amid the storm of emotions that had engulfed you both.

“Do you find me attractive?” Spencer’s question was simple, yet it held a complexity of emotions—self-doubt, insecurity, a desire for reassurance.

“Spencer… what?” you asked, taken aback by the suddenness of his inquiry. You hadn’t expected that question, and yet, as you looked at him, you realized how important your answer would be.

He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping for a moment before returning to yours, the raw honesty in his expression clear as day. “Do you think that I am attractive? Even now, that you don’t remember me?”

You considered his question carefully. Spencer was undeniably an attractive person—his features were striking, with a gentle kindness in his eyes and a quiet strength in his posture. There was an undeniable allure to him, a magnetic pull that you felt even in your current state of confusion. 

You imagined seeing him in a bar or a crowded room, where his presence would stand out, where you would undoubtedly look twice. His intelligence, the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, and the kindness in his eyes were all qualities that would draw you in.

“Yes,” you replied honestly, your voice steady and sincere. “Yes, Spencer, I find you attractive.”

Spencer let out a small breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he absorbed your answer. There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, a subtle shift that spoke volumes about how much your opinion mattered to him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice a blend of gratitude and something deeper, something that felt like hope.

You took a step closer, wanting to close the distance between you. “Spencer, it’s not just about looks,” you added, wanting to make him understand. “I may not remember everything, but I can see the person you are. The way you care, the way you’ve been so patient with me… that’s what makes you truly attractive.”

His lips curved into a tentative smile, the tension in his features easing as your words reached him. It was a smile that held the promise of new beginnings, a shared understanding that even in the absence of memory, there was a foundation upon which you could rebuild.

Spencer nodded, a small chuckle escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture you found endearing. “I guess I just needed to hear it,” he admitted, his vulnerability laid bare in that moment.

You nodded, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, your voice filled with determination.

Spencer's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch gentle yet reassuring. The simple act of holding hands felt like a small victory, a step toward rebuilding the connection that had been so abruptly severed.

“You couldn’t possibly remember this,” Spencer said with a wry smile, “but I don’t usually touch people’s hands. It’s actually safer to kiss; fewer germs are spread that way.”

You let out a laugh, the tension between you dissolving into a moment of lightness. It was the first genuine laugh you'd shared since the accident, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” you replied, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin. “But if that’s a line, it’s not working.”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s not a line, I promise,” he said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Just one of those strange facts about me you’ll probably hear more about as you get to know me again.”

“Good to know,” you said, your smile softening into something more sincere. “But for now, hand-holding is just fine.”

—

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and joy, a celebration not just of your birthday but of the progress you had made and the hope that lay ahead. Surrounded by friends and loved ones, you felt a sense of belonging, a reminder that even in the midst of adversity, there was a community that held you close.

As the night drew to a close, you and Spencer stood together on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance like stars. It was a moment of quiet reflection, a chance to breathe and appreciate the small victories that had brought you to this point.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Spencer said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that resonated deep within you. 

You turned to him, your heart full of gratitude and the promise of what was to come. “Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, your words laced with sincerity.

—

“Y/N! Spencer is here for you!” Emily called out from the living room, her voice carrying through the apartment with an excited lilt that made you smile.

You were in your bedroom, putting the finishing touches on your outfit, excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. Today marked your fifth date with Spencer, a milestone that felt both exhilarating and significant as the two of you continued to rebuild your relationship from the ground up.

The past few weeks had been a journey of rediscovery. You and Spencer had taken it slow, giving each other the space and time needed to navigate the complexities of your situation. Each date had been a new beginning, a chance to learn about each other all over again, and it had been going well—better than you had dared to hope.

You’d spent hours talking about everything and nothing, sharing stories and memories that both filled in the gaps and created new ones. There were still moments of hesitation and uncertainty, but they were gradually being replaced by laughter and warmth, a growing sense of familiarity that felt like home.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you adjusted your necklace and took a deep breath, feeling a thrill of anticipation for the evening ahead. You made your way to the living room, where Emily was chatting with Spencer, her eyes lighting up with the kind of mischief only a big sister could muster.

“Hey, Spencer,” you greeted him with a smile, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest that had become a welcome sensation. “Ready to go?”

Spencer turned toward you, his face breaking into a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. He looked dapper in a casual blazer and slacks, an outfit that struck the perfect balance between relaxed and stylish.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with admiration as he took in your appearance. "If I had known you were going to look this stunning, I would have worn my best suit."

You laughed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, please, you look great," you replied, meeting his gaze with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think we match perfectly. You know, two fashion icons taking on the city."

Emily watched the exchange with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased to see the chemistry between you and Spencer reigniting. She gave you a playful nudge, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “Have fun, you two,” she said, ushering you toward the door. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at Emily’s antics, before turning back to Spencer. “Shall we?” you asked, extending your hand toward him.

Spencer took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that sent a reassuring pulse of connection between you. “We shall,” he replied with a grin, leading you out the door and into the evening that awaited.

—

The drive was filled with easy conversation, the kind that flowed naturally and effortlessly between you. You chatted about everything from work to your favorite TV shows, reveling in the comfort of each other’s company.

“So, where are we going tonight?” you asked, curious about the plans Spencer had made for your date.

“It’s a surprise,” he said cryptically, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “But I think you’re going to love it.”

“Really?” you said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Are you sure it’s not just another one of your ploys to impress me?”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Would it be working if it was?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” you teased, giving him a flirtatious glance as the car continued through the city.

Eventually, you arrived at a charming little restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was the kind of place that exuded warmth and intimacy, the cozy ambiance inviting you in as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Wow, this place is lovely,” you said, taking in the dim lighting, the soft music playing in the background, and the delicious aroma of Italian cuisine wafting through the air.

Spencer smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I thought it might be a nice spot for us to relax and enjoy some good food,” he said, leading you to a table by the window that offered a view of the city lights twinkling in the distance.

“So, any more memories come back recently?” Spencer asked gently, his tone curious yet considerate, as if he knew the subject was still delicate.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of excitement as you recounted some of the fragments that had returned. “I remembered a trip I took with Emily last year to the beach. We ended up getting caught in a rainstorm and had to take cover in this little café, where we spent the afternoon playing board games. It was such a fun day.”

Spencer listened intently, a smile tugging at his lips as you spoke. “That sounds amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “You know, we had a similar rainy day adventure once. It involved an umbrella, a very wet cat, and an impromptu rendition of Singin’ in the Rain in a park.”

“Did we now?” you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “Are you sure you weren’t just trying to get me to fall for your charming rendition of a classic?”

“Guilty as charged,” Spencer admitted with a laugh, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

“Tell me, though, did we kiss in the rain?” you asked, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Spencer blushed, a charming pink spreading across his cheeks. “We might have…”

“How scandalous!” you replied, feigning shock, but the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

“You were the one who initiated it!” Spencer shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh yeah, am I just supposed to believe you?” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a smirk. “You could be making it all up just to impress me.”

“Well,” Spencer said, a hint of mischief in his voice, “it is supposed to rain later. We could test out the theory.”

“Spencer Reid, you dog!” you exclaimed, laughing at the thought of dancing in the rain with him.

You shared a laugh, the sound mingling with the gentle hum of the restaurant around you. It felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

—

After dinner, you and Spencer strolled through a scenic path in the park, hand in hand. The night was pleasantly cool, and the stars dotted the sky like scattered jewels. The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, a blend of teasing and genuine connection that made the evening feel special.

“I thought it was supposed to rain?” you mused aloud, glancing up at the sky.

“Are you disappointed it’s not?” Spencer asked, a playful edge in his voice as he followed your gaze.

“Are you going to kiss me anyway?” you replied with a teasing smile, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Spencer froze up for a moment, caught off guard by the boldness of your question. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind, each one tangling with the next. 

He had been nervous to make any moves on you ever since you’d started dating again. What if you didn’t like how he kissed anymore? Or his scent, or taste? What if you two didn't have rhythm anymore? The fear of these possibilities had kept him in check, cautious and tentative.

“What’s going on in that big brain?” you asked, your voice gentle and full of curiosity. You squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present. Your touch was reassuring, a reminder that the connection between you was as strong as ever.

Spencer shook his head slightly, chuckling at himself. “Just... overthinking, as usual,” he admitted, meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin. “I’ve just been worried that maybe things aren’t the same between us.”

You tilted your head, regarding him with a soft smile. “Spencer, nothing about you could ever disappoint me. We might be rebuilding things, but I think that’s what makes it exciting. We get to discover everything all over again.”

He nodded, his apprehension slowly melting away as your words resonated with him. The sincerity in your voice was like a balm, soothing the insecurities that had plagued him.

“And besides,” you added with a playful twinkle in your eye, “I think we both know we’ve still got that spark.”

Spencer laughed, his tension finally breaking as he took a step closer. The warmth of your presence enveloped him, and he realized how much he had missed these moments with you—the teasing, the laughter, and the unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the gap of memory.

“You’re right,” Spencer said, his voice softening as he gazed into your eyes. “I’d be more than happy to kiss you, rain or no rain.”

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. As he leaned in, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you beneath the starlit sky.

When Spencer’s lips met yours, it was like coming home. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of the familiar territory that quickly blossomed into something deeper. His lips were soft and warm, and the familiar scent of his skin surrounded you like a comforting embrace. 

All the previous worries melted away as you found your rhythm together, the familiarity and connection more than you could have hoped for. Spencer’s kiss was tender but charged with an intensity that made your heart race, a reminder of the passion and warmth that had always been at the core of your relationship.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips. Spencer responded in kind, his hands finding their place on your face, drawing you into him as if he was afraid to let go. 

The kiss deepened, and it was as if time had stopped, the world around you fading away until only the two of you remained. Lips slotted together perfectly, tongues gliding in a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. 

You felt Spencer’s teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip, a playful gesture that made you gasp softly against his mouth. The small sound seemed to spur him on, and you could feel the gentle pressure of his hands pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. 

In that moment, everything felt right—the way his lips moved against yours, the warmth of his touch, and the gentle thrum of your heartbeat syncing with his. It was a moment of pure connection, a dance of lips and breath and emotion that left you both feeling dizzy and alive. 

You could feel the tension and uncertainty of the past few weeks melting away, replaced by a deep sense of belonging and peace. As you finally pulled back, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back at you—the warmth, the longing, the hope that you both shared.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless but smiling, the shared moment leaving a lingering warmth that seemed to wrap around you both.

“Wow,” you murmured, gazing up at Spencer with a soft, genuine smile. “That was... perfect.”

Spencer chuckled, relief and joy evident in his eyes. “I’d say it was pretty amazing,” he agreed, still holding you close.

You both lingered there for a while, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, the cool breeze whispering through the trees, the world feeling just a little bit brighter.

—

As you continued your stroll through the park, the clouds did open up, and the rain did come, soaking both you and Spencer. The unexpected shower was a sudden thrill, droplets of water cascading down your hair and cheeks, drenching your clothes in moments. The rain brought a fresh, invigorating scent to the air, wrapping around you like a cool embrace as you and Spencer burst into laughter.

“You said you wanted rain,” Spencer quipped, looking at you with a playful glint in his eye, water droplets clinging to his hair and eyelashes.

“I did, didn’t I?” you giggled, brushing a lock of wet hair out of your face. You both sprinted toward his car, shoes splashing through puddles, the sound of your laughter mingling with the rhythm of the rain.

You reached the car, breathless and exhilarated, climbing inside and closing the door behind you. The heated air enveloped you both in a welcome warmth, and you shivered slightly, feeling the chill of your soaked clothes. 

Spencer turned on the car’s heater, and soon the air filled with warmth, contrasting the rain still pelting the car roof outside. You shared a look of amusement, the shared adventure bringing a delightful sense of connection.

“I don’t want to go home, but I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, glancing down at your soaked clothes with a bemused smile. 

“We could… go back to our—my apartment and change. Maybe watch a movie?” Spencer suggested, his voice soft and inviting, a hint of hesitation in his words as if worried you might say no.

You met his eyes, the warmth in them offering reassurance. “I’d love that,” you replied, your heart fluttering with the anticipation of spending more time with him.

—

Spencer drove you both back to the apartment, the windshield wipers swishing rhythmically as the rain continued its steady drumming against the car. It was your first time returning to the apartment since the night you’d cried there, overwhelmed by the weight of memories you couldn’t quite grasp. But now, the thought of revisiting felt different, less daunting and more like a step forward.

As you entered the apartment, you paused to take it all in again—the familiar scent, the little touches that made the space feel like home. Spencer watched you with a gentle smile, allowing you to explore at your own pace, offering silent support as you reacquainted yourself with the surroundings.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Spencer asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “All of your stuff is still in there.”

“Um, sure. Thank you,” you replied, grateful for the chance to shake off the chill of the rain.

You made your way to the bathroom, feeling a sense of nostalgia as you stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The shower was just as you remembered it, a familiar haven of warmth and comfort.

The water was soothing as it cascaded over you, washing away the rain and the lingering remnants of the day’s adventure. You felt a sense of relaxation settling in, a quiet moment of peace as you let the warmth envelop you.

But then, as you turned too quickly, your foot slipped, and you fell onto your tailbone with a startled yelp. 

“Ow!” you exclaimed, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain.

“Y/N?? Are you okay?” Spencer’s voice called out from the other side of the door, filled with concern.

“Yeah! I just fell,” you called back, trying to keep your tone light despite the embarrassment.

“I’m coming in,” Spencer announced, the worry evident in his voice.

“Wait, Spencer, no—” you began, but he was already in the bathroom, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

He saw your naked form on the ground of the tub through the clear glass, his expression filled with worry and, perhaps, just a touch of awkwardness.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and amusement.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” he asked, his concern overriding any sense of propriety.

“I’m fine, I’m naked!” you replied, laughing at the absurdity of the situation even as you tried to cover yourself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Spencer said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I forget. I’ve seen you naked many times.”

“That is so weird,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

Spencer laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “I don’t think so,” he said, his voice softening into something more tender.

“Can I see you then? Even it out?” you asked, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.

“I’ve seen you naked before, right?” you continued, your playful tone belying the genuine affection in your gaze.

“Well, yes, but it’s different,” Spencer stammered, trying to maintain his composure.

“So it’s okay for you to see me, but not for me to see you?” you challenged, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Come get in the shower and help me up.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then his expression softened into a smile, affection and delight playing across his features. “Alright,” he said, his voice filled with laughter. “Just this once.”

He quickly shed his clothes and joined you in the shower, his presence a comforting warmth amid the steam and water. With a gentle touch, he helped you up, his hands steady and reassuring as he held you close.

“Thank you,” you said softly, meeting his eyes with a smile. 

Spencer’s gaze was warm and tender, his hands lingering on your waist as he smiled back at you. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice a gentle promise. 

Your eyes couldn’t help themselves as they wandered downward, taking in the sight of him. The realization that you were both standing there, unashamedly bare, brought a new kind of awareness that was both amusing and endearing.

“Y/N!” Spencer laughed. “Eyes up here.”

“I'm sorry,” you said with a playful smirk, your eyes darting back up to meet his. “It’s human nature, after all.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But at least pretend to be subtle.”

“You’re quite large,” you teased, unable to resist the opportunity to keep the mood light. “Are you a grower still? Or always a shower?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his hands instinctively moving to cover himself as he groaned, “Oh my godddd.”

“Answer the question, and I’ll shut up,” you promised, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you looked at him with mock innocence.

With a sigh of resignation, Spencer removed his hands, his expression a mix of bashfulness and humor. “Still a grower,” he admitted, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Lucky me!” you exclaimed, your tone full of playful triumph.

Spencer shook his head, his laughter infectious as he declared, “Not anymore, this was great. Goodbye!” He made a half-hearted attempt to step out of the shower, clearly feigning an exaggerated exit.

“Not so fast!” you interjected, grabbing his arm and pulling him back gently, your own laughter bubbling up as you did so.

His eyes met yours again, and the playful banter settled into something softer, a mutual understanding that transcended words. The silliness of the moment gave way to a quiet intimacy, the kind that came from truly seeing one another and finding joy in simply being together.

As the water continued to rain down, you and Spencer stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, feeling a sense of comfort and safety that went beyond the physical. 

You both eventually turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, towels wrapped snugly around you. The steam-filled bathroom felt like a private world where the rest of the day’s worries faded away.

—

Once dried and dressed in cozy clothes, you settled into the living room, the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air as you curled up on the couch together. The rain had stopped outside, leaving a soft patter of droplets against the windows, the perfect backdrop for a cozy movie night.

Spencer draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “So, what’s our viewing pleasure tonight?” he asked, his voice filled with a relaxed contentment.

“I was thinking something classic,” you suggested, snuggling into his side. “Maybe a bit of Casablanca?”

“Casablanca, it is,” Spencer agreed, reaching for the remote with a smile.

As the movie played, you found yourself not only immersed in the storyline but also in the warmth of Spencer’s presence beside you. The shared laughter, the gentle teasing, the comfortable silence—it all felt like home.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, you find yourself nestled in the bed, no longer on the couch. The room is softly lit with the early morning sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. Spencer is still sound asleep next to you, his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace. His breathing is steady and calm, and you watch him for a moment, feeling a rush of affection for this man who has been so patient and kind through everything.

Wanting to do something kind for him, you slowly and carefully extricate yourself from his embrace, trying not to wake him. You slip out of bed, pulling on his robe as you head to the kitchen to make some coffee, a small gesture of appreciation for the many times he’s been there for you.

As you move about the kitchen, the familiar routine of making coffee brings a sense of comfort. You smile to yourself as you measure out the coffee grounds and water, the rich aroma filling the air. It feels good to be doing something for him, even if it’s just a small gesture.

When Spencer finally wakes up, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lures him from the cocoon of blankets. In his sleep-delirious haze, he doesn’t realize anything has changed, and he instinctively walks into the kitchen, still half-asleep, and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Morning, Spence,” you say softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace as you continue to stir the coffee.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” he mumbles into your hair, his voice thick with sleep.

“I made your coffee, just how you like it,” you say with a smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the little surprise you’ve prepared for him.

“Black, seven teaspoons of sugar?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of playful suspicion.

“Precisely,” you reply, leaning back to kiss his head where it’s nestled against your neck. You love the way his hair feels soft and slightly tousled from sleep, the familiarity of the moment wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Spencer hums contentedly, the combination of your affection and the promise of coffee stirring him more fully awake. You hand him a steaming mug, and he takes a grateful sip, savoring the sweet warmth.

“Thought we could call Diana today, check in on her progress,” you suggest casually, remembering the conversations you’ve had about keeping in touch with his mom.

Spencer’s mind is still catching up to the morning, the mention of his mother registering slowly. “Okay, that’s a good id–wait… what?” His eyes widen as he pulls back slightly, looking at you with surprise and hope.

“Diana, babe? Your mom? I haven’t talked to her in a while, and I wanted to see how she was doing,” you say, turning to face him, your own excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

“Y/N, are you messing with me?” Spencer asks, his voice a blend of disbelief and anticipation, as if he’s afraid to hope too much.

“No… Are you okay, Spence?” you ask gently, reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. 

“Spence? My coffee preference? My mom?” Spencer’s eyes search yours, an array of emotions flickering across his face. “What are you not telling me?”

You smile, unable to contain your excitement any longer. “Oh, I woke up this morning with a few memories of our time together.”

Spencer’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from confusion to pure joy. “You remember?” he asks, voice filled with a hopeful wonder that sends a warm thrill through you.

“Bits and pieces,” you admit, nodding as you set your own coffee down on the counter. “It’s like little snapshots coming back, but they’re there. And you were in them.”

His face lights up with a brilliant smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and sends warmth flooding through you. “That’s amazing, Y/N,” he says, pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping you completely.

You melt into his hug, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. It’s a moment of connection and triumph, a small victory in the long journey of reclaiming the life you once shared.

“I’m so happy,” Spencer murmurs, his voice muffled by your hair but no less filled with emotion. “I’ve missed you—every version of you.”

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze with a smile that mirrors his own. “I’ve missed you too, Spence. I can’t wait to see what else comes back.”

Spencer leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. His touch was a gentle reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be, a soothing balm to the uncertainty that had lingered since the accident. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent a wave of comfort through you, a reminder that love was a constant, waiting patiently to be remembered.

“I love you,” Spencer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with sincerity and a gentle vulnerability. “Can I say that now? Is that okay?”

His eyes searched yours, seeking not just permission but a confirmation that the love you once shared was finding its way back, stronger and more resilient than before.

“Only if it’s okay for me to say I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with the depth of emotion that had grown in your heart. 

The words were a quiet declaration, an acknowledgment of the bond that had endured through the haze of forgotten memories and the challenges of the past. It was a promise of the future you were eager to explore together, a future built on the foundation of love and understanding.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a joy that mirrored your own. “Then it’s more than okay,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection.

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the morning, the aroma of coffee mingling with the soft light filtering through the kitchen. It was a simple moment, yet it held the weight of everything you had been through together, a testament to the resilience of love and the power of memory.

“Come here,” Spencer said, pulling you into another embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting reminder of the life you were rediscovering together. In that embrace, you found not just comfort but a sense of belonging that had been waiting for you to come home to.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite

[woso-dreamzzz]

Run, Run, Run III

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Alexia Putellas x Ex!Reader

Summary: Your ex and your girlfriend spot you at the same time

You notice her too late.

You'd hoped to fade into the background.

The warm ups are still going on and the stadium is nowhere near full.

You'd spotted your girlfriend instantly, laughing with Codi and someone else that you didn't recognise - maybe the other Laia, the one that your girlfriend played with for club football but you're not certain.

They were all too far away for that.

She looks happy though, Leila that is. She's smiling and laughing and joking around with the girls.

She's not the problem here.

You'd arrived at the stadium early. You hadn't even told her that you were going to be here. You'd pulled your hoodie up like it would protect you from everything, like it could provide a big enough barrier to hide you from everyone but Leila.

You should have known it wouldn't happen like that.

You should have known that you would have been spotted.

You should have known that the one person you didn't want to see you would.

You'd be in her orbit for a while like she had been in yours. It was naïve to think she wouldn't notice you, to think that she wouldn't spot you from a mile away.

There's no one else in your section. There's no one around you.

The steward can't stop her. They don't even try.

Alexia leaps over the barrier neatly and you stare past her to see the moment Leila has realised what's happened.

"Mi vida," The words are familiar from her lips, sweet saccharine tone that you desperately try to shake off," My love. Baby."

She reaches for you and you move away.

Your hands clench into fists on your lap.

"Don't." Your voice is surprisingly strong for how much you're shaking inside.

"Mi vida, I-"

"Alexia, don't make this harder than it needs to be."

She's silent for a moment, the cogs in her brain turning ever so slowly before she tries again, slipping into the seat next to you.

"I'm sorry," She says finally," For what happened?"

You flinch, jaw clenching for a moment. You can't work out her angle - whether she's actually being truthful or if there's an ulterior motive here.

"Good," You say," You should be."

She doesn't expect that response and there's silence for a beat more before she speaks again.

"I don't know what I was thinking. It was stupid of me to do it when I knew I had you at home waiting for me."

Her intentions are still unclear and your brain scrambles to try and keep you safe, to tread this path as carefully as you can.

"Thank you," Is what you settle on," For apologising."

Her eyes light up and you know you may have mistepped.

"Mi vida, let me take you out to dinner. I'll make this-"

"Y/n."

The conversation between you and your ex has been stilted and slow. It was more than enough time for Leila to arrive. She stands in the row of seats directly in front of you.

She reaches out for your hand.

You let her take it, soft fingers brushing over your knuckles as you squeeze as tight as you dare.

"Hey." Your voice is little more than a whisper now, spine straight as you stare into your girlfriend's eyes.

She doesn't even look at Alexia, doesn't see the affronted look on her captain's face. Because she's looking at you and only looking at you.

Her gaze hasn't strayed at all. You don't think it's ever strayed from you even when you're out together on date night and girls try to worm their ways into her lap.

You're the only one Leila looks at. The only one that has Leila's undivided attention.

"Hey, beautiful," She says with that soft smile she always has when you're at her matches," I didn't expect to see you today."

Alexia melts away next to you. You don't even know if she's still there. You can't find it in yourself to care either.

The only thing that matters right now is you and Leila.

Leila, your beautiful girlfriend who loves you and has never so much as looked at another girl when she had you at home waiting for her.

"I thought it was time," You admit.

You pull your hand from Leila's and unzip your hoodie.

"I hope you don't mind," You say," I didn't want to turn up in your City jersey."

Leila's mouth goes dry all of a sudden at her name on your back. It's one thing to see it in a City shirt. It's another thing to see you wearing her Spain jersey.

"You look beautiful."

"You always say that."

"It's always true."

Your face glows with heat but you can't bring yourself to look away.

There's nothing else you can focus on but Leila. You don't know if Alexia has finally left. You don't know if the stadium is filling up or if the camera is on you and your girlfriend.

All you can do is lean forward and press your lips against Leila's.

Like you're the only two people in the world.

[hees-mine]

The sex shop - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X reader!

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, condoms, lube, sex toys, dirty talk, masturbation, loss of virginity, multiple orgasms, cum eating, blow job, public masturbation, mentions of anal, nipple play, reader and hee are kinda pervy?

WC: 7k+

-

“Ugh,” heeseung groans, tossing and turning in his bed. It’s three in the morning, and he’s so hard he doesn’t know what to do. Even after jerking off ten minutes ago, he’s ready to go again.

It’s almost annoying how quickly he gets in the mood. Sometimes, he finds himself even having to take random breaks at school or pulling off into an empty parking lot to rub one out.

He’s got zero shame about it and also zero self-control. Whenever he gets hard, he’s cumming no matter the time of day.

Even at three am, he’s rolling on his back and dipping his palm into his gray sweats to start palming his cock.

“Hmm fuck” he closes his eyes, head tilting back as he rolls his palm around his tip with a gentle hiss.

He lifts his hips when just touching isn’t enough. “Shit,” he curses at the sight of the bulge. “I'm so fucking hard” he grabs his base pumping it up and down, his cock riddled with veins and warm to the touch.

He pushes his clothing down further to fondle his full balls, tugging on his sack softly as his toes curl in pleasure, his dick twitching with every tug.

When precum beads at the head, he uses the natural lube to coat his girthy shaft.

He bucks his hips fucking into his hand, wishing he was fucking a pussy instead.

It’d feel so much better than his hand, so much warmer, so much tighter, so much wetter. “God,” he shudders, rolling his palm around the head and then gripping his length tightly, rubbing up and down faster.

Quiet smacks fill his bedroom as his wet fist meets his base with repeated strokes.

He gulps harshly, hips weakly bucking into his hand. He grips his sheets, veins popping on the side of his neck as his body tingles with excitement. He’s so close.

He squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering as his hips lose their rhythm. He’s still trying his best to fuck his fist, but he can feel himself tiring out. After all, it is his third one in the past half hour.

Panting, he tried his best to keep pace, but alas, his hips faltered, his bicep burned with the amount of pressure he applied to his sensitive cock, and even his hand started to cramp as he desperately searched for sweet release.

“Fuck” he gives up, loosening his grip on his cock, throwing his head back into his pillows, sighing frustratedly.

After a few deep breaths, he starts again, slowly stroking his solid cock. He wished he had a toy to make this easier he was too used to the feeling of his right hand making it hard to cum as quickly as he’d like.

But an idea pops into his head. On his way home from work, he’s seen a sex shop not too far from his apartment. They always stayed open 24/7. He’s never really thought about going into one due to shame and embarrassment, but right now, he was too horny to feel anything other than the throbbing ache of his cock.

He slips out of bed, pulling his pants back around his waist. He throws on a black hoodie and puts his slippers on before grabbing his keys and sprinting out the door.

His heart races with excitement as he starts his car and drives a few miles down the road to his destination, one hand on the steering wheel, the other rubbing himself over his sweats, fuck; he needed to cum so freaking bad.

He parks in the lot, turning his key to the off position.

Big pink neon letters lit up the front of the store.

“The sex shop”

-

read full story here

[motorsportbarbie13]

Post It - Part 5 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

warnings/notes: a bit steamy with this one (literally and figuratively hahaha) but not explicit smut. As per usual, special shoutout to the best beta reader on the planet who puts up with my shit @lestapiastrisgirl ❤️❤️❤️ pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3k

- Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -Master List

yourusername posted

498,029 likes liked by lando, hannahstjohn, yourmom, and others yourusername i think we walked a million miles today. lando man, i hope you've got someone who's willing to give you a foot massage after all that walking we did today... >>>user929 EXCUSE ME user101 WEEEEEE? who's 'we' @/yourusername???? user223 'liked by lando' OF COURSE HE LIKED IT, HE'S IN THE POST user019 didn't lando's last .jpeg post also have the bamboo picture? user038 hey @/its_allegra_babes if L is with her, who are you going to visit in Monaco this weekend. >>>user222 her suitcase story is still up with the ticket to Nice clearly displayed. oh my godddddddd

Your first full day in Japan is spent at the Arashiyama bamboo forest, an hour’s train ride away from your hotel in Osaka. According to all of the research you did on the flight over, the best time to see the forest was sunrise, much to Lando’s dismay. While you were also a night owl like he was, Lando was apparently violently against getting up at such an early hour. It had taken you several attempts at 6 in the morning to get him up and out of bed, but eventually you had won. 

Nearly twelve hours later, you and Lando tumble back through the doors of your hotel suite, utterly exhausted. The suite itself is huge with 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, a luxurious living room with widescreen tv and spacious veranda that looked out onto the city center. Lando had asked if you had wanted your own room, telling you that he wanted you to be comfortable and offered to pay for 2 singles instead. 

You had considered the offer for about ten seconds before deciding that the current arrangement would work. Nothing in your gut was telling you that you wanted anything other than what had already been planned. The idea of having Lando sleeping so closely to you sent a delicious shiver up your spine even now. 

Last night, about an hour after you had said goodnight and closed your door, ready for bed (alone), Lando had sent you a TikTok you could hear him laughing at through the shared wall. One text led to another and soon you were slipping beneath the sheets of Lando’s bed before switching on a movie. Nothing more had happened that night, except for you falling asleep cradled in Lando’s arms and Lando waking up in the middle of the night with you still wrapped around him. 

That had been the real reason he hadn’t wanted to get up this morning, he was too content with where you were at. 

But as he followed you through the door after walking what felt like seventy miles that day, he was glad that the had gone. The two of you had bonded on a deeper level, much deeper than Lando had ever thought possible. The connection between you two had sparked that night in February when he had slid into your DM’s but now? Now the connection was a wildfire. 

Lando watches as you drop your bag and flop down onto the couch. The entire time you’d been together today it was like the rest of the world had ceased to exist. He couldn’t remember a time where he had laughed so hard and lost track of time like he had today. He felt so stupid for nearly blowing this back in February but as he joined you on the couch, instantly tugging you closer so he could touch you again, he was relieved the universe had decided to give him a second chance. It was wild to him, how well you two were getting on still. He wasn’t usually someone  who could spend this much uninterrupted time with another person, he normally craved his alone time but with you? It was like he had told Max the night before over text, with you, it was different. 

And Lando knew from the outside looking in, this was moving so fast. No one knew that you had spend hours upon hours just talking, often falling asleep together on FaceTime, back in February. Not that it really mattered to him. If there was one lesson he had taken away from the 2024 season it was that he had to work on giving less of a fuck of what other people said and paying more attention to what those around him that mattered were saying. 

And you mattered to him. 

“I think we walked a million miles today.” You groan, kicking off your shoes before flexing your toes, the ache in the bottom of your instep creeping up your leg. Your calves were on fire from how many hills you had walked up and down in that forest today. The shots you and Lando had gotten had been 100% worth it though. You couldn’t wait to crack open your laptop later tonight and start editing for Pretty Little Lens. Posting them would have to wait, though. You never ever posted onto PLL before you left a location since your real account almost always detailed where you were and what you were doing and you didn’t want to run the risk of anyone connecting you to the account. You often mixed up locations too, posting places out of order or well after you’d left a location. PLL was how you made your money but you didn’t ever want to be the public face the account.

Lando reaches forward to pull your feet into his lap before pressing the pads of his thumbs deep into the arch of your foot. 

“Oh my God.” You groan, head tipping back to rest on the back of the couch. 

Lando chuckles softly before starting to work at the muscles of your feet with deeper strokes. You’re quiet while he massages the ache out of your feet, only making slight whimpering sounds every once in a while. Lando shifts in his seat at the sounds you’re making, hoping how hard he’s getting isn’t as obvious as he thinks it is. He can’t help it though, the sounds you’re making are downright erotic and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were teasing him on purpose. 

Which of course, you were. 

Several minutes pass in silence as Lando continues to work at your feed and up your calves before his phone starts to buzz in his pocket. With one hand still on your toes, he reaches for his phone. You crack an eye open to watch as he unlocks his phone and huffs a sigh. 

“Fuck. I forgot a I have a team call in 5 minutes.” He looks up at you, apologies flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, this is a post race thing that we do every week and I can’t miss it. It shouldn’t take long though, we’ll be fine for dinner.” 

You grin before swinging your feet out of his lap and onto the floor. “It’s okay.” You lean over before brushing your lips over the shell of his ear. “I need to take a shower before dinner anyway.” 

Lando turns his head before catching your lips with his, pressing his mouth to yours before you can get away. You hum in surprise, caught off guard by the intensity of his kiss. You’re the one to deepen the kiss though, licking your way into his mouth when he doesn’t pull away quick enough. The temptation to climb into his lap is overwhelming but the buzzing of his phone pulls you back down to earth. Tipping your forehead against his, you grin. “I’ll stop distracting you now.” 

“I don’t know,” Lando chuckles as he watches you stand, “The thought of you in the shower without me is more distracting than that kiss.” 

Laughing, you shake your head before rounding the couch to head towards your bedroom. Dragging your fingers across his shoulders as you walk behind the couch, you enjoy the way Lando visibly shudders under your touch. 

Lando watches over his shoulder as you walk down the hallway before he turns back to his phone to dial into the call. It was a routine call that Zak and Andrea held after every race weekend to debrief what went wrong and what they were going to be working on ahead of the next race. They were boring but necessary, especially since things got missed during the hustle and bustle of race weekends. 

Lando listens in as Andrea and a few engineers run through the data from the race, discussing tire wear, the strategy that had worked and what they needed to work on for Japan, and the frustrating near-miss podium finish. As he listens and interjects bits of observations himself, he finds himself distracted. His gaze keeps drifting toward the hallway you’d disappeared down. The scent of your shampoo, a mix of citrus and something with a delicate floral scent, lingers in the air, completely distracting him. 

He found himself rushing through his recap of the race when it was his turn to speak, eager to wrap things up. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the call wraps up and Lando was free to sign off. After a quick goodbye to the team, he sighs in relief, and tosses his phone onto the couch, the screen going dark.

 Lando’s surprised to hear the shower still running but as he passes the room you had claimed yesterday, he found it totally empty. Confused, he spots the white skirt you’d been wearing that day discarded in a heap outside the door to his bedroom. Lando’s heart beat picks up as he follows the trail you had apparently left him. At the foot of his bed was the top you had worn that day, discarded along with a very thin, very skimpy, white and pink lace bra. 

He nearly loses it when he sees the matching thong waiting for him at the doorway of the bathroom. 

Sultry music floats out from your phone that’s propped up on the bathroom sink. The room was humid and fragrant, air heavy with the scent of your shampoo and body wash. Steam wraps itself around Lando as he takes a few cautious steps into the tiled bathroom. It was a large en suite deal, with his and hers sinks, a huge soaking tub, and a large glass enclosed shower tiled with black marble. 

The rhythmic sound of the water mixed with the sultry music created an intoxicating atmosphere that has his heart pounding against his ribs. Lando’s breath catches when he finally spots you, your silhouette a hazy outline through the steam that clings to the glass of the shower door. He could make out the curve of your hip, the delicate line of your spine, the way the water cascaded down your body, rivulets of water doing their best win the race down your body. 

He’d never been more jealous of water in his entire life. 

Lando hesitates, leaning against the cool tile of the wall opposite the shower, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He decides to stay put, enjoying the view and the way his stomach was churning delightfully with anticipation. 

“Are you lost, baby?” Lando teases, pitching his voice loud enough so you can hear him above the soft music and thrumming water. 

You finally turn your head towards him, smirk on your lips, and Lando nearly sinks to his knees then and there. “I figured I’d try out your shower.” You rasp, voice husky with need. “Turns out, the acoustics are much better in here than in my shower.” 

It takes every ounce of control that he’s honed over his racing career to keep from stripping off his clothes right then and there when his gaze catches the swell of your breast as you turn towards him. “The acousitcs are pretty good in here, aren’t they?” He agrees, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you pick up the loofa that had been hanging from a hook inside the shower. “The view’s not half bad either.” 

“It’s too bad your call took so long, you missed the warm up. ” You say, voice light and teasing as you squeeze the body wash bottle before lathering the loofah up. 

Lando groans as you start in on your arms, lathering them up with he bubbles. You don’t look up but you can feel his eyes on you, a gentle caress that sends shivers down your spine and goosebumps erupting all over your skin. 

“It that so?” He chuckles, moving to sit at the edge of the soaking tub that is on the opposite side of the shower. From here he can still see everything you’re doing to torture him but he can sit and enjoy the show. “Well, I’m here now. I’m sure I can catch up.” 

The rasp in his voice has heat building in the pit of your belly, sparks of electricity traveling straight to that spot between your legs that is aching for Lando’s touch. You drag the loofah up your arms, up towards your neck before stretching out to show off the delicate line of your throat. “Or maybe,” You suggest, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper as you finally lift your eyes to his. “You should just watch.” 

Lando watches, captivated, as your hands move, slow and deliberate, a silent suggestion at what could happen later tonight that sends a shiver down his spine. He could almost feel the the warmth of the water on his own skin, the scent of the body wash filling his senses. 

“I’m never taking a work call while you’re around ever again.” He laughs, his gaze lingering on the curve of your ass as you turn around to wash the bubbles off in the scalding spray or the shower head. He watches as you continue washing, the drag of your hands over your body driving him absolutely mad. As he watched he imagined it was him running his hands up and down your slick body. He was torn between keeping his gaze on you to watch you drag your fingers down the line of your body or close his eyes and pretend it was him doing the touching. 

All you do is smirk in response, enjoying the way Lando’s eyes have gone hazy with desire as he watches you. Your fingers trail down your torso, coasting over your ribcage and down towards the curve of your hip. You’d never been quite this bold before but something about how today had gone, how you’d been so comfortable all day in his presence had you so needy for him in a more physical way tonight. 

Lando chokes on a strangled moan when your fingers continue down your body, teasing their way down towards the apex of your thighs. He wants nothing more than for your hands to be his, to be touching you the way you’re touching yourself but he’s also beyond satisfied watching the show taking place in front of him. You don’t break eye contact when your fingers dip in-between your things for the first time, swirling them around your already sensitive clit. 

You can see the barely restrained control threatening to break from behind Lando’s eyes as you tilt your head back, biting on your bottom lip, while you continue to touch yourself, slipping a finger deeper inside you. 

“Fuck.” Lando whispers, shifting as his own hand drifts unconsciously towards his cock that is achingly hard. “You know,” He manages to rasp out as a gasp tumbles from your lips when you slip a second finger between your slick folds. “I’m starting to think this shower is less about getting clean and more about torturing me.” 

You chuckle, eyes darting from where you’d been watching him palm at his cock back up to his stormy expression. “Torture?” You ask. “Is that what you’d call this? I thought I was just giving you a nice little show.” The innocence in your tone betrays the fact that you’re minutes away from giving yourself a delightful orgasm right in front of Lando. 

He watches as you continue to work your fingers between your legs, the way your head is thrown back driving him insane. “Torture is exactly what I would call watching you touch yourself like that when I can’t do a damn thing about it.” 

“Well maybe next time you should wrap up your work call quicker.” You sass back before dragging your fingers back up your body. “But you’re going to have to wait,” You reach for the shower faucet before turning off the water. The quiet that settles over the room hangs heavy between you. 

Stepping out of the shower, you reach for the towel that Lando holds up for you, the soft fabric clinging to your wet skin. You murmur a quiet thank you before reaching for another towel to dry your dripping hair. When you look over at him again, a shimmer of pleasure flutters over your skin. The way he’s looking at you, his eyes dark and intense, is something that you could see yourself getting addicting too. 

And that feels dangerous. 

Lando groans in response before leaning back against the cool tile, arms crossed over his chest and frown on his face. 

“Impatient, are we?” You tease, a playful glint in your eyes. 

He pushes himself off the wall, his movements confident and deliberate. “Extremely.” He murmurs, his voice husky. He closes the distance between you then, his eyes never leaving yours. 

He reaches out, his fingers tracing your jaw. “You know,” Lando whispers, he breath warm against your lips. “I’ve been thinking of getting you back here so I could have you all to myself all day long.” 

He brings his lips to yours, a tender kiss that quickly deepens into something darker, more intense. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth, silently requesting access. You open for him obediently, sighing against him as he begins the familiar exploration that you find yourself becoming addicted to. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer so you can deepen the kiss this time. The world around you fades away, leaving one the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the intoxicating scent of his cologne filling your senses as you lose yourself in the way Lando touches you. 

He pulls back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Your own chest heaves as you watch the way he watches you. “Fuck.” He whispers, his hands fisting at the white towel still tied around your body. “You have no idea how hard it was to stay out here just now.” 

A shimmer of electricity zaps up your spine at the intensity of his gaze. “Now,” He murmurs, tone still husky. “Let’s get you ready for dinner. I’m starving.” He gives you a playful wink before turning towards the door. “But,” He adds before walking away, his voice trailing off behind him. “I’m going to be honest, I think I’m even hungrier for my dessert afterwards.” 

lando.jpeg posted

987,109 likes liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, keeganpalmer, and others lando.jpeg more of this please user348 if not hard launch, why hard launch shaped? user122 that is 100% @/yourusername's bracelet in that first picture >>>user889 girl, @/yourusername is literally in ALL OF THEM user988 if he wanted to, he would >>>user212 @/its_allegra_babes, i'm gonna hold your hand when i say this... yourusername looks like you're having fun!!! :) >>>user202 now they're just fucking with us.

yourusername posted

596,029 likes liked by maxfewtrell, lando, hannahstjohn and others yourusername dreamy few days maxfewtrell did you actually get him to set foot in a sushi place??? >>>yourusername i bribed him with kinder maxie >>>maxfewtrell is that what you kids are calling it these days >>>lando and that's a PR meeting for you!!! user000 oh she's max f approved now? >>>user857 @/its_allegra_babes oh girl, it's over now. user929 shes actually so pretty

(posted six months later to PrettyLittleLens)

5,609,298 likes PrettyLittleLens japan, you were a dream user009 bucket list trip! user034 another unreal series! you are so talented! user578 can't wait for these to be up on the website to purchase. That bamboo one is amazing!!!

lando's camera roll lately...

your camera roll lately

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[purifiedclitoris69]

Spiders Dance

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Supersoldier!Reader

HIII!! super rough and unedited but I wanted to get it out. I am new to writing smut so bare with me lol. I've had this in my drafts for a min so figured I get it out! Hope you enjoy ;)

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Nat, Top!Reader, Violence, IDK JUST PLEASE MDI

Summary: Natasha was a flirt, it was easy and entertaining, but she took a keen interest in flirting with you; Toying with you on a mission however, may not have been the best idea, or was it?

"Morning soldier," Nat greeted, causing you to blush immediately as you finished rinsing your fruits.

"Hey, Nat, want any fruit," you offered. The girl made you extremely flustered when it came to her comments, but besides that you had real friendship with the her

"No, thank you, but you could hand me a bowl," doing as she said you opened the cabinet above you handing Nat her request, "Thanks," she said taking the bowl letting your fingers touch and running her other hand across your broad shoulders as she passed you.

You flushed quickly, turning around clumsily your elbow hit the cabinet you had left open and your bowl of fruit drop straight to the floor.

Those in the kitchen laughed at the regular interaction as Wilson mumbled out a teasing, "nice one, y/l/n," as you rubbed the back of your neck and stared at the spilled fruit and empty Tupperware on the floor.

"yeah, yeah whatever," you grumbled out picking up your fruit as Wanda helped you giving you a pity smile and Nat smirked amused in the corner.

"You ever gonna give the girl a break," Clint asked walking up beside Nat as the two watched you wash your fruit again and get another bowl leaving the kitchen.

"Absolutely not," Nat said making her bowl of oatmeal, "the day's just begun, and we have training soon."

You had headed back to your room to save yourself any more embarrassment. You didn't mind the flirting by Nat, it boosted your ego and you were head over heals for the woman. She was perfect in your eyes, which was terrifying. She was brave, very skilled in her job, very stubborn, a little pridefull, but she was genuinely kind, understanding, and absolutely stunning. That's why she had so much power over you. You did everything she asked of you and practically dropped to your knees whenever she batted her eyelashes; everyone knew it.

You have yet to figure out her true intentions with her comments, but you knew they were too detailed and persistent for it not to mean anything. Whether it was just lust or whether she became the love of your life, it didn't matter to you yet, you just wanted her… and maybe a little payback for all the times she's embarrassed you. You spent a little time in your room finishing up mission reports but inevitably headed down to the main gym early. It was team training today which means more rosy cheeks and school girl butterflies are coming your way. You decided it’d be safe to work up a little sweat so you could at least attempt to excuse the blush on your face.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as he approached the treadmill you were stretching next to, “you beat me, here."

“don’t be shocked rogers, I am suppose to be the better model,” you teased

“i think people prefer the original,” he returned, as he began his stretches as well.

The two of you ended up running for about 45 minutes; you reaching 33 miles, Steve 31.

“people can prefer you more, but numbers don’t lie,” you spoke as the two of you walked over to the waters with a light sweat.

Steve was ready to reply when the gym doors opened with Wilson, Bucky, and the Maximoff’s entering and greeting you.

You announced to all of them how you beat Steve and began a discussion about who’s the best super soldier as Nat and Clint entered.

Natasha’s eyes landed on you immediately and that glowing sheen of sweat. Nat practically went feral whenever she caught you training or even in the field, basically anytime your muscles were pumped and you were showing off your strength, which is why she loveddd training with you.

As the team did their separate warm-ups, they eventually made it to the big mat to run scenarios on Vision, who made a reasonable subject as he was made of the strongest metal on Earth. Each of them took their turns and contributing pointers.

“Hey soldier,” Nat greeted joining your side and looking up at you.

“Tasha,” you smiled warmly, “no distractions this session please,” you breathed jokingly

“what me? you do your own share of distracting,” she spoke alluringly.

You raised you eyebrows in question

she smirked touching your bicep lightly as you looked down at your tight black compression tee, “your training shirts don’t leave much to imagine.” Your jaw clenched hard enough to shatter your teeth as your face lit up once more leaving you unable to respond besides a small laugh, “don’t worry soldier,” she stood on her tippy toes as you leaned your ear towards her and she whispered, “I really don’t mind.”

“y/l/n,” Sam shouted, “why don’t you and Steve spar so we can decide who’s really the better model."

You forced a smile still caught up in what Nat said, “winner goes against Buck,” you proposed as Steve and Bucky immediately engaged in banter. You looked back to Nat who was already walking away with that dumb sway in her hips.

“Ahem,” Steve cleared his throat waiting in the middle.

“Let the soldier gawk for a min,” Bucky laughed as everyone was already giggling.

Walking to the middle of the mat your jaw clenched with the tension Nat at fueled, “Ready, kid,” Steve smiled extending his hand, you shook off your thoughts and accepted his hand.

You began with light jabs and blocks, both of them moving with an easy grace. Steve feinted to the left, then quickly punched you right in the face falling away from the punch as you gave a small laugh.

You responded with a quick, kick aimed at Steve's shin, eyes sparkling as you got back up quickly and made brief eye contact with Nat going straight back in for another punch; Steve dodged it impressively giving your hair a playful ruffle, receiving a feigned glare. You then get caught off guard once more by the red head over Steve’s shoulder this time getting tooo lost in her and allowing Steve to attempt a mock take down, you struggled briefly but slipped out of it twisting and landing an instinctual sharp kick to his ribs.

Steve dropped to his knees immediately and held a hand up clutching his rib as he gasped for air, his own being completely knocked out of him. he declared a dramatic surrender, “I concede,” he choked, “tad too hard for training kid.”

“shit, sorry,” you breathed sliding down to help him stand.

“all good just was not prepared for all that air to get knocked out,” he breathed out a laugh.

You and Sam let out a laugh as you both went to help him up.

"Yeah, if we're gonna spar can we get Romanoff to leave the room," Bucky joked receiving a smack from Wanda beside him.

"Shut it, Barnes," you said rolling your eyes, "you can just say you're scared." The team laughed at this but deep down you were a little sick of it. You could've genuinely hurt Steve.

The rest of training went pretty smoothly, you stayed as far away as you could from Nat and decided on sparring with Vision for safety.

On the way back to your room your mind was only on her. You spent the rest of the night thinking about her. You craved her in so many ways and you've never experienced the attention of such a beautiful woman, whether it was genuine or not it made you weak; weak in many ways that could lead to dangerous outcomes.

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts, you were sat on your bed freshly out the shower, in only a sports bra and shorts.

"Yeah, just a minute!"

"Hey, y/n, it's Steve," he announced from the other side of the door, "I've got a mission for you, I need you in conference room 6 for a breifing."

"Got it!" you answered opening the door dressed to see him heading in that direction," What's the job," you asked at the door only to see Nat and Maria inside.

--------------------------------------

The mission was simple get in get out. HYDRA's latest threat: a hidden base in Siberia working on a new generation of enhanced using stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. technology. The mission involved only gathering intelligence, sabotaging the facility's operations, and ensuring the destruction of any cruel new serum, simple enough, hopefully.

Your mind wasn't completely in it, it was still caught up in your mission partner, and the lack of control you experienced around her. You knew this mission could be dangerous as well, HYDRA's experiments usually are, you, Bucky, and the twins are proof of that.

"Hey you alright," Nat pulled you out of your thoughts as she stood in front of you.

"Yeah," you gave a soft smile getting up and walking past her towards your locker.

"you sure, y/n," she walked towards you again, "it's okay if you're not, I know a mission like this can bring up things," she said trying to comfort you. You looked at her catching the genuineness in her eyes, stirring up those school girl butterflies.

"Yeah, I'm all good," you answered grabbing your usual knives and gadgets, "just a little nervous."

"I get it," she said going to her own locker beside you, "I wouldn't worry, we're in this together." You smiled at her cheesiness but deep down it did help lift you a little. This was the kindness you were talking about, she could be so understanding, and sweet; the great black widow, all sweet to you in private. Maybe it wasn't weakness she brought out of you.

"Destination, in ten minutes," FRIDAY announced.

"I'll land us," you said walking past Nat and into the cockpit.

The perimeter had already been infiltrated by another SHIELD unit, and a map of the facilities layout was processed with key points of interest highlighted. Natasha and you made your way up to the roof so she could access the security measures.

"Watch it," you pulled Nat back by the arm nodding down to a pressure alarm, "don't be so distracted," you commented off handedly.

"excuse me," she scoffed, "let's not talk about what happened in training today," she teased.

Ouch. You dropped her arm,rolled your eyes and looked away shameful…stubborn and prideful, "just cut the alarms already," you whispered. Natasha smirked going to the panel and connecting a small screen (another SHIELD you don't really know about), she's able to disable the security systems and time your guys entry perfectly.

"Okay check comms," Nat said quietly, checking the comms this is where the two of you split up. Natasha is to the control room to download and wipe the data, while you make it down to the labs to destroy the serum and plant the bombs.

"How's it going," you check in less than 2 minutes later. You've always gotten anxious on missions with the team, fearing any mistakes, fearing losing control; Hydra taking you again. With Nat it was ten times worse.

"Don't worry bout me, soldier," she laughed softly with a teasing tone, "focus on your mission, we'll be out soon."

"Yes, ma'am," you anxiously laughed, Nat on the other end flushing at the title.

In the control room Natasha watched the data download with only thoughts of you, it was getting bad. The flirting had started because of a physical attraction to you, your frame, your style, then it was your humor, your kindness, your awkward laugh, your belly laugh, that stupid smile, everything. Nat's daydreaming was cut off by rushed footsteps in the hall. Looking at the camera she had set up at the door she saw a squad of Hydra agents marching towards the room.

"Shit," she mumbled," Y/n, we have a -."

"Are you okay," you cut her off.

"Just get done fast, I have a squad advancing on me" she stated.

"I'm all done here, I'm--," you were cut off by the door to the labs being kicked down and flying across the room.

"What was that, are you okay," Nat asked as she finished up her task and deleting the files.

"Made contact with the enhanced," you said getting into a fighting position, as alarms began to sound.

"It'll be okay," Nat said, "we'll meet at the emergency randevu."

The enhanced made eye contact with you moving mechanically towards you like a brute, "Let's see which model's better now," you mumbled walking towards the danger.

The Prototype charged first, moving with surprising speed for its size. You dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow that dented the metal floor. You countered with a swift punch to the Prototype's ribs, but it barely flinched, retaliating with a backhand that sent you sprawling. The two super-soldiers exchanged a flurry of blows, each strike resonating with power, but the Prototype’s resilience and raw power were relentless. It landed a solid punch to your side, sending you crashing into a lab table. Shattered glass and spilled chemicals hissed around you as you struggled to your feet.

Why the fuck was the model so strong. The Prototype loomed over you, ready to deliver a finishing blow. Summoning all your strength, You caught the descending fist in your own, muscles straining against the force. With a roar, you twisted the Prototype's arm, using its momentum to flip it over your shoulder and into a bank of computers. The impact shattered the screens and sent sparks flying as you pulled out a knife and stabbed the prototype only feeling it cut into metal. This thing wasn't a person anymore.

The Prototype snarled, grabbing your arm and pulling you into a headbutt. Stars exploded in your vision, but you fought through the pain, kicking the Prototype’s knee again, this time hearing a satisfying crunch. Breathing heavily, you didn’t let up. You charged at the downed Prototype, delivering a series of rapid punches to its torso and face.

The Prototype faltered, its movements becoming more erratic. You saw your opening, grabbed a heavy metal rod from the debris and swung it with all you might, connecting with the side of the Prototype's head. The force of the blow sent it crashing to the ground, where it laid, unconscious.

Standing admist the wreckage trying to catch your breath, you heard an "Ahem," making you jump.

"Shit," You breathed looking at Nat in the door way, "you said meet at the randevu point" you stated.

"sorry," she smiled walking over to you and cupping your face scanning you for any damage, only to see a cut lip and you clutching your rib "looking good soldier," she teased as she scanned back up to your face catching you staring, straight back at her and glancing down to her lips, you immediately flushed, backing away.

The roof further collapsed behind you, “we have to go, I've already planted the bombs” you said grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the exit. Making it towards the facilities garage waves of Hydra operatives began to emerge.

"Shit," Nat mumbled pulling you guys back behind a wall and coming face to face, smiling at the proximity.

"Stop it," you said stepping back, "you can't keep distracting me like this."

"I don't know what your talking about," Nat smirked teasing as Hydra agents were frantically looking all around for you.

"I'm not doing this here," you stated firmly, "what do you even get out of it,” you question furthered almost exhausted. Nat pitied you in this moment, she hadn’t realized how mad she was driving you, her face softened.

"They're over here," your head's both shot to down the halls were the Hydra operatives began rushing in.

"let’s go," Natasha said grabbing your hand and booked it the other way.

Making it to the garage and pushing a crate in front of the door, Natasha had time to hijack a Hydra truck right before the doors flew open, "GO!" you shouted slamming the driver side shut and kicking a hydra agent across the room.

"Wait!" Nat shouted trying to open the door again as you pushed it shut once more.

"Just go! I'll meet you at the jet," you yelled taking out another knife.

Natasha forced herself to slam on the gas leaving you to hold off the agents. With them being unenhanced hydra cockroaches it wasn't too bad they’re was just so many of them, it’d been awhile since you’ve seen this many agents in one place. As you were throwing them and slamming them to the floor, the bombs you had planted went off in the lab went off, the building shook and flames set. The explosion allowed three agents the time to make off on motorcycles straight in Nat’s directions.

“No,” you muttered under your breath, hurling one last agent to the ground, as more of the building began to collapse, you launched into a full sprint across the Siberian snow. Your breath crystallized in the frigid air as you dodged through the trees, eyes locked on motorcycles speeding ahead. Spotting a fallen log, you seized the opportunity, using it as a makeshift ramp to propel yourself through the air. You crashed into one of the riders, sending him tumbling into the snow and commandeering his bike in one fluid motion.

Accelerating hard, you leaned low over the handlebars, feeling the icy wind whip against your face. The roar of the engine drowned out the chaos behind you as you closed in on the next target. With a quick flick of your wrist, you deployed a zip-line hook from your gauntlet, the steel cable slicing through the air and embedding itself in the frame of the bike ahead.

You toggled the slack, your muscles coiling with anticipation. At just the right moment, you yanked hard, the sudden tension in the line allowed you to throw the motorcycle and its rider careening off course. They collided with the other bike in a spectacular crash, the two vehicles intertwining and skidding across the snow in a shower of sparks and shrapnel.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the base in the distance, its structure collapsing floor by floor in a series of detonations. The ground trembled beneath you, the sound of destruction echoing in the frozen wilderness. You didn't slow down. There was no time to celebrate. You didn’t know if they were going to follow or not and you had to get Nat out of there.

Unbeknownst to you Natasha had witnessed the whole thing and was absolutely craving you at this point. She knew she needed you. She arrived at the Quinn jet shortly before you, jumping out the car, and immediately going to check on you.

“Are you okay,” she asked urgently grabbing your shoulders and trying to scan for any injuries before you gently pushed her hands off of you

“Let’s just get in the air,” you spoke grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the jet. You walked straight to the pilot seat and got you guys in the air. Setting it on auto pilot, Nat could sense the frustration radiating off of you. You walked right past her and into the medical area.

“Do you need any help?” She asked, as you turned your back to her and took of your mission gear leaving you in a white beater.

“No, I’m just bruised,” you said flatly as blood bled through your shirt revealing a long gash as well, “shit,” you mumbled.

“that’s not just a bruise,” she joked trying to lighten your mood

“i can see that can you just give me some space,” you snapped at her.

“okay, what’s the problem,” Nat asked walking up to you with a purpose and pulling your shoulder to make you face her

“just back off,” you said shrugging her hand off you and walking past her. You took your beater off completely and walked towards the bandages.

“it’s gonna need sti..”

“it’s not,” you cut her off, “i heal fast remember,” you opened up the sterile wipes cleaning the wound and flushing it with one of the sterile saline solutions. You gritted your teeth with pain from the wound and felt her eyes bore into your every move; it made you nervous. You reached for sterile pads to quickly knocking over a trey and hissing in pain.

“Sit down,” she said sternly. Rolling your eyes you did what was told, sitting down you raised your arm up allowing her access to pat dry the wound with sterile pads and get fresh bandages. She watched your abs flex and adjust with every move, every breath. You watched closely what her hands were doing avoiding looking at her face, “there,” she smoothed the bandage over letting out a breath.

“thanks,” you mumbled walking toward your locker for a loose jacket.

“y/n,” she called out softly walking up to you as you ignored her, "can you stop being so childish."

"Me? Childish?" you scoffed at her and rolled your eyes, "you're the one who makes all these slutty comments and feels me up at every opportunity."

"Are you serious," her volume go louder, "your upset over me flirting with you."

"Natasha, we were on a mission, a dangerous one," you shouted, "and you still, took every chance you got. I mean seriously are you in heat or something!?"

Her face flushed, "wow I didn't know your ego could get this big, I'll give you credit," she scoffed

“this isn’t an ego thing, it’s obvious you want me to fuck you, you don’t have to deny it, dont even try to,” you seethed stepping forward with practically every word, “i don’t give a fuck about you constantly flirting with me like the slut you are, no matter how much I embarrass myself, I really don’t fucking care, because I know you..you really just can’t help it” your voice dropped back to a civil level still carried with a stern sense of frustration, “I am upset because your distractions today could’ve genuinely cost us,” you stood up straight, “cost me.”

You were staring down right at her, your breaths brushed one another’s face, “what,” she whispered, “cost you what,” Nat pushed wanting to hear you say it.

“you know what,” you whispered back looking to her lips and wetting your own.

“say it, y/n” she stared at your own lips.

“cost me you Nat,” you confirmed, your gaze going back to her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Nat whispered looking up at you. You broke the gaze dropping your head and closing your eyes taking a deep breath in.

"Do you even like me," you asked barely audible.

"What?" Nat laughed shocked.

"can you just answer the question, Natasha," you said looking back into her eyes, “do you even like me, or I just something you desire.”

She could tell she was hurting you at this point, that you were genuinely upset. "Yeah," she mumbled dropping her gaze to her, hands she looked small, "I do."

You cupped her face, bring her gaze back to you, your eyes scanning over every little feature, "but you just want me to fuck you too," you whispered staring at her lips, "don't you."

"I do," she answered as your lips inched closer and closer.

"say it," you said over her lips, "tell me what you want, Natasha."

Her hands went to yours," I want.." she whispered getting closer to your lips, "I want you to fuck me, y/n" She looked up into your eyes, "please," A shit-eating grin came upon your face as one hand moved to loosely wrap around her neck and your lips finally slammed together. You roughly pushed Natasha against the other lockers causing her to let out the most wanton pornographic moan ever, fueling the pit in your stomach. Breaking apart, your hands dropped to her hips keeping her in her place as she chased after your lips for more," please, y/n, don't tease."

You laughed looking down at her already swollen lips and licking your own, "Please, Nat," you said getting closer to her lips again, "I'm going to do whatever I want after all this shit you've pulled." Your lips went to the column of her neck, resulting in more of her pretty sounds and her hands in your hair. Your hands dropped lower towards the back of her thighs giving a light pull, she immediately jumped to wrap them around you. Your lips moved back to hers, kissing passionately, you swiped your tongue across her bottom lip, her own tongue pushing into your mouth as her hips moved in search of friction. You pulled the two of you away from the wall and carried her with ease to the medical bed not once breaking the kiss.

You placed her gently on her back, crawling over her, and moving your lips back to her neck. You bit marks into what was finally yours, as your hand moved to pull down the zipper on the front of her suit, "is this okay," you asked.

Nat smiled as her hips lifted towards you and her hands went further into your hair, "more than okay," she breathed, "I'm yours," she whispered across your lips, "and I want you to do whatever you want to me," she looked into your eyes pupils completely blown. Your lips locked in another passionate kiss, this time brief. Each touch caused shivers through Nat, her breath hitching in anticipation as you pulled the zipper down further and pulled the suit from her body, exposing her skin inch by inch.

"You're so beautiful," you murmured, sitting up and taking in her disheveled look as she lay in her bra and underwear.

"Take this off," she unzipped your jacket and pushed it off your shoulders. Hands scratching over your abs and back to your hair as she pulled you back into another kiss. Both breathing heavy and desperate your lips moved back to trail down Natasha's neck, leaving a path of more marks. When you finally reached Natasha's chest, your hand wrapped around to unclip her bra, your mouth immediately latching onto her nipple earning a gasp from Nat, "Y/n please," she whimpered, hands tugging in your hair to pull you closer. With a growl of need, you continued your descent, your mouth leaving a burning trail down Natasha's stomach. Kissing lightly above her underwear, you locked eye for further permission at which Nat nodded eagerly too, hooking your fingers in her underwear, Natasha's eyes fluttered shut, her hips lifting urging you to move faster.

Pulling her underwear off, Nat's core glistened with need. You couldn't help but smirk and kiss around the place she needed you most. You spread her legs wider, hands gripping her thighs firmly, as you littered love bits all over them, "Please, Y/n, I'm begging you," she moaned as you ghosted over her clit again.

The great Black Widow begging. You didn't waste another second, your mouth latched on to her core, tongue flicking out to taste what was finally yours. Natasha cried out, her back arching off the bed, causing you to moan into her core, and her to thrash more. You forced her hips down with more strength bound to leave bruises after. Your tongue moved expertly, alternating between teasing flicks and deep rough strokes. Natasha's moans gre louder, her hands pulling desperately at your hair. "Oh god, Y/n," she gasped, her body trembling.

Your grip tightened on Natasha's thighs, holding her in place further as you increased your pace. Tongue delving deeper, your mouth worked Natasha closer and closer to the edge. Natasha's moans turned into invoherent cries from the stimulation, her body writhing beneath you.

"Go ahead," you mumbled, " come for me, pretty girl," the vibrations sent Natasha over the edge as she screamed your name, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

You didn't stop, your mouth continuing to work Natasha through her orgasm until she was a trembling, breathless mess. Only then did you pull back, lips glistening with Natasha's arousal. You crawled back up her body, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

"your mine," you whispered against her lips, "as I am yours."

Natasha nodded weakly, giving a blissful smile, her eyes glazed with satisfaction. "Always," she answered, hand still tangled in your hair.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

If I Could Melt Your Heart | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | One shot 5k

The end of the mission goes wrong when you fall through the ice. Bucky manages to get you to the safe house, unresponsive and hypothermic. Bucky worries for your safety, trying everything to warm you and melting the competitive animosity between you.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestions of sex, language and both Reader and Bucky being idiots. Flirting, frenemies to lovers nonsense, kissing. Whump, reader falls through ice, symptoms of hypothermia. Rated I and L for Idiots in Love.

Final divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The fall was easier than you thought it would be. Conditioned to have confidence in your decisions, you’d run across the ice fully expecting to reach the other side and then, just as suddenly as you’d made your decision, you were looking up at the sky between two walls of dark green water. 

The lake closed in just as fast, covering the sky, and your salvation, and panic set in, there was no air, your lungs burning from the cold and you gasped involuntarily, drinking in the crisp clean lake. It was over, the entire adventure was over, no more missions, no more tower, no more compound, no more galas and holidays and, worst of all, no more Bucky. 

No more late nights bickering over films, no more inventing reasons for him to be your partner during training, no more glances during meetings and arguments after briefing, just so he’d stay closer, just so he’d look at you a little longer. 

Despite everything you’d achieved, you’d wasted it all really, by not telling him how much you loved him. 

You closed your eyes, arms still beating in the water, heaving against the pack on your back dragging you down. 

The snow had come in fast, separating you from Sam and Steve. You'd meant to take a separate path each, converging on a safe house for extraction in the morning. Bucky had caught up with you a mile or two before. But somewhere in the storm you'd taken a wrong turn and now the darkness was closing in, your eyes fluttering closed, chest burning and Bucky still on the shore. 

Hands appeared, covered in Avengers issue gloves, one hauling you upwards, the other pushing on the clasp that held your pack and letting it fall into the water while lifting you into the biting air. A face glowed in the bright sun and you were happy to allow the angel to take you where they wanted, closing your eyes again seemed the only sensible thing to do, then at least you could dream about your regrets. 

Everything was hazy, but you knew you were being hustled into a safe house by the sound of the keypad beeping.

That's okay, maybe there's safe houses in the afterlife, maybe there's the crack of the fire and the cold won’t be so biting. 

When Bucky reached the safe house the wind had picked up, forcing him to wrestle the door open before half falling into the small porch, the wind no longer holding his weight. But he managed to keep you steady as he shuffled inside, locking the cold out behind him. 

He’d seen you go down, thinking you'd fallen, and had spotted the crack in the ice immediately after. It was clear where you’d gone wrong, leaving the track at the side of the lake, but he didn’t have time for that, he only had time to rush across the ice, sliding the last metre on his belly to stop it cracking further. 

Thankfully your pack had done its job and the two small buoyancy aids that Tony had added after the last jet crash were keeping you close to the surface. You were in shock though, eyes misty and for a heartbreaking second, as he dragged your flopping body onto the ice, Bucky wondered if he’d been too late. 

Beneath his fingers your pulse was still there, slow, but steady, and he flipped you onto your side and smacked your back as hard as he dared until you threw up the freezing water. 

He took a different way off the ice, just in case it had cracked under the soft snowfall. Carefully, he had trudged across a more dangerous ridge to reach the safe house faster, the snow storm picking up around him, aware of your solid weight on his back, his pack slung around to his front. It had still taken half an hour and all of his energy. 

By the time he’d placed you on the couch,  Bucky’s long hair was frozen at the ends where it had fallen from his black stealth issue snow hat. His lips were chapped and his shoulder ached where his prosthesis met the joint. But he could see you, and he could see you breathing and moving and you weren’t dead. 

He slumped to the floor and wiped a wet glove down his face, breathing out heavily. 

You'd argued, on the jet, about the drop site, about the evac, about the contents of your pack. There was always an argument, a bet, a challenge to be had with you, but he didn’t care as long as you were looking at him. And he’d never had the courage to tell you, to pin you to the mat when you sparred and tell you that he couldn’t go a day without seeing you. 

With another ragged breath he looked up. You were here, safe, together. 

Now what? 

Bucky called Sam and Steve’s emergency number together, hoping whoever wasn’t driving would pick up. He liked Sam and he trusted his medical judgement and while the tension in their friendship was easing, it was still easier with Steve around too. 

“That you, Buck?” Sam said, there was a distinct hum from the truck in the background that told Bucky they were on their way at least. Help is coming, Bucky told himself, you don’t have to take care of her alone, help is coming. 

“Bucky?” The side of Steve’s head appeared on the video call and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Thank god you picked up, things went from shit to worse out there, she fell through the fucking ice. Managed to get her out but she coughed up a helluva lot of water and now she’s all -” he looked behind him at your floppy hands and droopy eyelids, “she doesn’t look right, she isn’t talking, can’t stay awake.” Bucky rambled, his Brooklyn drawl appearing again through his worry. His words were getting mixed, he could feel them, heavy on his tongue, hypothermia? Something else? What had he been taught in basic training?

“Look, don’t get excited,” Sam said, pausing slightly, the howl of the snow storm still evident behind him. “But I need you to take off any wet layers she’s wearing, she could get hypothermia and her being unresponsive isn’t a good sign.” 

“Why would that get me excited?” Bucky said, indigent but propping the phone up so he could start unzipping your coat. 

On the video Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see anything out of the truck windows, the snowstorm made everything static, but the video kept trying to focus anyway.

“Just do it, Buck, okay. There should be some spare clothes somewhere, if she needs them.” 

Bucky peeled back your sopping coat and set about removing your snow boots. Underneath you were wearing waterproof trousers, a thick thermal sweater and long sleeved standard issue t-shirt and leggings, also wet. He sat back, peeling the leggings from around your ankles. At least you had one dry shirt on but it was so small, just a strappy vest as your first layer and there were already goosebumps rising on the skin around your shoulders and collarbone. 

Bucky snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushed, and stood, searching for spares, coming up short. 

“There’s nothing here -”  he groused, standing his phone up against the empty fireplace while he searched. 

“Check the bathroom, they normally leave sweat shirts and things by the towels.” 

Bucky gave you one last look and left the room in search of something to keep you warm. 

Your eyes felt so heavy, your head full of lead and your arms and legs weighed down. Your throat burned and tasted awful, worse than the pack rations you’d eaten before you’d set off on the last leg of your walk to the cabin. 

The memory of the water washed over you and your arms flew out, grasping for the ratty sofa cushions.

You were safe. 

Everyone else must have made it too because you could hear Sam and Steve talking, saying something about Bucky. 

Blinking your eyes you were sure they were sat by the fire, maybe they’d light it soon, you were so cold. 

Bucky returned with a blanket and socks, sweat pants and towels and dropped them on the floor by the couch. It was one thing to find supplies, quite another to get you changed, he felt bad enough about taking your outer layers off. 

At some point during his search Sam and Steve must have dropped off the call, the phone now laying quiet on the hearth. 

He’d get you dressed and then worry about a fire.

The sweat pants were fine, they were loose and pulled up easily over your hips, the socks and towels warmed your feet slowly. But your shoulders and chest were still uncovered and he could see you starting to shiver. That was at least a good sign, your nerves were working and you were responding correctly to sensory input - but he couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking he pulled his henley off and sat you up, carefully placing it over your head and manoeuvring your arms until you were covered. 

You let out a deep sigh, smiling in your sleep. Bucky didn’t want to think about the way you seemed to snuggle into the collar, it was just body heat, that’s all, that’s all you needed. 

Bucky tucked you back in, being careful to tuck the soft edges of the shirt between your bare skin and the rough wool of the blanket. This was not the way he wanted to see or touch you like this for the first time. He sat with his back to the sofa, gun across his lap and trained his eyes on the door. 

Bucky’s eyes were open in half a second, body crouched, gun extended into the darkness until he noticed his phone lit up beside him, vibrating against the aching joints in his shoulders. 

“Hey, Buck, hows it going?.” Steve asked from the gloom of the truck’s cabin. Sam must have taken over the driving, Steve never used his phone behind the wheel. “We should be with you in the morning.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” Bucky let his head flop back against the sofa and instantly regretted it when he felt the softness of your thighs behind him. 

Sam’s voice was an echo on the line,“tell me what’s going on?”

“I took her uniform off like you said and she was awake very briefly, just eyes open then closed, but she’s been asleep awhile.”

“Awake is good, right?” Steve asked and Sam hummed in agreement. 

“Hey man, you need to get some rest too, okay. No falling asleep by accident, get in the bed or under a blanket and really sleep,” Sam scolded, it rankled Bucky sometimes, how well Sam really knew him, but he was grateful for this new team as well. 

“I shouldn’t I -” the words ‘I don’t deserve to rest’ were so close to stumbling past his lips. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head to the wood beamed roof. 

“Look punk, whatever stupid thing you two were arguing about, it’s not your fault she got hurt, okay?” Steve’s voice was sterner now, demanding attention. 

“It was a bet,” Bucky admitted, weakly. “I bet her I could get here first and when I did I’d get the bed and the blankets. She was rushing because of me, she took a stupid fucking risk because she thought she’d have nowhere to sleep.” Bucky bit his cheek, the tang of blood staining his tongue. 

“For gods sake, Buck, that’s not your fault, she made her own choices -” 

“She’d have made better ones if I wasn’t such an asshole, what would my Ma ? Making a bet like that, you know I’d never have let her go cold.”

In your sleep your hands inched forwards, searching for something. The tips of your fingers found his earlobe and then, with a hum, you tucked your hand between his cold, bare, back and the sofa. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would’ve tanned your hide from here to Coney Island. But I know, I know you would never have let her suffer, you were playing games and makin’ stupid bets because you respect her as your equal. She’d be just as mad if she though you were goin’ easy on her.” 

He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself or make it better that didn’t involve him punishing himself somehow, so he said nothing. 

“Just hang on until the morning, okay. I’ll send over some more information on hypothermia in case we lose contact. But you just have to get through to the morning and then we can take over.” 

“Shouldn’t we get her to the compound now?” Bucky didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice, you hadn’t fought him off, complained, made a sarcastic comment or done any of your usual ridiculous arguing when he’d helped you. It wasn’t right. 

“No, no, best thing is to let her sleep and warm up. She’s fine. You need to sleep though, properly, on a soft surface.”

“Floors aren’t soft surfaces!” Sam shouted. 

“Okay, but -” Bucky paused and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Just sleep, Buck.” If Bucky was worried, Steve was amused, unable to keep the smile from his voice as he said goodbye. 

You were still underwater, you were sure from the way all the voices in your head sounded muffled. But then you could smell Bucky’s shampoo, so maybe everything was okay after all.

“Hey, are you awake,” Bucky’s voice was so far away, like listening through a bubble, “if you’re awake you should eat something and then I can take your temperature again.” 

There was a movement, an earthquake, but the water didn’t move, there was no water anymore, just the cushion, the lap, the arm, the hand. You clung to the arm, but it didn’t yield under your fingers, it was solid and whirring and - 

“Hmmm, Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling back into his hold. 

“No, come on, sit up, time to eat.” Why was the world moving, tilting? The voice was louder now, clearer. 

“Buh-” The words were gone again, the world was quiet again, blissful sleep with Bucky’s hand in yours. 

Sam’s face appeared on the phone screen, sleep in his eyes while Bucky gave him an update. He’d decided to stay awake, insisting he’d nap in the truck when they moved on in the morning. As soon as you’d started talking he’d called Sam and Steve to check on you. 

“She was slurring a bit. She wasn’t shivering but I think she’s warmer.”

“You think she’s warmer?,” Sam cut over Steve, looking pointedly at Bucky. “Feel her back and chest.”

“Her chest…” Bucky looked down at you, curled into his t-shirt, eyelids fluttering in your sleep. “She’s wearing clothes.” 

Bucky’s hand was still on your cheek and you turned into the touch, a small smile gracing your lips. 

“Bucky just put your hand on her collar,” Steve suggested.

“Awh, Buck, are you nervous around her, that’s so cute.” Sam teased and Steve scoffed at him. The line went quiet, but he could still make out some muffled arguing. 

He ignored them, sliding his left hand down to your collarbone, gently tucking his fingers under the collar of the t-shirt. His left hand was surprisingly sensitive and he could feel the prickle of your heat, you were definitely warmer than you had been. Your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, his thumb rubbed higher, feeling your pulse in your neck as well. 

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Steve sighed and Bucky snatched his hand away as if he’d been caught, “but if you can get her to have some soup that would be great -” 

“We have to do something else.” Bucky knew he sounded panicked, but he didn’t care. Hypothermia could be deadly and there was no way he was losing you. “She’s still asleep, she should be coming round.”

“There's not much more we can do,” Sam's voice was sleepy. “Sit with her, if she wakes up, get her to eat something and try to keep her awake. Steve and will get there as soon as we can. In the meantime, there may be one more thing you could try -” Sam’s eyes lit up and Bucky just knew he was in trouble somehow. 

Body heat, that’s what Sam had said.

“You need to get under a blanket with her properly, keep her warm.” Sam suggested.

“You mean cuddle.”

“Fine, cuddle, would that be the end of the world?” He’d rolled his eyes and Bucky had felt a sort of sick feeling inside. He’d love to cuddle you, actually, would love to feel your body close to him without the threat of you pulling a training knife or trying to flip him on his back again. But he just can’t.

He stared at you, replaying Sam’s words over and over. Bodyheat, it’s the only thing for it now the fire was roaring again and the huge blanket was folded over twice. Why weren’t you waking up? Why were you still so cold to the touch? 

He lay down, rearranging the blanket over you both and let his right arm fall over your waist, pulling you closer. 

The fire crackled, the snow fell in quiet drifts by the windows and for a moment he could pretend that this was all normal. Just you taking a nap on a winter evening. Would you nap in your clothes? Or would you change into your pyjamas early on in the day and stay like that. Would you fall asleep as easily in his apartment? Would you want to stay?

The snow had stopped again, banked up against the windows in what would have been a wonderful Christmas scene, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s tactical comms were blinking with a new message but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His head was clearer from having slept, but the feel of your hand sitting low on his hip, your body perfectly aligned with his and, crucially, your face so close, lips brushing his cheek, had his thoughts reeling again. 

You stirred, nuzzling closer and placing a sleepy kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s heart sank, who did you think he was? 

“Hmm, where are we?” Your eyes were closed still, but at least your hand was hot against his skin and you were talking, cogent. 

“You fell through the ice, I'm trying to get you warm. How do your toes and fingers feel?” He whispered. 

You stretched your hands out in front of you, wiggling your fingers at him, “they did hurt, ugh, they hurt so bad,” there was a sad whine in your voice that made Bucky want to right every wrong you’d ever endured. You just sounded so small, so vulnerable for a change. “But they don't hurt anymore.” Your eyes drifted closed again and Bucky bit his lip, it really was now or never. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on your face. 

“You cracked the ice?” 

“No, but you wouldn’t have gone over it if we hadn’t made that stupid bet.” 

“Oh -” and then you laughed. 

“Why are you laughing, this is really serious, you could’ve died.” His breath caught in his throat, you were laughing and moving and his chest was still bare and you were in his t-shirt, pushing yourself against him with every movement. 

“It’s not your fault though you idiot.” You smacked his chest playfully and he caught your hand, holding it tight. 

“Are you feelin’ okay now?” His eyes darted over your face, taking in your pupils - slightly too dilated, your skin felt flush now which was good, but you couldn’t look at him properly. “You’re not concussed, your pupils are -” his fingers lingered on your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken. 

You pulled away, “I’m fine, I just needed to sleep it off I guess. Where are we?”

You took in the cabin, the little bed in the corner, stripped of its blankets. There was a fire still in the grate and evidence of Bucky eating, judging by the little ration packets scattered next to the sofa. Your tactical gear was drying over the back of a chair and Bucky’s was arranged neatly by the door. 

“We made it to the safe house, you were really close, you would’ve won.” Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes had looked when he’d held you, the light hadn't changed, you hadn’t moved your body, the only thing that had changed was his touch.

“Good, I knew I would, slow old man.” You laughed and it was such a relief to hear you happy, safe, Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where are Sam and Steve?”

Still driving, there was a snowstorm so god knows when they'll get here now.” 

“Better get some rations together then, I'm starving.” 

You wriggled off the couch and stood, eyeing up the kitchenette. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was trying to keep his eyes from straying to you. The sweat pants were far too big, sliding down over your hips, as we're the socks which pooled around your ankles. You looked so…cute.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, why don’t you rest?” He pushed the blankets and towels off the worn couch and tried to steer you away from the kitchenette. 

“Bucky I’m not dead, I was fine, I can make some-” you turned the can over in your hands, it sloshed, but there was nothing on the label, “mystery soup.” 

“No, you’re not dead, but -” 

“You wish I was, blah blah blah.” You laughed making your hand talk along with your words. 

“No, No -” Through your laugh, Bucky’s voice was laced with distress. “I never wanted you to get hurt.” 

He dodged around you, trying to get you to slow down and look at him but you were turning a pan over in your hands, deciding if it was too rusty for cooking with. 

“I know, you just wanted to win. No hard feelings, Buck. We’ll pick a winner next time.” 

You were determined to carry on like this then, with your arguing and betting and banter. Even though Bucky had sat with you through the night, certain you were going to die and it was entirely his fault that you’d die without knowing you were the one who kept him going. 

“I don’t want there to be a next time.” He said, plainly. 

“Oh, right, well, I guess we can just ask to be placed on different teams. If that’s what you want.” Suddenly the laughter had stopped and it was like you'd been dipped in ice again, the atmosphere was frosty and tense. 

“No, for god's sake, that's not what I mean. Fuck, I'm messing this up!” Bucky grumbled, making a grab for you.

“Hey!” You tried to dodge again, but he took your hands and pulled you close. 

“I don't want there to be a next time because I never want you to be in danger because of me. There won't be a next time because I was so scared I was going to lose you without telling you…”

“Telling me…what?”

“That you make all of this worthwhile.” He said, the tension leaving his body. “I couldn't imagine training without you, dinners and galas and missions. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be worth it if you weren't there too.”

“Bucky-”

“You don't have to say anything, I just needed to tell you.” He dropped your hands and turned, “I'm going to go and call Sam and Steve, see if they're nearly here for evac.”

But you heard the water turn on and knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was having one of his angry, ‘wash away the argument’ showers that infuriated you so much when you had to share a hotel room or a safe house or when you followed him to his room to continue whatever ridiculous argument you’d both cooked up.

You continued stirring the soup slowly. Soup was really all you could find that didn’t make you feel sick just from reading the label, and you bent over the stove allowing the steam to warm your fingers and cheeks. 

The door to the bathroom slammed and you turned to see the light spilling from under the door. What did he mean ‘you make all of this worthwhile’. He was messing around, right? All the bets and fights, the arguments. He liked to get under your skin because, well, he clearly didn’t like you very much. 

You dropped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, letting the too short handle slowly drown in the now spitting hot soup. 

But you liked him. Your heart had been pounding when he touched you and now your mind was racing at the thought of him even more than tolerating you. 

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the cabin and hammering on the bathroom door. 

Bucky’s face was flush when he opened the door, pink staining his cheeks and blending with the faint lines on his face where he’d been cut during your mission.

He said nothing. 

“Tell me what you meant.” You demanded, trying to keep your eyes up. It was difficult, Bucky had stripped off already, you’d sparred enough times to know what his chest felt like, it seeing might actually tip you over the edge. 

“Don’t do this.” He grumbled, “just leave me alone.” 

He went to close the door but you pushed your flat palm against the wood, “Bucky you can’t go saying shit like that and then walk off and make it my fault.” 

“I can’t deal with it today, okay? I pulled your lifeless fucking body from underneath a sheet of ice. I thought you were dead, okay, dead.”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyes and you could see how dark they were underneath, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“I carry you back here and - god - you were so cold, freezing, and I stripped all those clothes off thinking ‘Bucky she’s going to kill you’ and then you wanted to hold me while you slept. And you could’ve died, I thought you had died, and it’d be my fault because I made a fucking bet with you just so you’d talk to me and smile at me and I wanted you to win, I really did, because when you win you look at me and your eyes sparkle and I can pretend its because of me -” he took a breath, shocked that he’d allowed such a stark confession out. But he was so tired and - 

“It is you.” You whispered, “if my eyes sparkle -” your lips quirked up at the corner, “if they do it is because of you. I like when you make bets with me because then I know you’ll be thinking about me. I like when we fight because you touch me and I can pretend it's because you want to and -” 

Your thoughts were cut off by Bucky wrapping his arms around your back, his hands were wide on your shoulders when he pulled you up and into him, kissing you hard enough to bruise. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” his eyes were still full of emotion, his eyes piercing, it still felt warm to be under his gaze but there was something extra something more in your honesty that had you pressing your lips to his again. 

“I fucking love you too.” You confessed against his mouth and jumped into his arms.

Bucky stumbled out from the bathroom, balancing you on his hips so his hands could cradle your back, pressing you close. Between you he could feel how soft your breasts were, peaked nipples hard and your heartbeat fast.

Your chest heaved, pulling back for breath with a huge smile, a laugh in the corner of your mouth.

"We've been so stupid."

"Uh -huh," Bucky knelt, lowering you to pile of blankets that had been kicked off the sofa so recently, "stupid, yeah." He went back to kissing you, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to trace over every curve of your body.

"I've waited so long to have you like this," he murmered, lips brushing your own, "and you've been so sick, I can wait a while longer."

Bucky pulled away, but you tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down with you.

"If you think you're leaving me now," you groaned, "you're very much mistaken."

Bucky's smile turned almost feral, his pupils wide and eyes roving your face for any sign of discomfort.

"I'll be very -"

"Bucky,"

"Hmm?" He was lost in touching you again,

"Just fuck me."

He seemed to lose all control, crushing a kiss against your lips and letting the hands that had been so gentle grip you even tighter, his finger pads digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, tipping your hips up so he could grind his hard cock against you.

"Is that an M249 in your -"

"I'm just very pleased to see you," he countered, smiling into your kisses.

You laughed, the fire of your sparing still there in the way he hiked your leg over his hip, and you remembered all the times he'd rolled you over on the mats just like this, your breath fanning over his cheek and his body so close to yours.

"Can't promise it's as big though."

You slid your hand into his tight tactical trousers and squeezed the still growing bulge beneath, "I dunno, Buck, pretty close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

His kisses slowed and he pulled back, brushing a hand down your cheek, "me too."

Sam was exhausted when he pulled the truck up to the safe house, Steve was dosing in the passenger seat after his stint at driving and Sam was looking forward to his own sleep before they made their way to the evac point. 

He shoved the door open, expecting to see the familiar sight of you bickering over cards but -

“Sam!” Bucky shouted, throwing a blanket over your naked body and accidentally exposing himself in the process. “Get out!” 

You laughed, clinging to Bucky’s arm in peels of laughter. 

“Steve!” Sam shouted as he retreated, “you owe me twenty dollars! And Bucky owes me an hour with his therapist” 

“He can have whatever he wants as long as I get to keep you.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek. 

“That’s so cheesy, Bucky, gross.” Your laughter turned into giggles. 

“You love it.” He kissed you again and your lips parted in anticipation. 

“Hmm, I guess I do…” You let him push you back into the blankets, kissing down your neck before- “ I bet you I can get dressed faster!”

[thanksbutno98]

Secret Admirer

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: Your Secret Admirer becomes bold enough John Price takes things into his own hands.

Warnings: Stalking, panic attacks, violence, threats of murder, allusions to children being harmed, sexual themes, swearing, not edited.

——————

Summer was cresting and you were having a blast with your family this year. You and John decided to skip doing a holiday and instead focus on your children and the things they wanted to do here. It consisted of many days swimming in the pond, trampoline parks, hiking, museum visits, trips to London, back yard barbecues with all your friends, and numerous camping trips.

You were just coming into work after one of those camping trips, feeling a bit sore. Sleeping on the ground wasn’t the comfiest and when you tried to complain, John shot you down. Telling you, that hefty pay check that hits your bank account was from him sleeping on the ground thousands of miles away. So as your revenge you used him as a pillow and mattress. You slept on top of him so you’d be comfy and kissed him every time he complained and thanked him for the pay check.

It was not a conducive weekend for good work performance. So walking into work you felt worse for wear. Your hair was messier than you liked so you pulled it back into a messy bun that somehow looked cute; which almost never happened. You opted for dark blue jeans instead of slacks, a silk white loose button up, and powder blue heels. The heels were your minimal effort today because you almost broke and wore adidas classics.

“Indy, your husband in the dog house?” Penny one of your long time colleagues and friends asked.

“I mean he did spill his tea all over my favorite blouse this morning- but no.” You were just walking into the museum you worked at and hadn’t seen Penny coming in behind you.

She caught you mid bite of your homemade breakfast wrap, crumbs and sauce decorating the corner of your mouth. With a laugh Penny took it from you and handed you a napkin she had.

Penny didn’t have her coat on and no bag so you assumed she already made it to her desk. Her fiery red hair was neatly tied back, a few of the unmanageable curls framing her face nicely. The freckles on pale skin stood out more today with her bare face and her sweet green eyes were sparkling with mischief. Penny was an endearing, kind, and incredibly smart woman. You felt similarly about her in the way John felt about Soap and Gaz.

“Can I have that back?” After wiping your face you pointed to your breakfast in her hand but she shook her head no.

“Someone sent the whole staff pastries and tea. Marked it as a gift for us from your ‘Secret Admirer.’” Using air quotes she giggled and laced arms with you.

Your eye’s bugged out of your head when Penny tossed your wrap into the trash. You had only gotten two bites and now it was gone. You were about to complain about your food but Penny told you to wait and see because your sweet tooth would be thanking her for tossing it out.

Dragging you upstairs to the offices you two chatted about John and your weekend camping with your kids. You could tell Penny wanted to ask you a few questions about her own ‘admirer’ who you happened to know all too well.

“See!” Penny motioned to the array of pastries laid out in the offices kitchenette.

It was a decent sized room with cream wallpaper that had tiny faded green ferns as the pattern and a sage green wainscoting. When you first walk in, there was the kitchen portion of the break room. The top and bottom cabinets lined the left wall and created an L shape around the corner to the right and stopped three quarters into the room. The cabinet matched the wainscoting, the wood countertops had endless ring stains from coffee mugs. To the right were two round wooden tables with five chairs each.

One entire table was taken up by an assortment of pastries. They were set up as if they were on display, not simply left in boxes for the taking. There were cake stands used and an exquisite vase of tulips placed along side. Almost every pastry you could think of was on this table, even your favorites, they just happened to be the wrong flavor. It was a grandiose sight to see and far past what John would have done; or at least what you saw his normal efforts as. He was also way too busy to get something like this done. Usually he dropped you off lunch or surprised you by taking you out for dinner.

You blinked a few times, absolutely stunned by the sugary display. It took one of your employees thanking you to snap you out of your stupor. Natalie had a plate full of pastries and told you to pass the thank you along to your husband; who was well known here. Being the curator meant you were in charge of mostly everything, thus when your husband stopped by everyone was extra nice to him because he was the bosses husband.

“Oh wow. This must’ve cost a pretty penny.” You whispered eyes scanning over the assortment to pick your first treat.

The white card that was stuck into the red tulips stood out to you. So you reached for it to see what was written inside. In not the neatest handwriting is read ‘Yours Truly.’ It felt a bit romantic but it could be misconstrued.

“John’s so sweet. Think Johnny would ever do something like this for me?” Penny finally asked the question you knew was coming.

“Uhhhh I’m not sure. Soap’s kindaaa-“ You instantly felt caught out as you grabbed a pastry and took a bite. You were hoping that by eating you wouldn’t have to answer the question.

“Yeah, he hasn’t called me back.” Fiddling with the pastry in her hand she stared down with her lips pursed.

You felt incredibly awkward. This was exactly why you told Soap to stay away from Penny. She was easily attached and a hopeless romantic. When she told you Soap asked for her number when him and John stopped by here, you were skeptical. And now here you were being questioned by Penny.

This also wasn’t the first time Soap had done something like this. It was actually the fourth. He claimed you had ‘hot’ friends that you were hiding.

First it was Naomi a good friend from university, then Leena your best friend, Saoirse a mom at Lily’s daycare, and now Penny. Leena you understood, because she went after Soap when you had them over for drinks at the beginning of summer. Naomi you were pissed about because you specifically told Soap not to sleep with your friends and then Naomi called you up telling you Johnny was an asshole who didn’t call her back.

Saoirse kept you out of it, besides one chat at the shop when you had Lily with you. Although you hadn’t heard anything about it since, you were pretty sure they were still hooking up. Siobhan, Saoirse daughter did mention Soap from time to time to Lily and agreed how cool he was. Lily was growing jealous and would make passive aggressive comments that Soap should be spending time with her not Siobhan.

“I’m sorry Penny. I love the guy but I’m not sure how he is with relationships.” You lied with a smile. You didn’t have the heart to tell her he liked to sleep around and you thought he was striking up a relationship with someone else.

“Ugh! I’m so tired of meeting guys who only want to shag and then I never hear from them again.” She bit into her sweet angrily.

“I did not need to know you two slept together.” You laughed. It was obvious they had but you weren’t too keen talking about your employees sex life, even if you and Penny were friends outside of work.

“He’s good in bed, I’ll give him that. Charming, handsome, a little full on himself though.” Penny wasn’t stopping and the over sharing train had left the station.

“Ew I hate that I know that.” Your stomach turned hearing that about Soap. You liked the image of him in your head of the charming, golden retriever friend of your husband’s; not a man whore.

“Uh well I’ll be moving on then. No use in waisting my time on a military man.” Penny nudged you.

“Well, I’m going to call my military man and see how much money he blew doing this.” With a laugh you grabbed an extra pastry to take to your office.

On the walk you took a breath trying to figure out a way to sabotage any more of Soaps advances on your friends. Maybe you’d start a rumor that he played Screamo music while having sex or that he needed a photo of his ex in the room. Anything to keep him from sleeping with another one of your friends.

As you called John you wondered if he would have any ideas. He did know Soap better than you. Maybe he could talk some sense into him.

“Darling, how can I help you.” The raspy tone of your husband’s voice purred down the line.

He was being extra flirty to get on your good side, you knew that. But there wasn’t much he could say since you knew he was at the trampoline park with the kids.

“How much did all that cost?” You giggled at the flirtation.

“All what?” He asked. The sound of children screaming in delight in the background of the call.

“You sent a shit load of pastries to me to give to the staff. Did you not?” Sitting down in your chair you put the phone on speaker and started to go through the mountain of files on your desk.

“Uh, I want to say I did- but no.” John pulled the phone away and you could hear him telling Lily to toughen up or she would have to sit with him while her siblings had fun.

You laughed when you heard her say ‘Thank you! I hate this place.’ and then asked if she could have a sip of his drink. Lily continued to chat endlessly to John on the other end. She mentioned how it smelled gross, things were sticky, and how a little boy sneezed into his hands and then didn’t wash them.

“Hmm, my dad?” You asked taking a bite of your danish and grinning at Lily in the background. She was now asking for pretzels and whining that John told her she had to wait until he was off the phone.

“Your dad? Thats funny.” The joke wasn’t appreciated but you knew John was right. Your dad never tended to do stuff like that. Maybe the occasional flowers here or there but he was a quality time kind of guy.

“Well, whoever did, got it from my favorite bakery. So they clearly like me and know me enough to drop a ton of money. . . Signed it ‘Yours Truly” You laughed.

You had taken the little message with you for no other reason than you found it odd. Taking out the card you were now looking it over again. It was hand written and you thought it looked like male handwriting; but you could be wrong. It was probably a staff member at the bakery who wrote it.

“Bring some home.” John chuckled, not paying too much mind to who got it for you.

It was probably from the director since the museum had been doing so well this summer. There had been talks about you getting a raise since you were able to bring in so much more foot traffic from local schools and hosting events. That and the exhibits you were able to finesse.

“Will do. Love you.” John could hear the smile in your voice

“Love you too.” It was said with confidence which made your heart flutter.

“Mummy I love you! Tell mummy I love her too! Daddy- daddy tell mummy I lover her! Tell her-“

“Lily loves you too.” John chuckled.

“She loves me too right? Did mummy not hear you? Tell her again. Daddy, tell mummy again. Tell her-“

“Love you Lily!” Your voice carried far enough she heard you and you knew that by the way she giggled.

“Mummy’s the best.” Lily spoke in a day dream like state.

And it was that simple to you. It wasn’t John who sent the pasties and flowers, but it didn’t really matter to you who sent them. It was a gift to the staff in your name. It was probably the director or someone who had to do with the museum. You’d find out eventually so you weren’t going to worry about it now; not with this mountain of paper work.

——————

“Pastries again?” You walked into the kitchenette at work to see another spread of delicious goodies.

“Spoiling us Dr. Y/L/N.” Jamie smiled at you as he grabbed two sweets.

“Yeah, uh- you guys deserve it. And call me Indy, not a fan of the formality.” You said off handed as you grabbed a napkin to put your danish on.

You were looking over the spread that was not as nice as the last one since the pastries sat in the pretty boxes from the bakery. It was still the same amount of goodies, but there were your favorites this time. Whereas last time there were some good ones but the wrong flavors.

“Do I need to bring anything to the staff meeting?” He asked as he headed for the door.

“Your appetite, this is a lot of food.” There were still leftovers from two days ago so now you were wondering what was going on. You would have to send people home with some or they’d go to waste.

“Will do!” Jamie waved and left you alone in the break room.

You immediately pulled out your phone and headed to your office. Opening up your call log you saw John’s name as the only person you’d called the past few days. It was a reminder to reach out to your friends but you pushed that aside knowing you’d hear about Soap. So you gave John a call instead.

“Hey-“

“Darling, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back?” John sounded a bit rushed.

Slipping into your office you plopped down in your chair, confused at the addition to your desk. There were two flower vases on your desk. One was a standard looking bouquet of roses in a glass vase. While the other was at least two dozen red tulips in a large green vase with a pristine, white card attached. Pulling it from the stems you opened it to see a similarly eerie message in the same hand writing.

“Uh, got another delivery of pastries. Again, they came with flowers that say they’re from ‘Yours Truly’.” You ignored John being in a rush and shared this.

It wasn’t unsettling per se but you knew this wasn’t John. The roses could be him, or at least you hoped they were. You didn’t like tulips and you assumed your husband knew that. Roses were the flowers he strictly got you. What was making this start to feel unsettling was the fact tulips were sent with the last bunch of pastries on Monday. They were sitting on the side table next to the couch in your office, wilting away.

“Oh I sent the pastries, didn’t need someone showing me up. And the flowers were from me too.” You may not be able to see it but you could hear John’s cocky smirk.

No wonder there were your favorite pastries then. John knew that kind of stuff about you. It was sweet he noted your mention of not getting what you really wanted because whoever sent the gift didn’t know you that well.

��Trying to get lucky?” You flirted.

It was a sweet gesture, John didn’t have to do over the top things to get into your pants but you loved to pretend he did. It always made him chuckle and that sound was like a rush of endorphins with how giddy it made you.

“Pretty sure I can give you a look and you’ll be dragging me to bed.” There was that deep chuckle again. He was right you both knew it so instead of telling him that, you rolled into your next topic.

“Oh, there’s two bouquets. Ones-“

“Roses.” John finished.

“The others tulips though. I’m not really a fan of-“

“I did not send you tulips. You have never once bought or grown tulips. I wouldn’t waste my money on those.” John spoke so adamantly you wondered if at some point down the line you hammered into his head what flowers you liked and disliked.

“Yeah, that’s the one that had the note that said ‘Yours Truly’.” You sighed.

Your intuition was telling you something was wrong, but you couldn’t explain why. Being the person you were you didn’t want to worry John. You knew he had enough on his mind and nothing had truly happened. It was just anxiety creeping up, it had to be.

“Strange.” John hummed clearly occupied by some task he was doing.

You hummed as you inspected the flowers. They looked expensive, from some high end shop. The vase also seemed incredibly pricey and it made you wonder who had this kind of money. Talks of the neighbor had swirled around your house but this couldn’t be him. You assumed he didn’t make enough money to do this.

“Maybe you have an admirer. You did just hire a bunch of new staff.” John tried to calm you. Something like this could make you spiral and he was trying to get ahead of it.

“Fair. . . Still strange.” You said with a deep sigh.

“Look, I’ve got to go.” John tried to rush you off the phone.

“Love you.” It was said in a distracted sort of way, not with the normal amount of emotion you usually used.

“Love you two. Have fun with your mystery man. . . or woman.” John joked.

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you.” You volleyed back.

“Wouldn’t mind watching. Okay, gotta run.” John chuckled deeply and hung up before you could say another word.

“Cheeky.” You snickered to yourself.

——————

“You were sent more flowers?” John sounded muffled with his cigar in his mouth.

You and John were outside enjoying some fresh air. John was fiddling with the engine of his convertible while you were sat on the back of his truck. The truck was parked in front of the cherry red convertible leaving you and John close and able to chat freely.

Today John wore athletic shorts and a t-shirt from his run not too long ago. You were dress similarly since you joined him and let your two oldest’s hang around the house by themselves for a half hour.

“Yeah. It’s getting creepy now. Whoever it is really likes tulips.” You muttered not wanting John to worry about you.

It was hard to hide how unnerving this was getting. You had tried all avenues to figure out who was sending these gifts. No part of you wanted to involve John because you were scared he’d go nuclear out of a need to protect.

“You ask around?” Looking up from the engine John watched you bite your nails nervously, perched up on the tailgate of his truck.

“Asked at the staff meeting this morning. No one knew who it was. So either someone’s embarrassed or they’re coming from someone not at work.” You were becoming fidgety now.

John pulled off his gloves and tossed them on the engine. It was obvious to him this was really weighing on you. John was always protective of you especially when he sensed a threat. It hadn’t felt that way until today with you telling him this. John truly thought someone at work had a harmless crush on you. It was impossible to avoid and John had been trying to not get jealous this time around. Clearly that was a mistake because whoever this was, was taking it too far.

“Who else would send you stuff that’s not me or your father?” Stepping forward John lightly took your hand away from your mouth and guided it down to hold his.

John smoothed his other rough hand over the top of yours and stared into your eyes. It was a silent way of reassuring you. So you took a breath and decided you should be honest about how bothered this was making you.

“No clue. They’d have to know where I work. . . I’m getting scared, John. I have this feeling in my gut that this is bad. Like really really bad.” You confessed.

John nodded and breathed in deeply. He took a moment to respond, gathering his thoughts first. It was important that he didn’t leave you feeling more anxious but instead helped calm your nerves. He knew in this moment he wasn’t going to allow this to go any further.

“Get security to reject anymore gifts. Actually don’t worry about it. I’ll go in and speak to them while I look into it.” John change his mind mid sentence. He didn’t want you handling this in any capacity. It was his responsibility.

“They’re always there before me or anyone else shows up at work. Thank you, I don’t think I can do this on my own.” Not being able to bite your nails, you were lightly chewing on your lip. The nerves were really getting to you.

“You okay, darling?” John reached out and cupped your face in his free hand the other squeezing yours.

“Yeah. Kinda I guess. If just gives me the heebie-jeebies.” You tried to shrug it off but you were clearly shaken up.

“I’ll handle this. You don’t have to worry.” John spoke with certainty which had you taking a breath of relief.

“I love you.” You said as you hopped off John’s truck.

“Love you too. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Giving you a hug you melted into John’s chest. He gave you a kiss to your cheek and you nodded at him with a small smile.

“I’m going to get dinner started.” You were still unsettled but John liked your approach of trying to stick to your normal routine. It would hopefully help calm your nerves.

“Mummy!” Lily squealed happily and was slowly running up the driveway to greet you. Her hair was damp and her Star Wars t-shirt was on backwards.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself? How was swimming?” You asked with a kind smile. Squatting down she ran into your arms and hugged you tight.

“I did! I did! Swim was soooo much fun! Papa got in the pool with me after! Then he took me to get sweets at the shop!” Lily was bursting with energy, waving her sugary treats around.

“Hey dad, how was it?” You stood and asked while Lily went over to John for a hug.

“She did amazing. I gotta run though I’m late for a date.” Your dad waved from where he was standing halfway up the drive with his car still running.

“Look, someone gave me a flower for you.” With a giant smile Lily opened up her swim bag and pulled out a beat up tulip with a card tied to the stem.

Your eyes went wide in shock and you quickly looked to John. His eyebrows were knit together and he gave you a quick glance before taking Lily’s bag and searching through it quickly. Lily’s belonging hit the ground, her bathing suit plopping with a wet thud against the asphalt.

“Where’d you get that.” The dread immediately set in.

You tossed the tulip to the ground after taking the little white card off. Opening it you felt your stomach twist, like you might be sick.

‘Yours truly’

And then you noticed the picture of you. You were in your bra getting dressed for bed. The photo was taken through your upstairs window from some distance away. Eyes trained on yourself the photo was slid from your fingers. John was staring at you with gentleness and then smoothed his hand down your back.

“I’ll handle it.” He whispered.

John had dropped what he was doing and immediately flagged down your dad.

That picture was taken from the kids treehouse, there was no other way to snap a picture through your upstairs bedroom window. John would be investigating that later.

“At swim.” Lily looked up at you confused.

“Who gave that to you.” You didn’t mean to but you were forceful when you asked, the fear spilling out of you. Grabbing Lily’s shoulders and squatting down you asked her again, shaking her slightly off impulse.

Your breathing was heavier and it was clear how scared you were to your four year old. All you could think of was how this creep had approached your daughter in a place she should be safe. In a place as vulnerable as a children’s swim class. You could be sick if you weren’t so focused on getting answers.

“I don’t know.” Lily was shell shocked by how serious you had gotten all of a sudden.

You were never like this with her. You were her ‘silly mummy’ who loved to smile and play. You were only ever serious with Jj and Evelyn. Sometimes you were with her when you thought she might get hurt. So why now? Did she almost get hurt?

“Lily, who gave this to you?” You demanded. Picking up the red tulip off the ground you shook it in her face trying to get a response from her.

“Mummy!” Lily began to cry at your rougher than normal touch and angry tone.

Lily thought she was in trouble when she wasn’t. Aggression in any form freaked her out. She didn’t know why you were so upset but she didn’t like it and felt freaked out by it.

“Lily, I need you to tell me.” This only made Lily cry harder so you brought her close to your chest and hugged her.

Frantically looking around you looked to your dad and John who were approaching.

“I didn’t see anyone give her a tulip.” Your dad was by your side now with John.

“Lily.” John pulled Lily from your chest, picked her up, and sat her on the back of his truck so they were almost eye level. She was bawling at this point and sputtering about you being mad at her.

“Stop crying.” John yelled at her.

With wide eyes Lily’s tears dried up and she stared at John looking petrified to have just been yelled at. For once you didn’t mind John yelling at one of the kids. You needed to know who gave that to her. This was the closest you’d gotten to knowing who had been doing all of this and it came at the expense of your daughter’s safety.

“Who gave you that flower.” John demanded.

“Mummy friends.” Lily hiccuped. She looked at you and then back to John. She had a big frown on her face and she started to tug at her hair nervously.

“Was your mummy’s friend a girl or a boy?” John continued his line of questioning. He was forceful, practically barking at his youngest daughter.

“A boy.” She began to sniffle her breathing ragged from holding back her tears. You watched as she squeezed her knees together and became incredibly tense.

“Do I know this boy?” Again another forceful question.

“Daddy I don’t remember!” Lily was hiccuping and starting to hyperventilate. She turned and threw her hands out toward you to take her.

“Lily you have to try and remember. Has this friend come to the house?” Taking her face in his hands John tried to get her to look at him.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I have to go to the loo!” Lily was frantic now, her little fists bawled up and absolute terror etched across her face. She was wiggling where she sat, kicking her legs to get John away from her.

“Lily, did you see his face?” John ran his large hand over her head and smoothed down her damp hair to try and calm her down.

“No! I- I just saw the pretty flower and said thank you.” Lily yelled as she started to cough and gag from the held back tears and stress. You felt your chest ache and then immediately your stomach dropped seeing Lily wet herself from fear.

“Did he-“ before John could finish Lily threw up all over the front of him and began to cry hysterically.

“That’s enough, John.” You pushed your husband aside and grabbed Lily and hugged her tight as she began to have what you could only describe as a panic attack.

It didn’t matter you were now covered in fluids, you needed to comfort her. This had to be traumatizing and you would be forever guilty for that. For how you and John just handled this and that you couldn’t keep her safe enough that she wouldn’t be involved in the craziness of what you now considered stalking.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” You held Lily tight as she hyperventilated. John felt horrible he’d never seen Lily this upset before. Deep down he knew this was his fault and now understood what pushing Lily resulted in.

“Peanut I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” John was running his hand over Lily’s hair trying to calm her down.

Turning her head towards him, John thought Lily was going to tell him something. That she would want him to hold her like she did whenever she didn’t feel well. But Lily threw up all over him again.

“Jesus, it’s like she’s aiming for you.” Your dad mumbled, now rubbing Lily’s back as you cooed and swayed.

The unfortunate fact about your dad was he was well revered in having a child who would have inconsolable meltdowns. You had trouble regulating your emotions for a long time after losing your mom as a little girl. It trained your dad in how to help an emotionally fragile child and in turn he gave you many tips and tricks on how to help Lily.

“I didn’t see anyone. The only time Lily was out of my sight was when the instructor took her to the bathroom.” What your dad said made your blood run cold.

Had someone approached Lily in the bathroom?

“Must’ve been then.” John concluded.

You didn’t respond and took Lily inside with you. You sang to her and rubbed her back as she screamed into your chest crying.

“She’s had admirers before but not like what you just told me.” Your dad informed John.

John half listened, his phone already pressed to his ear as he called the swim class and shucked off his soiled shirt.

“Is Lily okay?” Evelyn was distraught as she watched you walk into the house with her little sister.

“Yes, uh- I’m going to give her a bath. Pick out a movie to watch together in my room?” You pulled yourself together so Evelyn couldn’t see the turmoil you were in.

So much had unraveled and you were having trouble keeping yourself in check. For the sake of your children you held on by a thread.

“Okay.” Evelyn was off and ran upstairs ahead of you.

It took some time to calm Lily down. Once you got her in the bath she seemed to catch her breath. Eventually she asked for you to put on music and if she could use a bath bomb. It felt like a weight was lifted off of you when she started acting like her normal self. After her bath Lily was asleep on your bed soon after and cuddling with Evelyn as a movie played.

“Is Lily okay?” Evelyn whispered.

“Someone gave Lily a tulip at swim today. I accidentally was too pushy asking who gave it to her and she thought she was in trouble. So if she mention anything about it would you let me know.” Placing a kiss to Evelyn’s head she seemed to immediately be on board.

“Of course mummy.” She smiled and you went downstairs to talk to John.

On your way down you stopped on the stairs and sat down. With your face in your palms you caught your breath and allowed yourself to cry for a minute and only a minute. You didn’t have time for a break down you had to take care of your family. Your feelings on the matter had to come last.

John was in clean clothes and just putting his shoes on to head out when you walked into the kitchen.

“Where are you going? We need to call-“

“Just got off the phone with her swim instructor.” Walking over John gave you a quick kiss and grabbed his keys.

“And?” You were clutching the collar of your shirt.

John could see you had been crying and as much as he wanted to comfort you he needed to ensure your and Lily’s safety first. He would make time tonight to talk to you and check in.

“She said Lily was with her the entire time. That she looked away for only a minute to ask another instructor something and when she looked back Lily had the flower.” Recounting the message John then slipped his jacket on.

He was incredibly calm which was helping you not freak out. It was clear to you he was going to handle this. Now you needed to trust that and handle everything at home.

“It can’t be a stranger John.” You told him fearfully.

Lily cried at any stranger trying to talk to her or even look at her. For her to take a flower from somebody they either had to be one of those performers at Disneyland dressed as Mickey Mouse, a swim instructor she’s had before, or someone you and John knew.

“No it can’t. She wouldn’t let a stranger talk to her without crying or hiding behind Ms. Stephanie.” John agreed.

“I’m going to go over now and get security to pull up what they can. Lock the doors please. Your dads staying until I get back, he’s in the garden with Jj.”

——————

After the incident with Lily lead to a dead end John had been hyper vigilant. He walked you to your car in the driveway every time you went out now and watched you leave before going back inside. The kids were no longer allowed to play outside without adult supervision. John closed the treehouse for the summer after finding food wrappers that weren’t from them.

John had been staying up and smoking endlessly on the patio in the darkness with his gun and then napping on the couch during the day. It was making his voice incredibly deep and he was much more irritable. You wondered if this was how he was during deployment. Even his eating habits had changed completely and he was living off coffee, protein, and whatever you made and ate it cold from the fridge. It was as if he stripped himself of the luxuries of home in order to keep himself on guard at all times.

John had sat the whole family down at the kitchen table and went over stranger danger like it was a briefing on base. You commended him for his thoroughness and he explained even friends of yours can be scary people. That if they ever felt like someone was even a tiny bit off to come tell you or him immediately. He wanted to know what adults were around when they went to friend’s houses or extracurriculars. Which wasn’t a real issue since you and John pulled your children out of everything and you took work off, not trusting anyone else with them at the moment.

Lily had come around but was holding a grudge towards John. When he would ask her to do things she would get overly defensive and ask if he was going to yell at her again. She had also started wetting the bed at night which left you and John feeling like awful parents.

This had John spoiling her to an extent you’d never seen before, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. Lily clearly needed a lot of extra love after what happened and no longer being able to go to swim. Jj and Evelyn were complaining constantly about being stuck at home during the summer but when you explained things they begrudgingly said they understood. You and John were trying your best to appease them but they missed their friends and their freedom.

Today you and the children were home and you decided since they weren’t going to camp until this was all solved you’d make it a fun one. You had charmingly called it ‘Explosion Day!’ Where you were going to do a bunch of science experiments that resulted in things exploding.

Throughout the day you would be doing fireworks after your spiel on the periodic table and what elements resulted in which colors. You were hell bent they’d learn something by the end of the day. You would have them guess and then set it off but you didn’t want to terrorize your neighbors so you spread it out throughout the day. You even went as far as inviting the neighborhood kids over at the end of the day for a firework show. That way your children could have fun in a controlled environment.

To your surprise everyone with kids very happily agreed and it had turned into a neighborhood get together in your backyard. You were going to have to break the news to John at some point. He wasn’t going to be happy to have so many people over but he’d survive.

You had just sat your kids down after doing one firework and they were all beaming. They wanted more and were excited for the end of the day. It was a win in your book since the complaining about not going to camp ceased. So you served them sliced apples and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chatted until your doorbell rang.

“Officer Parker.” You sighed heavily. You were standing in the doorway of your house and you couldn’t hide your disapproving look.

Your instinct was that someone complained about the fireworks and now you’d be accused of gun shots again. This guy was also a jerk who you had no intention of being cordial to.

“Hello Mrs. Price. Sorry to bother you.” This time he seemed a lot more polite. With a kind smile, almost as if he were happy to see you.

Odd. But hey, you’re a gorgeous gal maybe he was just happy to see pretty you. At least that’s what you told yourself so you could feel better. It was also what John would say every time this cop came by.

“Hm?” You hummed with a quirked eyebrow.

“First off, heard something going off when I pulled up. Fireworks?” He questioned

“Yup.” You said flatly.

“Kids must love that. Anyway, we’ve gotten some reports of a peeping Tom and wanted to check in.” Again, he was being overly nice. It was a surprise, you really thought he would be giving you trouble. Maybe it was because John wasn’t in sight. You stared blankly trying absorb what you were just told.

“I’m going door to door to take statements if anyone’s seen anything.” Waving his note pad as if saying hello he motioned for you to go ahead.

“Wait seriously.” Opening the front door fully he now had your full attention. With everything going on for you this peeping Tom could very possibly be who John was looking for.

“Yes, have you or any of your family seen anything?” With his pen ready to go Officer Parker looked up through his eyebrows at you.

“Uh, I’d have to ask. . .” You looked down the hall to where you kids where having their snack then back to the officer.

“Come in, the kids are having a snack. John’s not home but he would’ve said something.” Your former unpleasantness faded fast at the prospect of getting answers and help.

John had been adamant you weren’t to file a police report but that didn’t mean you could gather your own information from them. He really thought they’d be completely unhelpful in what was going on. That police would get in his way and John wouldn’t be able to enact the consequences he saw fit. That they might even protect whoever was doing this to you.

Officer Parker was surprised to be invited into your home. You didn’t seem like the type to do that but more of someone who would ask him to wait on the porch. Walking into your home he wasn’t sure if it surprised him of how neat it was. The only true mess were your kids things lying about which was mainly in your living room.

The home was bright with all the windows allowing constant steams of sunlight. It was the perfect house to try and peep through a window if Officer Parker was honest. The decor was nice, timeless pieces that left it feeling like a farmhouse or a cottage in ways. It was homy, comfy. A great place to raise children with the bright colors and lots of space to run around.

Once in the colorful kitchen Office Parker watched all your children turn to look at him. Not one of them seemed happy to see him. That was until Lily shyly waved.

“Why are you waving at him.” Jj pretty much snapped at his baby sister.

“What? We learned at school that police men are our friends. That if we are ever in trouble we go and find one. Just like we find a teacher at school.” Lily explained thoroughly.

“Dad said we’re not suppose to be nice to him.” Evelyn whispered thinking you couldn’t hear.

“I don’t like being mean. It’s really mean to be mean.” Lily pouted back.

“Good school.” Officer Parker nodded at you and you honestly agreed with the sentiment.

Although what you taught your kids was very different and John thought you were a genius for it. You had taught them that if they were ever lost or in need of help they should go ask a mom with kids. And if they didn’t see anyone who was a mom they needed to ask a lady.

“How are the chickens you three?” Stepping up to the kitchen table with his hands on his hips and a warm smile Officer Parker tried to win the kids over with kindness.

“Alive. No thanks to you.” Evelyn was instantly snarky. She had a judgmental look cast at the officer and for some reason slid her plate further away from him as if he’d take her food.

“Evie’s right. Our chickens would be dead if dad listened to your shitty idea.” Jj tacked on.

“Hey, manners.” You crossed your arms over your chest as you corrected them firmly.

You quietly apologized to the officer and then gave each of our children expecting looks. This was John’s doing you knew he had been in their ear and told them to give Officer Parker a hard time if they saw him. He probably even told Jj he could cuss because your son almost never swore in front of you.

“I have to ask you three something. Can I sit with you?” Motioning to their fathers chair the sharp looks he got had his hand shifting to your seat next to Evelyn instead.

Jj then slowly nodded his head seemingly skeptical about this. You could only roll your eyes. He was so much like John at times.

“Dad wouldn’t like that.” Jj said in a very touchy way.

Lily smiled at the officer now sitting across from her and pushed her plate towards him to take an apple slice. Sitting down at the table, the officer cleared his throat and began.

“Apparently there’s been someone in the neighborhood looking through windows. Do you know anything about that?” He spoke in a way that was to hopefully gain your kids trust. You were pretty positive that would never happen with John around.

“Why would we be looking in people’s windows?” Evelyn asked cleary offended, her immediate reaction defensiveness. Her response was a clear tell that she was accustom to getting into trouble. It made the officer chuckle before he continued.

“I don’t think any of you were looking through windows. You’re too smart for that-“ He paused and looked at Lily.

“And she’s too short.” He joked.

“Hey!” Lily whined not appreciating the jab.

The joke made Jj sputter into his milk and fight back laughter. Evelyn’s eyebrows raised and she bit her lip trying to contain herself at her sister getting teased.

“I wanted to know if you’ve seen anyone looking in your windows.” With a smile he hoped some humor may get honest answers.

“Oh, no, I haven’t.” Evelyn looked at Jj checking if he had. Jj shrugged back at her.

“Why would someone be looking in people’s windows?” Jj then looked at you for an answer instead of the officer. Taking a breath you decided it was better you answer truthfully.

“Sometimes it’s to check if people are home because they want to rob the place. Other times they’re trying to look at people for bad reasons.” You explained. Officer Parker was surprised at how straight forward you were.

“Bad reasons?” Lily asked, years welling in her eyes. Officer Parker quickly looked to you at the fact your youngest was about to cry all of a sudden. You put your hand up and waved it off to show it wasn’t anything for him to worry about.

“We will keep a look out thank you so much Officer Parker.” After a kind smile you kissed Lily’s head and he watched you whisper something to her that seemed to get her back in good spirits. You then waved at your kids silently telling them to do something.

“Thank you.” They said in unison. Lily was the only one who seemed happy to say it while Jj and Evelyn stared at each other, clearly only saying it so they didn’t get scolded.

Giving the kids a wave Officer Parker headed to the door and you walked him out. Stopping in the foyer you internally groaned thinking he was about to make a pass at you again.

“Here’s my personal number.” Grabbing a card from the pocket of his shirt he handed it over.

You stared at it for a second hoping he’d take it back but he only pushed his hand slightly forward for you to take it. So you did and it was obvious you didn’t want to. You were going to throw this out as soon as he was gone so John didn’t see it. Then he shifted back-and-forth on his feet, before quickly continuing.

“I want to apologize for my behavior, last I saw you. It was inappropriate and if you’d like a different officer working on this just say the word. My only intention is to make sure you and your neighbors are safe.” It seemed extremely earnest and you found it thoughtful to have Officer Parker apologize.

“Thank you I appreciate that. My husband was a bit crude so I’m sorry for that.” You decided starting over might be nice. If another officer showed up he could have no intention on truly helping whereas Officer Parker seemed truly invested.

“He was. I hope you have a good rest of your day. And please call if you need anything.” With a final smile Officer Parker opened your front door and stepped out on to the porch.

“Oh wait. Was there a description of the guy?” You blurted out before you even realized you had followed him out on to the porch.

“Mid 20’s black hair and everyone that’s seen him says he has unsettling eyes. If I’m honest it sounded like the man I caught going through your mail box.” He spoke matter of factly.

“Who’s seen him? Were they able to see if it was our neighbor?” You leaned forward and pointed in the general direction of where the guy lived. After all Officer Parker said he was going house to house.

“Unfortunately I can’t disclose that. Feel free to ask around. But between you and me, I spoke to that neighbor and he wasn’t the man I saw going through your mail box.” He seemed displeased by this information.

“Okay. You sure? I won’t be letting the kids play outside unsupervised then.” You could feel your anxiety rising at all the strange things happening.

“Not positive but I’m pretty sure.” He nodded and went to leave again.

“Wait- sorry. I know you have better things to do. But I, um, I- never mind.” You had grabbed him by the elbow so he couldn’t leave. The way he looked at you touching him made you realize quickly you shouldn’t grab a police officer so you laughed awkwardly and removed your hand.

“What?” Officer Parker looked at you concerned.

You couldn’t tell that your anxiety was visible on your face and your body language. To you, you thought you were masking it well.

“This is weird. I know it’s weird and probably nothing. But I’ve been getting gifts at work and no one knows who’s sending them to me.” You were hesitant as you spoke and that seemed to raise alarm bells for the officer. It was like he put together some pieces in his head.

“What kind of gifts?” Squaring his shoulder he now seemed very invested.

“Pastries for my staff. Shitty flowers.” It rolled right off your tongue.

“What makes the flowers shitty?” The description of the flowers was a surprise to him.

“They were tulips. I hate tulips.” You said offhandedly.

“Didn’t realize women could be so specific about what type of flowers.” Officer Parker tried to lighten the mood seeing how tense you had gotten.

“Yeah I’m more of a rose type person.” You paused, surprised with yourself for nervously babbling.

“I don’t know why I just told you that- anyway. There’s been pastries for my staff which had to be incredibly expensive. My daughter Lily was even given a flower at swim class with the same note that I’ve gotten for the work gifts.” You were rambling at this point. Spilling all this out felt so much better than having it bottled up.

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a museum curator at-“

“The one off Sheffield?” He asked seemingly surprised. You weren’t sure why, maybe he thought you were some dumb house wife or something.

“Yeah that’s the one.” You nodded

“May I ask what name you go by there?” Taking out his note pad you watched as he began quickly scribbling down details of what you had just told him.

“Indy, or my maiden last name. I got my doctorate before I was married.” Pointing to your degree hung up in the living. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to prove it.

“Oh. . .”

“What?” You breathed out feeling on edge.

“Do you want me to take a look into it?” He asked. It didn’t seem like he would take no for answer.

“Yeah. That would be great.” You nodded vigorously.

“When will your husband be home?” With his pen officer Parker pointed at the driveway.

“Soon. Why?” You asked feeling your blood pressure spike. Something was looming in the humid summer air and felt like it was about to come crashing down.

“Look, I don’t mean to alarm you. But this admirer of yours might not know where you live. But could know the general area. Hence why someone’s peeping in windows and rummaging through mailboxes. Fella might only know your maiden name so once the mailboxes were a bust he’s resorted to looking through peoples windows.” The officers words made your heart stop for a moment and then rapidly pick up pace as if you were running a marathon.

“That’s scary.” You whispered.

Breathing was starting to feel like a chore from how you had to manage it and not start hyperventilating. You placed your hand on your chest, true panic setting in. No part of you wanted to admit you were being stalked. You had been telling yourself John had this handled and you didn’t have to worry. But he didn’t because it was only getting worse. That picture of you in your bedroom only confirmed the peeping Tom had found you. It hit you all at once and the acceptance came in the form of terror.

You had to take a step back into the house and away from the conversation. Breath coming in ragged you rolled your shoulders back and tried to catch your breath. Your hands were shaking and you felt sick to your stomach. You weren’t sure why it took until now for it to sink in but it had.

This was real. This was happening to you.

You were being stalked.

“Ma’am are you okay?” Officer Parker stepped towards you, placing his hand on your shoulder gently.

“I’m sorry. I just-“ Cutting yourself off you rubbed a hand down your face and with the other pinched your thigh to try and help gather yourself.

“It’ll be alright.” There was a gentleness in the way he spoke that was helping somewhat.

But what you needed was John. You needed to break down in his capable arms. To cry your pretty eyes out and ask him to fix this. Because you knew he would. That you knew he’d been trying but you couldn’t wait any longer. He had to get it resolved today because living like this would end with you having a nervous breakdown.

“Would you like me to stay in my cruiser until your husband gets home?” Officer Parker’s hand slid from your shoulder to your upper back, his touch feather light and almost not there. It was a kind touch, one meant to ground you.

“Why don’t you just stay in the kitchen. John should be home any minute and I know he’ll want to talk to you.” Taking one last shaky breath you nodded at Parker to silently tell him you were okay.

“Of course.” There was a softness to him you didn’t think he would posses from the encounters you’d had.

It helped in this moment to know that police were aware, involved, and compassionate toward your situation. You’d heard so many cases of stalkers going ignored by the police. Or women being told they were imagining things or overreacting.

“I’ll make tea.” You smiled meekly and didn’t wait for a response.

You headed quickly toward the kitchen embarrassed that you cracked like that in front of someone you hardly knew. That kind of vulnerability was suppose to be reserved for John.

“I appreciate the hospitality.” With a kind smile Officer Parker followed you into the kitchen.

Just as you entered you saw John through the window behind the kitchen table that looked out on to your backyard. He was walking from his truck, across the patio to come inside through the back door. On the way John noticed this officer in his kitchen standing a little too close to you. He knew the man was somewhere here since his car was in the driveway.

“Why are you in my home?” John barked, one foot in the door.

“Tom’s peeing in people’s windows and he wanted to know if we saw him.” Lily informed her father and then stuck her plate out for him to finish her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Lily’s mistake helped your anxiety riddled heart. Eyes shifting from your four year old John hadn’t looked at you but had his blue eyes fixed on Parker.

“There’s a peeping Tom in your neighborhood.” Officer Parker informed your husband while giving Lily a strange look. To you it was obvious the man was not use to being around children and their shenanigans.

John stopped in his tracks hearing that. There was a pensive look that took over his face. It was no surprise to you John became quiet, he was being thoughtful now. Which was better than being rude like he wanted to be toward the officer.

“When you say peeping. Peeping on women?” John paused, his icy blues unfocusing for a second before he continued.

John knew you were being peeped on but he wasn’t willing to share that information with the police. Now John was wondering if other women in the neighborhood might also be experiencing what you had with the gifts and photos. But his mind wandered to something much more sinister and you wondered what it was that came to mind.

“Or children?” He asked now seemingly angry at his own question. John grunted after he spoke and continued taking off his boots.

“Not sure. I do have a theory.” Officer Parker looked to you to silently ask you if this was alright to share.

“Oh do you?” John said sarcastically but put a finger up for Parker to wait.

“Go play in the living room.” John ordered after taking the half eaten sandwich from Lily who had been quietly whispering ‘daddy come eat this’ the entire time.

“But-“

“Now.” John left no room for discussion.

Evelyn offered John her unfinished sandwich too while Jj’s plate was licked clean by Molly.

“Can we get milkshakes later?” In a hushed voice Lily asked John who shook his head yes. Lily left the room with a huge smile meanwhile Jj and Evelyn glared at the officer as they left.

“Who’s reported it?” John asked forcefully.

He was now at the kitchen island chewing his ‘dad snack’ as you liked to call it. Pointing to the kettle you caught his drift and started some tea.

“I can’t disclose that.” The officers statement had John rolling his eyes so hard his entire head went with the motion.

“That’s not fucking helpful. And this ‘theory’ of yours?” John and you were making intense eye contact. You were silently screaming at him to stop being rude and his eyes were saying a big fat ‘no.’

“Since someone was going through mailboxes I think the guy may only know your wife’s maiden name. Which is why he’s resorted to peeping in windows. I-“ John waved his hand cutting the office off.

“We both know who’s doing this. I’m not sure why we’re pretending we don’t.” With a pointed look John went and grabbed his favorite mug and treating the once tense situation nonchalant.

“I spoke to your neighbors nephew. He was not the man I saw at your mailbox.” Officer Parker spoke adamantly. It was clear he was getting agitated by your husband’s lack of respect.

“Bullshit. Like I trust you to positively identify someone? I doubt you’d be able to pick your own mother in a line up with how daft you are.” John had resorted to blatant insults now. Before the police officer could respond you cut in.

“You know I don’t think this is as productive as I thought it would be. Thanks for stopping by.” You motioned toward your front door for him to leave.

There was an anger pointed at John that you thought was justified. It looked like the officer wanted to ring his neck but was practicing self control. So he gave you a nod and left without a word. You watched from the end of the hallway and turned to John when the front door shut. The look on your face said it all.

“What the hell was that?” You weren’t sure if you were more shocked by John’s behavior or embarrassed.

“Don’t invite police in our home again.” John spoke evenly but you could sense he was about to blow a fuse.

“Why? he’s suppose to help.” You were immediately defensive because you knew John well enough that he was about to be rude.

“Because I said so.” John snapped.

“I can tell you one thing, and it’s that you’re not gonna treat me like that just because you disapprove.” It took a lot of patience to not snap back.

“Sorry. I-“ Running his hand through his hair he was clearly agitated.

“Look. You and I know who it is. Right? And someone needs to put an end to it.” John’s eyes bore into yours.

There was a deafening silence for a moment until the dryer began to thump quietly in the laundry room. John didn’t have to continue for you to understand what he was saying. Knowing him so well you knew when he was about to take matters into his own hands.

You weren’t sure if this was what would help the overwhelming anxiety. Having a conversation felt like a much better solution than whatever was on John’s mind. Telling him how scared you were and that you needed him. But he was skipping all of that and barreling toward a solution.

“I don’t. . . And you don’t. It’s just a hunch.” You spoke softly, trying to convince yourself.

Your chest was becoming tight and nerves lighting up. Taking a breath through your nose you let it out slowly through your mouth. A second later your fingers were at your mouth and you began to chew nervously on your fingernails.

“That creep can be exonerated by the police, the neighborhood, or god for all I fucking care. I’m not going to let that prick continue living in that house and not fear walking out his door to bother us again.” John was aggressively pointing in the general direction of the Patterson’s house.

Seeing the pain and fear etched into the face of the woman he loved most dearly had him stepping toward you. He took your face in his hands. John was gentle with you as if you were made of glass. It always amazed you that your loving, caring, protective husband could be a violent man. That these hands that had only ever held you gently and lovingly were capable of unspeakable things.

“I’m going to keep you safe. No matter what. Trust me.” Laying a feather light kiss to your lips John allowed you a moment to think.

And before you could speak John tried to convince you to let him do this. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to become scared of him so he needed your approval. He needed to do this, to give you back your peace of mind.

“I know you’re scared, darling. The whole point of all of this is to scare you. The prick gets off on it. . . Let me show him what it feels like and I promise he’ll never bother you again.” John spoke softly yet with such conviction you hadn’t realized you were nodding along half way through.

“Don’t hurt him.” You choked on your words.

This was an impossible situation to you. You needed John to step in and protect you. You needed him to keep your children safe. But with no proof besides finding the neighbors nephew creepy you couldn’t morally support whatever it was John decided he would do; but you also couldn’t stop him.

“I’ll just talk to him.” It was a lie and you knew it.

“John-“

“I’ll be back.” With a final kiss John put on his boots and walked out the back door not looking back. You watched from the window as he marched down your driveway to go confront your neighbor.

The walk didn’t take too long and John waved to a few neighbors who were outside with their children or mowing their lawn. A few stopped and gave him a wave back but found it odd how friendly he seemed today. Usually John gave a simple nod with barely a smile and went on his way, or ignored them completely.

John made it to the one story house with a neatly manicured lawn and well taken care of white picket fence. It was a slate blue home with a red front door. The windows had white trim and flower boxes. They spilled over with pretty ivy and tiny white and purple flowers. The freshly painted white picket fence had no gate so John was able to walk up the cobble stone walkway and jog up the three stairs of the front porch quickly. Once out of the sun and ducking under the shadow of the front porches roof John’s entire demeanor shifted. The once friendly attitude was swallowed by a fervent rage.

John knocked firmly. Then a second later banged on the door with so much force it shook the frame. His eyes had gone crazed and nostrils flared as he waited. The seconds ticked by until John watched the red front door begin to open to reveal the face of Paterson’s nephew, Freddie.

His black mop of curls were damp from what was assumed to be from a shower. Those light grey blue eyes were wide like they always were and stayed unblinking and unsettling. He looked upset, a dusting of stubble distracting from his thin lips fixed in a frown from having someone bang on his door so violently.

“What’s your problem?” The young nephew opened the front door and before he knew it there was the sound of skin slapping skin and he had a hand around his neck.

John walked forward with purpose, this man’s neck firmly in his grasp and then slammed him up against the wall of the foyer. Along the way John kicked the door shut behind him so no one walking by could see. It took all his restrain to not immediately snap this man’s neck.

The man’s eyes were somehow wider than normal with fear and he was shaking so bad it could almost be mistaken for convulsions. Freddie had no idea what was going on and he couldn’t find the words that were trapped in his throat and beneath the hand growing tighter around his neck.

John brought his face so close the man could feel John’s hot breath. To Freddie, John looked like a bear taken shape into man. With claws sinking into his neck and eyes fixed on his next meal, his prey. Freddie was staring death in the eyes, and in the darkness of John’s icy blues staring into his soul Freddie began to make peace with his life.

“Come near my house, my wife, or my children again and I’ll gut you like the pig you are.” John spoke with venom.

There was murderous intent with sick and twisted rage as the driving force. There was an unspoken understanding that Freddie would be lucky to keep his life by the time his front door opened again.

“I- don’t know what y- AH~” Snot and drool dribbled down Freddie’s nose and mouth as he saw a silver glint and then felt the cool metal of a blade pressed firmly to his neck.

“Do I make myself clear?” John asked, a new found calmness taking over.

“I’ll never look their way again.” Freddie sputtered out and began to lightly sob as the knife was pressed firmly against his jugular.

John could see this had worked from the panic and fear in the man’s eyes. There would be no more convincing. John had achieved the outcome he desired and that was for this man to fear for his life.

A trickling sound joined the ragged breathing. Glancing down John saw a wet spot forming in the man’s jeans and then darkly chuckled.

“Disgusting.” With a final violent shove, John returned his knife to his back pocket and turned to leave.

Being the man of conviction he was and how he thrived under pressure and conflict John was leaving this house feeling much lighter. On his way out he noticed a horseshoe sitting atop the front door frame. Grabbing it he turned to see the man now sitting in a puddle on the floor. Those wide unblinking eyes were fixed in terror instead of that unsettling glare John was accustom to seeing.

“Thanks for the gift.” John lightly flicked his wrist with the horseshoe in it, smiled politely as if he were at the shop, then left.

John left the front door open so the man could hear his jovial whistle to the tune of ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ and watch John pull out a cigar. After lighting it he took a nice long drag at the end of the houses walkway. Turning back around Freddie hadn’t moved and John waved and gave him his typical neighborly smile.

“Cheers!” John called with an unsuspecting laugh and went on his way, whistling and smoking.

——————

“So, it’s been a week. Haven’t gotten anymore pictures, flowers, or random gifts.” Your voice came from the bedroom as John finished brushing his teeth.

“Hm, have you?” John called back sounding uninterested but you knew better.

Deep down you knew he was happy to hear that but wouldn’t let on. When John had gotten home from his ‘talk’ he was in high spirits. You were confused but let it go when he took your family out for dinner, ice cream, and then piled on the couch to watch a movie together. The stress seemed to have left his body and was replaced by content pleasure. Which to you meant this was over, that you could rest easy from now on. John didn’t go out to sit on the patio that night but joined you in bed.

John even somehow romanced you out of your former anxieties and made love to you in a way that felt primal and all consuming that night. If you were honest the memory of how passionate he was had continuously popped in your head and helped distract from anything untoward.

“What’d you say to him?” Your voice was a lot closer now.

Looking up into the mirror above his designated sink John saw you, his beautiful wife. You had your head cocked to the side with a shy smile dusting your pretty lips. He loved how you looked with your hair braided for sleep and in nothing but his black t-shirt and little grey cotton sleep shorts. Your skin was smooth and glowing from your nightly routine and you had those gold patches under your eyes. Those always made John laugh, the memory of you holding him down on your bed and practically attacking him until he relented and let you put them on him.

“Nothing really.” With a shrug John tried to move past you but you stepped in the way.

“That’s a lie.” You placed your hand in the center of John’s firm chest and drummed your fingers. With a small smirk he kissed your cheek, grabbed your hips, and moved out of his way with ease.

“And?” John teased, leaving you with a playful pinch to the bum.

You watched as he peeled off his white t-shirt and tossed it on to the floor by his nightstand. Next came his plaid pajama bottoms, leaving John in his black boxer briefs. Looking over his shoulder he caught you admiring him and nodded toward the bed.

“Why won’t you tell me?” You sounded all sweet and John knew you were going to try and get the truth out of him one way or another.

There was no effort in batting you away. John pulled back the covers and patted the bed for you to crawl in beside him. So you did. The pair of you turned off your lamps and laid together like you did most nights. You had your head on John’s hairy chest and his rough hand was caressing your back while you cuddled close.

“Tell me?” You whispered into the darkness.

“No.” With a kiss to the crown of your head John settled into bed and allowed his head to lull to the side so sleep could take over.

“I love you, darling. And I’ll always keep you safe.” John spoke against the hair atop your head and held you close so you could drift off to sleep together. Laying in silence you both listened to the crickets chirp from your open window. The two of you too consumed with each other to notice the light shutter of a camera in the distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter - Stranger

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